The Stutterer | Page 2

ground. A little panicky, he stepped out with
one foot and he was horrified to feel the steel buckle. He drew back
hastily and threw a quick glance at the stewardess. Fortunately at the
moment she was looking down one field and waving at someone.
The ramp floor was supported by steel tubes at its edges and in its exact
center. He tentatively put one foot in the middle over the support and
gradually shifted his weight to it. The metal complained creakily, but
held, and he slowly trod the exact center line to Earth. The stewardess'
back was turned toward him as he walked off across the field toward
the customhouse.
He found it comforting to have under his feet what felt like at least one
yard of cement. He could step briskly and not be fearful of betraying
himself.
There was one further danger: the customs inspector.
He took his place at the end of the line and waited patiently until it led
him up to a desk at which a uniformed man sat, busily checking and
stamping declarations and traveling papers. The official, however, did
not even look up when he handed him his passport and identification.
"Human. You don't have to go through immigration," the agent said.
"Do you have anything to declare?"
"N-no," the traveler said. "I d-didn't bring anything in."
"Sign the affidavit," the agent said and pushed a sheet of paper toward
him.
The traveler picked up a pen from the desk and signed "Jon Hall" in a
clear, perfect script.

The agent gave it a passing glance and tossed it into a wire basket.
Then he pushed his uniform cap back exposing a bald head. "You're my
last customer for a while, until the rocket from Sirius comes in. Guess I
might as well relax for a minute." He reached into a drawer of the desk
and pulled out a package of cigarettes, of which he lit one.
"You been in the war, too?" he asked.
Hall nodded. He did not want to talk any more than he had to.
The agent studied his face.
"That's funny," he said after a minute. "I never would have picked you
for one of these so-called adventurers. You're too quiet and peaceful
looking. I would have put you down as a doctor or maybe a writer."
"N-no," Hall said. "I w-was in the war."
"Well, that shows you can't tell by looking at a fellow," the agent said
philosophically. He handed Hall his papers. "There you are. The left
door leads out to the copter field. Good luck on Earth!"
Hall pocketed the stamped documents. "Thanks," he said. "I'm glad to
be here."
He walked down the wide station room to a far exit and pushed the
door open. A few steps farther and he was standing on a cement path
dug into a hillside.
* * * * *
Across the valley, bright in the noon sun lay the pine covered slopes of
the Argus mountains, and at his feet the green Mojave flowering with
orchards stretched far to the north and south. Between the trees, in the
center of the valley, the Sacramento River rolled southward in a
man-made bed of concrete and steel giving water and life to what had a
century before been dry dead earth.

There was a small outcropping of limestone near the cement walk, and
he stepped over to it and sat down. He would have been happy to rest
and enjoy for a few moments his escape and his triumph, but he had to
let the others know so that they might have hope.
He closed his eyes and groped across the stars toward Grismet. Almost
immediately he felt an impatient tug at his mind, strong because there
were many clamoring at once to be heard. He counted them. There
were seventeen. So one more had been captured since he had left
Grismet.
"Be quiet," the told them. "I'll let you see, after a while. First I have to
reach the two of us that are still free."
Obediently, the seventeen were still, and he groped some more and
found another of his kind deep in an ice cave in the polar regions of
Grismet.
"How goes it?" he asked.
The figure on Grismet lay stretched out at full length on the blue ice,
his eyes closed. He answered without moving: "They discovered my
radiation about an hour ago. Pretty soon, they'll start blasting through
the ice."
The one on Earth felt the chill despair of his comrade and let go. He
groped about again until he found the last one, the only other one left.
He was squatting in the cellar of a warehouse in the main city of
Grismet.
"Have they picked up your trail yet?" he