* * * *
Amantha approved. Go straight to the man responsible. Persistence could get you there.
“He talked real nice for a while,” Ethan continued. “He explained he didn’t own the ship and didn’t have the say-so who he took. I knew you wanted to go real bad. I offered him the money we’d saved.”
“All of it, Ethan?”
“Don’t get mad. Figured it was worth it to you.”
“Don’t believe in paying extra,” she mused, “but did you tell him we could borrow some if it wasn’t enough?”
“Didn’t get a chance. He started laughing, saying didn’t I understand he got paid not just for each trip, but for all the years after that, when he was finished and had used up his time and couldn’t work at the only thing he knew? Saying that he wouldn’t risk that kind of security for any money and I was an idiot for believing he might.” Ethan trembled.
“Never mind. He’s an old fool.”
“He’s younger than Jimmy.”
“Some people get wisdom when they’re young.”
Ethan sat morosely in the chair. “If Jimmy hadn’t made that last trip, he’d be here and he’d have married a girl here and his kids would be here. We wouldn’t have to worry about them.”
“I guess so, but he was lucky anyway. They found out he wasn’t as strong as he was supposed to be and wouldn’t let him come back.” She began clearing the dishes. “How’d they know he couldn’t come back?”
“They got tests. They give them each trip.”
She should have thought of it. They had tests. Because of tests, Jimmy was safe but distant. She sat down.
“Tired.” Ethan yawned. “Let’s go to bed.”
“You go. I’m thinking.”
Amantha went on thinking while he undressed and lay down. Sometimes it was difficult—things weren’t as clear as they used to be. Tonight, though, she had no trouble managing her mind. A woman who had kids had to know her way around things. Presently, she said, “Tomorrow I’m going to bake.”
Ethan stirred. “Won’t do no good. Didn’t say so, but there was a girl talking to the pilot when I got there. She was crying and begging him to take her to Earth next trip. Said she’d do anything if he would.”
“Shame on her!” exclaimed Amantha. “But did it work?”
“She was young and pretty and still he wouldn’t pay attention to her,” said Ethan. “What chance would you have?”
“I’m going to bake tomorrow. In the morning, we’re supposed to go for a walk. We’ll take a big basket. Do you remember the old canal nobody goes near any more?”
There was no answer. Ethan was asleep. Now that she’d decided what to do, she lay down beside him.
* * * *
The sentry huddled in his post. It was insulated and supplied with oxygen, very much like a spacesuit. Though big for a spacesuit, it was a small place to spend hours in without relief. But there were compensations: never anything to do—except as now. He went to the mike.
“Get back,” he shouted.
They paid no attention.
Swearing, he shouted again, turning up the volume. Even in the thin air, he had enough sound to blast them off their feet. But they kept on going. He poked the snout of his weapon through the porthole and then withdrew it. Who’d given him those orders anyway? He didn’t have to obey them. He clamped on his oxygen helmet and slipped into electric mitts and hurried outside.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, standing in front of them.
“Hello,” said Amantha. “Didn’t see anyone around.”
Damn senior citizens—they never used hearing aids. “You’ve got to turn around and go back,” he said.
“Why?”
He was shivering and didn’t see how they could stand it. Thin clothing and obsolete oxygen equipment. Oddly, they could take more than you’d think, though. Used to it, he supposed. “Come on in,” he commanded gruffly. He wasn’t going to freeze. They followed him into the post. “Didn’t you see the signs to keep out?”
“But the ships aren’t using the field. What harm are we doing?”
“Orders,” he said. There were still a few pilots checking over their ships, making sure everything was in working condition before they were locked up. In a week, all flight personnel would be gone to the settlements, there to await the next round of voyages when Earth came near. They had it soft, while he, the guard, had to stay in cold discomfort.
“We’re going to visit a friend of my son,” said Amantha. “They were pilots together. Do you object?”
He didn’t, but there were some who would. The order made sense with respect to little boys who would otherwise swarm over the field, falling off ships or getting stuck in rocket tubes.
“What have you got?” he asked, eying Amantha’s parcel dubiously.
“I baked something.” She opened a corner of the package and the smell drifted out. “Made it with Martian fruit. Not much of it around these days.”
He sniffed and became hungry. That was queer—he’d eaten before coming on duty.
“Okay,” he said. “You can go. Don’t get caught or it’s my neck.” He stood closer to the old man and woman, and the package, too, and pointed out the window. “Act like you’re leaving in case anyone’s checking up. When you get near the line of ships, duck behind them and walk along until you find the right one. No one will see you except me.”
Amantha pinched the package together. “I’d give you some, but I can’t cut it before the pilot sees it.”
“I guess you can’t,” said the sentry wistfully. “Maybe he won’t eat all of it.”
“May he won’t. I’ll bring you back what’s left—if there is any left.”
Long after they were gone, the sentry stood there, trying to analyze the indefinable odor. He was still standing there when the checkup squad marched in and arrested him for gross dereliction of duty.
* * * *
“Go away,” said the pilot, disappearing from the viewport. Ethan pounded on the hull with a rock. The pilot came back, twisting his face. “Stop it. I’ll angle the rocket tubes around and squirt you with them.”
Ethan raised the rock.
“Okay,” said the pilot. “I’ll talk to you, though I know what you want.” Sullenly, he made the hatch swing open. He looked down at them. “All right, let’s hear it.”
“Got a present for you,” said Ethan.
“Not allowed to take bribes unless it’s money.”
“Young man, where are your manners?” snapped Amantha.
