had become a holy sign among these people. And Iunderstood also the meaning of the familiar phrase, "toma annerson"; itwas the time-corrupted version of that name they held holy--the name ofThomas Anderson, child of my own Earth, and explorer of space centuriesbefore Ame Baove saw his first sun.
* * * * *
There is more I could tell of Strobus and its people, but an old man'spen grows weary.
The menace of the Neens, Artur agreed, had been settled forever. Theyknew now that He Who Speaks still watched over the welfare of hispeople. The Neens were an ignorant and a superstitious people, and thetwo great craters made by our atomic bombs would be grim reminders tothem for many generations to come.
"You have done all that need be done, John Hanson," said Artur, hisface alight with gratitude. "And now you must receive the gratitude ofmy people!" Before I could protest, he signalled to the men who guardedthe four great entrances, and my words were lost in the instant trampof thousands of feet marching down the broad aisles.
When they were all seated, Artur spoke to them, not in the "holy"language I understood, but in their own common tongue. I stood there bythe ship, feeling like a fool, wondering what he was saying. In the endhe turned to me, and motioned for me to join him, where he stood nearthe edge of the dais. As I did so, every person in that monstrousauditorium rose and bowed his head.
"They greet you as the successor to He Who Speaks," said Artur gently."They are a simple folk, and you have served them well. You are a manof many duties that must soon carry you away, but first will you tellthese people that you are their friend, as Toma Annerson was the friendof their fathers?"
* * * * *
For the second time that day I made a speech.
"Friends," I said, "I have heard the voice of a great countryman ofmine, who is dead these countless centuries, and yet who lives today inyour hearts. I am proud that the same star gave us birth." It wasn'tmuch of a speech, but they didn't understand it, anyway. Arturtranslated it for them, and I think he embroidered it somewhat, for thetranslation took a long time.
"They worship you as the successor to Toma Annerson," whispered Arturas the people filed from the great auditorium. "Your fame here will besecond only to His, for you saved, to-day, the people He called Hisown."
We left just as darkness was falling, and as I shot up to the hovering_Ertak_, the chant of Artur and his bright-robed fellows was the lastsound of Strobus that fell upon my ears. They were intoning the praisesof Thomas Anderson, man of Earth.
And so, my good Zenian friends, you learn of the first man to brave thedangers of outer space. He left no classic journal behind him as didAme Baove, nor did he return to tell of the wonders he had found.
But he did take strong root where he fell in his clumsy craft, and ifthis record, supported only by the log of the _Ertak_, needs furtherproof, some five or six full generations from now Strobus will be closeenough for doubting Zenians to visit. And they will find there, I haveno least doubt, the enshrined _Adventurer_, and the memory, not only ofThomas Anderson, but of one, John Hanson, Commander (now retired) ofthe Special Patrol Service.
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