I think they were really astonished to see us. The girls ran into each
other's embrace with squeals of recognition. Solly and I shook hands
with a good deal more restraint. Dolores was tossling Freddie's hair.
Then we went into their house.
It was pretty bare, of course. They had packed most of their things;
probably had them stored aboard ship by now. But there was enough
furniture left that went with the house for us to sit down on.
"How wonderful! How wonderful of you to come and see us!" said Dolores.
She was a tall, dark, big breasted girl with classical features in the
Byzantine sense. Her hair was black, her movements languid, her voice
deep and melodius.
"We couldn't see you go to the stars without saying goodbye," said
Celia.
"We talked about you so often," Dolly said. "Wondering how you were.
What you were doing."
I found it hard to imagine this exotic, beautiful woman transplanted to
an alien world in the role of pioneer farmgirl.
"We've thought about you too," said Celia. "So many times."
It was awkward. Solly and I hadn't exchanged more than five words.
"Would you like some refreshments?" said Dolly. "Drinks? Something to
eat?" She smiled at me and smiled at Freddie, and nodded yes until
Freddie nodded with her.
"Sure you do," she said.
We laughed. Dolly stood up. "We weren't expecting our guests for
another hour, but everything's ready."
She and Celia and Freddie went into the kitchen.
I hated to be left alone with Solly, and I suppose the feeling was
reciprocal.
"Are you glad to be going?" I inquired neutrally.
"Very."
"How long does it take to get there?"
"Two and a half years."
"That's a long time!"
"Not considering the distance. Primus Gladus is nine-tenths of a
light-year away."
"Funny," I said, "a star being that close, undiscovered until this
century."
"It's not a bright star. Half the luminosity of our sun. For all we
know, there may be others just as close." Solly meditated on the idea.
"I suppose that's possible," I said. "Must be thousands of stars in the
southern skies--faint stars, I mean--that haven't been measured."
We were both silent. There seemed nothing further to say. The distance
was as far between us as between Sol and Primus Gladus. I fumbled in my
briefcase.
"This is something that may interest you, Solly." I handed him the
folder containing his topsoil project. "Found it in my file just this
afternoon. Thought maybe you could use it where you're going."
He looked at it. His forehead wrinkled in a frown.
"Remember?" I cued him. "College days?"
* * * * *
A light came into his eyes from a source thousands of light-years away.
"Oh yes," he uttered slowly, a faint smile touching the corners of his
mouth. "That was our big business venture. The Topsoil Initiator." He
looked at me peculiarly. "Bart, how come you kept it all these years?"
"I always thought it was a good idea." This was not a lie. "But why," I
said, "haven't _you_ done anything with it?"
"O-o-o-oh," he drawled, "no drive, I guess. The real reason, I guess,
is that I never had enough money to buy a barren, rocky acre where I
could give it a practical tryout."
"Ten years seems like such a long time to wait for results," I said.
Solly reflected with that faint remembering smile on his lips. "It did
then."
The girls returned with food and drink, and somehow Solly and I had
warmed up over the topsoil recollection, and we all became quite gay
and animated and loud-talking, and I suppose it was a little like old
times.
Then a little while later Celia took her purse in the other room, and
when she came out she handed Dolores an envelope.
I knew what was in it, and I wanted to shout, 'My God, don't do it!
That's all the money we have in the world!' But I couldn't get the
words out, and Celia said:
"Dolly, here is something for you from us. It's a going-away present.
We want you to have it before the others come."
"How nice," said Dolly. "What can it be?"
She opened the envelope, and a mixed expression played across her
face--delight and dismay.
"Why, it's money!... A lot of money!... Thousands!"
She turned her head away in reluctance, then handed back the envelope.
"Oh, no, Celia. We couldn't accept it."
Celia refused to take it back. "Oh now, Dolly," she snapped, "don't be
stuffy and proud and stupid! We have millions. We _want_ you to have
it. You certainly need it; you can't deny that. So please accept it and
make us happy."
"It's wonderful of you both," said Solly. "But you know how it is. We
just can't."
"We just can't," repeated Dolly.
"Oh please, please," cried Celia, and she was really getting emotional.
"Don't you realize. This is the last time we'll ever see you! You're
going to a far-away world, our two dearest friends. And this may
seem like a lot of money, but it really isn't. It's all the gifts
and presents we would give you in a lifetime, rolled up into one.
It's funny little baby clothes when your children are born. It's
anniversary gifts. It's for your boy's bar mitzvah and your daughter's
confirmation. It's wedding presents when they grow up. It's--it's
funeral wreaths!"
