by Mark Clifton
Graves, you old son of a gun!" He brokeinto a run, dignity forgotten, and when he got to me he grabbed bothmy shoulders in his powerful hands to shake me as if he were some sortof terrier--and I a rat. His joy seemed all out of proportion until Iremembered he probably hadn't seen anybody from school for a longtime; and until I further remembered that he would have been alertedby the State Department to Aunt Mattie's visit and would have beenlooking forward to it with dread and misgivings.
To realize he had a friend at court must really have overjoyed him.
"Johnny," I said. "Long time." It had been. Five-six years anyway. Iheld out my hand in the old school gesture. He let loose my shouldersand grabbed it in the traditional manner. We went through the ritual,which my psychiatrist would have called juvenile, and then he lookedat me pointedly.
"You remember what it means," he said, a little anxiously I thought,and looked significantly at my hand. "That we will always stand byeach other, through thick and thin." His eyes were pulled upward tothe open door of the yacht.
"You can expect it to be both thick and thin," I said drily. "If youknow my Aunt Mattie."
"She's your aunt?" he asked, his eyes widening. "Matthewa H. Tombs is_your_ aunt. I never knew. To think, all those years at school, and Inever knew. Why, Hap, Happy, old boy, this is wonderful. Man, have Ibeen worried!"
"Don't stop on my account," I said, maybe a little dolefully."Somebody reported to the Daughters of Terra that you let the nativesrun around out here stark naked, and if Aunt Mattie says she's goingto put mother hubbards on them, then that's exactly what she's goingto do. You can depend on that, old man."
"Mother Hub...." he gasped. He looked at me strangely. "It's a joke,"he said. "Somebody's pulled a practical joke on the D.T.'s. Have youever seen our natives? Pictures of them? Didn't anybody check up onwhat they're like before you came out here? It's a joke. A practicaljoke on the D.T.'s. It has to be."
"I wouldn't know," I said. "But if they're naked they won't be forlong, I can tell you that. Aunt Mattie...."
His eyes left my face and darted up to the door of the ship which wasno longer a black oval. The unexplained bewilderment of his expressionwas not diminished as Aunt Mattie came through the door, out on theloading platform, and started down the steps. He grew a little whitearound the mouth, licked his lips, and forgot all his joy at meetingan old school mate. His two subordinates who had remained standingjust out of earshot, as if recognizing a crisis now, stepped brisklyup to his sides.
Aunt Mattie's two committee women, as if to match phalanx withphalanx, came through the door and started down the steps behind her.I stepped to one side as the two forces met face to face on thecrunching salt that covered the ground. It might look like a Christmasscene, but under Capella's rays it was blazing hot, and I found myselfin sympathy with the men's open necked shirts and brief shorts. Still,they should have known better than to dress like that. Somebody in theState Department had goofed.
Aunt Mattie and her two committee women were dressed conservatively insomething that might have resembled an English Colonel's wife's ideaof the correct tweeds to wear on a cold, foggy night. If they werealready sweltering beneath these coverings, as I was beginning to inmy lighter suit, they were too ladylike to show it. Their acid glanceat the men's attire showed what they thought of the informality ofdress in which they'd been received. But they were too ladylike tocomment. After that first pointed look at bare knees, they had no needof it.
"This is the official attire prescribed for us by the StateDepartment," Johnny said, a little anxiously, I thought. It was hardlythe formal speech of welcome he, as planet administrator, must haveprepared.
"I have no doubt of it," Aunt Mattie said, and her tone told them whatshe thought of the State Department under the present administration."You would hardly have met ladies in such--ah--otherwise." I could seethat she was making a mental note to speak to the State Departmentabout it.
"Make a note," she said and turned to Miss Point. "I will speak to theState Department. How can one expect natives to ... if our ownrepresentatives don't ... etc., etc."
"May I show you to your quarters, ma'am?" Johnny asked humbly. "Nodoubt you will wish to freshen up, or...."
Miss Point blushed furiously.
"We are already quite fresh, young man," Aunt Mattie said firmly.
I happened to know that Aunt Mattie didn't like to browbeat people,not at all. It would all have been so much more pleasant, gracious, ifthey'd been brought up to know right from wrong. But what parents andschools had failed to do, she must correct as her duty. I thought itabout time I tried to smooth things over. I stepped up into theirfocus.
"Aunt Mattie," I said. "This is Johnny McCabe. We were at schooltogether."
Her eyebrows shot upward.
"You were?" she asked, and looked piercingly at Johnny. "Then, Irealize, young man, that your attire is not your fault. You must havebeen acting under orders, and against your personal knowledge of whatwould be correct. I understand." She turned again to Miss Point."Underscore that note to the State Department," she said. "Mark itemergency." She turned back to Johnny. "Very well, Mr. McCabe, wewould appreciate it, after all, if you would show us to our quartersso that we may--ah--freshen up a bit. It is rather a warm day, isn'tit?"
She was quite gracious now, reassured because Johnny was an old schoolmate of mine, and would therefore know right from wrong. If Isometimes didn't seem to, she knew me well enough to know it had notbeen the fault of the school.
The three of us, Johnny on one side of Aunt Mattie and I on the otherside, started toward the frame building on the other side of thebubble, which I assumed was the hotel. The four subordinates trailedalong behind, silent, wary of one another.
Behind them the baggage truck, which had been piled high by the ship'screw, hissed into life and started moving along on its tractor treads.Johnny caught a glimpse of it, without actually turning around, andhis eyes opened wide. He misinterpreted, of course. From the mountainof baggage it looked like our intention to stay a long time.
But then he wouldn't have been particularly reassured, either, had herealized that our own supplies were quite scant and these bags, boxes,and crates contained sewing machines and many, many bolts of gailycolored cloth.
* * * * *
I had hardly more than--ah--freshened up a bit myself in my hotelroom, when I heard a discreet knock on my door. I opened it and sawJohnny McCabe.
"May I come in, Hap?" he asked. As if against his will, he glancedquickly down the hall toward the suite where aunt and her committeehad been put.
"Sure, Johnny," I said, and opened the door wide. I pointed to analuminum tube torture rack, government issue's idea of a chair. "Youcan have the chair," I said. "I'll sit on the edge of the bed."
"I'm sorry about the furnishings," he said apologetically as he satdown and I closed the door. "It's the best government will issue us inthis hole."
"Aunt Mattie would be disappointed if it were better," I said as I saton the edge of the bed, which was little softer than the chair. "Sheexpects to rough it, and finds special virtue in doing her duty asuncomfortably as possible."
He looked sharply at me, but I had merely stated an accepted fact, notan opinion, and was therefore emotionless about it.
"I'm in trouble, Hap," he said desperately. He leaned forward withhis clasped hands held between his knees.
"Well, old man," I answered. "You know me."
"Yes," he said. "But there isn't anybody else I can turn to."
"Then we understand each other," I agreed. He looked both resentfuland puzzled.
"No, I never did understand you," he disagreed. "I suppose it's allthose billions that act as shock insulation for you. You never had toplan, and scheme, and stand alert indefinitely like a terrier at a rathole waiting for opportunity to stick out its nose so you could pounceon it. So I don't see how you can appreciate my problem now."
"I might try," I said humbly.
"This job," he sai
d. "It's not much, and I know it. But it was astart. The department doesn't expect anything from me but patience.It's not so much ability, you know, just a matter of who can hang onthe longest without getting into trouble. I've been hanging on, andkeeping out of trouble."
"But you're in trouble now."
"I will be when your aunt fails to put mother hubbards on thenatives."
"She won't fail," I said confidently.
"And when