Kirk stood, his dismay and anxiety increasing by the minute. What was
he going to do?
He said, finally, "We'll have to wait. Ferdias' man is bound to be
along soon."
"You mean--perhaps stay here all night?" said Lyllin. "But food, and
beds--"
"We'd better look around," he said unhappily.
They found fairly new blankets on the beds. And in the old kitchen
cupboards was food in the self-heating plastipacks.
"We can make out," he said. "But it's a hell of a thing."
While Lyllin prepared their supper, he went out and restlessly walked
around the place. The weedy yard ran into brushy fields and nearby
woods. The old barn was empty, and the outbuildings were shabby and
forlorn.
He did not think much of Earth, if this was a sample. He went back
inside, and helped Lyllin solve the puzzle of an ancient sink. Even the
reddening sunset light pouring through the windows could not make the
old wooden walls and worn cupboards look less dingy.
He said so, and Lyllin smiled. "It's not so bad. We'll eat out on that
back porch--it's less musty there."
The porch was not screened, and friendly insects dropped in upon them
as they ate. The whole western sky was a flare of red, great bastions
of crimson cloud building ever higher. Under the sunset, beyond the
fields, the ragged woods brooded darkly.
A small animal came soundlessly out of the high grass and stared at
them with greenish eyes.
"What is it, Kirk--a wild creature?"
He looked. "It's a cat, that's what it is. An Earthman in the
_Stardream_ had one for a pet, kept it at Base. He called it Tom." He
tossed a bit of food onto the step. "Here, Tom."
The cat stalked carefully forward, eyed them coldly, then bent to the
food. After a moment it turned its back on them and departed.
Darkness fell. Kirk began to feel a little desperation. Ferdias' man
hadn't come. What if he didn't come at all? How long could they wait in
this forgotten backwater, not knowing what was going on out there in
deep space?
Lyllin said, "Isn't it possible your man is waiting in Orville, that
village--and doesn't know you're here?"
"It could be, I suppose." Kirk grasped at the straw. "I'll go down to
the village. If he's there, he'll see me. Mind waiting--just in case
someone does come here?"
She said she didn't mind. But he took the compact shocker from his
coat-pocket and left it for her before he went out.
Kirk drove rapidly down the lonely, dark road to the village. But the
little town looked dark and lonely too, when he got there. The shops
were almost all closed. He saw only a few people. It was very quiet. In
the shadows of the square, the old iron soldier stood stiffly.
The lights of a tavern caught Kirk's eye, and he went toward it. It
seemed about the only place where his man might be, and he needed a
drink anyway. He shouldered in, and instantly a small buzz of talk
fell silent. Kirk went to the bar, and the men at the farther end of
it followed him with their eyes. The tavern-keeper, a bustling, skinny
man, hurried up and tried to act as though a deep-space naval Commander
was no unusual visitor at all.
"Yes, sir, what'll it be?"
Kirk's eyes searched the rack of unfamiliar bottles. He shook his head.
"You pick it. Something strong and short."
"Yes, sir, some fine old whisky right here." Whisky--well, he'd heard
of that. He drank it, and didn't like it. He let his eyes rest on the
other man. Could one of them be Ferdias' agent?
He didn't think so. Most of these men looked like farmers or
mechanics, hearty-looking, sunburned men, the younger ones tall
and gangling. One was a very old man with a straggling beard who
shamelessly stared at Kirk with bright, beady eyes. They weren't
unfriendly, but they were aloof. Kirk had an idea he'd get little out
of this insular bunch. He might as well go--none of these could be
Ferdias' man.
But as he set his glass down, the bearded old man limped forward,
peering bright-eyed and inquisitive at him.
"You're the fellow who was asking directions to the old Kirk place
today," he said, almost accusingly.
Kirk nodded. "That's right."
* * * * *
The old Earthman was obviously waiting for an explanation. It occurred
to Kirk that he'd better give one, if he didn't want this whole
countryside wondering audibly why a starman had come here.
He said, "Kirk's my name. My great-great something grandfather, a long
time ago, came from here. I'm just looking up the old place, that's
all."
