together. Do you object?"
He didn't, but there were some who would. The order made sense withrespect to little boys who would otherwise swarm over the field, fallingoff ships or getting stuck in rocket tubes.
"What have you got?" he asked, eying Amantha's parcel dubiously.
"I baked something." She opened a corner of the package and the smelldrifted out. "Made it with Martian fruit. Not much of it around thesedays."
He sniffed and became hungry. That was queer--he'd eaten before comingon duty.
"Okay," he said. "You can go. Don't get caught or it's my neck." Hestood closer to the old man and woman, and the package, too, and pointedout the window. "Act like you're leaving in case anyone's checking up.When you get near the line of ships, duck behind them and walk alonguntil you find the right one. No one will see you except me."
Amantha pinched the package together. "I'd give you some, but I can'tcut it before the pilot sees it."
"I guess you can't," said the sentry wistfully. "Maybe he won't eat allof it."
"May he won't. I'll bring you back what's left--if there _is_ any left."
Long after they were gone, the sentry stood there, trying to analyze theindefinable odor. He was still standing there when the checkup squadmarched in and arrested him for gross dereliction of duty.
* * * * *
"Go away," said the pilot, disappearing from the viewport. Ethan poundedon the hull with a rock. The pilot came back, twisting his face. "Stopit. I'll angle the rocket tubes around and squirt you with them."
Ethan raised the rock.
"Okay," said the pilot. "I'll talk to you, though I know what you want."Sullenly, he made the hatch swing open. He looked down at them. "Allright, let's hear it."
"Got a present for you," said Ethan.
"Not allowed to take bribes unless it's money."
"Young man, where are your manners?" snapped Amantha.
"Haven't got any. It's the first thing they train out of you." The pilotstarted to jerk his head back, saw the rock and decided not to close thehatch. He glanced at the narrow ladder to the ground. "I'll take yourpresent. Bring it up."
He stopped smirking as Amantha hitched up her skirts and, holding thepackage in one hand, swung up the ladder. Agile as goats and probably assensible, he thought. He took hold of her as she neared the top.
"Grandma, you're too old to climb around. You'll break every brittlebone in your body if you fall."
"Ain't so brittle," said Amantha, making way for Ethan who had followedher. "My, it's cold!" She began shivering. "Invite us in to get warm."
"You can't go in. I'm busy. Hey, wait!" The pilot hurried after her intothe control compartment.
Amantha was looking around when he arrived. "Cozy but kind of bare," shesaid. "Why don't you hang up pictures?"
"Most fabulous pictures you'll ever see are right there."
Amantha followed his glance. "Nothing but Mars. I can see that everyday." She puzzled over it. "Oh, you're teasing an old woman. I didn'tmean what you see out of the port, stars and planets and such. I'd wanta picture of an Indian settin' on a horse."
"I'll bet!" muttered the pilot. "Get warm in a hurry. I've got work todo."
"You just go ahead," she said. "We'll set here and toast our toes. Wedon't aim to interfere."
"I'll stay," said the pilot hastily. "Let's have the present." He'd madea tactical error--he should have ignored the noise that went shimmeringthrough the hull when the old man had pounded with a rock. No, it wasnice to think he could have, but impossible. Patience was one of thethings the aged did have and the young didn't.
Amantha set the package down. The pilot scrambled ahead of her and gotthe navigator's instruments off the desk and into the drawer.
She opened and displayed the contents.
"I baked it for you," she said. "It's a cake."
* * * * *
He could see what it was. "Hate cake," he said. "Can't eat it."
"You'll eat this. Canalberry shortcake."
"Canalberry?" he asked, wrinkling his face. He smelled it and changedexpressions in the middle of a wrinkle. Resolutely, he turned away fromit and saw Ethan clearly, perhaps for the first time. It was the old manwho had tried to bribe him a few days ago. They weren't as innocent asthey seemed. What were they trying to do?
"Ain't you even going to taste it?" she urged.
He shuddered suspiciously. It smelled good, though he had told the truthabout hating the stuff. Under other circumstances, he might have nibbledat a piece for politeness' sake.
"Can't. Doctor's orders."
"Diabetic? Didn't think they let them in space-service," said Amantha."Funny, it's the same with Ethan. He can't eat sweets, either." Shelooked at her creation. "Seems a shame to bring it so far to somebodywho can't touch it. Do you mind if I cut myself a slice?"
"Go ahead, Grandma."
"Amantha," she corrected him and brought out a knife and two smallplates. He wondered if there was any significance. _Two_ plates.
She laid a slice on the plate and poked at it with a fork that was alsoin the package. She put the fork down and picked up the cake.
"It don't taste right unless you eat it the way it was meant to be," shesaid.
He watched her in anguish. His nose quivered and his stomach rumbled. Heshouldn't have let them in.
A crumb fell to the floor and Amantha reached for it. She straightenedup, a berry in her hand.
"Canalberries," she said. "They're nearly all gone. Used to be you couldhardly go anywhere without stepping in them."
She crushed the berry and the rich aroma swept devastatingly through theair.
"Sure you won't have some?" she asked, slicing the cake and placing itin front of him. When he finished that, he cut another, and another,until the cake was gone.
The pilot settled logily in a chair and dozed off. Amantha and Ethanwatched him in silence.
The pilot got up and began to stretch lazily without seeming to noticethem. The laziness disappeared and the stretch changed into a jerk thatseemed to elongate his body. He sprang out of the compartment and wentleaping down the corridor. When he came to the hatch, he didn'thesitate. The ladder was too slow. He jumped.
He landed on the sand, sinking in to his knees. He extricated himselfand went bounding over the field.
"Never saw canalberries take so long," muttered Amantha. "Don't knowwhat's wrong. Nothing's as good as it used to be."
She shook off her hat and closed the airlock.
"You don't need those nose plugs any more, Ethan. Come on, let's see ifyou remember."
* * * * *
Several hours later, she twirled unfamiliar knobs and, by persistenceand beginner's luck, managed to get the person she wanted.
"You the commander?" Since he had a harassed look, she assumed he was."Thought you might be worried about that poor boy."
"Madam, what do you want?" He scowled at the offscreen miscreant who hadmistakenly summoned him. "I'm chasing criminals. I haven't got time tochat about old times."
"Don't sass me. I thought you might want to know how to stop that poorboy from running around."
The commander sat down. "What young man?" he asked calculatingly.
"Don't know his name," said Amantha. "He ran out of the ship before wecould ask him."
"So _you're_ the poisoner," said the commander coldly. "If he dies,neither your age nor your sex will make any difference."
"Just canalberries," Amantha assured him. "Reckon you wouldn't knowabout them."
"What are you talking about?"
"Canalberries. Used to be lots of them. Males, men and animals, justcan't help eating them. Don't bother women or any other kind of females.Biologists used to tell us it was a seed-scattering device. Guess so.Won't hurt him none. Try bicarb and vinegar. It'll fix him up."
"For your sake, I hope it will!" said the commander. "He's in a badway." He stabbed a pencil at her and hi
s voice became stern. "If youfollow directions, I'm sure I can get you off lightly."
"Think we will?" said Amantha.
The commander hurried on. "It's hard to find a ship in space. Stay whereyou are or, if you can, turn around