Captain Torkel frowned at Fox and Lieutenant Washington and Kelly. The
fear was still in him, but he said softly, "All right, we'll go."
Garcia and Van Gundy ran back toward the _Star Queen_, white-faced,
shoulders hunched. Captain Torkel and Fox and Kelly and Lieutenant
Washington, led by the young Sirian, stumbled down a wide forest trail.
Other Sirians darted on either side of them and behind them, half
hidden by the thick foliage. They were like happy, dancing nymphs.
Every second or two the forest echoed their clear, melodious laughter.
"We forgot to introduce ourselves," Captain Torkel said to the Sirian.
"My name is Torkel, Captain Jeffrey Torkel."
"My name is Taaleeb," replied the Sirian.
"A pretty name. You are the leader of your people?"
The Sirian's smile gave way to uncertainty. "Leader--that is a strange
thought in your mind. We have no leaders."
"But you _must_ have leaders."
"Why?" asked the Sirian, his eyes wide. "We have no star-boat. We are
not going anyplace."
The captain cleared his throat. "We have leaders not only in our
rockets. We have them to help us make our laws, to supervise our work,
to guide us in the decisions of our living."
The Sirian laughed like a happy child. "Laws, work--more strange
thoughts. We do not have laws. We do not have work."
A scowl creased Captain Torkel's forehead. "But you _must_ do work of
some kind. What do you do all the time?"
"We pick fruit from the trees and make love and sing and sleep and lie
in the forest and make up poems. Is there anything else to do?"
"But when you build shelters or make clothes--_that_ is work."
Taaleeb laughed again. "No, no. Building a shelter or making clothes is
just building a shelter or making clothes."
They came to the village. It lay in circle of domes about eight feet
high that reflected the same shining colors as the meadow flowers.
Whether they were wooden, metallic or vegetable Captain Torkel could
not tell.
"This is where we live," said Taaleeb proudly.
Captain Torkel nodded.
Then he saw the women coming toward them.
* * * * *
He felt the hair rise on the nape of his neck. For an instant he
thought he was going to fall backward. Somehow he caught himself and
managed to remain erect.
The women stood in a line in the center of the clearing as if gathered
to meet the Earthmen. Like the men, they were clad only in loin-cloths.
They were bronzed, sultry young goddesses.
The captain's gaze traveled over the nearest, a girl of perhaps twenty.
His gaze began with her midnight hair that cascaded to firm, round
breasts in a shower of black silk. It turned to her piquant, up-turned
nose and dimpled cheeks and pink, sensual mouth. It fell to the slim,
full body and the sweep of long, tanned thigh.
The girl smiled at him. Her eyes were like wells of interstellar space
silvered with sparkling stars.
He sat down on his haunches, too weak to stand. He'd almost forgotten
that women of flesh and blood existed. He'd almost begun to believe
that women were memories hidden in dark corners of his mind or
flickering images striding across a micro-movie screen.
"We have presents for you," the young Sirian said, smiling down at him.
Captain Torkel forced his eyes away from the girl. He saw that older
women and children were standing beside him, smiling, their arms filled
with strange containers.
"Wine for the Star People," said a white-haired woman. She seized a
golden flagon and filled golden cups held by children.
"Food for the Star People," said another.
More smiling women and children appeared carrying greenish, transparent
bowls filled with slices of a yellow, porous substance.
Taaleeb chuckled at Captain Torkel's hesitancy. "It is good food," he
said. "Everything is good. There is no end to food and no end to wine.
There is plenty for all."
Lieutenant Washington and Fox and Kelly squatted beside Captain Torkel,
accepting the strange bowls and the golden flagons.
Fox whispered, "Captain, shall we let Kelly test the food first? It
_could_ be poisonous."
"Let Kelly test it first," murmured Captain Torkel, hating himself
again.
Fox stuffed a slice of the yellow food into Kelly's mouth. The
fire-haired man gulped and blinked and grinned like a summer sunrise.
"Heaven," he mumbled.
Suddenly Captain Torkel froze. "Wait. Can't you see what these people
are trying to do? They can read our minds. They know that we'll
probably bring millions and millions of people to their planet, that
we'll probably overrun their civilization. They don't want us to go
back to Earth. They want us to stay here. They're just pretending--"
He stopped as he saw the bronzed form of Taaleeb towering above him.
"You are wrong," said the Sirian, and it seemed that his smile
faded ever so slightly, and a muscle in his cheek twitched almost
imperceptibly. "Your thoughts are not good. We will welcome the people
of your star--those who survive the long journey. We will be sorry to
see you leave so soon. You leave in one day, yes? Then we will try to
make your visit pleasant. Now, you must eat and drink. Be gay, my good
friends."
Captain Torkel grunted. Reluctantly, he tasted the yellow food. It was
delicious as a golden-brown fried chicken on Earth. His mood lightened.
He saw that it wouldn't be necessary to test the wine on Kelly.
Lieutenant Washington had already emptied his flagon. It was now being
refilled.
"Wine, Captain," said the smiling Sirian. "You must try our wine."
* * * * *
Captain Torkel cautiously raised the shining flagon to his lips. He
sipped. It was more than wine. It was a sparkling, bubbling nectar of
the gods. His throat and stomach glowed under its stimulating warmth.
An almost miraculous sense of peace and well-being flooded through his
body. It was as if he had become a god.
"More?" asked Taaleeb.
"Well--just a little."
Captain Torkel drank again. To Lieutenant Washington, he said, "I guess
I was wrong. The Sirians are fine people. They really do like us."