Joan gazed vacantly into her coffee cup. "The natives on Mercury -- they're attacking us?"
"There's been some riots, agitation, that sort of thing. Some Sector Units have been called out already. The Paris unit and the Moscow unit. Big units, I believe."
After a time, Joan said, "You know, Bryan, I can tell you came here with something on your mind."
"Oh, no. Why do you say that?"
"I can tell. What is it?"
Erickson flushed, his good-natured face red. "You're pretty acute, Joan. As a matter of fact I did come for something."
"What is it?"
Erickson reached into his coat and brought out a folded mimeographed paper. He passed it to Joan. "It isn't my idea, understand. I'm just a cog in a big machine." He chewed his lip nervously. "It's because of the heavy losses in the trektone-war. They need to close ranks. They're up against it, so I hear."
"What does all this mean?" Joan passed the paper back. "I can't make out all this legal wording."
"Well, it means women are going to be admitted into Sector Units in the -- in the absence of male members of the family."
"Oh. I see."
Erickson got up quickly, relieved that his duty had been done. "I guess I'll have to run along now. I wanted to bring this over and show it to you. They're handing them out all along the line." He stuck the paper away in his coat again. He looked very tired.
"It doesn't leave very many people, does it?"
"How do you mean?"
"Men first. Then children. Now women. It seems to take in everybody, just about."
"Kind of does, I guess. Well, there must be a reason. We have to hold these fronts. The stuff must be kept coming in. We've got to have it."
"I suppose so." Joan rose slowly. "I'll see you later on, Bryan."
"Yes, I should be around later in the week. I'll see you then."
"Yes, I should be around later in the week. I'll see you then."
"Sorry to bother you so early in the morning," Erickson said. "I'm in a big rush, running around all over the sector."
"What is it?" Joan closed the door after him. He was in his Organizer's uniform, pale green with silver bands across his shoulders. Joan was still in her dressing robe.
"Nice and warm in here," Erickson said, warming his hands against the wall. Outside, the day was bright and cold. It was November. Snow lay over everything, a cold blanket of white. A few stark trees jutted up, their branches barren and frozen. Far off along the highway the bright ribbon of surface cars had diminished to a trickle. There were few people going to the city, anymore. Most surface cars were in storage.
"I guess you know about the trouble on Saturn," Erickson murmured. "You've heard."
"I saw some shots, I think. Over the vidscreen."
"Quite a ruckus. Those Saturn natives are sure big. My golly, they must be fifty feet high."
Joan nodded absently, rubbing her eyes. "It's a shame we need anything from Saturn. Have you had breakfast, Bryan?"
"Oh, yes, thanks -- I've eaten." Erickson turned his back to the wall. "Sure is good to get in out of the cold. You certainly keep your house nice and neat. I wish my wife kept our place this neat."
Joan crossed to the windows and let up the shades. "What do we use from Saturn?"
"It would have to be nymphite, of all things. Anything else we could give up. But not nymphite."
"What is nymphite used for?"
"All aptitude testing equipment. Without nymphite we wouldn't be able to tell who was fit for what occupation, including President of the World Council."
"I see."
"With nymphite testers we can determine what each person is good for and what kind of work he should be doing. Nymphite is the basic tool of modern society. With it we classify and grade ourselves. If anything should happen to the supply..."
"And it all comes from Saturn?"
"I'm afraid so. Now the natives are rioting, trying to take over the nymphite mines. It's going to be a tough struggle. They're big. The government is having to call up everyone it can get."
Suddenly Joan gasped. "Everyone?" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Even women?"
"I'm afraid so. Sorry, Joan. You know it isn't my idea. Nobody wanted to do it. But if we're going to save all these things we have --"
"But whom will that leave?"
Erickson did not answer. He was sitting down at the desk, making out a card. He passed it to her. Joan took it automatically. "Your unit card."
"But who will be left?" Joan asked again. "Can't you tell me? Will anyone be left?"
The rocketship from Orion landed with a great crashing roar. Exhaust valves poured out clouds of waste material, as the jet compressors cooled into silence.
There was no sound for a time. Then the hatch was unscrewed carefully and swung inward. Cautiously N'tgari-3 stepped out, waving an atmosphere-testing cone ahead of him.
"Results?" his companion queried, his thoughts crossing to N'tgari-3.
"Too thin to breathe. For us. But enough for some kinds of life." N'tgari-3 gazed around him, across the hills and plains, off in the distance. "Certainly is quiet."
"Not a sound. Or any sign of life." His companions emerged. "What's that over there?"
"Where?" N'tgari-3 asked.
"Over that way." Luci'n-6 pointed with his polar antenna. "See?"
"Looks like some kind of building units. Some sort of mass structure."
The two Orionians raised their launch to hatch-level and slid it out onto the ground. With N'tgari-3 at the wheel they set off across the plain toward the raised spot visible on the horizon. Plants grew on all sides, some tall and sturdy, some fragile and small with multi-colored blossoms.
The two Orionians raised their launch to hatch-level and slid it out onto the ground. With N'tgari-3 at the wheel they set off across the plain toward the raised spot visible on the horizon. Plants grew on all sides, some tall and sturdy, some fragile and small with multi-colored blossoms.
They passed through a field of gray-orange plants, thousands of stalks growing uniformly, endless plants all exactly alike.
"They look as if they were artificially sowed," N'tgari-3 murmured.
"Slow the launch down. We're coming to some sort of structure."
N'tgari-3 slowed down the launch almost to a stop. The two Orionians leaned out the port, gazing in interest.
A lovely structure rose up, surrounded by plants of all kinds, tall plants, carpets of low plants, beds of plants with astonishing blossoms. The structure itself was neat and attractive, obviously the artifact of an advanced culture.
N'tgari-3 leaped out of the launch. "Maybe we're about to encounter the legendary Beings from Terra." He hurried across the carpet of plants, a long uniform ground-covering, up to the front porch of the structure.
Luci'n-6 followed him. They examined the door. "How does it open?" Luci'n-6 asked.
They burned a neat hole in the lock and the door slid back. Lights came on automatically. The house was warm, heated by the walls.
"How -- how developed! How very advanced."
They wandered from room to room, gazing around them at the vidscreen, at the elaborate kitchen, at the furniture in the bedroom, at the drapes, the chairs, the bed.
"But where are the Terrans?" N'tgari-3 said at last.
"They'll be right back."
N'tgari-3 paced back and forth. "This gives me an odd feeling. I can't put my antenna on it. A sort of uncomfortable feeling." He hesitated. "It isn't possible they're not coming back, is it?"
"Why not?"
Luci'n-6 began to fiddle with the vidscreen. "Hardly likely. We'll wait for them. They'll be back."
N'tgari-3 peered out the window nervously. "I don't see them. But they must be around. They couldn't just walk off and leave all this behind. Where would they go? Why?"