The squadron was out of overdrive, cruising at normal approach
velocity. There was a sun ahead in space. Compared to the blazing
giants of deep space, it was not much, merely a small yellow star
looking rather lonely in the midst of a great emptiness. Kirk studied
it. The Sun. Not just any sun, _the_ Sun. How should he feel about
it? Like a child seeing its father for the first time, or like a man
returning to an ancient hearth that has long ago lost any meaning for
him? Kirk searched his heart, and nothing came. It was only another
star.
Garstang touched his arm and pointed, to where far off a little green
planet swung to meet them.
"Earth."
The squadron rushed toward it, the cruisers and supply-ships and
transports, the men and women and children, strangers from the far
reaches of the galaxy. And yet not quite strangers either, for the
names that had come from this world were still among them, and the
traditions, and even some of the blood. Two hundred years ago, their
forefathers had left it. And now they were coming back.
A quiet had settled on the bridge. Kirk supposed it was the same with
the whole squadron, everybody staring and thinking his or her own
thoughts. He wondered what Lyllin was thinking, and wished she were
with him instead of back there in one of the transports.
Earth came closer. He could see clouds, and the white splash of a polar
cap. Closer still, and there were seas, and the outlines of continents.
Colors began to show more clearly, and the land became ridged with
mountain chains. Great lakes took form, and dark-green areas of forest,
and winding rivers. A nice world. A pretty world. Kirk hated it. Its
other name was Trouble.
"Why did Ferdias have to pick _us_ for this job?"
Unconsciously he had spoken aloud, or loud enough for Garstang to hear.
"It's only for a visit," said Garstang. "Just a celebration. What's
wrong with that?" His tone was mild, without mockery.
But Kirk looked at him sharply. He knew that Garstang and Larned and
all his other officers and men must have been talking and wondering.
Wondering why they'd been pulled out of their needful place for this
rather meaningless celebration.
They came down past the shoreline of a blue-green ocean, past a city
that sprawled over islands and peninsulas and up inland river valleys,
and then beneath them was a big spaceport. The squadron roared in to
its appointed landing, bristling on its best behavior, every ship set
down with masterly precision, and there was a crowd assembled there to
meet it. Flags whipped in the wind. The brassy music of a band blared
out, immensely stirring with a solemn throb of drums beneath it.
The men of the Fifth debarked and formed in marching order, every boot
polished and every uniform immaculate, a solid line of blue and silver
glittering in the soft blaze of this golden sun. Kirk felt the heat of
it in his face. His heels struck solidly on the ground, and the wind
touched him, balmily, laden with fragrances strange to him. And he
thought, "This is Earth." He looked around at it.
He could see only the spaceport, and that was old and worn and poor.
The tarmac was cracked and blackened, the ancient buildings weathered.
Opposite the squadron were drawn up twelve cruisers with the old
insigne of the Galactic Navy on their bows, and with their crews
standing at attention in front of them. Those old, small ships--why,
they were Class Fourteens, obsolete for years! He supposed they were
all Earth had.
Two men walked toward him. One was a middle-aged civilian, the other an
arrow-straight, elderly man in black uniform that also bore the old
Navy insigne. He stiffly returned Kirk's salute.
"Nice landing, Commander," he said. "I'm First Admiral Laney, and I
welcome your squadron."
* * * * *
Incredulously, Kirk realized that the old admiral was keeping up the
pretense that the Fifth Squadron was still part of the Navy.
It was so preposterous it was funny! Not for a century had the old
Galactic Navy had any real existence. Its staff never sent any orders
out to the squadrons of the five Governors, any more than Central
Council dared send orders to the Governors themselves. Yet this old
Earth officer was trying hard, in front of the crowd, to act as though
he really were Kirk's superior officer....
Then, seeing the faintly desperate look in Laney's eyes, Kirk softened.
After all, what difference did it make--it was only a pretense and he
felt sorry for the old chap trying to play this part.
He saluted again and said, "Fifth Squadron, Kirk commanding, reporting
for orders, sir!"
A look of grateful relief crossed Laney's face. He said uncertainly,
"At ease, Commander. Let me present Council Chairman John Charteris."
Charteris, a graying, eager, anxious man, shook hands warmly. He began
a little speech, into the tele-cameras close by. "We welcome back one
of the gallant squadrons of the Galactic Navy to take part in our
commemoration of--"
When the speeches and handshaking and bandplaying were over, Kirk gave
an order, and his men broke ranks. Larned came up to him.
