Second Variety and Other Stories (19 page)

"How do you mean?"

"I went to Prox because I couldn't stand cities."

Peter said nothing. The surface car was climbing, going up a steel highway into the hills. The
Station, huge and impressive, spread out like a heap of cement bricks directly below them. A few cars
moved along the road, but not many. Most transportation was by air, now. Surface cars had begun to
disappear.

The road leveled off. They moved along the ridge of the hills. Trees and bushes rose on both
sides of them. "It's nice up here," Ed said.

"Yes."

"How -- how have you been? I haven't seen you for a long time. Just once. Just after you were
born."

"How -- how have you been? I haven't seen you for a long time. Just once. Just after you were
born."

"You been getting along all right?"

"Yes. Quite well."

"They treating you all right?"

"Of course."

After a while Ed leaned forward. "Stop here," he said to the robot driver.

The car slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road. "Sir, there is nothing --"

"This is fine. Let us out. We'll walk from here."

The car stopped. The door slid reluctantly open. Ed stepped quickly out of the car, on to the
pavement. Peter got out slowly after him, puzzled. "Where are we?"

"No place." Ed slammed the door. "Go on back to town," he said to the driver. "We won't need
you."

The car drove off. Ed walked to the side of the road. Peter came after him. The hill dropped
away, falling down to the beginnings of the city below. A vast panorama stretched out, the great
metropolis in the late afternoon sun. Ed took a deep breath, throwing his arms out. He took off his coat
and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Come on." He started down the hillside. "Here we go."

"Where?"

"For a walk. Let's get off this damn road."

They climbed down the side of the hill, walking carefully, holding on to the grass and roots jutting
out from the soil. Finally they came to a level place by a big sycamore tree. Ed threw himself down on the
ground, grunting and wiping sweat from his neck.

"Here. Let's sit here."

Peter sat down carefully, a little way off. Ed's blue shirt was stained with sweat. He unfastened
his tie and loosened his collar. Presently he searched through his coat pockets. He brought out his pipe
and tobacco.

Peter watched him fill the pipe and light it with a big sulphur match. "What's that?" he murmured.

"This? My pipe." Ed grinned, sucking at the pipe. "Haven't you ever seen a pipe?"

"No."

"This is a good pipe. I got this when I first went out to Proxima. That was a long time ago, Pete.
It was twenty-five years ago. I was just nineteen, then. Only about twice as old as you."

He put his tobacco away and leaned back, his heavy face serious, preoccupied.

"Just nineteen. I went out there as a plumber. Repair and sales, when I could make a sale. Terran
Plumbing. One of those big ads you used to see. Unlimited opportunities. Virgin lands. Make a million.
Gold in the streets." Ed laughed.

"How did you make out?"

"Not bad. Not bad at all. I own my own line, now, you know. I service the whole Proxima
system. We do repairing, maintenance, building, construction. I've got six hundred people working for
me. It took a long time. It didn't come easy."

"No."

"Hungry?"

Peter turned. "What?"

"Are you hungry?" Ed pulled a brown paper parcel from his coat and unwrapped it. "I still have a
couple of sandwiches from the trip. When I come in from Prox I bring some food along with me. I don't
like to buy in the diner. They skin you." He held out the parcel. "Want one?"

"No thank you."

Ed took a sandwich and began to eat. He ate nervously, glancing at his son. Peter sat silently, a
short distance off, staring ahead without expression. His smooth handsome face was blank.

"Everything all right?" Ed said.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"No."

"You don't want to catch cold."

A squirrel crossed in front of them, hurrying toward the sycamore tree. Ed threw it a piece of his
sandwich. The squirrel ran off a way, then came back slowly. It scolded at them, standing up on its hind
feet, its great gray tail flowing out behind it.

Ed laughed. "Look at him. Ever see a squirrel before?"

"I don't think so."

"It's good to come back to Terra once in a while. See some of the old things. They're going,
though."

"Going?"

"Away. Destroyed. Terra is always changing." Ed waved around at the hillside. "This will be
gone, some day. They'll cut down the trees. Then they'll level it. Some day they'll carve the whole range
up and carry it off. Use it for fill, some place along the coast."

