I waved good-by once as we launched out over the waters. Glory’s arm went up in brief salute and she turned back into the darkness without waiting to see us gone.
“You certainly lucked out there, didn’t you?” said Jemmy from behind me.
“Didn’t I?” I murmured drowsily. “I didn’t expect an angel in jeans and plaid shirt. That’s not an excuse. It’s an explanation.”
Jemmy chuckled and in silence we streaked across the sky. I closed my eyes against the brightness of the moon. Swallowing sorrow and hugging my child close against me, I whispered, “Oh, Thann-oh, Thann-oh, Thann!”
And felt him very near.
“Chee!” Meris’s breath came out in a long sigh.
“Hmm,” said Mark, unfolding his long legs to attend again to the fire. “Not exactly-” He broke off, absorbed in poking the coals.
Debbie laughed. “Not exactly the behavior you would expect from one of the People?” she said.
“Well, I guess that’s it.” He reached for another length of wood.
“Don’t think it wasn’t a big blow to me, too, when I finally stepped back for a good look.” Debbie sobered, the flaring fire lighting her face. “Of course the People are far from perfect, but it was terribly humbling to me to realize that I was a big, fat part of the clay on the feet thereof and an excellent object lesson to the rising generation. Believe me, I’ve learned to check myself often against a standard more reliable than my own egocentric two-foot yardstick.”
“Thann-too,” mused Meris. “Eva-lee’s husband was named Thann.”
“Yes,” said Debbie. “He was one of my-Thann’s Befores. Thann is a fairly common name among us.”
“Speaking of names,” said Meris casually, “‘do you know a Timmy and-“
“And a Lytha?” Debbie laughed. “I passed Bethie on my way in! She said you were wondering-Maybe someday you can hear their story from them in person. I don’t have it well enough to pass it on.”
“Well, I just thought,” Merle smiled.
“Bed.” Mark stood and stretched. “Bed for our guest along with our many thanks. How long can you stay?”
“Only tonight and tomorrow night,” said Debbie. “I have involvements back with the Group, but Bethie wants me to stay long enough to tell you about Shadow.”
“Shadow?” Meris laughed.
Mark laughed. “Look at her ears prick up!”
“Yes, Shadow,” said Debbie. “She’s a Too, too. In fact she is Bethie-too. She and-you know her brother-Remy had quite an experience not so long ago. In the light of recent developments, Bethie thought you might like to hear of it. Also, it all started pretty close to your summer cabin. You see, from where you live, you go northeast about-” She broke off. “Bed,” she said firmly. “Bed, right now. Talking is almost as addictive as listening.”
The next evening-school keeps, guest or no guest, and Mark had daily duties-Debbie settling down on the couch between Mark and Meris said, “I suppose that Bethie was relieved to be called away before she could tell you this segment of our story. It concerns mostly her own family and she’s so shy about talking of herself or those close to her.” Debbie laughed. “It is to smile a little ruefully for me to realize how parallel my actions and thinking were with Remy’s, only he’s really a Teener and I was supposed to be a responsible married woman.
“Well, anyway, give me your hands and listen to Shadow-“
SHADOW ON THE MOON
“No, we can’t even consider it.” Father smoothed his hand along the board he was planing. It was to be a small table for Mother’s birthday. I curled one of the good smelling shavings around my finger as I listened.
“But, Father-” I could see Remy’s hands clenching themselves as he tried to control his voice and keep it low and reasonable-a real job for the volatile person he was. “If you’d only-“
Father put the plane down and looked at Remy. I mean really looked at him, giving him his full attention. “Has anything changed materially since last we discussed the matter?” he asked.
“Apparently not.” Remy laughed shortly. “1 hoped you might have-If you’d only consider it-“
“You know I’m not the only one that thinks this way,” said Father. “Though I concur heartily with the thinking of the rest of the Old Ones. No good would be served. Can’t you see that, Remy?”
“I can’t see any flat statement like that!” cried Remy, his control of his impatience beginning to slip. “Every step of progress anyone makes is some good. Why don’t you let us-“
“Look, Remy.” Father sat on one hip on the edge of the workbench. “Shall we A B C it again. A-we couldn’t possibly let anyone else know we had gone to the moon in a spacecraft. B-to the best of our knowledge, there is no immediate need for anything to be found on the moon. C-he smiled-” ‘We bin there already.’ At least on our way in. And that was enough for most of us. It looked as good to us as the Statue of Liberty did to the flood of immigrants that used to come over from Europe, but we’re most of us content to stay where we are now-looking at it from this side, not that.” He grinned at Remy. “Unless you have any information that would materially alter any of these three checkpoints, I’m afraid the discussion is closed-“
“Why couldn’t we tell?” cried Remy desperately, feeling the whole situation going down the drain. “Why do we have to keep it a secret? Isn’t everyone risking their lives and spending fortunes trying to get into Space? Why can’t we help?” He broke off because his throat got so tight with anger and frustrated tears that he couldn’t talk any more.
Father sighed patiently. “So we go to the moon and back and announce it. So they all swarm around. Can’t you hear them screaming?-What propellant? What engine? Escape velocity-air pressure-radiation-landing-return launching
-reentry! What would you tell them? Go on, boy-type, answer the nice people. Show them the engines. What? No engines! Show them the fuel tank. żQue? No fuel tank! Show them our protection against radiation. Quoi? No protection?
“No, Remy. I wish, because you want it so much, that we could make this expedition for you. Your grandfather’s memories of Space can hardly be much comfort to you at your age. But it’s out of the question. We cannot deliver ourselves over to the Outsiders for the whim of just one of us. If only you’d reconcile yourself to it-“
“What’s the use then?” Remy flung at Father. “What’s the use of being able to if we don’t?”
“Being able to is not always the standard to go by,” said Father. He flicked his fingers at the ceiling and we three watched the snowflakes drift down starrily to cover the workbench. “Your mother loves to watch the snow,” he said, “but she doesn’t go around snowing all the time.” He stopped the snow with a snap of his fingers and it dampened the wood shavings with its melting. “No, just being able to is not a valid reason. And reason there must be before action.”
Remy kicked a block of wood out of the workshop and all the way up the slope to our walnut tree on the hill above the twisted, glittering string that was Cayuse Creek. I followed along. I always follow along-Remy’s shadow, they call me-and he usually pays about that much attention to me. What can I expect else, being a girl and his sister besides. But I like it because Remy does things-lots of things-and he can usually use a listening ear. I am the willing ear. I’m Bethie-too, because Mother is Bethie.
“Then we’ll do it by ourselves!” he muttered as he dug a rock out of the ground where it was poking his shoulder when he tried to relax against the hillside. “We’ll build our own craft and we’ll go by ourselves!” He was so used to me that he automatically said “we”-though it usually meant he had decided he’d do something-a sort of royal “we.” He lay back under the tree, his hands under his head, his eyes rebelliously on the leaves above. I sat by him, trying to snow like Father had, but all I got was cold fingertips and one big drop of rain that I flicked at Remy. He wiped it off and glared up at the canopy of leaves. “Derned old birds!”