"You'll eat this. Canalberry shortcake."
"Canalberry?" he asked, wrinkling his face. He smelled it and changed
expressions in the middle of a wrinkle. Resolutely, he turned away from
it and saw Ethan clearly, perhaps for the first time. It was the old man
who had tried to bribe him a few days ago. They weren't as innocent as
they seemed. What were they trying to do?
"Ain't you even going to taste it?" she urged.
He shuddered suspiciously. It smelled good, though he had told the truth
about hating the stuff. Under other circumstances, he might have nibbled
at a piece for politeness' sake.
"Can't. Doctor's orders."
"Diabetic? Didn't think they let them in space-service," said Amantha.
"Funny, it's the same with Ethan. He can't eat sweets, either." She
looked at her creation. "Seems a shame to bring it so far to somebody
who can't touch it. Do you mind if I cut myself a slice?"
"Go ahead, Grandma."
"Amantha," she corrected him and brought out a knife and two small
plates. He wondered if there was any significance. _Two_ plates.
She laid a slice on the plate and poked at it with a fork that was also
in the package. She put the fork down and picked up the cake.
"It don't taste right unless you eat it the way it was meant to be," she
said.
He watched her in anguish. His nose quivered and his stomach rumbled. He
shouldn't have let them in.
A crumb fell to the floor and Amantha reached for it. She straightened
up, a berry in her hand.
"Canalberries," she said. "They're nearly all gone. Used to be you could
hardly go anywhere without stepping in them."
She crushed the berry and the rich aroma swept devastatingly through the
air.
"Sure you won't have some?" she asked, slicing the cake and placing it
in front of him. When he finished that, he cut another, and another,
until the cake was gone.
The pilot settled logily in a chair and dozed off. Amantha and Ethan
watched him in silence.
The pilot got up and began to stretch lazily without seeming to notice
them. The laziness disappeared and the stretch changed into a jerk that
seemed to elongate his body. He sprang out of the compartment and went
leaping down the corridor. When he came to the hatch, he didn't
hesitate. The ladder was too slow. He jumped.
He landed on the sand, sinking in to his knees. He extricated himself
and went bounding over the field.
"Never saw canalberries take so long," muttered Amantha. "Don't know
what's wrong. Nothing's as good as it used to be."
She shook off her hat and closed the airlock.
"You don't need those nose plugs any more, Ethan. Come on, let's see if
you remember."
* * * * *
Several hours later, she twirled unfamiliar knobs and, by persistence
and beginner's luck, managed to get the person she wanted.
"You the commander?" Since he had a harassed look, she assumed he was.
"Thought you might be worried about that poor boy."
"Madam, what do you want?" He scowled at the offscreen miscreant who had
mistakenly summoned him. "I'm chasing criminals. I haven't got time to
chat about old times."
"Don't sass me. I thought you might want to know how to stop that poor
boy from running around."
The commander sat down. "What young man?" he asked calculatingly.
"Don't know his name," said Amantha. "He ran out of the ship before we
could ask him."
"So _you're_ the poisoner," said the commander coldly. "If he dies,
neither your age nor your sex will make any difference."
"Just canalberries," Amantha assured him. "Reckon you wouldn't know
about them."
"What are you talking about?"
"Canalberries. Used to be lots of them. Males, men and animals, just
can't help eating them. Don't bother women or any other kind of females.
Biologists used to tell us it was a seed-scattering device. Guess so.
Won't hurt him none. Try bicarb and vinegar. It'll fix him up."
"For your sake, I hope it will!" said the commander. "He's in a bad
way." He stabbed a pencil at her and his voice became stern. "If you
follow directions, I'm sure I can get you off lightly."
"Think we will?" said Amantha.
The commander hurried on. "It's hard to find a ship in space. Stay where
you are or, if you can, turn around and come back--_slowly_. We'll send
a ship up and transfer a competent pilot to bring you down. Do you
hear?"
"Real plain. You got good radios on these ships."
He smothered a growl. "Your lives are in danger. We're not going to
chase out and rescue you unless you cooperate." It was an
understatement. If they observed radio silence, search ships would never
find them. They might not think of it, but he wouldn't bet. They were
smart enough to steal the ship.
There was another thing. From what he'd learned from records, they were
close to the exposure limit. Any moment now, they might go berserk,
turning their course fatally toward the Sun. He had to be careful what
he said.
"We'll get you out of this, but only if you help. I refuse to sacrifice
men and waste their flight time, which is more precious than any ship,
merely to save two senile incompetents. Is this clear?"
"I suppose," said Amantha. "We've got to go home."
The commander rubbed his hands. They weren't as stubborn as he feared.
He'd rescue them.
"Good. I'll have men aloft in a few minutes."
"Guess it was you who didn't hear," she said. "Our home is on Earth."