Tunnel in the Sky (33 page)

   
“Well . . . that's the general idea.”

   
“Mmmm . . . an interesting theory, Welker.”

   
“'Walker.' And until you do, you can darn well clear the sightseers out- and get out yourself. We aren't a zoo.”

   
Sansom looked at Rod's ribs, glanced at his dirty, calloused feet and smiled. Rod said, “Show him out, Carol. Put him out, if you have to.”

   
“Yes, sirr' She advanced on Sansom, grinning.

   
“Oh, I'm leaving,” Sansom said quickly. “Better a delay than a mistake in protocol. An ingenious theory, young man. Good-by. We shall see each other later. Uh . . . a word of advice? May I?”

   
Huh? All right.”

   
“Don't take yourself too seriously. Ready, young lady?”

   
Rod stayed in his hut. He wanted badly to see what was going on beyond the wall, but he did not want to run into Sansom. So he sat and gnawed his thumb and thought. Apparently some weak sisters were going back -wave a dish of ice cream under their noses and off they would trot, abandoning their land, throwing away all they had built up. Well, he wouldn't! This was home, his place, he had earned it; he wasn't going back and maybe wait half a lifetime for a chance to move to some other planet probably not as good.

   
Let them go! Cowpertown would be better and stronger without them.

   
Maybe some just wanted to make a visit, show off grandchildren to grandparents, then come back. Probably . .
 
in which case they had better make sure that Sansom or somebody gave them written clearance to come back. Maybe he ought to warn them.

   
But he didn't have anyone to visit. Except Sis- and Sis might be anywhere- unlikely that she was on Terra.

   
Bob and Carmen, carrying Hope, came in to say good-by. Rod shook hands solemnly. “You're coming back, Bob, when you get your degree . . . aren't you?”

   
“Well, we hope so, if possible. If we are permitted to.”

   
“Who's going to stop you? It's your right. And when you do, you'll find us here. In the meantime we'll try not to break legs.”

   
Baxter hesitated. “Have you been to the gate lately, Rod?”

   
“No. Why?”

   
“Uh, don't plan too far ahead. I believe some have already gone back.”

   
“How many?”

   
“Quite a number.” Bob would not commit himself further. He gave Rod the addresses of his parents and Carmen's, soberly wished him a blessing, and left.

   
Margery did not come back and the fire pit remained cold. Rod did not care, he was not hungry. Jimmy came in at what should have been shortly after lunch, nodded and sat down. Presently he said, “I've been out at the gate.”

   
“So?”

   
“Yup. You know, Rod, a lot of people wondered why you weren't there to say good-by.”

   
“They could come here to say good-by!”

   
“Yes, so they could. But the word got around that you didn't approve. Maybe they were embarrassed.”

   
“Me?” Rod laughed without mirth. “I don't care how many city boys run home to mama. It's a free country.” He glanced at Jim. “How many are sticking?”

   
“Uh, I don't know.”

   
“I've been thinking. If the group gets small, we might move back to the cave just to sleep, I mean. Until we get more colonists.”

   
“Maybe.”

   
“Don't be so glum! Even if it got down to just you and me and Jackie and Carol, we'd be no worse off than we once were. And it would just be temporary. There'd be the baby, of course- I almost forgot to mention my god-son.

   
“There's the baby,” Jimmy agreed.

   
“What are you pulling a long face about? Jim . you're not thinking of leaving?”

   
Jimmy stood up. Jackie said to tell you that we would stick by whatever you thought was best.”

   
Rod thought over what Jimmy had not said. “You mean she wants to go back? Both of you do.”

   
“Now, Rod, we're partners. But I've got the kid to think about. You see that?”

   
“Yes. I see.”

   
“Well-”

   
Rod stuck out his hand. “Good luck, Jim. Tell Jackie good-by for me.

   
“Oh, she's waiting to say good-by herself. With the kid.”

   
“Uh, tell her not to. Somebody once told me that saying good-by was a mistake. Be seeing you.”

   
“Well-so long, Rod. Take care of yourself.”

   
“You, too. If you see Caroline, tell her to come in. Caroline was slow appearing; he guessed that she had been at the gate. He said bluntly, “How many are left?”

   
“Not many,” she admitted.

   
“How many?”

   
“You and me- and a bunch of gawkers.”

   
“Nobody else?”

   
“I checked them off the list. Roddie, what do we do now?”

   
“Huh? It doesn't matter. Do you want to go back?”

   
“You're boss, Roddie. You're the Mayor.”

   
“Mayor of what? Carol, do you want to go back?”

   
“Roddie, I never thought about it. I was happy here. But-”

   
“But what?”

   
“The town is gone, the kids are gone- and I've got only a year if I'm ever going to be a cadet Amazon.” She blurted out the last, then added, “But I'll stick if you do.”

   
“No.”

  
 
“I will so!”

   
“No. But I want you to do something when you go back.”

   
“What?”

   
“Get in touch with my sister Helen. Find out where she is stationed. Assault Captain Helen Walker- got it? Tell her I'm okay . . . and tell her I said to help you get into the Corps.”