Celia started to cry, and Dolly started to cry, and they hugged each
other and started to cry even more, and the tears rolled down their
cheeks. And the tears rolled down my cheeks, and Solly's too, I guess,
and we shook hands very solemnly. And Celia stuffed the envelope
into Dolly's hand. And then all of us really cut loose and bawled--I
covering my face with my hands, and Solly burying his face in a
handkerchief. Only Freddie wasn't crying at first. He was just standing
there looking bewildered. And then he got scared and started to cry
too, hanging onto my pants leg with one hand, and trying to reach Celia
with the other.
And then, thank God, the first guests arrived, ringing the bell, so
that we had a compelling reason to stop.
* * * * *
The party was still going strong when we left at eleven. Solly and
Dolly walked us out to our car. There really wasn't much left to say.
We had found each other in friendship again, and would never again be
nearer than nine-tenths of a light-year.
"A pity!" said Solly, and I knew what he meant.
The evening was very cool. Celia began to shiver. We took off, and the
cabin heater warmed up the thermometer, but still we felt cold. Freddie
sat in the front seat between us, dozing lightly.
Our Cad Super roared through the night. Even at full power, Spaceport,
Nevada, was thirty minutes away. The moon set rapidly. The night grew
darker.
"I fear that we will be caught," said Celia tonelessly, like a voice
dissociated from body.
Our ship's nose wavered slowly between Procyon and Pollux, Canis Minor
and Gemini, back and forth, droning on in the blackness.
"I fear for our little boy," said Celia like a soul lost in a maze of
warped space. "What will they do to him?"
"They'll never lay hands on him," I said softly.
The Serpent writhed and Charioteer rocked as Twins dueled the Crab and
Hunter pursued Bull.
"That was a fine gesture you made," Celia whispered.
"What?"
"Giving them the money. I'm proud of you."
The lights of Spaceport glowed on the horizon. It was a vast complex
of launching sites, covering a hundred square miles. But only one
ship could blast off at a time, and that ship would be flooded by
searchlights. I singled out the Venus rocket and we descended.
It was eleven-thirty-two. I handed Celia her two tickets.
As we approached the Venus compound I could see several police cars
parked on the field. Passengers seemed to be leaving rather than
entering the ship. The gangway was crowded with people pouring out of
the spacelock.
"They're looking for us," I muttered.
"Is that why they're all getting off?" said Celia.
"They must be shaking down the entire ship."
"This is the moment I feared." She tightened her grip on Freddie.
"There must be a way of getting aboard!" I said.
We edged forward to the gates of the field.
"There is no way of getting aboard," said Celia. Her voice was
hopeless. She motioned at a large bulletin board.
The sign read: VENUS FLIGHTS CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BECAUSE
OF CIVIL DISORDERS ON THAT PLANET.
I was weary and defeated, but I said, "Honey, we're not licked. We can
still go to Australia."
"I have a better idea," Celia exclaimed. It was as though a new current
of life, a new gusher of hope, had burst through the surface. "Let's go
to Primus Gladus!"
* * * * *
It was four in the morning. We had told Solly and Dolly the straight
story.
"Do you think we can get a berth on the ship?" my wife queried
anxiously. "Is there any way you can help us?"
The Mendelsohns exchanged glances.
"I don't know," said Solly. "Truthfully. Let me think about it a few
minutes."
"Since you've told us the truth about yourselves," said Dolly, "do you
mind hearing some things you don't know about us?"
"All cards might as well be face up," I replied.
"Well listen, you two. It isn't easy to emigrate to another system. If
you're a shlub, yes. But not if you're a soil chemist, or any other
kind of scientist or advanced technician. Earth won't let the boys
with know-how get out of its clutches." Dolly's eyes were burning with
a message she only half-dared to communicate. "Does this give you any
clues?" she asked, eagerly scanning our faces.
Suddenly the parts fit perfectly. "Solly! You did it deliberately. You
washed out of school! You let your career fall to pieces. On purpose!"
Solly was nodding and smiling rather grimly.
"But why?" I demanded. "You had such brilliant prospects here on
Earth. Why did you do it?"
"Surely you of all people must know by now," said Dolly excitedly.
"Can you and your family go on living in this kind of a world? Can you
endure this police-state tyranny now that you know what it is? Can you
accept the hypocrisy, the masquerade behind pious slogans? What is
this thing they call Competition? Is it really good? Is it really the
expression of democracy? Is it what they want or is it forced on them?"
"Dolly, you're asking more questions than you're answering," said
Celia, trying to head her off.
"Or is it organized greed? Simple dog-eat-dog? The law of jungle
cunning and brute force re-affirmed? If we must compete, let it not be
as maggots swarming over a half-eaten pie! Let's get people to vie with
one another in service to mankind!"
