“I’m an Earthman,” Danton yelled. “Are you deaf? Can’t you hear how I talk?”
A stooped little man with white hair and great horn-rimmed glasses came over with Jedekiah. “Simeon,” the little man said, “I don’t believe I have met our guest.”
“Professor Baker,” said Simeon, “this savage here claims he’s an Earthman, and he says his name is Edward Danton.”
The professor glanced at Danton’s pareu, his tanned skin and calloused feet. “You are an Earthman?” he asked Danton.
“Of course.”
“Who carved those stone statues up the beach?”
“I did,” Danton said, “but it was just therapy. You see—”
“Obviously primitive work. That stylization, those noses—”
“It was accidental, then. Look, a few months ago I left Earth in a spaceship—”
“How was it powered?” Professor Baker asked.
“By a GM subspatial torque converter.” Baker nodded, and Danton went on. “Well, I wasn’t interested in places like Korani or Heil V, and Hedonia seemed too rich for my blood. I passed up the Mining Worlds and the Farming Worlds, and had the government ship drop me here. The planet’s registered as New Tahiti, in my name. But I was getting pretty lonely, so I’m glad you folks came.”
“Well, Professor?” Simeon said. “What do you think?”
“Amazing,” Baker murmured, “truly amazing. His grasp of colloquial English bespeaks a fairly high level of intelligence, which points up a phenomenon frequently met with in savage societies, namely, an unusually well-developed power of mimicry. Our friend Danta (as his original, uncorrupted name must have been) will probably be able to tell us many tribal legends, myths, songs, dances—”
“But I’m an Earthman!”
“No, my poor friend,” the professor corrected gently, “you are not. Obviously you have met an Earthman. Some trader, I daresay, stopping for repairs.”
Jedekiah said, “There’s evidence that a spaceship once landed here briefly.”
“Ah,” said Professor Baker, beaming. “Confirmation of my hypothesis.”
“That was the government ship,” Danton explained. “It dropped me off here.”
“It is interesting to note,” said Professor Baker in his lecturing voice, “how his almost-plausible story lapses into myth at various crucial points. He claims that the ship was powered by a ‘GM subspatial torque converter’—which is nonsense syllabification, since the only deep-space drive is the Mikkelsen. He claims that the journey from Earth was made in a matter of months (since his untutored mind cannot conceive of a journey lasting years), although we know that no space drive, even theoretically, can achieve that.”
“It was probably developed after you people left Earth,” Danton said. “How long have you been gone?”
“The Hutter spaceship left Earth one hundred and twenty years ago,” Baker replied condescendingly. “We are mostly fourth and fifth generation. Note also,” Baker said to Simeon and Jedekiah, “his attempt to think up plausible place-names. Words such as Korani, Heil, Hedonia appeal to his sense of onomatopoeia. That there are no such places doesn’t disturb him.”
“There are!” Danton said indignantly.
“Where?” Jedekiah challenged. “Give me the co-ordinates.”
“How should I know? I’m no navigator. I think Heil was near Boötes, or maybe it was Cassiopeia. No, I’m pretty sure it was Boötes—”
“I’m sorry, friend,” said Jedekiah. “It may interest you to know that I’m the ship’s navigator. I can show you the star atlases and charts. Those places aren’t on them.”
“Your charts are a hundred years out of date!”
“Then so are the stars,” Simeon said. “Now, Danta, where is your tribe? Why do they hide from us? What are they planning?”
“This is preposterous,” Danton protested. “What can I do to convince you? I’m an Earthman. I was born and raised—”
“That’s enough,” Simeon cut in. “If there’s one thing we Hutters won’t stand for, it’s backtalk from natives. Out with it, Danta. Where are your people?”
“There’s only me,” Danton insisted.
“Tight-mouthed?” Jedekiah gritted. “Maybe a taste of the blacksnake whip—”
“Later, later,” Simeon said. “His tribe’ll come around for handouts. Natives always do. In the meantime, Danta, you can join that work gang over there, unloading the supplies.”
“No, thanks,” said Danton. “I’m going back to—”
Jedekiah’s fist lashed out, catching Danton on the side of the jaw. He staggered, barely keeping his footing.
“The chief said no backtalk!” Jedekiah roared. “Why are you natives always so bone-lazy? You’ll be paid as soon as we unload the beads and calico. Now get to work.”
That seemed to be the last word on the subject. Dazed and unsure, much like millions of natives before him on a thousand different worlds. Danton joined the long line of colonists passing goods out of the ship.
By late afternoon, the unloading was done and the settlers were relaxed on the beach. Danton sat apart from them, trying to think his situation through. He was deep in thought when Anita came to him with a canteen of water.
“Do you think I’m a native?” he asked.
She sat down beside him and said, “I really don’t see what else you could be. Everyone knows how fast a ship can travel and—”
“Times have changed since your people left Earth. They weren’t in space all that time, were they?”
“Of course not. The Hutter ship went to H’gastro I, but it wasn’t fertile enough, so the next generation moved to Ktedi. But the corn mutated and almost wiped them out, so they went to Lan II. They thought that would be a permanent home.”
“What happened?”
“The natives,” said Anita sadly. “I guess they were friendly enough, at first, and everyone thought the situation was well in hand. Then, one day, we were at war with the entire native population. They only had spears and things, but there were too many of them, so the ship left again and we came here.”
“Hmm,” Danton said. “I see why you’re so nervous about aboriginals.”
“Well, of course. While there’s any possibility of danger, we’re under military rule. That means my father and Jedekiah. But as soon as the emergency is past, our regular Hutter government takes over.”
“Who runs that?”
“A council of Elders,” Anita said, “men of good-will, who detest violence. If you and your people are really peaceable—”
“I haven’t any people,” Danton said wearily.
“—then you’ll have every opportunity to prosper under the rule of the Elders,” she finished.
They sat together and watched the sunset. Danton noticed how the wind stirred her hair, blowing it silkily across her forehead, and how the afterglow of the sun outlined and illuminated the line of her cheek and lip. He shivered and told himself it was the sudden chill of evening. And Anita, who had been talking animatedly about her childhood, found difficulty in completing her sentences, or even keeping her train of thought.
After a while, their hands strayed together. Their fingertips touched and clung. For a long time, they said nothing at all. And at last, gently and lingeringly, they kissed.
“What the hell is going on here?” a loud voice demanded.
Danton looked up and saw a burly man standing over him, his powerful head silhouetted black against the moon, his fists on his hips.
“Please, Jedekiah,” Anita said. “Don’t make a scene.”
“Get up,” Jedekiah ordered Danton, in an ominously quiet voice. “Get up on your feet.”
Danton stood up, his hands half-clenched into fists, waiting.
“You,” Jedekiah said to Anita, “are a disgrace to your race and to the whole Hutter people. Are you crazy? You can’t mess around with a dirty native and still keep any self-respect.” He turned to Danton. “And you gotta learn something and learn it good. Natives don’t fool with Hutter women! I’m going to impress that little lesson on you right here and now.”