II
I stood on the turret balcony of the _Planetara_ with Captain Carterand Dr. Frank, the ship surgeon, watching the arriving passengers. Itwas close to the zero hour; the level of the stage was a turmoil ofconfusion. The escalators, with the last of the freight aboard, werefolded back. But the stage was jammed with incoming passenger luggage,the interplanetary customs and tax officials with their x-ray andzed-ray paraphernalia and the passengers themselves, lined up for theexport inspection.
At this height, the city lights lay spread in a glare of blue andyellow beneath us. The individual local planes came dropping likebirds to our stage. Thirty-eight passengers to Mars for this voyage,but that accursed desire of every friend and relative to speed thedeparting voyager brought a hundred or more extra people to crowd ourgirders and add to everybody's troubles.
Carter was too absorbed in his duties to stay with us long. But herein the turret Dr. Frank and I found ourselves at the moment withnothing much to do but watch.
Dr. Frank was a thin, dark, rather smallish man of fifty, trim in hisblue and white uniform. I knew him well: we had made several flightstogether. An American--I fancy of Jewish ancestry. A likable man, anda skillful doctor and surgeon. He and I had always been good friends.
"Crowded," he said. "Johnson says thirty-eight. I hope they'reexperienced travelers. This pressure sickness is a rottennuisance--keeps me dashing around all night assuring frightened womenthey're not going to die. Last voyage, coming out of the Venusatmosphere--"
He plunged into a lugubrious account of his troubles with space sickvoyagers. But I was in no mood to listen to him. My gaze was down onthe spider incline, up which, over the bend of the ship's sleek,silvery body, the passengers and their friends were coming in littlegroups. The upper deck was already jammed with them.
The _Planetara_, as flyers go, was not a large vessel. Cylindrical ofbody, forty feet maximum beam, and two hundred and seventy-five feetin length. The passenger superstructure--no more than a hundred feetlong--was set amidships. A narrow deck, metallically enclosed, andwith large bull's-eye windows, encircled the superstructure. Some ofthe cabins opened directly onto the deck. Others had doors to theinterior corridors. There were half a dozen small but luxurious publicrooms.
The rest of the vessel was given to freight storage and the mechanismand control compartments. Forward of the passenger structure the decklevel continued under the cylindrical dome roof to the bow. Theforward watch tower observatory was here, officers' cabins, CaptainCarter's navigating rooms and Dr. Frank's office. Similarly, under thestern dome, was the stern watch tower and a series of powercompartments.
Above the superstructure a confusion of spider bridges, ladders andbalconies were laced like a metal network. The turret in which Dr.Frank and I now stood was perched here. Fifty feet away, like a bird'snest, Snap's instrument room stood clinging to the metal bridge. Thedome roof, with the glassite windows rolled back now, rose in a moundpeak to cover the highest middle portion of the vessel.
Below, in the main hull, blue lit metal corridors ran the entirelength of the ship. Freight storage compartments; gravity controlrooms; the air renewal system; heater and ventilators and pressuremechanisms--all were located there. And the kitchens, stewards'compartments, and the living quarters of the crew. We carried a crewof sixteen, this voyage, exclusive of the navigating officers, thepurser, Snap Dean, and Dr. Frank.
The passengers coming aboard seemed a fair representation of what weusually had for the outward voyage to Ferrok-Shahn. Most were Earthpeople--and returning Martians. Dr. Frank pointed out one. A hugeMartian in a grey cloak. A seven foot fellow.
"His name is _Set_ Miko," Dr. Frank remarked. "Ever heard of him?"
"No," I said. "Should I?"
"Well--" The doctor suddenly checked himself, as though he were sorryhe had spoken.
"I never heard of him," I repeated slowly.
An awkward silence fell between us.
There were a few Venus passengers. I saw one of them presently comingup the incline, and recognized her. A girl traveling alone. We hadbrought her from Grebhar, last voyage but one. I remembered her. Analluring sort of girl, as most of them are. Her name was Venza. Shespoke English well. A singer and dancer who had been imported toGreater New York to fill some theatrical engagement. She'd made quitea hit on the Great White Way.