He turned to go then, feeling that he was wasting time here. But one of
the middle-aged Earthmen came forward to him with hand outstretched.
"Why, if your folks came from here, that makes you sort of an Orville
boy, doesn't it? What do you know about that! Vinson's my name,
Captain."
"Commander," Kirk corrected, as he shook hands. "Glad to know you. I
guess I'll be on my way."
"Say, now, not without me buying you a drink," boomed Vinson. "Not
every day one of our own boys comes back from way out there."
There was a chorus of agreement, and more outstretched hands, and
hearty introductions. Kirk stared at them in wonder. What in the
world--Then he got it.
All over space, the pride of Earthmen was proverbial, and their
clannishness. He'd met it and he didn't like it. He was therefore all
the more astonished now, that they should suddenly accept him as one of
their own. Seven generations, and the whole width of the galaxy between
him and this place, yet they claimed him as "one of our own boys"!
He wanted to get out now, he'd found no trace of Ferdias' agent here
and time was passing, but it wasn't easy to get out. More men kept
coming into the tavern, as word got around, to shake hands with and
buy a drink for the "Orville boy" from far-off space. Vinson, a
jovial master of ceremonies, rattled on with introductions Kirk only
half-heard--"Jim Barnes, whose farm's up beyond your folks' old place",
"here's old Pete Marly, he can remember when there were still Kirks
living there," on and on until in desperation, Kirk thanked them and
shouldered toward the door.
"Have to go, my wife's waiting," he said, and a friendly chorus of
voices bade him good-night, "I'll ride with you far as my own house,"
said Vinson.
Kirk was sweating as he drove out of the village. A hell of a way to
conduct a secret job, with the whole village bawling his name! And it
had got him nowhere--
Vinson's house was the second on the same road. As he got out of the
car, he said, "Sure does beat all, your coming back from so far. Shows
it's a small world."
"It's a small galaxy," Kirk said, and Vinson nodded. "Sure is. Well,
I'll be seeing you. Drop over. Good-night."
As Kirk drove on, he was faintly startled by an upgush of yellow light
that silhouetted the bending trees ahead. A great segment of silver
was rising in the sky. Then he realized--it was that moon that they'd
passed on their way in.
The moon of Earth, the "Moon" of the old Earth poems people still read.
Not too impressive, but pretty. But how the threads of all you'd read
and heard kept subtly running back to this old planet! He supposed
some of these flowers whose fragrance he could smell on the warm night
air were "roses". Funny, how much you knew about Earth that you didn't
realize you knew.
* * * * *
The old road gleamed beneath the rising moon. He glanced up at the
star-pricked sky. Had the Kirk who was his seventh grandfather, all
those years ago, looked at the starry sky as he walked this same road?
He must have. He'd looked too long, and finally he'd gone out to that
sky and not come back.
The house was dark when he turned in at the lane, but he saw Lyllin's
dim figure sitting on the front porch.
"No. No one came," she said, as he sat down beside her.
"And no sign of any agent of Ferdias in the village," Kirk said. "A
fine thing. We'll have to wait."
They sat a while in the soft warm darkness. Kirk's thoughts were more
and more gloomy. They couldn't wait here forever, yet he had to make
contact as Ferdias had ordered--
Strange, glowing little sparks of light drifted across his vision, and
now he became aware that the whole dark yard and woods were swarming
with such floating sparks. They winked on and off, in a fashion he had
never seen, dancing and whirling under the dark trees.
"What are they?" asked Lyllin, fascinated.
"Fireflies?" Kirk said doubtfully. "I remember that word, from
somewhere...."
Then he suddenly started and exclaimed, "Hell, what--"
A small sinuous body had suddenly plopped into his lap. Two green eyes
looked insolently up at him. It was the cat.
"It's very tame," said Lyllin. "It must have been somebody's pet."
"Probably belonged to the last people who lived here," Kirk said. "It's
tame, all right."
He stroked its furry back. The cat half-closed its eyes and emitted a
rusty purring sound. "Like that, eh, Tom?"