   
“Uh . . . Roddie, I don't want to go!”

   
“Beat it. They might relax the gate and leave you behind.”

   
“You come, too.”

   
“No. I've got things to do. But you hurry. Don't say good-by. Just go.”

   
“You're mad at me, Roddie?”

   
“Of course not. But go, please, or you'll have me bawling, too.”

   
She gave a choked cry, grabbed his head and smacked his cheek, then galloped away, her sturdy legs pounding. Rod went into his shack and lay face down. After a while he got up and began to tidy Cowpertown. It was littered, dirtier than it had been since the morning of Grant's death.

   
It was late afternoon before anyone else came into the village. Rod heard and saw them long before they saw him-two men and a woman. The men were dressed in city garb; she was wearing shorts, shirt, and smart sandals. Rod stepped out and said, “What do you want?” He was carrying his spear.

   
The woman squealed, then looked and added, “Wonderful!”

   
One man was carrying a pack and tripod which Rod recognized as multi-recorder of the all-purpose sightsmell-sound-touch sort used by news services and expeditions. He said nothing, set his tripod down, plugged in cables and started fiddling with dials. The other man, smaller, ginger haired, and with a terrier mustache, said, “You're Walker? The one the others call 'the Mayor'?”

   
“Yes.”

   
“Kosmic hasn't been in here?”

   
“Cosmic what?”

   
“Kosmic Keynotes, of course. Or anybody? LIFETIME-SPACE? Galaxy Features?”

   
“I don't know what you mean. There hasn't been anybody here since morning.”

   
The stranger twitched his mustache and sighed. “That's all I want to know. Go into your trance, Ellie. Start your box, Mac.”

   
“Wait a minute,” Rod demanded. “Who are you and what do you want?”

   
“Eh? I'm Evans of Empire . . . Empire Enterprises.”

   
“Pulitzer Prize,” the other man said and went on working;

   
“With Mac's help,” Evans added quickly. “The lady is Ellie Ellens herself.”

   
Rod looked puzzled. Evans said, “You don't know? Son, where have you-never mind. She's the highest paid emotional writer in the system. Shell interpret you so that every woman reader from the Outlands Overseer to the London Times will cry over you and want to comfort you. She's a great artist.”

   
Miss Ellens did not seem to hear the tribute. She wandered around with a blank face, stopping occasionally to look or touch.

   
She turned and said to Rod, “Is this where you held your primitive dances?”

   
“What? We held square dances here, once a week.”

   
“'Square dances' . . . Well, we can change that.” She went back into her private world.

   
“The point is, brother,” Evans went on, “we don't want just an interview. Plenty of that as they came through. That's how we found out you were here- and dropped everything to see you. I'm not going to dicker; name your own price- but it's got to be exclusive, news, features, commercial rights, everything. Uh . . .” Evans looked around. “Advisory service, too, when the actors arrive.

   
“Actors?!”

   
“Of course. If the Control Service had the sense to sneeze, they would have held you all here until a record was shot. But we can do it better with actors. I want you at my elbow every minute- we'll have somebody play your part. Besides that-”

   
“Wait a minute!” Rod butted in. “Either I'm crazy or you are. In the first place I don't want your money.

   
“Huh? You signed with somebody? That guard let another outfit in ahead of us?”

   
“What guard? I haven't seen anybody.”

   
Evans looked relieved. “We'll work it out. The guard they've got to keep anybody from crossing your wall- I thought he might have both hands out. But don't say you don't need money; that's immoral.”

   
“Well, I don't. We don't use money here.”

   
“Sure, sure . . . but you've got a family, haven't you? Families always need money. Look, let's not fuss. We'll treat you right and you can let it pile up in the bank. I just want you to get signed up.”

   
“I don't see why I should.”

   
“Binder,” said Mac.

   
“Mmm . . . yes, Mac. See here, brother, think it over. Just let us have a binder that you won't sign with anybody else. You can still stick us for anything your conscience will let you. Just a binder, with a thousand plutons on the side.”

   
“I'm not going to sign with anybody else.”

   
“Got that, Mac?”

   
“Canned.”

   
Evans turned to Rod. “You don't object to answering questions in the meantime, do you? And maybe a few pictures?”

   
“Uh, I don't care.” Rod was finding them puzzling and a little annoying, but they were company and he was bitterly lonely.

   
“Fine!” Evans drew him out with speed and great skill. Rod found himself telling more than he realized he knew. At one point Evans asked about dangerous animals. “I understand they are pretty rough here. Much trouble?”

   
“Why, no,” Rod answered with sincerity. “We never had real trouble with animals. What trouble we had was with people . . . and not much of that.”

   
“You figure this will be a premium colony?”

   
“Of course. The others were fools to leave. This place is like Terra, only safer and richer and plenty of land. In a few years- say!”

   
“Say what?”

   
“How did it happen that they left us here? We were only supposed to be here ten days.”

   
“Didn't they tell you?”

   
“Well . . . maybe the others were told. I never heard.”

   
“It was the supernova, of course. Delta, uh-”

   
“Delta Gamma one thirteen,” supplied Mac.