“Sure,” she answered. “I can see out all right. It’s a grand view. Doesn’t it remind you of Paris from the top of the Arc de Triomphe?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never done any traveling.”
“Except no boulevards, of course. Somebody is about to land here.”
I turned the way she was pointing-she could see in all directions while I was hampered by the built-in tunnel vision of my helmet. By the time I was turned around the Vegan was coming in beside us.
(“Hello, children!”)
“Hi, Mother Thing!” Peewee threw her arms around her, picking her up.
(“Not so hasty, dear. Let me shed this.”) The Mother Thing stepped out of her harness, shook herself in ripples, folded the flying gear like an umbrella and hung it over an arm. (“You’re looking fit, Kip.”)
“I feel fine, Mother Thing! Gee, it’s nice to have you back.”
(“I wished to be back when you got out of bed. However, your therapists have kept me advised every minute.”) She put a little hand against my chest, growing a bit to do so, and placed her eyes almost against my face plate. (“You are well?”)
“I couldn’t be better.”
“He really is, Mother Thing!”
(“Good. You agree that you are well, I sense that you are, Peewee is sure that you are and, most important, your leader therapist assures me that you are. We’ll leave at once.”)
“What?” I asked. “Where, Mother Thing?”
She turned to Peewee. (“Haven’t you told him, dear?”)
“Gee, Mother Thing, I haven’t had a chance.”
(“Very well.”) She turned to me. (“Dear Kip, we must now attend a gathering. Questions will be asked and answered, decisions will be made.”) She spoke to us both. (“Are you ready to leave?”)
“Now?” said Peewee. “Why, I guess so-except that I’ve got to get Madame Pompadour.”
(“Fetch her, then. And you, Kip?”)
“Uh-” I couldn’t remember whether I had put my watch back on after I washed and I couldn’t tell because I can’t feel it through Oscar’s thick hide. I told her so.
(“Very well. You children run to your rooms while I have a ship fetched. Meet me here and don’t stop to admire flowers.”)
We went down by ramp. I said, “Peewee, you’ve been holding out on me again.”
“Why, I have not!”
“What do you call it?”
“Kip-please listen! I was told not to tell you while you were ill. The Mother Thing was very firm about it. You were not to be disturbed-that’s what she said!-while you were growing well.”
“Why should I feel disturbed? What is all this? What gathering? What questions?”
“Well … the gathering is sort of a court. A criminal court, you might say.”
“Huh?” I took a quick look at my conscience. But I hadn’t had any chance to do anything wrong-I had been helpless as a baby up to two hours ago. That left Peewee. “Runt,” I said sternly, “what have you done now?”
“Me? Nothing.”
“Think hard.”
“No, Kip. Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at breakfast! But Daddy says never to break any news until after his second cup of coffee and I thought how nice it would be to take a little walk before we had any worries and I was going to tell you”
“Make it march.”
“-as soon as we came down. I haven’t done anything. But there’s old Wormface.”
“What? I thought he was dead.”
“Maybe so, maybe not. But, as the Mother Thing says, there are still questions to be asked, decisions to be made. He’s up for the limit, is my guess.”
I thought about it as we wound our way through strange apartments toward the air lock that led to our Earth-conditioned rooms. High crimes and misdemeanors . . . skulduggery in the spaceways-yes, Wormface was probably in for it. If the Vegans could catch him. “Had caught him” apparently, since they were going to try him. “But where do we come in? As witnesses?”
“I suppose you could call it that.”
What happened to Wormface was no skin off my nose-and it would be a chance to find out more about the Vegans. Especially if the court was some distance away, so that we would travel and see the country.