Tom settled down cozily, in answer. Lyllin reached to stroke its head.
With startling swiftness, the cat recoiled from her and leaped off
Kirk's lap. It stared green-eyed back at them, then started across the
lawn.
Kirk turned, laughing. "Crazy little critter--" He stopped suddenly.
"Lyllin, what's the matter?"
She was crying and he had rarely seen her cry. "Did it scratch you?"
"No. But it feared me, and hated me," she said. "Because it knew I'm
alien."
Kirk said, "Oh, rot. The wretched beast is just afraid of strangers."
"It wasn't afraid of you. It sensed that I'm different--"
He put his arm around her, mentally cursing Tom. Then, as he wrathfully
looked after the cat, Kirk stiffened.
Tom had started across the lawn toward the dark brush nearby. But the
cat had stopped. And, as Kirk looked, Tom suddenly emitted a hiss and
recoiled. It went away from the dark clumps, in long swift leaps.
Kirk's thoughts raced. The cat had recoiled from that brush, exactly
as it had recoiled from Lyllin. For the same reason? Because someone
alien, not of Earth, was in those shadows? He thought he could hear a
slight sound, and his muscles suddenly strung tight. Ferdias' agent
wouldn't approach so secretly. Non-Earthmen skulking in those shadows
meant only one thing.
He said, "Come on in the house and forget it, Lyllin. I could stand
another drink--"
But instantly, when inside the house, Kirk made a lunge toward the
nearest bedroom and grabbed for the blankets there. He tossed one of
the blankets to Lyllin with frantic speed.
"Wrap it around your head--_quick_!"
She was intelligent. But she was not used to obeying orders instantly
and without question "Kirk, what--"
He grabbed the blanket out of her hands and started wrapping it many
times around her head, speaking in a whisper as he did so.
"Out there. Someone. If they want to be quiet about it, they're sure to
use a sonic knockout-beam. _Hurry_--"
* * * * *
He pulled her to the floor. The blanket swathed her head. He wrapped
the other one around his own head, fold after fold. They lay, tense,
waiting.
Nothing happened.
He thought how foolish they would look, lying on the floor with their
heads swathed, if nothing at all did happen.
He still did not move. He waited.
A series of small sounds began in the back of the house, just vaguely
audible through the blanket-folds. A chattering of windows, creaking
and rattling of beams, clink of dishes.
The sounds came slowly through the house toward them. _Chatter,
rattle_--leisurely advancing. He knew then he'd guessed right. The
sonic beam itself was pitched too low to hear. But it was sweeping the
house.
It hit them. Lyllin stirred suddenly with a small sound, and Kirk
gripped her arm, holding her down. He knew what she was feeling. He
felt it himself, the sudden shocking dizziness, the keening inside his
head. Even through the swathings of thick blanket, the beam made itself
felt. Without protection they'd already be unconscious.
The shock passed. The beam was sweeping on to the front of the house.
Kirk remained on the floor, his hand still holding Lyllin's arm. He'd
used sonics himself. He had a pretty good idea of how this one would be
used.
He was right. The small, half-audible sounds of the house and its
shuddering contents came walking back toward them.
_Chatter--clink. Rattle--clink--_
It hit him again, and he set his teeth and endured it. And again it
passed them, and once more the kitchen dishes started talking.
Kirk suddenly thought of the unsuspecting Earth folk in the nearby
farms, sleeping peacefully in their old houses, without ever a dream
that in their quiet countryside, alien folk from the stars were pitted
in a secret struggle that had this whole ancient planet as its prize.
The sounds shut off abruptly. Kirk unwrapped his head, and twitched at
Lyllin till she did the same. He made a warning motion to her, to keep
down, and he himself crawled forward to the old living-room. He had the
little shocker in his hand now.
In a corner of the living-room, behind a grotesque old table, he
waited. There was no sound at all.
Then there was one. Footsteps, on the porch outside--coming fast and
confidently to the door.
A man came into the room. He wore a dark space-jacket and slacks, he
carried a shocker, and he walked like a dancing panther.
Kirk knew him.
His name was Tauncer.