"That's beyond our scope," Peter said.

"What?"

"I don't receive that type of material. I think Doctor Bish told you. I'm working with
bio-chemistry."

"I know," Ed murmured. "Say, how the hell did you ever get mixed up with that stuff?
Bio-chemistry?"

"The tests showed that my abilities lie along those lines."

"You enjoy what you're doing?"

"What a strange thing to ask. Of course I enjoy what I'm doing. It's the work I'm fitted for."

"It seems funny as hell to me, starting a nine-year-old kid off on something like that."

"Why?"

"My God, Pete. When I was nine I was bumming around town. In school sometimes, outside
mostly, wandering here and there. Playing. Reading. Sneaking into the rocket launching yards all the
time." He considered. "Doing all sorts of things. When I was sixteen I hopped over to Mars. I stayed
there a while. Worked as a hasher. I went on to Ganymede. Ganymede was all sewed up tight. Nothing
doing there. From Ganymede I went out to Prox. Got a work-away all the way out. Big freighter."

"You stayed at Proxima?"

"I sure did. I found what I wanted. Nice place, out there. Now we're starting on to Sirius, you
know." Ed's chest swelled. "I've got an outlet in the Sirius system. Little retail and service place."

"Sirius is 8.8 light years from Sol."

"It's a long way. Seven weeks from here. Rough grind. Meteor swarms. Keeps things hot all the
way out."

"I can imagine."

"You know what I thought I might do?" Ed turned toward his son, his face alive with hope and
enthusiasm. "I've been thinking it over. I thought maybe I'd go out there. To Sirius. It's a fine little place
we have. I drew up the plans myself. Special design to fit with the characteristics of the system."

Peter nodded.

"Pete --"

"Yes?"

"Do you think maybe you'd be interested? Like to hop out to Sirius and take a look? It's a good
place. Four clean planets. Never touched. Lots of room. Miles and miles of room. Cliffs and mountains.
Oceans. Nobody around. Just a few colonists, families, some construction. Wide, level plains."

"How do you mean, interested?"

"In going all the way out." Ed's face was pale. His mouth twitched nervously. "I thought maybe
you'd like to come along and see how things are. It's a lot like Prox was, twenty-five years ago. It's good
and clean out there. No cities."

Peter smiled.

Peter smiled.

"No reason." Peter stood up abruptly. "If we have to walk back to the Station we'd better start.
Don't you think? It's getting late."

"Sure." Ed struggled to his feet. "Sure, but --"

"When are you going to be back in the Sol system again?"

"Back?" Ed followed after his son. Peter climbed up the hill toward the road. "Slow down, will
you?"

Peter slowed down. Ed caught up with him.

"I don't know when I'll be back. I don't come here very often. No ties. Not since Jan and I
separated. As a matter of fact I came here this time to --"

"This way." Peter started down the road.

Ed hurried along beside him, fastening his tie and putting his coat on, gasping for breath. "Peter,
what do you say? You want to hop out to Sirius with me? Take a look? It's a nice place out there. We
could work together. The two of us. If you want."

"But I already have my work."

"That stuff? That damn chemistry stuff?"

Peter smiled again.

Ed scowled, his face dark red. "Why are you smiling?" he demanded. His son did not answer.
"What's the matter? What's so damn funny?"

"Nothing," Peter said. "Don't become excited. We have a long walk down." He increased his
pace slightly, his supple body swinging in long, even strides. "It's getting late. We have to hurry."

Doctor Bish examined his wristwatch, pushing back his pinstriped coat sleeve. "I'm glad you're
back."

"He sent the surface car away," Peter murmured. "We had to walk down the hill on foot."

It was dark outside. The Station lights were coming on automatically, along the rows of buildings
and laboratories.

Doctor Bish rose from his desk. "Sign this, Peter. Bottom of this form."

Peter signed. "What is it?"

"Certifies you saw him in accord with the provisions of the law. We didn't try to obstruct you in
any way."

