two-thirds of a gee, also sufficient.
As for what else the great hull bore—
Work on Xenogaia proceeded more straightforwardly. Planetology was a mature discipline, a set of techniques, formulas, and computer models. This globe fitted the pattern. Meteorology and climatology were less exact; some predictions could never be made with certainty, for chaos inhered in the equations. However, the overall picture soon emerged.
A strong greenhouse effect overcompensated a high albedo; other things being equal, every clime was hotter than at the same latitude on Earth. Of course, things seldom were equal. Thus the tropics had their pleasant islands as well as their steaming continental swamps or blistering deserts. Axial tilt and rotation rate, once around in slightly more than twenty-one hours, made for powerful cyclonic wind patterns, but the heavy atmosphere and warm polar regions moderated weather almost everywhere. Though conditions were unstable compared to the terrestrial, subject to swifter and often unforeseeable change, dangerous storms were no commoner than on Earth before control. In composition the air was familiar: higher humidity, rather more carbon dioxide, several percent less oxygen. For humans, the latter was more than made up by the sea-level pressure, twice their standard. It was air they could safely inhale, and uncorrupted.
Life covered, filled, drenched the planet. Its chemistry was akin to the terrestrial and Allosan, with its own uniquenesses. Given considerations of energy, followed by the scores of cases robots had reported to Earth, that was expected. As always, the astonishments sprang from the details, the infinite versatility of protein and inventiveness of nature.
On the prosaic side, humans could eat most things, though probably few would taste very good, some would be poisonous, and none would provide complete nutrition. Probably they would be safe from every predator microbe and virus; mutation might eventually change that, but modern biomedicine should handily cope. For the Survivors, with their peculiar immune and regenerative systems, the hazard would almost be nonexistent. They couki grow terrestrial crops if they chose, and then animals to feed on the grass and grain.
This was not virgin Earth given back to them. It was not Phaeacia of their dreams. Yet here they could make a home.
Here they would have neighbors.
“—and he’s been so lonely,” Macandal said to Patulcius. “She and Hanno—no, no monkey business between them. Might be better if there were. It’s just that they’re both wrapped up in their research till it’s as if nothing and nobody else quite exists for them. Aliyat’s complained to me. I can’t do much for her, but I’ve gotten an idea about Tu Shan.”
She singled out others and gave them the same thought, privately, in words she deemed suited to each. Nobody objected. On the chosen evening, after she had done the poor best that could be done to produce a feast in weightlessness, she called for a vote, and Tu Shan received his surprise.
A spaceboat descended. Assisted by two robots, because initial problems with gravity were unavoidable after this long in orbit, he stepped forth, the first human being on Xenogaia. He had left off his shoes. The soil lay warm and moist. Its odors enriched his breath. He wept.
Shortly afterward, Hanno and Yukiko returned from the Allosan ship. The visit had been their first. The six aboard Pytheas gathered around them in the common room. All floated watchful as pikes in a hike. A mural, enlarged from “Falaise d Varengeville”—sea, sky, cliff, its shadow on the water, brush golden with sunlight—seemed more remote in time and space than Monet himself.
“No, I cannot tell you what we saw,” Yukiko said, almost like one who speaks in sleep. “We haven’t the words, not even for the images they’ve sent here. But ... somehow, that interior is alive.”
“Not just dead metal and electronic trickery,” Hanno added. He was altogether awake, ablaze. “Oh, they’ve ? much to teach us! And I do believe we’ll have news for them, once we’ve found how to tell it. But it seems they can’t come to us in person. We don’t know why, what’s wrong with our environment, but I think that if they were able to, they would.”
“Then they doubtless have the same handicap on the planet,” Wanderer said slowly. “We can do what their machines never can. They must be glad we came.”
“They are, they are,” Yukiko exulted. “They sang to to us—”
“They want us to come live with them!” Hanno cried.
A kind of gasp went around1 the room. “Are you sure?” Svoboda’s question was half demand.
“Yes, I am. We’ve achieved some communication, and it’s a simple message, after all.” The words tumbled from Hanno. “How better can we get to really know each other and work together? They showed us the section we can have. It’s plenty big and we’re free to bring over whatever we want, make whatever we like. The weight’s enough to keep us fit. The air, the general conditions are no worse than in mountains we remember. We’ll get used to that; and we can set up cozy retreats. Besides, we’ll spend a lot of time in space, exploring, discovering, maybe building—”
“No,” said Wanderer.
The single sound was a hammerfall. Silence echoed behind it. Eyes sought eyes. One by one, faces stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” Wanderer went on. “This is marvelous. I’m tempted. But we’ve sailed too many years with the Flying Dutchman. Now there’s a world for us, and we’re going to take it.”
“Wait, wait,” Yukiko protested. “Of course we mean to study Xenogaia. Mainly it, in fact. It, the sapients, they must be why the Alloi have lingered. We’ll establish bases, work out of them—”
Tu Shan shook his heavy head. “We will build homes,” he answered.
“It is decided,” Patulcius said. “We will cooperate with the Alloi when we have seen to our needs. I daresay we can investigate the planet better, living on it, than in a series of ... of junkets. Be that as it may—“ he smiled coldly—“je suis, je reste.”
“Hold on,” Hanno argued. “You talk as though you mean to stay on permanently. You know that was never the idea. Xenogaia may be habitable, but it’s far from what we had in mind. Eventually we’ll take on fresh antimatter. I think the Alloi have a production facility near the sun, but in any case, they’ll help us. We’ll go to Phaeacia as we intended.”
“When?” challenged Macandal.
“When we’re finished here.”
“How long will that take? Decades, at least. Centuries, possibly. You two will enjoy them. And the rest of us, sure, we’ll be fascinated, we’ll help whenever we can. But meanwhile and mainly, we have our own lives and rights. And our children’s.”
“If in the end we leave,” Svoboda said low, “it will not be the first home any of us forsook; and first we will have had a home.”
Hanno captured her gaze. “You wanted to explore,” he recalled.
“And I shall, in a living land. Also ... we need every pair of hands. I cannot desert my comrades.”
“You’re outvoted,” Aliyat said, “and this time you can’t do anything about it.” She reached to stroke fingers over Hanno’s cheek. Her smile quivered. “There are seas down there for you to sail on.”
“Since when were you a bold pioneer?” he taunted.
She flushed. “Yes, I’m a city girl, but I can learn. Do you suppose I liked lolling useless? I thought better of you. Well, in the past I crossed deserts, mountains, oceans, I survived in alleys, through wars and plagues and famines. Go to hell.”
“No, please, we must not quarrel,” Yukiko pleaded.
“Right,” Wanderer agreed. “We’ll take our time, think, talk this over like friends.”
Hanno straightened, so that he floated upright before the cliff and the sky. “If you want,” he said bleakly. “But I can tell you now, in the teeth of your old tribal hope for a consensus, we won’t reach any. You’re bound and determined to strike roots on the planet. And I, I will not throw away this opportunity the AUoi have offered. I cannot. Instead of fighting, let’s plan how we can make the best of what’s to be.”
Tu Shan’s countenance twisted. “Yukiko?” he croaked.
She flew to his arms. He held her close. What she gulped forth was, “Forgive me.”
