Yet even the sweetness was bitter-flavored when Fornri reflected that he possessed it only because the Langri suffered a serious illness and was growing old. He understood, now, that even though his great-great-grandfather possessed years far beyond those attained by ordinary men, he could not live always.
And he knew, too, that he loved him.
Then came the journey to the Elder, followed by the building of the Forest Village. Many joys suffered long interruptions because of the Langri’s school, and those of Fornri and Dalla most of all. Fornri again had the Langri’s errands to run, and both had to care for a sick old man who was trying to do more than his strength would allow. Even when the Langri’s illness confined him to his hammock they could not escape, for then they had to trek wearily from village to village trying vainly to persuade former students to return to class.
Rarely did they find time for the pleasures of the Bower Hills, and when they did, Fornri’s conscience troubled him severely. He could not understand the need for a Plan, or what the Plan would accomplish, but when the Langri said there would be no hunting, Fornri, at least, believed him. And if his world and his people were threatened, he knew he must put the Time of Joy behind him and do something about it. He only wished he could understand what it was he had to do.
With the class reduced to a mere two hands of students, the Langri finally began to teach them the Plan. All found it bewildering, and some flatly refused to believe it. If—as the Langri said—the skies were filled with worlds, why should anyone want theirs? It was known that the Langri was extremely old, and sometimes the minds of the aged imagined strange things. No one would willingly disrespect the Langri, but what he spoke was not believable.
Fornri would protest hotly, but even those who wanted to believe could make little sense of what the Langri told them. If this happens, he would say, that must be done. If the other thing happens, then something else must be done. If both happen… Banu sat with eyes closed and a dazed look on his face, but whenever the Langri asked him he could repeat what was said, word for word.
There would be a ship-from-the-sky, the Langri told them, and they might as well start calling such things spaceships, because that’s what they were. Compared with other ships, this one would be small. And then—
But the Plan seemed interminable, and when it was finished the Langri started over again. And over again. And over again.
Each day he grew weaker, and his pains became more racking. When he no longer could leave his hammock, he gathered them about him and once more started at the beginning. There would be a spaceship, a small spaceship, and then—
And then the day came when his words grew incoherent, and finally he could no longer speak. The class wandered off; Fornri and Dalla remained with the women who came to see what could be done to ease his pain.
“His face is dreadfully hot,” Dalla said. “Shouldn’t we call the healers?”
“They would only anger him,” Fornri told her. “The last time, he chased them away. He said there is no way to heal a body worn out by age, and I fear that he is right.”
The women massaged the Langri’s swollen limbs and applied damp leaves to his hot face. Fornri, watching with helpless concern, became aware of a faint, whistling sound. He puzzled over it for a moment and then set off at a lope toward the nearest village. He saw Dalla start after him, and he motioned her to go back. He broke into a run when he noticed that the sound became steadily louder.
At the edge of the forest he stopped abruptly. The sound had grown to an earsplitting shriek, and the villagers, all of them, were in panicky flight. They raced past him, panting with terror, and beyond the village he saw a spaceship slowly settling groundward. He recognized it at once—it was just as the Langri had described it.
“Stop!” he called to the villagers. “The Langri was right! We must use his Plan!”
They paid him no heed. The ship had vanished behind a hill, so he advanced cautiously to the hilltop and scurried from bush to bush until he found a hiding place from which he could observe this strange object.
It had come ponderously to rest in a seaside meadow, and after an interminable wait the hatch folded out and a man swung to the ground by his hands. The strange costume that covered him from ears to toenails was exactly what the Langri had foretold. Fornri made himself comfortable in his hiding place and watched delightedly.
Once on the ground, the man stretched his limbs luxuriously and then ran a finger down his chest, opening up his garment. Another man appeared in the airlock and shouted down to him, “Get back in here! They haven’t finished checking the atmosphere.”
The man on the ground took an enormously deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The atmosphere’s fine,” he shouted back. “I just checked it myself.”
Finally the walkway dropped from the opened hatch, and the ship’s company began to descend. The Langri had said there would be both men and women, but because of the strange costumes they wore, Fornri had difficulty in distinguishing them.
He picked out the leader at once: a short, fat man to whom others came for instructions. As the leader surveyed the scene about him, to Fornri’s gaping astonishment he blew a cloud of red smoke from his mouth.
“It is a pretty place,” he said.
“Pretty?” one of the others exclaimed. “It’s a paradise. Look at that beach!”
A slender man with bushy hair on his face came down the ramp and began to talk with the leader. They walked back and forth together with so much arm movement that Fornri wondered if this was part of their language.
The sea breeze carried their spoken words to him clearly. Bushy-face said, “We can’t leave without investigating those natives. Crystals only make you rich. Something like this would make you famous. Primitive humans! How could they have got to this out-of-the-way corner of the galaxy? I must have a look at that village!”
“Have a look, then,” the leader said. “Since I’m chartered as a scientific expedition, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few scientific results just in case someone asks what we’ve been doing. You can have an hour.”
The leader turned to another man, who was performing mysterious rites with a strange black object that he held in his two hands. “I wish you wouldn’t wear that gold tooth when I’m taking readings,” the man said. “For a moment I thought I had a gold strike.”
“No metals at all?” the leader asked.
The other shrugged. “Oh well—those natives may use copper spear points, but no one will ever run a mining concession on this world.”
“How come you picked up retron interference?”
“I told you there couldn’t possibly be retron crystals on this type of planet unless someone brought them here. I did pick up the interference. Maybe it’s still there and the terrain is masking it. Or maybe the meters burped when they shouldn’t have.”
The leader turned away disgustedly. “Another landing shot on nothing. For your information, setting this crate down and taking off again costs money.” He raised his voice. “Captain?”
A man in a different type of clothing appeared in the airlock. “Yes, Mr. Wembling?”
“We’ll lift in an hour. Break out the stun guns. Those wanting to stretch their legs are to stay in groups, and they’re not to get out of hailing distance of the ship. I want one stun gun with every group, and that’s an order. I also want an armed sentry here at the ship.” He turned to the others, most of whom were looking longingly at the sea. “And no swimming. An unknown world can be damned dangerous. You’ve seen the list of precautions. Follow it.”