It was a peaceful world, a green world,
where bright blossoms swayed beneath two
golden suns. Why did the visitors from Earth
sit in their rocket-ship—terrified?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories July 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"There will be a great many changes, Ned," Cynthia Jackson said. Shestared out the viewport at the little green world which the contactrocket Star Mist was swiftly approaching on warp-drive.
Her husband co-pilot nodded, remembering Clifton and Helen Sweeney,and the Sweeney youngsters. Remembering with a smile Tommy Sweeney'skite-flying antics, his freckles and mischievous eyes—a tow-headed kidof ten with an Irish sense of humor, sturdily planted in a field ofalien corn five thousand light years from Earth.
Sowing and reaping and bringing in the sheaves, in the blue lightof a great double sun, his dreams as vibrant with promise as theinterstellar warp-drive which, a century ago, had brought the firstprospect ship from Earth to the stars.
He'd be a man grown now, as sturdy as his dad. You could almost takethat for granted. And his sister would be a willowy girl with clearblue eyes, and she'd come out of a white plastic cottage with thebuoyancy of twenty summers in her carriage and smile.
They'd be farmers still. You couldn't change the Sweeneys in a millionyears, couldn't wean them away from the good earth.
It was funny, but he couldn't even visualize the Sweeneys withoutthinking of a little sleepy town, the kind of town he'd left himself asa kid to strike out across the great curve of the universe. Dry dustof Kansas and the Dakotas that would still be blowing after a thousandyears!
"They've had time to build a town, Ned!" Cynthia said. "A really finetown with broad streets and modern, dust-proof buildings!"
Ned Jackson awoke from his reverie with a wry start. He nodded again,remembering the many other colonists and the equipment which had beenshipped to the little green world across the years. Plastic materialsto build houses and schools and roadways, educational materials tobuild eager young minds.
Every ten years a contact rocket went out from Earth by interstellarwarp-drive to make a routine check. The trip was a long one—eightmonths—but the Central Colonization Bureau had to make sure thatanarchy did not take the place of law on worlds where teeming junglesencouraged the free exercise of man's best qualities—and his worst.
From end to end of the Galaxy, on large planets and small, progress hadto be measured in terms of the greatest good for the greatest number.There could be no other yardstick, for when man ceased to be a socialanimal his star-conquering genius shriveled to the vanishing point.
"The friends we made here were very special, Ned," Cynthia said."I guess people who dare greatly have to be a bit keener than thestay-at-homes, a bit more eager and alive. But the Sweeneys had such atremendous zest for living—"
"I know," Ned said.
"They were wonderful—generous and kind. It will be good to see themagain. Good to—" Cynthia laughed. "I don't know why, but I was aboutto say: 'Good to be home.'"
Ned thought he knew why.
They'd made their first flight for the Bureau exactly ten years before.It had been a combined "official business" and honeymoon flight, andalmost the whole of it had been spent on the little green world.
Did not the queen bee and her consort, flying high above the hive ona night of perfumed darkness, remember best what was bliss to recall,the shifting lights and sha