She came up the incline with the carrier ahead of her. Gazing up, shesaw Dr. Frank and me at the turret window, smiled and waved her whitearm in greeting.
Dr. Frank laughed. "By the gods of the airways, there's Alta Venza!You saw that look, Gregg? That was for me, not you."
"Reasonable enough," I retorted. "But I doubt it--the Venza is nothingif not impartial."
I wondered what could be taking Venza now to Mars. I was glad to seeher. She was diverting. Educated. Well traveled. Spoke English with acolloquial, theatrical manner more characteristic of Greater New Yorkthan of Venus. And for all her light banter, I would rather put mytrust in her than any Venus girl I had ever met.
The hum of the departing siren was sounding. Friends and relatives ofthe passengers were crowding the exit incline. The deck was clearing.I had not seen George Prince come aboard. And then I thought I saw himdown on the landing stage, just arrived from a private tube car. Asmall, slight figure. The customs men were around him. I could onlysee his head and shoulders. Pale, girlishly handsome face; long, blackhair to the base of his neck. He was bare-headed, with the hood of histraveling cloak pushed back.
I stared, and I saw that Dr. Frank was also gazing down. But neitherof us spoke.
Then I said upon impulse, "Suppose we go down to the deck, Doctor?"
He acquiesced. We descended to the lower room of the turret andclambered down the spider ladder to the upper deck level. The head ofthe arriving incline was near us. Preceded by two carriers who werelittered with hand luggage, George Prince was coming up the incline.He was closer now. I recognized him from the type we had seen inHalsey's office.
And then, with a shock, I saw it was not so. This was a girl comingaboard. An arc light over the incline showed her clearly when she washalf way up. A girl with her hood pushed back; her face framed inthick black hair. I saw now it was not a man's cut of hair; but longbraids coiled up under the dangling hood.
Dr. Frank must have remarked my amazed expression. "Little beauty,isn't she?"
"Who is she?"
We were standing back against the wall of the superstructure. Apassenger was near us--the Martian whom Dr. Frank had called Miko. Hewas loitering here, quite evidently watching this girl come aboard.But as I glanced at him, he looked away and casually sauntered off.
The girl came up and reached the deck. "I am in A22," she told thecarrier. "My brother came aboard a couple of hours ago."
Dr. Frank answered my whisper. "That's Anita Prince."
She was passing quite close to us on the deck, following the carrier,when she stumbled and very nearly fell. I was nearest to her. I leapedforward and caught her as she nearly went down.
With my arm about her, I raised her up and set her upon her feetagain. She had twisted her ankle. She balanced herself upon it. Thepain of it eased up in a moment.
"I'm all right--thank you!"
In the dimness of the blue lit deck I met her eyes. I was holding herwith my encircling arm. She was small and soft against me. Her face,framed in the thick, black hair, smiled up at me. Small, ovalface--beautiful--yet firm of chin, and stamped with the mark of itsown individuality. No empty-headed beauty, this.
"I'm all right, thank you very much--"
I became conscious that I had not released her. I felt her handspushing at me. And then it seemed that for an instant she yielded andwas clinging. And I met her startled upflung gaze. Eyes like a purplenight with the sheen of misty starlight in them.
I heard myself murmuring, "I beg your pardon. Yes, of course!" Ireleased her.
She thanked me again and followed the carriers along the deck. She waslimping slightly.
/> An instant she had clung to me. A brief flash of something, from hereyes to mine--from mine back to hers. The poets write that love can beborn of such a glance. The first meeting, across all the barriers ofwhich love springs unsought, unbidden--defiant, sometimes. And thetroubadours of old would sing: "A fleeting glance; a touch; two wildlybeating hearts--and love was born."
I think, with Anita and me, it must have been like that.
I stood, gazing after her, unconscious of Dr. Frank, who was watchingme with his quizzical smile. And presently, no more than a quarterbeyond the zero hour, the _Planetara_ got away. With the dome windowsbattened tightly, we lifted from the landing stage and soared over theglowing city. The phosphorescence of the electronic tubes was like acomet's tail behind us as we slid upward.