Dolly had worked herself into a kind of evangelical zeal, with Solly
nodding hypnotically in agreement.
I answered calmly, trying not to strain our newly healed friendship.
"I don't go along with you on some of the things you say, Dolly. I
personally think competition is the mainspring of progress--"
Solly started to protest.
"--material progress," I added.
"Well, maybe," said Celia, and in a flash I could see what had gone
wrong with Freddie's home-life, from the school principal's point of
view. "But I can't see what competitiveness has to do with creative
art, or the pure sciences, or philosophy. I think it's positively
destructive in those areas. The real struggle there is internal, not
external. To me, competition is only a part of life not the whole of
it."
"You're all wrong!" I shouted. "My only concern is with the welfare
of Freddie. That's what got us into this predicament. I want you to
understand that I'm for the system ninety-five per cent!"
Solly, Dolly, and Celia smiled. That irritated me but I let the matter
drop.
"Let's consider what's to be done," I said.
"Yes," said Solly very seriously. "I can tell you this about the
star-ship. On a voyage of two and a half years, nothing can be done
haphazardly, at the last minute. Every berth has to be accounted for
long in advance. Our baggage has been calculated down to the last
ounce. The number of farming implements, the number of livestock--even
the number of children you may have en route!--are strictly allocated."
"In other words, the only way we can get aboard is if someone dies or
doesn't show up at the last minute?" said Celia.
"Or if you can persuade someone not to make the trip."
"And in addition get by the police," I added softly.
* * * * *
At seven that morning the airbus stopped to pick up the Mendelsohns
and their hand luggage. We had worked out some kind of half-baked plan
that I didn't think would go over with the ship's officials. We set a
rendezvous time and place and waved them off. Then we got into our Cad
Super. For the second time it bore us west to Spaceport.
As we neared the field, Celia commented, "You know, darling, this car
is pretty conspicuous in the daytime."
"I'm hungry, mommy," said Freddie who had missed out on breakfast
altogether. Celia gave him a soggy hors d'oeuvre, which was all that
was left from the Mendelsohn's party.
I had been thinking about what to do with our expensive car. I brought
it down almost a mile from the star-ship _Pericles_.
"You two will have to walk the rest of the way," I said cheerily. "I'll
meet you at our rendezvous point in about twenty-five minutes."
The time was now seven-thirty. The ship blasted off at nine. I put
our car in a steep climb and circled the field at an altitude of ten
thousand feet, where I could see which of the many spaceships were
loading passengers.
I chose one ship arbitrarily at the opposite end of the field from
the star-ship. It turned out to be an Asteroid surveyor, paying its
way with a hundred or so passengers to Ganymede. I set down in the
adjoining lot, and fixed the degravity controls so that the ship
hovered a few inches off the ground, and left it that way to drift
across the field with the wind until it attracted the inevitable
attention.
I walked to the next shuttle bus stop and rode across to the
_Pericles_. It was a gigantic ship, twenty times the capacity of a
Venus or Mars rocket. Comet-shaped, engineered to approach fifty
per cent of the speed of light through cumulative acceleration, the
star-ship had two vast cargo entrances in addition to the passenger
airlock. In one, which was now closing, I caught sight of crated farm
machinery. Into the other, herds of cattle were being driven.
It was nearly eight o'clock. I approached the _Pericles_ warily. We
were all supposed to meet by the livestock gate. Dozens of people were
milling about, some ranchers, some colonizers, bargaining at the last
minute over a sheep or a goat or a horse or a cow to replace a dead or
sick animal. That some of the men were detectives I did not doubt. I
saw Celia close to the entrance with Freddie. We exchanged glances of
recognition, but kept widely separated.
Solly came up. "I checked with the captain about Dolly and me waiving
our right to have a child during the voyage, and taking Freddie with us
instead. You were right. He wouldn't buy it."
"That was tremendously generous of you even to offer."
"But," said Solly, "there's been one cancellation!"
Our eyes met. "What's the fare?" I inquired.
"Two thousand." Solly looked down for a moment, then threw back his
head. "Look, that's still your money, even if you did give it to us.
Dolly and I are willing ... would be happy to pay Freddie's fare. And
take care of him as our own if you and Celia can't get on."
"My son has no future on Earth," I said. "If Celia's willing, I am. Go
talk to her."
Solly went to Celia. She did not once look in my direction and I was
glad. In the end, Freddie went with Solly, and I could tell what the
lie was. Solly was going to show Freddie the insides of the wonderful
ship.
It was a quarter after eight. Only forty-five minutes before take-off.
Celia and I were going to be left behind. There didn't seem much reason
for further pretense. I took my wife's hand.
"Little did we know how important your going-away present would be.
Solly used two thousand of it to pay Freddie's fare."