Captain Drake twisted his face into a most frightful grimace, “I hope a chandelier falls on her.”
And with that he turned, his expression metamorphosed into one of bland delight in an instant, “Why, Madam Surat, I thought I’d never get the chance to see you tonight.”
Ylen Surat, for whom the age of sixty was past experience, giggled girlishly, “Be still, you old flirt, or you’ll make me forget that I’ve come here to scold you.”
“Nothing is wrong, I hope?” Drake felt a sinking of the heart. He had had previous experience with Madam Surat’s complaints. Things usually were wrong.
“A great deal is wrong. I’ve just been told that in fifty hours, we shall land on Earth-if that’s the way you pronounce the word.”
“Perfectly correct,” answered Captain Drake, a bit more at ease.
“But it wasn’t listed as a stop when we boarded.”
“No, it wasn’t. But then, you see, it’s.quite a routine affair. We leave ten hours after landing.”
“But this is insupportable. It will delay me an entire day. It is necessary for me to reach Santanni within the week, and days are precious. Now, I’ve never heard of Earth. My guide book,” she extracted a leather-covered volume from her reticule and flipped its pages angrily, “doesn’t even mention the place. No one, I feel sure, has any interest in a halt there. If you persist in wasting the passengers’ time in a perfectly useless stop, I shall take it up with the president of the line. I’ll remind you that I have some little influence back home.”
Captain Drake sighed inaudibly. It had not been the first time he had been reminded of Ylen Surat’s “little influence.” “My dear madam, you are right, entirely right, perfectly right-but I can do nothing. All ships on the Sirius, Alpha Centauri, and 61 Cygni lines must stop at Earth. It is by interstellar agreement, and even the president of the line, no matter how stimulated he may be by your argument, could do nothing.”
“Besides,” interrupted Maronni, who thought it time to come to the aid of the beleaguered captain, “I believe that we have two passengers who are actually headed for Earth.”
“That’s right. I had forgotten.” Captain Drake’s face brightened a bit. “There! We have concrete reason for the stop as well.”
“Two passengers out of over fifteen hundred! Reason, indeed!”
“You are unfair,” said Maronni, lightly. “After all, it was on Earth that the Human race originated. You know that, I suppose?”
Ylen Surat lifted patently false eyebrows, “Did we?”
The blank look on her face twisted to one of disdain, “Oh, well, that was all thousands and thousands of years ago. It doesn’t matter any more.”
“It does to the Loarists and the two who wish to land are Loarists.”
“Do you mean to say,” sneered the widow, “that there are still people in this enlightened age who go about studying ‘our ancient culture.’ Isn’t that what they’re always talking about?”
“That’s what Filip Sanat is always talking about,” laughed Maronni. “He gave me a long sermon only a few days ago on that very subject. And it was interesting, too. There was a lot to what he said.”
He nodded lightly and continued, “He’s got a good head on him, that Filip Sanat. He might have made a good scientist or businessman.”
“Speak of meteors and hear them whizz,” said the Captain, suddenly, and nodded his head to the right.
“Well!” gasped Maronni. “There he is. But-but what in space is he doing here?”
Filip Sanat did make a rather incongruous picture as he stood framed in the far doorway. His long, dark purple tunic -mark of the Loarist-was a sombre splotch upon an otherwise gay scene. His grave eyes turned toward Maronni and he lifted his hand in immediate recognition.
Astonished dancers made way automatically as he passed, staring at him long and curiously afterwards. One could hear the wake of whispering that he left in his path. Filip Sanat, however, took no notice of this. Eyes fixed stonily ahead of him and expression stolidly immobile, he reached Captain Drake, Sammel Maronni, and Ylen Surat
Filip Sanat greeted the two men warmly and then, in response to an introduction, bowed gravely to the widow, who regarded him with surprise and open disdain.
“Pardon me for disturbing you. Captain Drake,” said the young man, in a low tone. “I only want to know at what time we are leaving hyperspace.”
The captain yanked out a corpulent pocket-chromo. “An hour from now. Not more.”
“And we shall then be-?”
“Just outside the orbit of Planet IX.”
“That would be Pluto. Sol will then be in sight as we enter normal space?”
“If you’re looking in the right direction, it will be-toward the prow of the ship.”
“Thank you,” Filip Sanat made as if to depart, but Maronni detained him.
