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Chapter 17
Lovely Terra, Mother of Worlds! What poet, whether or not he has been privileged to visit her, has
not tried to express the homesick longing of men for mankind's birthplace . . . her cool green hills,
cloud-graced skies, restless oceans, her warm maternal charm.
Thorby's first sight of legendary Earth was by view screen of G.M.C. Ariel. Guard Captain N'Gangi,
skipper of the mail ship, stepped up the gain and pointed out arrow-sharp shadows of the Egyptian
Pyramids. Thorby didn't realize the historical significance and was looking in the wrong place. But he
enjoyed seeing a planet from space; he had never been thus privileged before.
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Thorby had a dull time in the Ariel. The mail ship, all legs and tiny payload, carried a crew of three
engineers and three astrogators, all of whom were usually on watch or asleep. He started off badly
because Captain N'Gangi had been annoyed by a "hold for passenger" dispatch from the Hydra -- mail
ships don't like to hold; the mail must go through.
But Thorby behaved himself, served the precooked meals, and spent his time plowing through the
library (a drawer under the skipper's bunk); by the time they approached Sol the commanding officer
was over his pique . . . to have the feeling brought back by orders to land at Galactic Enterprises' field
instead of Guard Base. But N'Gangi shook hands as he gave Thorby his discharge and the paymaster's
draft.
Instead of scrambling down a rope ladder (mail couriers have no hoists), Thorby found that a lift came
up to get him. It leveled off opposite the hatch and offered easy exit. A man in spaceport uniform of
Galactic Enterprises met him. "Mr. Rudbek?"
"That's me -- I guess."
"This way, Mr. Rudbek, if you please."
The elevator took them below ground and into a beautiful lounge. Thorby, mussed and none too clean
from weeks in a crowded steel box, was uneasy. He looked around.
Eight or ten people were there, two of whom were a gray-haired, self-assured man and a young
woman. Each was dressed in more than a year's pay for a Guardsman. Thorby did not realize this in the
case of the man but his Trader's eye spotted it in the female; it took money to look that demurely
provocative.
In his opinion the effect was damaged by her high-fashion hairdo, a rising structure of green blending to
gold. He blinked at the cut of her clothes; he had seen fine ladies in Jubbulpore where the climate favored
clothing only for decoration, but the choice in skin display seemed different here. Thorby realized uneasily
that he was again going to have to get used to new customs.
The important-looking man met him as he got out of the lift "Thor! Welcome home, lad!" He grabbed
Thorby's hand. "I'm John Weemsby. Many is the time I've bounced you on my knee. Call me Uncle
Jack. And this is your cousin Leda."
The girl with green hair placed hands on Thorby's shoulders and kissed him. He did not return it; he
was much too startled. She said, "It's wonderful to have you home, Thor."
"Uh, thanks."
"And now you must greet your grandparents," Weemsby announced. "Professor Bradley . . . and your
Grandmother Bradley."
Bradley was older than Weemsby, slight and erect, a paunch, neatly trimmed beard; be was dressed
like Weemsby in daytime formal jacket, padded tights and short cape, but not as richly. The woman had
a sweet face and alert blue eyes; her clothing did not resemble that of Leda but seemed to suit her. She
pecked Thorby on the cheek and said gently, "It's like having my son come home."
The elderly man shook hands vigorously. "It's a miracle, son! You look just like our boy -- your father.
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Doesn't he, dear?"
"He does!"
There was chitchat, which Thorby answered as well as he could. He was confused and terribly
self-conscious; it was more embarrassing to meet these strangers who claimed him as their blood than it
had been to be adopted into Sisu. These old people -- they were his grandparents? Thorby couldn't
believe it even though he supposed they were.
To his relief the man -- Weemsby? -- who claimed to be his Uncle Jack said with polite authority,
"We had better go. I'll bet this boy is tired. So I'll take him home. Eh?"
The Bradley's murmured agreement; the party moved toward the exit. Others in the room, all men
none of whom had been introduced, went with them. In the corridor they stepped on a glideway which
picked up speed until walls were whizzing past. It slowed as they neared the end -- miles away, Thorby
judged -- and was stationary for them to step off.
This place was public; the ceiling was high and the walls were lost in crowds; Thorby recognized the
flavor of a transport station. The silent men with them moved into blocking positions and their party
proceeded in a direct line regardless of others. Several persons tried to break through and one man
managed it. He shoved a microphone at Thorby and said rapidly, "Mr. Rudbek, what is your opinion of
the --"
A guard grabbed him. Mr. Weemsby said quickly, "Later, later! Call my office; you'll get the story."
Lenses were trained on them, but from high up and far away. They moved into another passageway, a
gate closed behind them. Its glideway deposited them at an elevator which took them to a small enclosed
airport. A craft was waiting and beyond it a smaller one, both sleek, smooth, flattened ellipsoids.
Weemsby stopped. "You'll be all right?" he asked Mrs. Bradley.
"Oh, surely," answered Professor Bradley.
"The car was satisfactory?"
"Excellent. A nice hop -- and, I'm sure, a good one back."
"Then we'll say good-by. I'll call you -- when he's had a chance to get oriented. You understand?"
"Oh, surely. We'll be waiting." Thorby got a peck from his grandmother, a clap on the shoulder from
his grandfather. Then he embarked with Weemsby and Leda in the larger car. Its skipper saluted Mr.
Weemsby, then saluted Thorby -- Thorby managed to return it.
Mr. Weemsby paused in the central passage. "Why don't you kids go forward and enjoy the hop? I've
got calls waiting."
"Certainly, Daddy."
"You'll excuse me, Thor? Business goes on -- it's back to the mines for Uncle Jack."
"Of course . . . Uncle Jack."
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Leda led him forward and they sat down in a transparent bubble on the forward surface. The car rose
straight up until they were several thousand feet high. It made a traffic-circle sweep over a desert plain,
then headed north toward mountains.
"Comfy?" asked Leda.
"Quite. Uh, except that I'm dirty and mussed."
"There's a shower abaft the lounge. But well be home shortly -- so why not enjoy the trip?"
"All right." Thorby did not want to miss any of fabulous Terra. It looked, he decided, like Hekate --
no, more like Woolamurra, except that he had never seen so many buildings. The mountains --
He looked again. "What's that white stuff? Alum?"
Leda looked. "Why, that's snow. Those are the Sangria de Cristos."
" 'Snow,' " Thorby repeated. "That's frozen water."
"You haven't seen snow before?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]