by Mari Wolf
us. It's justthat we want to see Earth again. It's been so long...."
"How long have you been here, Mr. Farwell?" It was merely politeness.There wasn't any promise in his voice.
"Sixty-five years." I looked up at him. "Isn't there some way--"
"Sixty-five years? But that means you must have come here on the firstcolonizing ship."
"Yes," I said. "We did."
"I can't believe it," he said slowly. "I can't believe I'm actuallylooking at one of the pioneers." He shook his head. "I didn't evenknow any of them were still on Mars."
"We're the last ones," I said. "That's the main reason we want to goback. It's awfully hard staying on when your friends are dead."
* * * * *
Duane got up and crossed the room to the window and looked out overthe rocket field.
"But what good would it do to go back, Mr. Farwell?" he asked. "Earthhas changed very much in the last sixty-five years."
He was trying to soften the disappointment. But nothing could. If onlyI could make him realize that.
"I know it's changed," I said. "But it's _home_. Don't you see? We'reEarthmen still. I guess that never changes. And now that we're old,we're aliens here."
"We're all aliens here, Mr. Farwell."
"No," I said desperately. "Maybe you are. Maybe a lot of the citypeople are. But our neighbors were born on Mars. To them Earth is alegend. A place where their ancestors once lived. It's not real tothem...."
He turned and crossed the room and came back to me. His smile waspitying. "If you went back," he said, "you'd find you were a Martian,too."
I couldn't reach him. He was friendly and pleasant and he was tryingto make things easier, and it wasn't any use talking. I bent my headand choked back the sobs I could feel rising in my throat.
"You've lived a full life," Duane said. "You were one of the pioneers.I remember reading about your ship when I was a boy, and wishing I'dbeen born sooner so that I could have been on it."
Slowly I raised my head and looked up at him.
"Please," I said. "I know that. I'm glad we came here. If we had ourlives to live over, we'd come again. We'd go through all thehardships of those first few years, and enjoy them just as much. We'dbe just as thrilled over proving that it's possible to farm a worldlike this, where it's always freezing and the air is thin and nothingwill grow outside the greenhouses. You don't need to tell me whatwe've done, or what we've gotten out of it. We know. We've had awonderful life here."
"But you still want to go back?"
"Yes," I said. "We still want to go back. We're tired of living in thepast, with our friends dead and nothing to do except remember."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said slowly, "You realize,don't you, that if you went back to Earth you'd have to stay there?You couldn't return to Mars...."
"I realize that," I said. "That's what we want. We want to die athome. On Earth."
* * * * *
For a long, long moment his eyes never left mine. Then, slowly, he satdown at his desk and reached for a pen.
"All right, Mr. Farwell," he said. "I'll give you a visa."
I couldn't believe it. I stared at him, sure that I'd misunderstood.
"Sixty-five years...." He shook his head. "I only hope I'm doing theright thing. I hope you won't regret this."
"We won't," I whispered.
Then I remembered that we were still short of money. That that was whyI'd come to the spaceport originally. I was almost afraid to mentionit, for fear I'd lose everything.
"Is there--is there some way we could be excused from the insurance?"I said. "So we could go back this year? We're three hundred short."
He smiled. It was a very reassuring smile. "You don't need to worryabout the money," he said. "The colonial office can take care of that.After all, we owe your generation a great debt, Mr. Farwell. Apassport tax and the fare to Earth are little enough to pay for aplanet."
I didn't quite understand him, but that didn't matter. The only thingthat mattered was that we were going home. Back to Earth. I could seeMartha's face when I told her. I could see her tears of happiness....
There were tears on my own cheeks, but I wasn't ashamed of them now.
"Mr. Farwell," Duane said. "You go back home. The shuttle ship will beleaving in a few minutes."
"You mean that--" I started.
He nodded. "I'll get your tickets for you. On the first ship I can.Just leave it to me."
"It's too much trouble," I protested.
"No it's not." He smiled. "Besides, I'd like to bring them out to you.I'd like to see your farm, if I may."
Then I remembered what John Emery had said this morning about ouranniversary. It would be a wonderful celebration, now that there wassomething to celebrate. We could even save our announcement that wewere going home until then.
"Mr. Duane," I said. "Next week, on the tenth, we'll have been herethirty-five Martian years. Maybe you'd like to come out then. I guessour neighbors will be giving us a sort of party."
He laid the pen down and looked at me very intently. "They don't knowyou're planning to leave yet, do they?"
"No. We'll wait and tell them then."
Duane nodded slowly. "I'll be there," he promised.
* * * * *
Martha was out on the veranda again, looking down the road toward thevillage. All afternoon at least one of us had been out there watchingfor our guests, waiting for our anniversary celebration to begin.
"Do you see anyone yet?" I called.
"No," she said. "Not yet...."
I looked around the room hoping I'd find something left undone that Icould work on, so I wouldn't have to sit and worry about thepossibility of Duane's having forgotten us. But everything was ready.The extra chairs were out and the furniture all dusted, and Martha'scakes and cookies arranged on the table.
I couldn't sit still. Not today. I got up out of the chair and joinedher on the veranda.
"I wonder what their surprise is...." she said. "Didn't John give youany hint at all?"
"No," I said. "But whatever it is, it can't be half as wonderful asours."
She reached for my hand. "Lewis," she whispered. "I can hardly believeit, can you?"
"No," I said. "But it's true. We're really going."
I put my arm around her, and she rested her head against me.
"I'm so happy, Lewis."
Her cheeks were full of color once again, and her step had a spring toit that I hadn't seen for years. It was as if the years of waitingwere falling away from both of us now.
"I wish they'd come," she said. "I can hardly wait to see their faceswhen we tell them."
It was getting late in the afternoon. Already the sun was dipping downtoward the desert horizon. It was hard to wait. In some ways it washarder to be patient these last few hours than it had been during allthose years we'd wanted to go back.
"Look," Martha said suddenly. "There's a car now."
Then I saw the car too, coming quickly toward us. It pulled up infront of the house and stopped and Duane stepped out.
"Well, hello there, Mr. Farwell," he called. "All ready for the trip?"
I nodded. Suddenly, now that he was here, I couldn't say anything atall.
He must have seen how excited we were. By the time he was inside theveranda door he'd reached into his wallet and pulled out a longenvelope.
"Here's your schedule," he said. "Your tickets are all made out fornext week's flight."
Martha's hand crept into mine. "You've been so kind," she whispered.
* * * * *
We went into the house and smiled at each other while Duane admiredthe furniture and the farming district in general and our place inparticular. We hardly heard what he was saying.
When the doorbell rang we stared at each other. For a minute Icouldn't think who it might be. I'd forgotten our guests and theirsurprise party, even the a
nniversary itself had slipped my mind.
"Hello in there," John Emery called. "Come on out, you two."
Martha pressed my hand once more. Then she stepped to the door andopened it.
"Happy
