"But why should you--?"
She shrugged. "I don't seem to be doing very well by firelight. We have
two moons up here. They should be twice as hard to resist as one."
Rex was playing it straight all the way through--which meant playing it
dumb. "But it's very cold out."
"Pretty cold in here, too. Let's get started."
* * * * *
Rex put on his jacket, wondering what he was going to do with this
girl. She appeared from her bedroom wearing a white parka that made her
look doubly attractive. "It's only a ten-minute walk. And the cold
isn't as penetrating here as on Terra."
They hiked along, hand-in-hand, under the two racing Martian moons.
The air was sharp, stinging, like heady wine. Rex felt as though he
could have jumped clear up to where Terra hung close and beautiful in
the night sky. This, he decided, was a wonderful planet, a wonderful
country, a great place to settle down and build something--raise
children. Bodies in shipping cases seemed far away and unreal.
Jean's hand, warm in his own, squeezed suddenly as though she sensed
his thoughts. She glanced at him, her eyes rich with meaning. Then she
broke away and ran on ahead toward an oddly shaped monolith of a hut
further down the pasture.
As Rex hurried forward, he studied the stone hutch. It was obviously
very old--something left over from a lost and forgotten civilization.
It impressed him as having been built as both a shelter and a symbol.
There appeared to be undecipherable meaning in the formation of
it--blurred now by the wear of centuries.
Jean stopped beside the narrow entrance. "He's not here," she said. Rex
pushed his head inside, bent forward to peer about the small interior.
It was smooth, unadorned, cone-shaped.
He took a step forward, heard a quick laugh and tripped over Jean's
extended foot. He grabbed as he went down--inside the shelter--and
caught Jean's arm. He dragged her with him and they went down in a
heap. He was looking into her fur-framed face, into her eyes. She had
stopped laughing. Neither of them spoke during several quick breaths.