"I was born here. My family came here from Earth four years before I was
born. My father was an officer in the fleet. He earned an Emigration
Priority."
"So you've never seen your own planet. How old are you?"
"Ten years. Terran."
"You shouldn't have asked the driver so many questions."
They passed through the decontamination shield and into the city. An
information square loomed ahead; Pas men and women were packed around
it. Moving chutes and transport cars rumbled everywhere. Buildings and
ramps and open-air machinery; the city was sealed in a protective
dust-proof envelope. Tony unfastened his helmet and clipped it to his
belt. The air was stale-smelling, artificial, but usable.
"Let me tell you something," the young female said carefully, as she
strode along the foot-ramp beside Tony. "I wonder if this is a good day
for you to come into Karnet. I know you've been coming here regularly to
play with your friends. But perhaps today you ought to stay at home, in
your settlement."
"Why?"
"Because today everybody is upset."
"I know," Tony said. "My mother and father were upset. They were
listening to the news from our base in the Rigel system."
"I don't mean your family. Other people are listening, too. These people
here. My race."
"They're upset, all right," Tony admitted. "But I come here all the
time. There's nobody to play with at the settlement, and anyhow we're
working on a project."
"A model spaceport."
"That's right." Tony was envious. "I sure wish I was a telepath. It must
be fun."
The female Pas-udeti was silent. She was deep in thought. "What would
happen," she asked, "if your family left here and returned to Earth?"
"That couldn't happen. There's no room for us on Earth. C-bombs
destroyed most of Asia and North America back in the Twentieth Century."
"Suppose you _had_ to go back?"
Tony did not understand. "But we can't. Habitable portions of Earth are
overcrowded. Our main problem is finding places for Terrans to live, in
other systems." He added, "And anyhow, I don't particularly want to go
to Terra. I'm used to it here. All my friends are here."
"I'll take my packages," the female said. "I go this other way, down
this third-level ramp."
Tony nodded to his EEP and it lowered the bundles into the female's
claws. She lingered a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Good luck," she said.
"With what?"
She smiled faintly, ironically. "With your model spaceport. I hope you
and your friends get to finish it."
"Of course we'll finish it," Tony said, surprised. "It's almost done."
What did she mean?
The Pas-udeti woman hurried off before he could ask her. Tony was
troubled and uncertain; more doubts filled him. After a moment he headed
slowly into the lane that took him toward the residential section of the
city. Past the stores and factories, to the place where his friends
lived.
The group of Pas-udeti children eyed him silently as he approached. They
had been playing in the shade of an immense _hengelo_, whose ancient
branches drooped and swayed with the air currents pumped through the
city. Now they sat unmoving.
"I didn't expect you today," B'prith said, in an expressionless voice.
Tony halted awkwardly, and his EEP did the same. "How are things?" he
murmured.
"Fine."
"I got a ride part way."
"Fine."
Tony squatted down in the shade. None of the Pas children stirred. They
were small, not as large as Terran children. Their shells had not
hardened, had not turned dark and opaque, like horn. It gave them a
soft, unformed appearance, but at the same time it lightened their load.
They moved more easily than their elders; they could hop and skip
around, still. But they were not skipping right now.
"What's the matter?" Tony demanded. "What's wrong with everybody?"
No one answered.
"Where's the model?" he asked. "Have you fellows been working on it?"
After a moment Llyre nodded slightly.
Tony felt dull anger rise up inside him. "Say something! What's the
matter? What're you all mad about?"
"Mad?" B'prith echoed. "We're not mad."
Tony scratched aimlessly in the dust. He knew what it was. The war,
again. The battle going on near Orion. His anger burst up wildly.
"Forget the war. Everything was fine yesterday, before the battle."
"Sure," Llyre said. "It was fine."
Tony caught the edge to his voice. "It happened a hundred years ago.
It's not my fault."
"Sure," B'prith said.
"This is my home. Isn't it? Haven't I got as much right here as anybody
else? I was born here."
"Sure," Llyre said, tonelessly.
Tony appealed to them helplessly. "Do you have to act this way? You
didn't act this way yesterday. I was here yesterday--all of us were here
yesterday. What's happened since yesterday?"
"The battle," B'prith said.
"What difference does _that_ make? Why does that change everything?
There's always war. There've been battles all the time, as long as I can
remember. What's different about this?"
B'prith broke apart a clump of dirt with his strong claws. After a
moment he tossed it away and got slowly to his feet. "Well," he said
thoughtfully, "according to our audio relay, it looks as if our fleet is
going to win, this time."
"Yes," Tony agreed, not understanding. "My father says we didn't build
up adequate supply bases. We'll probably have to fall back to...." And
then the impact hit him. "You mean, for the first time in a hundred
years--"
"Yes," Llyre said, also getting up. The others got up, too. They moved
away from Tony, toward the near-by house. "We're winning. The Terran
flank was turned, half an hour ago. Your right wing has folded
completely."