“Haven’t got any. It’s the first thing they train out of you.” The pilot started to jerk his head back, saw the rock and decided not to close the hatch. He glanced at the narrow ladder to the ground. “I’ll take your present. Bring it up.”
He stopped smirking as Amantha hitched up her skirts and, holding the package in one hand, swung up the ladder. Agile as goats and probably as sensible, he thought. He took hold of her as she neared the top.
“Grandma, you’re too old to climb around. You’ll break every brittle bone in your body if you fall.”
“Ain’t so brittle,” said Amantha, making way for Ethan who had followed her. “My, it’s cold!” She began shivering. “Invite us in to get warm.”
“You can’t go in. I’m busy. Hey, wait!” The pilot hurried after her into the control compartment.
Amantha was looking around when he arrived. “Cozy but kind of bare,” she said. “Why don’t you hang up pictures?”
“Most fabulous pictures you’ll ever see are right there.”
Amantha followed his glance. “Nothing but Mars. I can see that every day.” She puzzled over it. “Oh, you’re teasing an old woman. I didn’t mean what you see out of the port, stars and planets and such. I’d want a picture of an Indian settin’ on a horse.”
“I’ll bet!” muttered the pilot. “Get warm in a hurry. I’ve got work to do.”
“You just go ahead,” she said. “We’ll set here
and toast our toes. We don’t aim to interfere.”
“I’ll stay,” said the pilot hastily. “Let’s have the present.” He’d made a tactical error—he should have ignored the noise that went shimmering through the hull when the old man had pounded with a rock. No, it was nice to think he could have, but impossible. Patience was one of the things the aged did have and the young didn’t.
Amantha set the package down. The pilot scrambled ahead of her and got the navigator’s instruments off the desk and into the drawer.
She opened and displayed the contents.
“I baked it for you,” she said. “It’s a cake.”
* * * *
He could see what it was. “Hate cake,” he said. “Can’t eat it.”
“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.”
II
“There’s no one here,” said the robot blocking the door.
“We’ll wait.” Amantha tried to go inside. The robot wouldn’t move.
It was dark and windy and, from the steps, they could see lights of houses glowing around them. Not many—it was near the edge of the little town. Farther away, over the hill, the ship nestled safely in a valley. No one had seen them land. They were sure of it.
Ethan removed his hat and his bent shoulders straightened. He seemed to grow taller.
“Rain,” he said in awe. “Thirty years and yet I haven’t forgotten what it’s like.”
“It’s wet, that’s what it’s like,” said Amantha. “Robot, let us in or I’ll have Ethan take a wrench to you. He loves to tinker.”
“I can’t be threatened. My sole concern is the welfare of my charge. Also, I’m too large for any human to hurt me.”
“Damnation, I’m soppin’!” complained Ethan. “It’s better to remember the rain than to be in it.”
“Wait till my son Jimmy gets back. He’ll be ravin’. Makin’ us stay out here and get soaked.”
“Son? Is the Jimmy you refer to Pilot James Huntley?”
“Ex-pilot.”
“Correct. But he’s not at home. He took his wife to the hospital half an hour ago.”
“So soon?” gasped Amantha. “Thought I taught him better than that. Women have got to rest between kids.”
“It’s not another child,” said the robot with disinterest. “It has to do with one of the ills flesh is heir to and machines are not. Nothing serious.”
Ethan fidgeted, turning up his collar. Water b
egan flowing from the eaves. “Stop arguin’ and let us in. Jimmy will turn off your juice when he finds you’ve kept his folks outside.”
“Folks? He has none here. A mother and father living happily on Mars. They died quite recently, lost in space and plunging into the Sun.”
“Make up your mind,” Amantha said peevishly. “We ain’t on Mars, we weren’t happy and we didn’t get lost and plunge into the Sun.”
“I merely repeat—in sequence—the information I’m given or overhear. If it’s inconsistent, so are humans. I’m used to it.”
“’Mantha, they think we’re dead,” said Ethan. He wiped a raindrop away. “Poor Jimmy!”
A thin wail came from a crack in the door. The robot’s eyes shone briefly, then dimmed.
“What’s that?” asked Amantha. “Sounds like a baby. Thought you said no one was home.”
“No responsible adult. Only a child. Because of that, I can admit no one except the parents—or a doctor if I decide one is needed.” The robot whirred and drew itself up. “He’s absolutely safe. I’m a Sitta.”
“You sure are. Now get out of my way before I jab you. The kid’s crying.”
“He is, but it’s no concern of yours. I’m better acquainted with infant behavior than any human can be. The pathetic sob merely means that the child wants attention. I was given no instructions to hold him.”
* * * *
Again the child cried. “Who needs to be told?” demanded Amantha. “Nobody gives grandmothers instructions.”
“He’s got a grandfather to cuddle him,” added Ethan. “How far do you think we came to do it?”
“And he’s not cryin’ because he wants attention. Something’s stickin’ him and he’s hungry. Don’t you think a grandmother would know?”
“There’s nothing that can stick him, but if, by accident, something sharp had gotten in his bed and if he were also hungry, he would sound like this.” The Sitta hunched down and swiveled its head, giving an imitation. “You see? I do nothing but watch babies. It’s built into me.”
Inside the house, the child’s tone changed, became querulous, listening. Interrogatively, it offered a single yowl.
“My analysis was correct. It wanted attention. The parents left so hurriedly, they forgot to give me permission. When I didn’t come to investigate, the child stop—”
The Eleventh Golden Age of Science Fiction Megapack Page 26
