He grabbed the chart and fed it into the robant pilot. "The Emphor System," he murmured thoughtfully.
thoughtfully.
"According to the chart, there are ninety systems that show a third planet of nine with a single moon. Of the ninety, Emphor is the closest. We're heading there now."
"I don't get it," Norton protested. "Emphor is a routine trading system. Emphor III isn't even a Class D check point."
Captain Andrews grinned tightly, "Emphor III has a single moon, and it's the third of nine planets. That's all we want.
"Does anybody know any more about Earth?" He glanced downwards. "Does she know any more about Earth?"
"I see," Norton said slowly. "I'm beginning to get the picture."
Emphor III turned silently below them. A dull red globe, suspended among sickly clouds, its baked and corroded surface lapped by the congealed remains of ancient seas. Cracked, eroded cliffs jutted starkly up. The flat plains had been dug and stripped bare. Great gouged pits pocked the surface, endless gaping sores.
Norton's face twisted in revulsion. "Look at it. Is anything alive down there?"
Captain Andrews frowned. "I didn't realize it was so gutted." He crossed abruptly to the robant pilot. "There's supposed to be an auto-grapple some place down there. I'll try to pick it up."
"A grapple? You mean that waste is inhabited?"
"A few Emphorites. Degenerate trading colony of some sort." Andrews consulted the card. "Commercial ships come here occasionally. Contact with this region has been vague since the Centauran-Rigan War."
The passage rang with a sudden sound. The gleaming robant and Mrs Gordon emerged through the doorway into the control room. The old woman's face was alive with excitement. "Captain! Is that -is that Earth down there?"
Andrews nodded. "Yes."
The robant led Mrs Gordon over to the big viewscreen. The old woman's face twitched, ripples of emotion stirring her withered features. "I can hardly believe that's really Earth. It seems impossible."
Norton glanced sharply at Captain Andrews.
"It's Earth," Andrews stated, not meeting Norton's glance. "The moon should be around soon."
The old woman did not speak. She had turned her back.
Andrews contacted the auto-grapple and hooked the robant pilot on. The transport shuddered and then began to drop, as the beam from Emphor caught it and took over.
"We're landing," Andrews said to the old woman, touching her on the shoulder.
"She can't hear you, sir," the robant said.
Andrews grunted. "Well, she can see."
Below them the pitted, ruined surface of Emphor III was rising rapidly. The ship entered the cloud belt and emerged, coasting over a barren plain that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"What happened down there?" Norton said to Andrews. "The war?"
"War. Mining. And it's old. The pits are probably bomb craters. Some of the long trenches may be scoop gouges. Looks like they really exhausted this place."
A crooked row of broken mountain peaks shot past under them. They were nearing the remains of an ocean. Dark, unhealthy water lapped below, a vast sea, crusted with salt and waste, its edges disappearing into banks of piled debris.
"Why is it that way?" Mrs Gordon said suddenly. Doubt crossed her features. "Why?"
"What do you mean?" Andrews said.
"I don't understand." She stared uncertainly down at the surface below. "It isn't supposed to be this way. Earth is green. Green and alive. Blue water and..." Her voice trailed off uneasily. "Why?"
Andrews grabbed some paper and wrote:
COMMERCIAL OPERATIONS EXHAUSTED SURFACE
COMMERCIAL OPERATIONS EXHAUSTED SURFACE
The robant took her arm. "She had better rest. I'll return her to her quarters. Please notify us when the landing has been made."
"Sure." Andrews nodded awkwardly as the robant led the old woman from the viewscreen. She clung to the guide rail, face distorted with fear and bewilderment.
"Something's wrong!" she wailed. "Why is it this way? Why..."
The robant led her from the control room. The closing of the hydraulic safety doors cut off her thin cry abruptly.
Andrews relaxed, his body sagging. "God." He lit a cigarette shakily. "What a racket she makes."
"We're almost down," Norton said frigidly.
Cold wind lashed at them as they stepped out cautiously. The air smelled bad -- sour and acrid. Like rotten eggs. The wind brought salt and sand blowing up against their faces.
A few miles off the thick sea lay. They could hear it swishing faintly, gummily. A few birds passed silently overhead, great wings flapping soundlessly.
"Depressing damn place," Andrews muttered.
"Yeah. I wonder what the old lady's thinking."
Down the descent ramp came the glittering robant, helping the little old woman. She moved hesitantly, unsteady, gripping the robant's metal arm. The cold wind whipped around her frail body. For a moment she tottered -- and then came on, leaving the ramp and gaining the uneven ground.
Norton shook his head. "She looks bad. This air. And the wind."
"I know." Andrews moved back toward Mrs Gordon and the robant. "How is she?" he asked.
"She is not well, sir," the robant answered.
"Captain," the old woman whispered.
"What is it?"
"You must tell me the truth. Is this -- is this really Earth?"
She watched his lips closely. "You swear it is? You swear?" Her voice rose in shrill terror.
"It's Earth!" Andrews snapped irritably. "I told you before. Of course it's Earth."
"It doesn't look like Earth." Mrs Gordon clung to his answer, panic-stricken. "It doesn't look like Earth, Captain. Is it really Earth?"
"Yes!"
Her gaze wandered toward the ocean. A strange look flickered across her tired face, igniting her faded eyes with sudden hunger. "Is that water? I want to see."
Andrews turned to Norton. "Get the launch out. Drive her where she wants."
Norton pulled back angrily. "Me?"
"That's an order."
"Okay." Norton returned reluctantly to the ship. Andrews lit a cigarette moodily and waited. Presently the launch slid out of the ship, coasting across the ash toward them.
"You can show her anything she wants," Andrews said to the robant. "Norton will drive you."
"Thank you, sir," the robant said. "She will be grateful. She has wanted all her life to stand on Earth. She remembers her grandfather telling her about it. She believes that he came from Earth, a long time ago. She is very old. She is the last living member of her family."
"But Earth is just a --" Andrews caught him. "I mean --"
"Yes, sir. But she is very old. And she has waited many years." The robant turned to the old woman and led her gently toward the launch. Andrews stared after them sullenly, rubbing his jaw and frowning.
"Okay," Norton's voice came from the launch. He slid the hatch open and the robant led the old woman carefully inside. The hatch closed after them.
A moment later the launch shot away across the salt flat, toward the ugly, lapping ocean.
A moment later the launch shot away across the salt flat, toward the ugly, lapping ocean.
"Go on," Andrews said. "What then?"
"That's all. She got out of the launch. She and the robant. I stayed inside. They stood looking across the ocean. After a while the old woman sent the robant back to the launch."
"Why?"
"I don't know. She wanted to be alone, I suppose. She stood for a time by herself. On the shore. Looking over the water. The wind rising. All at once she just sort of settled down. She sank down in a heap, into the salt ash."
"Then what?"
"While I was pulling myself together, the robant leaped out and ran to her. It picked her up. It stood for a second and then it started for the water. I leaped out of the launch, yelling. It stepped into the water and disappeared. Sank down in the mud and filth. Vanished." Norton shuddered. "With her body."