Don could not answer. His simian ancestors, beset with perils every moment of life, might have taken it calmly; Don's soft life had not prepared him for such repeated blows. The sergeant went on, "So it had better be the Glory Road for you kid. That's what your parents would want. Go back and find yourself a nice spot in the country; the cities are likely to be unhealthy for a while."
Don snapped out of it. "I'm not going back to Earth! I don't belong there; I'm not a native of Earth."
"Eh? What is your citizenship? Not that it matters; anybody who isn't a citizen of Venus goes back in the Glory Road."
"I'm a Federation citizen," Don answered, "but I can claim Venus citizenship."
"The Federation," the sergeant answered, "has had a slump in its stock lately. But what's this about Venus citizenship? Stop the double-talk and let's see your papers."
Don passed them over. Sergeant McMasters looked first at his birth certificate, then stared at it. "Born in free fall! I'll be a cross-eyed pilot - say, there aren't many like you, are there?"
"I guess not."
"But just what does that make you?"
"Read on down. My mother was born on Venus. I'm Venus native born, by derivation."
"But your pop was born on Earth."
"I'm native born there, too."
"Huh? That's silly."
"That's the law."
"There are going to be some new laws. I don't know just where you fit. See here - where do you want to go? Venus or Earth?"
"I'm going to Mars," Don answered simply.
The sergeant looked at him and handed back the papers. "It beats me. And I can't get any sense out of you. I'm going to refer it on up. Come along."
He led Don down a passageway and into a small compartment which had been set up as an orderly room. Two other soldiers were there; one was using a typer, the other was just sitting. The sergeant stuck his head in and spoke to the one who was loafing. "Hey, Mike-keep an eye on this character. See that he doesn't steal the station." He turned back to Don. "Give me those papers again, kid." He took them and went away.
The soldier addressed as Mike stared at Don, then paid no further attention to him. Don put his bags down and sat on them.
After several minutes Sergeant McMasters returned but ignored Don. "Who's got the cards?" he inquired.
"I have."
"Not your readers, Mike. Where are the honest cards?" The third soldier closed the typer, reached in a drawer and pulled out a deck of cards. The three sat down at the desk and McMasters started to shuffle. He turned to Don. "Care for a friendly game, kid?"
"Uh, I guess not."
"You'll never learn any cheaper." The soldiers played cards for half an hour or so while Don kept quiet and thought. He forced himself to believe that the sergeant knew what he was talking about; he could not go to Mars in the Valkyrie because the Valkyrie was not going to Mars. He could not wait for a later ship because the station - this very room he was sitting in - was about to be blown up.
What did that leave? Earth? No! He had no relatives on Earth, none close enough to turn to. With Dr. Jefferson dead or missing be had no older friends. Perhaps he could crawl back to the ranch, tail between his legs.
No! He had outgrown that skin and shed it. The ranch school was no longer for him.
Down inside was another and stronger reason: the security police in New Chicago had made of him an alien; he would not go back because Earth was no longer his.
Hobson's choice, he told himself; it's got to be Venus. I can find people there whom I used to know-or know Dad and Mother. I'll scrounge around and find some way to get from there to Mars; that's best. His mind made up, he was almost content.
The office phone called out: "Sergeant McMasters!" The sergeant laid down his hand and went to it, pulling the privacy shield into place. Presently he switched off and turned to Don. "Well, kid, the Old Man has settled your status; you're a `displaced person."'
"Hub?"
"The bottom fell out for you when Venus became an independent republic. You have no citizenship anywhere. So the Old Man says to ship you back where you come from... back to Earth."
Don stood up and squared his shoulders. "I won't go."
"You won't, eh?" McMasters said mildly. "Well, just sit hack down and be comfortable. When the time comes, we'll drag you." He started to deal the cards again.
Don did not sit down. "See here, I've changed my mind. If I can't get to Mars right away, then I'll go to Venus."
McMasters stopped and turned around. "When Commodore Higgins settles a point, it's settled. Mike, take this prima donna across and shove him in with the other groundhogs."
"But..."
Mike stood up. "Come on, you."
Don found himself shoved into a room packed with injured feelings. The Earthlings had no guards and no colonials in with them; they were giving vent freely to their opinions about events. "Outrage! We should blast every one of their settlements, level them to the ground!" "-I think we should send a committee to this commanding officer of theirs and say to him firmly-" "I told you we shouldn't have come!" "Negotiate? That's a sign of weakness." "Don't you realize that the war is already over? Man, this place isn't just a traffic depot; it's the main guided-missile control station. They can bomb every last city on Earth from here, like ducks on a pond!"
Don noticed the last remark, played it over in his mind, let it sink in. He was not used to thinking in terms of military tactics; up to this moment the significance of a raid on Circum-Terra had been lost on him. He had thought of it in purely personal terms, his own convenience.
Would they actually go that far? Bomb the Federation cities right off the map? Sure, the colonials had plenty to be sore about, but- of course, it had happened like that, once in the past, but that was history; people were more civilized now. Weren't they?
'Harvey! Donald Harvey!"
Everyone turned at the call. A Venus Guardsman was standing in the compartment door, shouting his name. Don answered, "Here."
"Come along."
Don picked up his bags and followed him out into the passageway, waited while the soldier re-locked the door. "Where are you taking me?"
"The C. O. wants to see you." He glanced at Don's baggage. "No need to drag that stuff."
"Uh, I guess I'd better keep it with me."
"Suit yourself. But don't take it into the C. O.'s office." He took Don down two decks where the "gravity" was appreciably greater and stopped at a door guarded by a sentry. "Here's the guy the Old Man sent for-Harvey."
"Go right on in."
Don did so. The room was large and ornate; it had been the office of the hotel manager. Now it was occupied by a man in uniform, a man still young though his hair was shot with grey. He looked up as Don came in; Don thought he looked alert but tired. "Donald Harvey?"
"Yes, sir." Don got out his papers.
The commanding officer brushed them aside. "I've seen them. Harvey, you are a headache to me. I disposed of your case once."
Don did not answer; the other went on, "Now it appears that I must reopen it. Do you know a Venerian named-" He whistled it.
"Slightly," Don answered. "We shared a compartment in the Glory Road."
"Hmm... . I wonder if you planned it that way?"
"What? How could I?"
"It could have been arranged and it would not be the first time that a young person has been used as a spy."
Don turned red. "You think I am a spy, sir?"
"No, it is just one of the possibilities I must consider. No military commander enjoys political pressure being used on him, Harvey, but they all have to yield to it. I've yielded. You aren't going back to Earth; you are going to Venus." He stood up. "But let me warn you; if you are a ringer who has been planted on me, all the dragons on Venus won't save your skin." He turned to a ship's phone, punched its keys, and waited; presently he said, "Tell him his friend is here and that I've taken care of the matter." He turned back to Don. "Take it."