“In far too flowery wording. ‘Carrying on the traditions of my family, which has been proud of four generations in Service’, if I may quote you your own words.”
Jennan groaned. “I was very young when I wrote that. I certainly hadn’t been through Final Training. And once I was in Final Training, my pride wouldn’t let me fail…
“As I mentioned, I used to visit Dad on board the Silvia and I’ve a very good idea she might have had her eye on me as a replacement for my father because I had had massive doses of scout-oriented propaganda. It took. From the time I was 7, I was going to be a scout or else.” He shrugged as if deprecating a youthful determination that had taken a great deal of mature application to bring to fruition.
“Ah, so? Scout Sahir Silan on the JS-44 penetrating into the Horsehead Nebulae?”
Jennan chose to ignore her sarcasm.
“With you, I may even get that far. But even with Silvia’s nudging, I never day-dreamed myself that kind of glory in my wildest flights of fancy. I’ll leave the whoppers to your agile brain henceforth. I have in mind a smaller contribution to space history.”
“So modest?”
“No. Practical. We also serve, et cetera.” He placed a dramatic hand on his heart.
“Glory hound!” scoffed Helva.
“Look who’s talking, my Nebula-bound friend. At least I’m not greedy. There’ll only be one hero like my dad at Parsaea, but I would like to be remembered for some kudo. Everyone does. Why else do or die?”
“Your father died on his way back from Parsaea, if I may point out a few cogent facts. So he could never have known he was a hero for damming the flood with his ship. Which kept Parsaean colony from being abandoned. Which gave them a chance to discover the antiparalytic qualities of Parsaea. Which he never knew.”
“I know,” said Jennan softly.
Helva was immediately sorry for the tone of her rebuttal. She knew very well how deep Jennan’s attachment to his father had been. On his review a note was made that he had rationalized his father’s loss with the unexpected and welcome outcome of the Affair at Parsaea.
“Facts are not human, Helva. My father was and so am I. And basically, so are you. Check over your dial, 834. Amid all the wires attached to you is a heart, an underdeveloped human heart. Obviously!”
“I apologize, Jennan,” she said.
Jennan hesitated a moment, threw out his hands in acceptance and then tapped her shell affectionately.
“If they ever take us off the milkruns, we’ll make a stab at the Nebula, huh?”
As so frequently happened in the Scout Service, within the next hour they had orders to change course, not to the Nebula, but to a recently colonized system with two habitable planets, one tropical, one glacial. The sun, named Ravel, had become unstable; the spectrum was that of a rapidly expanding shell, with absorption lines rapidly displacing toward violet. The augmented heat of the primary had already forced evacuation of the nearer world, Daphnis. The pattern of spectral emissions gave indication that the sun would sear Chloe as well. All ships in the immediate spatial vicinity were to report to Disaster Headquarters on Chloe to effect removal of the remaining colonists.
The JH-834 obediently presented itself and was sent to outlying areas on Chloe to pick up scattered settlers who did not appear to appreciate the urgency of the situation. Chloe, indeed, was enjoying the first temperatures above freezing since it had been flung out of its parent. Since many of the colonists were religious fanatics who had settled on rigorous Chloe to fit themselves for a life of pious reflection, Chloe’s abrupt thaw was attributed to sources other than a rampaging sun.
Jennan had to spend so much time countering specious arguments that he and Helva were behind schedule on their way to the fourth and last settlement.
Helva jumped over the high range of jagged peaks that surrounded and sheltered the valley from the former raging snows as well as the present heat. The violent sun with its flaring corona was just beginning to brighten the deep valley as Helva dropped down to a landing.
“They’d better grab their toothbrushes and hop aboard,” Helva said. “HO says speed it up.”
“All women,” remarked Jeanan in surprise as he walked down to meet them. “Unless the men on Chloe wear furred skirts.”
“Charm ‘em but pare the routine to the bare essentials. And turn on your two-way private.”
Jennan advanced smiling, but his explanation of his mission was met with absolute incredulity and considerable doubt as to his authenticity. He groaned inwardly as the matriarch paraphrased previous explanations of the warming sun.
“Revered mother, there’s been an overload on that prayer circuit and the sun is blowing itself up in one obliging burst. I’m here to take you to the spaceport at Rosary—”
“That Sodom?” The worthy woman glowered and shuddered disdainfully at his suggestion. “We thank you for your warning but we have no wish to leave our cloister for the rude world. We must go about our morning meditation which has been interrupted—”
“It’ll be permanently interrupted when that sun starts broiling you. You must come now,” Jennan said firmly.
“Madame,” said Helva, realizing that perhaps a female voice might carry more weight in this instance than Jennan’s very masculine charm.
“Who spoke?” cried the nun, startled by the bodiless voice.
“I, Helva, the ship. Under my protection you and your sisters-in-faith may enter safely and be unprofaned by association with a male. I will guard you and take you safely to a place prepared for you.”
The matriarch peered cautiously into the ship’s open port.
“Since only Central Worlds is permitted the use of such ships, I acknowledge that you are not trifling with us, young man. However, we are in no danger here.”
“The temperature at Rosary is now 99°,” said Helva. “As soon as the sun’s rays penetrate directly into this valley, it will also be 99°, and it is due to climb to approximately 180° today. I notice your buildings are made of wood with moss chinking. Dry moss. It should fire around noontime.”
The sunlight was beginning to slant into the valley through the peaks and the fierce rays warmed the restless group behind the matriarch. Several opened the throats of their furry parkas.
“Jennan,” said Helva privately to him, “our time is very short.”
“I can’t leave them, Helva. Some of those girls are barely out of their teens.”
“Pretty, too. No wonder the matriarch doesn’t want to get in.”
“Helva.”
“It will be the Lord’s will,” said the matriarch stoutly and turned her back squarely on rescue.
“To burn to death?” shouted Jennan as she threaded her way through her murmuring disciples.
“They want to be martyrs? Their opt, Jennan,” said Helva dispassionately, “We must leave and that is no longer a matter of option.”
“How can I leave, Helva?”
“Parsaea?” Helva asked tauntingly as he stepped forward to grab one of the women. “You can’t drag them all aboard and we don’t have time to fight it out. Get on board, Jennan, or I’ll have you on report.”
“They’ll die,” muttered Jennan dejectedly as he reluctantly turned to climb on board.
“You can risk only so much,” Helva said sympathetically. “As it is we’ll just have time to make a rendezvous. Lab reports a critical speedup in spectral evolution.”
Jennan was already in the airlock when one of the younger women, screaming, rushed to squeeze in the closing port. Her action set off the others. They stampeded through the narrow-opening. Even crammed back to breast, there was not enough room inside for all the women. Jennan broke out spacesuits to the three who would have to remain with him in the airlock. He wasted valuable time explaining to the matriarch that she must put on the suit because the airlock had no independent oxygen or cooling units.