Eventually, with much coaxing, they ventured down the ramps and onto the ground. Nothing awful happened to them. Soon they became reassured and began to explore their new and wondrous surroundings. The concrete at the bottom of the ramps, the grass beyond, the wooden walls of the chalets--all were new and each held its own particular fascination. But the most astounding sight of all was that stretching away, seemingly forever, on the other side of the ship--more water than they had ever believed existed in the whole of the universe.
Before long they were romping and reveling in an ecstasy of freedom greater than anything they had ever known. The crowning glory came when the Swiss police launches started running joy rides for them, up along the shore, out into the middle of Lake Geneva, and back again. It soon became obvious that only the grownups and their hang-ups stood in the way of the question of settling on Earth; the kids had made their minds up in no uncertain manner.
Two days after the landing, Hunt was enjoying a coffee break in the residents' cafeteria at Ganyville when a low buzz from his Ganymean wrist unit signaled an incoming call. He touched a button to activate the unit and ZORAC's voice promptly informed him: "The coordination office in the Bureau Block is trying to contact you. Are you accepting?"
"Okay."
"Dr. Hunt?" The voice sounded young and, somehow, pretty.
"That's me," he acknowledged.
"Coordination office here. Sorry to trouble you but could you come over? We could use your help on something."
"Not until you promise to marry me." He was in that kind of mood. Maybe it was coming home after being away for so long.
"What? . . ." The voice rose in surprise and confusion. "I don't. . . that is, I'm serious . . ."
"What makes you think I'm not?"
"You're crazy. Now how about coming over? . . . on business." At least, he thought, she recovered her balance nice and quickly.
"Who are you?" he asked lightly.
"I told you--the coordination office."
"Not them--you."
"Yvonne. . . why?"
"Well, I'll make a deal. You need me to help you out. I need someone to show me around Geneva before I go back to the States. Interested?"
"That's different," the voice retorted, though not without a hint of a smile. "I'm doing a UN job. You're conducting private enterprise. Now are you coming over?"
"Deal?"
"Oh . . . maybe. We'll see later. For the moment what about our problem?"
"What's the problem?"
"Some of your Ganymean pals are here and want to go outside. Somebody thought it would be a good idea if you went too."
Hunt sighed and shook his head to himself. "Okay," he said finally. "Tell'em I'm on my way."
"Will do," the voice replied, then in a suddenly lowered and more confidential tone added: "I'm off on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays." Then it cut itself off with a click. Hunt grinned to himself, finished his coffee and rose to leave the table. A sudden thought struck him.
"ZORAC," he muttered.
"Yes, Vic?"
"Are you coupled into the Earthnet local comms grid?"
"Yes. That's how I routed the call through."
"Yes I know. . . What I meant was, was she talking through a standard two-way vi-terminal?"
"Yes."
"With a visual pickup?"
"Yes."
Hunt rubbed his chin for a moment.
"You didn't record the visual by any chance, did you?"
"I did," ZORAC informed him. "Want a playback?"
Without waiting for an answer, the machine reran a portion of the conversation on the screen of the wrist unit. Hunt nodded and whistled his silent approval. Yvonne was blond, blue-eyed, and attractive, her appearance somehow enhanced by the trim cut of her light-gray UN uniform jacket and white blouse.
"Do you record everything you handle?" Hunt inquired as he sauntered toward the door.
"No, not everything."
"What made you record that then?"
"I knew you'd ask for it," ZORAC told him.
"I don't think I like eavesdroppers in on my calls," Hunt said. "Consider yourself reprimanded."
ZORAC ignored the remark. "I logged her extension number too," it said. "Seeing as you didn't think to ask for it."
"D'you know if she's married?"
"How could I know that?"
"Oh, I don't know . . . Knowing you, you could probably crack the access codes and get into UN's personnel records through the Earthnet or something like that."
"I could, but I won't," ZORAC said. "There are things that a good computer will do for you and things that it won't. From here on in, you're on your own."
Hunt cut off the channel. Shaking his head, he emerged from the cafeteria and turned in the direction of the Bureau Block.
He appeared a few minutes later inside the coordination office on the first floor, where Garuth and some other Ganymeans were waiting with a number of UN officials.
"We feel we want to return the welcome that the people of Earth have given us," Garuth said. "So, we'd like to go for a walk outside the perimeter to meet them."
"That okay?" Hunt asked, directing his words at the portly, silver-haired man who appeared to be the most senior of the officials present.
"Sure. They're guests here, not prisoners. We thought it would be a good idea if someone they knew went with them though."
"Fine by me," Hunt said, nodding. "Let's go." As he turned toward the door, he caught a glimpse of Yvonne operating a vi-console at the back of the office and winked mischievously. She colored slightly and looked down at the keyboard below the screen. Then she glanced up, winked back with a quick smile and busied herself at the keyboard again.
Outside the building they were joined by more Ganymeans and a contingent of Swiss police headed by an apprehensive chief. The party walked down a path to the roadway and turned left to proceed between the rows of chalets toward a steel-mesh gate that formed part of the perimeter fence. As they walked clear of the chalets and continued up along the gently sloping gravel road toward the gate, a stir ran through the crowds sitting on the grassy mounds beyond the fence on the far side of the clear zone. People began jumping to their feet and looking down toward the fence. The excitement grew as the Ganymeans halted while Swiss constables unlocked the gate and swung it aside.
With Garuth on one side of him and the Swiss police chief on the other, Hunt led the party through the gate as the clamor of voices ahead of them rose and became cheering. People began running down the slopes to press together just short of the police cordon, waving and calling as the party continued along the roadway across the clear zone.
The cordon opened to let them through, and suddenly the people massed together across the roadway found themselves staring up into the awesome faces from another world. While the noise from all around continued unabated, the ranks immediately in front of the Giants grew strangely hushed, and fell back as if to maintain a respectful distance. Garuth stopped and looked slowly around the semicircle of faces. As his gaze traveled from one to another the eyes averted. Hunt could understand their uncertainty, but at the same time he was anxious that the gesture the Giants had wanted to make should not go unreciprocated.
"I'm Vic Hunt," he called to the crowd in a loud voice. "I have traveled with these people all the way from Jupiter. This is Garuth, commander of the Ganymean ship. He and his companions have come to meet you all personally and at their own request. Let's make them feel at home."
Still the people seemed to shrink back. Some seemed to want to make a welcoming gesture, but everybody was waiting for somebody else to take the first step. And then a boy at the front of the crowd wrenched his hand free from his mother's, marched forward and confronted Garuth's towering frame boldly. Wearing stout mountain boots below a pair of alpine-style leather shorts, he was about twelve years old with a tangle of fair hair and a face covered with freckles. His mother started forward instinctively, but the man standing next to her restrained her with his arm.