“That’s what Filip Sanat is always talking about,” laughed Maronni. “He gave me a long sermon only a few days ago on that very subject. And it was interesting, too. There was a lot to what he said.”
He nodded lightly and continued, “He’s got a good head on him, that Filip Sanat. He might have made a good scientist or businessman.”
“Speak of meteors and hear them whizz,” said the Captain, suddenly, and nodded his head to the right.
“Well!” gasped Maronni. “There he is. But-but what in space is he doing here?”
Filip Sanat did make a rather incongruous picture as he stood framed in the far doorway. His long, dark purple tunic -mark of the Loarist-was a sombre splotch upon an otherwise gay scene. His grave eyes turned toward Maronni and he lifted his hand in immediate recognition.
Astonished dancers made way automatically as he passed, staring at him long and curiously afterwards. One could hear the wake of whispering that he left in his path. Filip Sanat, however, took no notice of this. Eyes fixed stonily ahead of him and expression stolidly immobile, he reached Captain Drake, Sammel Maronni, and Ylen Surat
Filip Sanat greeted the two men warmly and then, in response to an introduction, bowed gravely to the widow, who regarded him with surprise and open disdain.
“Pardon me for disturbing you. Captain Drake,” said the young man, in a low tone. “I only want to know at what time we are leaving hyperspace.”
The captain yanked out a corpulent pocket-chromo. “An hour from now. Not more.”
“And we shall then be-?”
“Just outside the orbit of Planet IX.”
“That would be Pluto. Sol will then be in sight as we enter normal space?”
“If you’re looking in the right direction, it will be-toward the prow of the ship.”
“Thank you,” Filip Sanat made as if to depart, but Maronni detained him.
“Hold on there, Filip, you’re not going to leave us, are you? I’m sure Madam Surat here is fairly dying to ask you several questions. She has displayed a great interest in Loarism.” There was more than the suspicion of a twinkle in the Lactonian’s eye.
Filip Sanat turned politely to the widow, who, taken aback for the moment, remained speechless, and then recovered.
“Tell me, young man,” she burst forth, “are there really still people like you left?-Loarists, I mean.”
Filip Sanat started and stared quite rudely at his questioner, but did lose his tongue. With calm distinctness, he said, “There are still people left who try to maintain the culture and way of life of ancient Earth.”
Captain Drake could not forbear a tiny bit of irony, “Even down to the culture of the Lhasinuic masters?”
Ylen Surat uttered a stifled scream, “Do you mean to say Earth is a Lhasinuic world? Is it?” Her voice rose to a frightened squeak.
“Why, certainly,” answered the puzzled captain, sorry that he had spoken. “Didn’t you know?”
“Captain,” there was hysteria in the woman’s voice. “You must not land. If you do, I shall make trouble-plenty of trouble. I will not be exposed to hordes of those terrible Lhasinu-those awful reptiles from Vega.”
“You need not fear. Madam Surat,” observed Filip Sanat, coldly. “The vast majority of Earth’s population is very much human. It is only the one percent that rules that is Lhasinuic.”
“Oh-” A pause, and then, in a wounded manner, “Well, I don’t think Earth can be so important, if it is not even ruled by Humans. Loarism indeed! Silly waste of time, I call it!”
Sanat’s face flushed suddenly, and for a moment he seemed to struggle vainly for speech. When he did speak, it was in an agitated tone, “You have a very superficial view. The fact that the Lhasinu control Earth has nothing to do with the fundamental problem of Loarism which-”
He turned on his heel and left.
Sammel Maronni drew a long breath as he watched the retreating figure. “You hit him in a sore spot, Madam Surat, I never saw him squirm away from an argument or an attempt at an explanation in that way before.”
“He’s not a bad looking chap,” said Captain Drake.
Maronni chuckled, “Not by a long shot. We’re from the same planet, that young fellow and I. He’s a typical Lactonian, like me.”
The widow cleared her throat grumpily, “Oh, let us change the subject by all means. That person seems to have cast a shadow over the entire room. Why do they wear those awful purple robes? So unstylish!”
Loara Broos Porin glanced up as his young acolyte entered.
“Well?”
“In less than forty-five minutes, Loara Broos.”
And throwing himself into a chair, Sanat leaned a flushed and frowning face upon one balled fist.
Porin regarded the other with an affectionate smile, “Have you been arguing with Sammel Maronni again, Filip?”
“No, not exactly.” He jerked himself upright. “But what’s the use, Loara Broos? There, on the upper level, are hundreds of Humans, thoughtless, gaily dressed, laughing, frolicking; and there outside is Earth, disregarded. Only we two of the entire ship’s company are stopping there to view the world of our ancient days.”
His eyes avoided those of the older man and his voice took on a bitter tinge, “And once thousands of Humans from every corner of the Galaxy landed on Earth every day. The great days of Loarism are over.”
Loara Broos laughed. One would not have thought such a hearty laugh to be in his spindly figure. “That is at least the hundredth time I have heard that said by you. Foolish! The day will come when Earth will once more be remembered. People will yet again flock. By the thousands and millions they’ll come.”
“No! It is over!”
“Bah! The croaking prophets of doom have said that over and over again through history. They have yet to prove themselves right.”
“This time they will.” Sanat’s eyes blazed suddenly, “Do you know why? It is because Earth is profaned by the reptile conquerors. A woman has just said to me-a vain, stupid, shallow woman-that T don’t think Earth can be so important if it is not even ruled by Humans.’ She said what billions must say unconsciously, and I hadn’t the words to refute her. It was one argument I couldn’t answer.”
“And what would your solution be, Filip? Come, have you thought it out?”
“Drive them from Earth! Make it a Human planet once more! We fought them once during the First Galactic Drive two thousand years ago, and stopped them when it seemed as if they might absorb the Galaxy. Let us make a Second Drive of our own and hurl them back to Vega.”
Porin sighed and shook his head, “You young hothead! There never was a young Loarist who didn’t eat fire on the subject. You’ll outgrow it. You’ll outgrow it.”
“Look, my boy!” Loara Broos arose and grasped the other by the shoulders, “Man and Lhasinu have intelligence, and are the only two intelligent races of the Galaxy. They are brothers in mind and spirit. Be at peace with them. Don’t hate; it is the most unreasoning emotion. Instead, strive to understand.”
Filip Sanat stared stonily at the ground and made no indication that he heard. His mentor clicked his tongue in gentle rebuke.
“Well, when you are older, you will understand. Now, forget all this, Filip. Remember that the ambition of every real Loarist is about to be fulfilled for you. In two days, we shall reach Earth and its soil shall be under your feet. Isn’t that enough to make you happy? Just think! When you return, you shall be awarded the title ‘Loara.’ You shall be one who has visited Earth. The golden sun will be pinned to your shoulder.”
Porin’s hand crept to the staring yellow orb upon his own tunic, mute witness of his three previous visits to Earth.
“Loara Filip Sanat,” said Sanat slowly, eyes glistening. “Loara Filip Sanat. It has a wonderful sound, hasn’t it? And only a little ways off.”
“Now, then, you feel better. But come, in a few moments we shall leave hyperspace and we will see Sol.”
Already, even as he spoke, the thick, choking cloak of hyper-stuff that clung so closely to the sides of the Flaming Nova was going through those curious changes that marked the beginning of the shift to normal space. The blackness lightened a bit and concentric rings of various shades of gray chased each other across the port-view with gradually hastening speed. It was a weird and beautiful optical illusion that science has never succeeded in explaining.