Peter handed the paper back. Bish filed it away with the others. Peter moved toward the door of
the doctor's office. "I'll go. Down to the cafeteria for dinner."

"You haven't eaten?"

"No."

Doctor Bish folded his arms, studying the boy. "Well?" he said. "What do you think of him? This
is the first time you've seen your father. It must have been strange for you. You've been around us so
much, in all your training and work."

"It was -- unusual."

"Did you gain any impressions? Was there anything you particularly noticed?"

"He was very emotional. There was a distinct bias through everything he said and did. A
distortion present, virtually uniform."

"Anything else?"

Peter hesitated, lingering at the door. He broke into a smile. "One other thing."

"What was it?"

"I noticed --" Peter laughed. "I noticed a distinct odor about him. A constant pungent smell, all
the time I was with him."

"I'm afraid that's true of all of them," Doctor Bish said. "Certain skin glands. Waste products
thrown off from the blood. You'll get used to it, after you've been around them more."

"Do I have to be around them?"

"They're your own race. How else can you work with them? Your whole training is designed with
that in mind. When we've taught you all we can, then you will --"

"They're your own race. How else can you work with them? Your whole training is designed with
that in mind. When we've taught you all we can, then you will --"

"Can you identify it now?"

Peter reflected. He thought hard, concentrating deeply. His small face wrinkled up. Doctor Bish
waited patiently by his desk, arms folded. The automatic heating system clicked on for the night, warming
the room with a soft glow that drifted gently around them.

"I know!" Peter exclaimed suddenly.

"What was it?"

"The animals in the biology lab. It was the same smell. The same smell as the experimental
animals."

They glanced at each other, the robot doctor and the promising young boy. Both of them smiled,
a secret, private smile. A smile of complete understanding.

"I believe I know what you mean," Doctor Bish said. "In fact, I know exactly what you mean."

"Joan, for heaven's sake!"

Joan Clarke caught the irritation in her husband's voice, even through the wall-speaker. She left
her chair by the vidscreen and hurried into the bedroom. Bob was rooting furiously around in the closet,
pulling down coats and suits and tossing them on the bed. His face was flushed with exasperation.

"What are you looking for?"

"My uniform. Where is it? Isn't it here?"

"Of course. Let me look."

Bob got sullenly out of the way. Joan pushed past him and clicked on the automatic sorter. Suits
bobbed by in quick succession, parading for her inspection.

It was early morning, about nine o'clock. The sky was bright blue. Not a single cloud was visible.
A warm spring day, late in April. The ground outside the house was damp and black from the rains of the
day before. Green shoots were already beginning to poke their way up through the steaming earth. The
sidewalk was dark with moisture. Wide lawns glittered in the sparkling sunlight.

"Here it is." Joan turned off the sorter. The uniform dropped into her arms and she carried it over
to her husband. "Now next time don't get so upset."

"Thanks." Bob grinned, embarrassed. He patted the coat. "But look, it's all creased. I thought
you were going to have the darn thing cleaned."

"It'll be all right." Joan started up the bed-maker. The bed-maker smoothed out the sheets and
blankets, folding them in place. The spread settled carefully around the pillows. "After you've had it on
awhile it'll look just lovely. Bob, you're the fussiest man I know."

"Sorry, honey," Bob murmured.

"What's wrong?" Joan came up to him and put her hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you worried
about something?"

"No."

"Tell me."

Bob began to unfasten his uniform. "It's nothing important. I didn't want to bother you. Erickson
called me at work yesterday to tell me my group is up again. Seems they're calling two groups at once
now. I thought I wouldn't get jerked out for another six months."

"Oh, Bob! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Erickson and I talked a long time. 'For God's sake!' I told him. 'I was just up.' 'I know that,
Bob,' he said, 'I'm sorry as hell about it but there's nothing I can do. We're all in the same boat. Anyhow,
it won't last long. Might as well get it over with. It's the Martian situation. They're all hot and bothered
about it.' That's what he said. He was nice about it. Erickson's a pretty good guy for a Sector Organizer."