"Shall we debark our people now?"
The old admiral told Kirk, "Quarters are all ready for them."
Charteris said, "But you and your wife, Commander, must be my guests."
They walked back between the lofty, looming ships. The women and
children and babies of the men of the Fifth started coming out of the
transports, and efficient Earth officers began smoothly shuttling them
into cars to take them to their quarters. From around the fences, a big
crowd of Earth folk watched interestedly.
Of a sudden, for the first time his men's families seemed a little
outlandish to Kirk. The women and children were of so many different
star-peoples, so many different ways of speech and dress. He looked
resentfully for amusement in the Earth faces, but could not detect any.
At the transport he excused himself and went in to Lyllin's cabin. He
stopped short when he saw her. He had never seen her like this. She
wore an Earth-style dress of impeccable lines, was perfect in a smart,
sophisticated way. She still didn't look like an Earthwoman, not with
that skin and eyes and hair. But she looked stunning, and he said so.
"I'm glad I look civilized enough for your people," Lyllin said sweetly.
"My people?" Kirk drew back stiffly. "So you're still brooding on that?
That's fine. I'm not in a tough enough spot here, my wife has to get
super-sensitive and make it tougher."
Lyllin's expression changed. "What kind of spot?" He was silent. She
looked at him steadily. "It's something dangerous, isn't it?"
"I'd have told you if it were something I could tell you," he said.
"You know that. Will you forget it? And forget about these people being
_my_ people!"
He went out with her, and Lyllin went through the introductions, cool
and proud. Kirk told Larned aside, "Two-day leaves for all personnel
in regular rotation. Port facilities will take care of refitting and
fueling."
Larned grunted. "I've seen better facilities on fifth-rate planets.
Plenty old! But we'll make out."
Charteris' car swept them along a broad highway to New York. It had a
stiff, strange look to Kirk, its vertical towers huddled together bold
and black against the setting sun. He thought it a cramped and crowded
place, though Charteris' terrace apartment high above the myriad lights
was pleasant.
There was a dinner there that night, and drinks, and more speeches, and
much talk about the Commemoration. Sector politics were unobtrusively
avoided. Kirk fretted and worried through it all. What was Solleremos
doing, where were his squadrons? Ferdias had said he'd get warning if
they moved, but would that warning come in time?
In the morning, he found Charteris oddly changed. He looked at Kirk
with a queerly doubtful expression.
Kirk said, "Before we make arrangements about the Commemoration, I--"
"Oh, there's no hurry about that," Charteris said hastily. Then
suddenly he asked, "Do you know if Orion Sector will send a token
squadron too?"
* * * * *
Alarm rang a bell in Kirk's brain instantly. What was behind the
question? Had Charteris heard something that he hadn't?
He answered, "Why, no, I don't. But surely you would know--"
Charteris continued to eye him with that dubious expression as he said,
"We sent an invitation to Governor Solleremos to take part, of course.
But doubtless we'll soon hear from him."
Kirk thought swiftly, he _has_ heard something--something that he
doesn't want me to know! But what? Was Orion already moving, were
Orionid forces coming to Earth on the excuse of the celebration, just
as he had?
He'd get no information from Charteris. He'd better contact Ferdias,
as quickly as possible. He was only a naval commander, and he felt an
enormous desire for definite orders in this crisis. He could only get
such orders at the rendezvous Ferdias had told him to go to.
Kirk said casually, "While I'm here on Earth I want to look up my
ancestors' old home here, and now would be a good time. It's in
a village not too far away, I understand. If we could borrow a
ground-car--"
Charteris seemed glad to comply. "Of course. A sentimental pilgrimage,
in a way? Very understandable--"
Kirk refused the offer of a driver. But by the time he and Lyllin got
out of New York and were rolling northward, he almost regretted that
decision. It seemed ridiculous for a man who could pilot a squadron
half across the galaxy in full overdrive, but the traffic frightened
him. He hadn't done much driving, and certainly none on highways like
this big northern boulevard. On this crowded Earth, people apparently
still used ground-cars in great numbers for short distances, and it was
not until they branched off on a subsidiary highway that Kirk felt easy.
He said then, "I want to explain about this ancestral home business."
Lyllin, looking straight ahead, said, "You don't have to explain. It's
perfectly natural that you should want to see where your people came
from."