“Hold on there, Filip, you’re not going to leave us, are you? I’m sure Madam Surat here is fairly dying to ask you several questions. She has displayed a great interest in Loarism.” There was more than the suspicion of a twinkle in the Lactonian’s eye.
Filip Sanat turned politely to the widow, who, taken aback for the moment, remained speechless, and then recovered.
“Tell me, young man,” she burst forth, “are there really still people like you left?-Loarists, I mean.”
Filip Sanat started and stared quite rudely at his questioner, but did lose his tongue. With calm distinctness, he said, “There are still people left who try to maintain the culture and way of life of ancient Earth.”
Captain Drake could not forbear a tiny bit of irony, “Even down to the culture of the Lhasinuic masters?”
Ylen Surat uttered a stifled scream, “Do you mean to say Earth is a Lhasinuic world? Is it?” Her voice rose to a frightened squeak.
“Why, certainly,” answered the puzzled captain, sorry that he had spoken. “Didn’t you know?”
“Captain,” there was hysteria in the woman’s voice. “You must not land. If you do, I shall make trouble-plenty of trouble. I will not be exposed to hordes of those terrible Lhasinu-those awful reptiles from Vega.”
“You need not fear. Madam Surat,” observed Filip Sanat, coldly. “The vast majority of Earth’s population is very much human. It is only the one percent that rules that is Lhasinuic.”
“Oh-” A pause, and then, in a wounded manner, “Well, I don’t think Earth can be so important, if it is not even ruled by Humans. Loarism indeed! Silly waste of time, I call it!”
Sanat’s face flushed suddenly, and for a moment he seemed to struggle vainly for speech. When he did speak, it was in an agitated tone, “You have a very superficial view. The fact that the Lhasinu control Earth has nothing to do with the fundamental problem of Loarism which-”
He turned on his heel and left.
Sammel Maronni drew a long breath as he watched the retreating figure. “You hit him in a sore spot, Madam Surat, I never saw him squirm away from an argument or an attempt at an explanation in that way before.”
“He’s not a bad looking chap,” said Captain Drake.
Maronni chuckled, “Not by a long shot. We’re from the same planet, that young fellow and I. He’s a typical Lactonian, like me.”
The widow cleared her throat grumpily, “Oh, let us change the subject by all means. That person seems to have cast a shadow over the entire room. Why do they wear those awful purple robes? So unstylish!”
Loara Broos Porin glanced up as his young acolyte entered.
“Well?”
“In less than forty-five minutes, Loara Broos.”
And throwing himself into a chair, Sanat leaned a flushed and frowning face upon one balled fist.
Porin regarded the other with an affectionate smile, “Have you been arguing with Sammel Maronni again, Filip?”
“No, not exactly.” He jerked himself upright. “But what’s the use, Loara Broos? There, on the upper level, are hundreds of Humans, thoughtless, gaily dressed, laughing, frolicking; and there outside is Earth, disregarded. Only we two of the entire ship’s company are stopping there to view the world of our ancient days.”
His eyes avoided those of the older man and his voice took on a bitter tinge, “And once thousands of Humans from every corner of the Galaxy landed on Earth every day. The great days of Loarism are over.”
Loara Broos laughed. One would not have thought such a hearty laugh to be in his spindly figure. “That is at least the hundredth time I have heard that said by you. Foolish! The day will come when Earth will once more be remembered. People will yet again flock. By the thousands and millions they’ll come.”
“No! It is over!”
“Bah! The croaking prophets of doom have said that over and over again through history. They have yet to prove themselves right.”
“This time they will.” Sanat’s eyes blazed suddenly, “Do you know why? It is because Earth is profaned by the reptile conquerors. A woman has just said to me-a vain, stupid, shallow woman-that T don’t think Earth can be so important if it is not even ruled by Humans.’ She said what billions must say unconsciously, and I hadn’t the words to refute her. It was one argument I couldn’t answer.”
“And what would your solution be, Filip? Come, have you thought it out?”
“Drive them from Earth! Make it a Human planet once more! We fought them once during the First Galactic Drive two thousand years ago, and stopped them when it seemed as if they might absorb the Galaxy. Let us make a Second Drive of our own and hurl them back to Vega.”
Porin sighed and shook his head, “You young hothead! There never was a young Loarist who didn’t eat fire on the subject. You’ll outgrow it. You’ll outgrow it.”