'We've got to be going. It's been nice. Thank you for the drinks.'
He stopped. He turned and looked toward the door, startled. Far away, in the sunlight, there was a sound of voices, a crowd, a snouting and a great hello. ''What's that?' asked Hinkston.
'We'll soon find out!' And Captain John Black was out the front °°r abruptly, jolting across the green lawn and into the street of the Martian town.
He stood looking at the ship. The ports were open and his crew were streaming out, waving their hands. A crowd of people had gathered and in and through and among these people the members of the crew were running, talking, laughing, shaking hands. People did little dances. People swarmed. The rocket lay empty and abandoned.
A brass band exploded in the sunlight, flinging off a gay tune from upraised tubas and trumpets. There was a bang of drums and a shrill of fifes. Little girls with golden hair jumped up and down. Little boys shouted, 'Hooray!' And fat men passed around ten-cent cigars. The mayor of the town made a speech. Then, each member of the crew with a mother on one arm, a father or sister on the other, was spirited off down the street, into little cottages or big mansions and doors slammed shut.
The wind rose in the clear spring sky and all was silent. The brass band had banged off around a corner leaving the rocket to shine and dazzle alone in the sunlight.
'Abandoned!' cried the captain. 'Abandoned the ship, they did! I'll have their skins, by God! They had orders!'
'Sir,' said Lustig. 'Don't be too hard on them. Those were all old relatives and friends.'
'That's no excuse!'
'Think how they felt, captain, seeing familiar faces outside the ship!'
'I would have obeyed orders! I would have—' The captain's mouth remained open.
Striding along the sidewalk under the Martian sun, tall, smiling, eyes blue, face tan, came a young man of some twenty-six years.
'John!' the man cried, and broke into a run.
'What?' said Captain John Black. He swayed.
'John, you old beggar, you!'
The man ran up and gripped his hand and slapped him on the back.
'It's you,' said John Black.
'Of course, who'd you think it was!'
'Edward!' The captain appealed now to Lustig and Hinkston, holding the stranger's hand. 'This is my brother Edward. Ed, meet my men, Lustig, Hinkston! My brother!'
They tugged at each other's hands and arms and then finally env braced. 'Ed!'
'John, you old bum, you!' 'You're looking fine, Ed, but, Ed, what is this? You haven't changed over the years. You died, remember, when you were twenty-six, and I was nineteen, oh God, s° many years ago, and here you are, and, Lord, what goes on, what goes on?'
Edward Black gave him a brotherly knock on the chin. 'Mom's waiting,' he said.
'Mom?'
'And Dad, too.'
'And Dad?' The captain almost fell to earth as if hit upon the chest with a mighty weapon. He walked stiffly and awkwardly, out of coordination. He stuttered and whispered and talked only one or two words at a time. 'Mom alive? Dad?
Where?'
'At the old house on Oak Knoll Avenue.'
'The old house.' The captain stared in delighted amazement. 'Did you hear that, Lustig, Hinkston?'
'I know it's hard for you to believe.'
'But alive. Real.'
'Don't I feel real?' The strong arm, the firm grip, the white smile. The light, curling hair.
Hinkston was gone. He had seen his own house down the street and was running for it. Lustig was grinning. 'Now you understand, sir, what happened to everybody on the ship. They couldn't help themselves.'
'Yes. Yes,' said the captain, eyes shut. 'Yes.' He put out his hand. 'When I open my eyes, you'll be gone.' He opened his eyes. 'You're still here. God, Edward, you look fine!'
'Come along, lunch is waiting for you. I told Mom.'
Lustig said, 'Sir, I'll be with my grandfolks if you want me,'
'What? Oh, fine, Lustig. Later, then.'
Edward grabbed his arm and marched him. 'You need support.'
'I do. My knees, all funny. My stomach, loose. God.'
'There's the house. Remember it?'
'Remember it? Hell! I bet I can beat you to the front porch!'
They ran. The wind roared over Captain John Black's ears. The earth roared under his feet. He saw the golden figure of Edward Black pull ahead of him in the amazing dream of reality. He saw the house rush forward, the door open, the screen swing back. 'Beat you!' cried Edward, bounding up the steps. 'I'm an old man,' panted the captain, 'and you're still young. But, then, you always beat me, I remember!'
In the doorway, Mom, pink and plump and bright. And behind her, Pepper grey, Dad, with his pipe in his hand.
'Mom, Dad!'
He ran up the steps like a child, to meet them.
It was a fine long afternoon. They finished lunch and they sat in the living room and he told them all about his rocket and his being captain as they nodded and smiled upon him and Mother was just the same, Dad bit the end off a cigar and lighted it in his old fashion. Mom brought in some iced tea in the middle of the afternoon. Then, there was a big turkey dinner at night and time flowing on. When the drumsticks were sucked clean and lay brittle upon the plates, the captain leaned back in his chair and exhaled his deep contentment. Dad poured him a small glass of dry sherry. It was seven-thirty in the evening. Night was in all the trees and coloring the sky, and the lamps were halos of dim light in the gentle house. From all the other houses down the streets came sounds of music, pianos playing, laughter.
Mom put a record on the victrola and she and Captain John Black had a dance.
She was wearing the same perfume he remembered from the summer when she and Dad had been killed in the train accident. She was very real in his arms as they danced lightly to the music.
'I'll wake in the morning,' said the captain. 'And I'll be in my rocket in space, and all this will be gone.'
'No, no, don't think that,' she cried, softly, pleadingly. 'We're here. Don't question. God is good to us. Let's be happy.'
The record ended with a circular hissing.
'You're tired, son,' said Dad. He waved his pipe. 'You and Ed go on upstairs.
Your old bedroom is waiting for you.'
'The old one?'
'The brass bed and all,' laughed Edward.
'But I should report my men in.'
'Why?' Mother was logical.
'Why? Well, I don't know. No reason, I guess. No, none at all. What's the difference?' He shook his head. 'I'm not being very logical these days.'
'Good night, son.' She kissed his cheek.
' 'Night, Mom.'
'Sleep tight, son.' Dad shook his hand.
'Same to you, Pop.'
'It's good to have you home.'
'It's good to be home.'
He left the land of cigar smoke and perfume and books and gentle light and ascended the stairs, talking, talking with Edward. Edward pushed a door open and there was the yellow brass bed and the old semaphore banners from college days and a very musty raccoon coat which he petted with strange, muted affection. 'It's too