"Will you stop behaving like a woman and listen?" he said angrily.
"_My_ people, again. What the devil would I care where my seventh
great-grandfather lived. I'm doing what Ferdias ordered." He added, "I
wasn't supposed to tell you even that, but I couldn't very well go off
on this supposed sentimental pilgrimage without you."
Lyllin's expression changed. "Then there'll be someone from Ferdias to
meet you there secretly, is that it? And I'm not to know about what?"
"That's it," he said. "Ferdias' orders were not to tell anyone."
He thought that Lyllin looked somehow relieved. "I don't mind. I'm
worried, I wish I knew, but it's all right if you can't tell me."
It came to him that she was relieved to learn he didn't really care
about his Earth ancestors, that that had only been an excuse.
Kirk felt a sharp relief himself, to be on his way to Orville, to the
old house there where Ferdias' agent would be waiting to tell him what
to do. In this gathering crisis he couldn't act blindly! It was vital
to get directive information as soon as possible.
They turned off the big boulevard onto quiet, tree-lined back roads.
These roads were old and rambling, accomodatingly twisting around hills
and ponds and even houses. Some of the houses were modern chromaloy
villas, but there were antique stone houses also, and once he and
Lyllin both exclaimed when they saw a very old house that was built all
of wood.
Out here away from the city, everything looked ancient. Stone fences
that had the moss of centuries on them, a steepled church mantled thick
with ivy, worn fields that had been tilled for ages. In the fields,
driverless automatic tractors were lumbering about their work, but
there seemed little bustle or activity. Kirk thought that this was an
old, worn world....
A brilliant bird flashed across the road and he and Lyllin argued what
it was. "A robin, I think," Kirk said doubtfully. "In school, when I
was little, we had an old Earth poem about Robin Redbreast. I didn't
know then what it was."
"Not nearly so splendid as a flame-bird," Lyllin said. "But the red of
it, and the green trees, and the blue sky.... It's a pretty world, in
its way."
* * * * *
They rolled finally down a little hill and over a bridged stream into
the town of Orville. It was only a village, with shops around a big
open square. There was a corroded statue of a soldier at the center of
the park, and benches on which old men sat in the sun.
Kirk asked directions of a merchant standing in front of his shop,
a chubby man who stared open-mouthed at the two visitors. And Kirk
suddenly realized how strange indeed they must look in this sleepy
little Earth village--he in his blue-and-silver starman's uniform, his
face dark from foreign suns, and Lyllin whose beauty was a breath of
the alien.
He was glad to drive on out of the village, on the designated road. It
was an even more rambling road, looping casually along the side of a
shallow valley whose neat farms and fields and woods lay silent in the
blaze of the soft golden sun. They met no other ground-cars, though
an occasional air-car hummed across the blue sky. Kirk kept counting
houses, and when he had counted five he turned in at a lane, and
stopped.
The house was of field-stone, an ancient, brown dumpy structure that
had a faintly forlorn, deserted look. Under the big, stiff, dark-green
trees in its front yard--were they the trees called "pines?"--the grass
was high and ragged. The lane went on past the house, past an orchard
of gnarled trees heavy with green fruit, to a big old barn. There was
no one in sight, and no sign that anyone was here.
"Are you sure it's the place?" asked Lyllin.
He nodded, moving toward the porch. "It's the place. Ferdias had
his agent here buy it, weeks ago, so we'd have this quiet place for
contacts. There should be someone here."
There was a bell-push at the door, but no one answered it. Kirk tried
the door. It swung open, and they went in.
They went into a room such as they had never seen before. The walls
were of painted wood, instead of plastic. The furniture was wooden too,
and of archaic design. The room, the house, were very silent.
"Look at this," said Lyllin, in tones of surprise.
She was touching a chair, and the chair rocked back and forth on its
bottom. "I thought it was a child's toy but it's not made for a child."
He shook his head. "Beyond me. And it's beyond me too why Ferdias' man
isn't here!"
He called, but there was no answer. He went through all the rooms, and
there was no one.
Kirk felt a mounting alarm. Had something gone wrong with Ferdias'
careful plans? Where was Ferdias' agent, where was the man who should
have met him in this secret rendezvous with the information and orders
he must have?
Suppose that man didn't come--who then could give him warning of
Solleremos' strike, if Orion _did_ strike?