"To--stay?" Slade shot a startled glance at Wright, who avoided it,
giving him no help.
Paul said quickly, "Captain, we ought to have warned you, but neither
Doc nor I could get our wits together until you'd opened the door.
About thirteen or fourteen hours from now you'll have a fever and a
period of unconsciousness. Not too much discomfort and, so far as we
know, no danger--anyhow all of us recovered in fine shape and we've
had excellent health ever since. We decided it's just a part of
acclimation to--we call this planet Lucifer. But if you think the two
others should stay in the ship till you recover--"
Dr. Stern was measuring him shrewdly. "You look very healthy, both of
you, and I know we can take your word for anything. Jimmy and Sally
are pretty rugged. They'll be wild to join us. Sally will be at the
intercom right now, tearing her pretty hair out in handfuls. They
might as well chance it with us.... Where do you people live? We saw
a--settlement? Over there south of the lake."
Wright glanced at Paul with vague entreaty. It was Miniaan who spoke,
the small silver of her voice a music in the sun-streaked shadow:
"The settlement below the lake is a thing of the past, an empire that
died. We live on a warm island over yonder, the other side of those
mountains, the island Adelphi. We are returning there now, after
a--journey with some trouble in it."
"Adelphi," said Dr. Stern, savoring the name. "Mark--our two boats
could fly them all there with us, couldn't they? Take out the
emergency stuff to make room."
"It would be wise," said Paul. "We could take better care of you
during the illness, at Adelphi. We have houses there. Here it's not
very safe--biting flies and some dangerous animals."
Slade was doubtful. "Anything here that could interfere with the ship
if we leave it unguarded?"
Miniaan laughed. "Certainly the people of Vestoia will not go near
it."
"Nothing could harm it," said Wright. "Too big. How in hell do you get
down out of it?"
Slade chuckled and made up his mind. "Electronic lock. Can work it
from a transmitter in the lifeboat; only other way's from inside. Lets
down a ladder. Automatic derricks in the side blisters to hoist the
lifeboats if, as, and when. They thought of--_nearly_ everything." He
hugged the gray-haired woman. "Even briefing on how to get along with
each other for ten-plus years."
"Learning love can be difficult," said Pakriaa. Dr. Stern stared at
the tiny woman with new intentness. Pakriaa's seamed face had taken on
its dreamy look. "You must see our island. Last year Mashana Dorothy
was Governor of our island. This year it is this man." She touched
Elis' knee.
"A sinecure," Elis chuckled. "A sinecure, ladies'n' gentlemen."
Captain Slade laughed, standing five feet five, peering up at the
Governor's eight feet seven--half a head more than Mijok's height.
Paul thought he saw there the raw materials of friendship. Dr. Stern
said, "And you call this planet Lucifer?"
"Light-bringer," said Nisana; there was grief in her face not evident
in any of the others. "Son of the morning," Paul moved toward her,
wondering.
Slade had missed the overtone, and cocked a dark eyebrow.
"Industries?"
Wright shrugged. "A few, sir. All we seem to need at present in such a
small community."
"Oh." Slade touched the old man's jacket. "This is fine fabric. I
couldn't tell it from linen. Is it?"
"Very similar." Wright took Nisana's hand on his palm. "This lady is
our best weaver because her hands are so small and sure. Our loom is
clumsy because, of course, our metalworking is not far advanced. But
it does good work for Nisana."
"I like to weave," Nisana whispered, looking here and there and not at
Paul. "I like to make new things."
Paul glimpsed the twitch of Mijok's ears, the beckoning curve of a
gray finger; Mijok whispered, "He's coming, Paul. A few hundred yards
away in the woods, breathing hard and limping. Is there nothing we can
do for him?"
"I don't know, Mijok. I'm afraid whatever is done he must do for
himself, and it's late for that, very late." He saw that Mijok was
trying to understand and could not. "His mind is--living in another
country...."
But outwardly at least, Edmund Spearman was changed. He even searched
out Dunin's worried face and apologized. "Should have accepted your
offer--stupid of me." He smiled. "Wanted to show what a walker I was,
I guess." John and David slipped behind Muson's back, tense and cold.
Spearman shook Slade's hand, and Dr. Stern's. "My God, it doesn't seem
possible. I can't take it in. Slade, you said? And Dr. Stern. We've
wondered, dreamed, prayed for it. I can't tell you--I don't know what
to say.... Good trip?"
"Excellent." Slade hugged himself. "Excellent beyond description. Ah,
all the Federation needed was proof. They've got it now! Rather, they
will have it in twelve years. Lordy! I'll be fifty-one." He pounded
Paul on the back, and Spearman, giving way to a bubbling overflow of
good nature. "There'll be a new President, whole new Council I
guess--and they won't be looking for us either, man." He danced a few
steps and jabbed Paul in the ribs. "Think of it! Why, it's a Tom
Sawyer job. You know? You remember? When you and I walk up the middle
aisle in the Federation Hall--oh, man, man...."
Paul had to find Nisana's face again, and the devastation of sorrow in
it, before he understood. He stooped quickly to whisper, "I am not
going back to Earth." The radiance in the aging red face was like a
Charin girl's.
And he heard Dr. Stern remark dryly, "Mark, I believe we've got some
nearer bridges to cross."
4
One of the soft lizard-oil lamps gleamed in Kajana's room, though it
was late and the house was hushed. Paul had not been able to find
sleep; Dorothy would be watching at the bedsides of the four
unconscious newcomers from Earth for another hour, until Tejron
relieved her. Paul tapped at Kajana's never-closed doorway. "May I
come in?"
"Yes, please do." The little man smiled up from his pillows: they were
filled with a stuff like dandelion down, almost as good as feathers.
"Will you lift me a little?" Paul fussed over him, glad of something
to do. "I was not sleepy. I finished transcribing from the shorthand,
but my thought remains with it."
"Shorthand--"
"The talk of this afternoon. You didn't know I was recording it. You
were all speaking somewhat beyond yourselves, in a way I wanted to
preserve. I wish we had better pencils. These last are not bad, blue
clay mixed with the graphite, but they still crumble too easily and
the wood is big for my hand. I used the brown ink for the
transcription." He shuffled the gray marsh-reed pages together. "You
might like to look at it."
"Yes. Tonight, I think. Doc did say some things worth remembering."