Earth is Heaven

"I'm a trader," said Dumarest. "You all know that. Time is money-if I weren't waiting I could run a profitable cargo. Hire me at standard-rate and I'll stay as long as you want. I'll even give you the first five days at reduced charter. Half-rate."

Belkner said, "We haven't got it, but surely what we gave you will cover it?"

"It's been a long voyage," reminded Dumarest. "And a deal is a deal. Can't you raise a little more?" He paused then, as Belkner made no response, shrugged. "Well, there it is. A pity but-"

Urich, meeting his eyes, said quickly, "Think it out, Earl. They'll need things and who better to supply them than us? Give them five days as part of the deal. Another month if they want it against a note on the first harvest. By the time we come to collect, gems could have been found, furs, precious metals. It could be a good investment. Give a little now and make our profits later on."

"Our?" Berthe was suspicious. "Where do you fit in on this?"

"Urich is now my second engineer," said Dumarest. "Working for a share in future profit. Maybe he makes sense. You'd give me a note?"

"Yes," said Farnham quickly. "Half-rate as agreed."

"Half-rate for cash," said Dumarest. "Full rate on a note. Make it out and we have a deal."

"And landing?" Ava Vasudiva's tone was brittle. "When do we land?"

"Soon." Dumarest paused, turning as he reached the door. "In three days."

The control room was a place of shadows, drifts of dimness illuminated by the glow of instruments, the glory of the screens. Standing before them Ysa

"There!" Her hand lifted to point at the splendor of the universe. "By God, Earl, we did it! We found it! The end of the rainbow! Earth!"

From where he sat in the big pilot's chair Batrun warned, "Not Earth, my dear. You mustn't call it that. We agreed to call it Heaven-our passengers wouldn't like the truth."

"To hell with them!" Her voice rose in triumph. "This is it, I tell you! The big one! The pot of gold! That's Earth, out there! You're looking at Earth!"

Dumarest stepped forward, feeling the pulse of blood in his ears, the tension, the sudden quiver of his hands. A metabolic reaction which constricted his chest and edged his vision with blackness. He fought to conquer it as he moved closer, staring at the screen. At the blaze of stars. At the tiny mote framed among them in the enhancing pattern of the target zone. One which blurred a little as if seen through rain.

Chapter Ten

There were seas and plains and masses of scudding cloud with vast expanses covered with shattered stone as if a giant child had destroyed fabrications in a fit of petulant irritation. Clustered forests drew brown and green patterns and ice caps sprawled in blue-white abandon. Massed blooms made a tapestry edging the silver threads of rivers and peaks stood like gnarled guardians in ranked and somber array.

"Beautiful!" said Ysa

Dumarest said nothing as he stood drinking in the vistas, the scenes.

"Ours," said Ysa

Batrun said dryly, "Our passengers could argue that."

"Not for long." She was abruptly savage. "They play it our way or they don't play at all. Earl-"

"Forget it!" He was curt. "There's a whole planet down there, why argue over a few square miles? Let's do one thing at a time. Picked your spot yet, Andre?"

"More than one," said Batrun. He was in the big chair, hands poised on the controls, ready to turn the Erce into an extension of his body. To bring the massed tons of inanimate bulk down to kiss the dirt beneath. But, for now, there was still time to relax. "Near the equator, I think. Not too far from the shore of an ocean. Close to a river would be nice."

"With a supply of ready-broken stone not too far and plenty of growing timber close to hand." Ysa

"You sound bitter, my dear." Batrun adjusted the magnification of a screen. "And a little illogical. If Earth is paradise as the legends claim then all things should be possible." He checked his instruments and shed his bantering tone. "Our orbit is decaying. We must find a landing place. I'd like it to be the best."

"The second best," she said. "Or the third. We want the very best for ourselves." Her eyes moved toward Dumarest. "Right, Earl?"

"Choose," he said. "Choose and land."

Batrun obeyed as he sat in his chair, tense, holding every life in the vessel in the skill of his hands. Nursing them as he sent the Erce falling from the skies, to slow, to drift in the, protective shimmer of its Erhaft field, to finally touch and settle on the dirt.

"Earth!" Ysa

She followed Dumarest as he made for the hold, the hatch, the ramp outside. As it lowered Batrun caught her by the arm, drawing her back from the opening, shaking his head as he turned to glare at him.

"Wait," he whispered. "Let Earl go first."

He was in no hurry. For a long moment Dumarest stood at the head of the ramp, looking down at the dirt, the grass, the soft contours of the clearing. Lifting his eyes to study the ochre stone spread to one side and rising to low hills. Lifting them higher still to look at the clear blueness of a sky fleeced with scudding white clouds and set with the golden ball of a brilliant sun. The air held an encompassing stillness broken by the rasp of his boots as he began to walk down the ramp.

A man going home.

Ysa

Dumarest walked down the ramp as if he were approaching a woman.

She sensed it as he began to move faster down the slope, his body leaning forward, hands lifted, head tilted downward to the ground below. A lover rushing to the beloved mistress lying in wait before him. One for whom he had yearned for too long so that now, as they neared, the barrier which had held emotion in check began to crumple to reveal the torment within; the agony of parting, the need, the crying emptiness, the ceaseless ache of being incomplete, alone.

"No!" She felt Batrun's hand on her wrist the thin fingers gripping with an unexpected strength. As he pulled her back he whispered again, "No-let him be alone!"

She moved forward with instinctive jealousy, now she watched as Dumarest reached the end of the ramp, taking three long strides before dropping to his knees, to dig his hands deep in the loam, to freeze, stooped, shoulders quivering as if he were a lover locked in the release of orgasm.