“What do you think you’re doing here at this time of night? Nobody admitted now but spaceport personnel!”
With a shock, Larry remembered his Darkovan clothing. He produced his identity card, and the guard stared. “What the deuce you doing in that rig, kid? And you’re late; half an hour more and I’d have had to put you on report for the Commandant. Don’t you know it’s not safe to go prowling around at night?” He caught sight of Larry’s bruised and reddened knuckles, his slowly blackening left eye. “Holy Joe, you look like you’d found that out. I bet you catch it when your Dad sees you!”
Larry was beginning to be a little afraid of that, himself. Well, there was nothing to do but face it.
It had been worth it, whatever Dad said. Even worth a licking, if it turned out that way.
IT WAS WORSE that he had thought it would be.
As he came through the doors of the apartment in Quarters A, he saw his father, intercom in hand, and heard Wade Montray’s sharp, preoccupied voice, with overtones of trouble.
“—went out after school, and hasn’t come in; I checked with all his friends. The guard at the western gate saw him leave, but hasn’t seen him come back . . . I don’t want to sound like an alarmist, sir, but if he’d wandered into the Old Town—you know as well as I do what could have happened. Yes, I know that, sir, and I’ll take all the responsibility for letting it happen; it was foolish of me. Believe me, I realize that now—”
Larry said hesitantly “Dad—?”
Montray started, half dropping the cap of the intercom.
“Larry! Is that you?”
Montray said into the intercom, “Forget it. He just came in. Yes, I know, I’ll attend to it . . . All right, Larry, come in here where I can get a good look at you.”
Larry obeyed, bracing himself for a storm. As he came into the main room, and the light fell on his bruised face, Montray turned pale.
“Larry, your face! Son, what’s happened? Are you all right?” He came forward, quickly, taking Larry by the shoulders and turning him toward the light; Larry tensed, trying to pull away.
“It’s all right, Dad; I got into a fight. A bunch of toughs. It’s all right.” He added quickly, “It looks worse than it is.”
Montray’s face worked, and for a moment he turned away. When he looked at Larry again, his face was controlled and grim, his voice level. “You’d better tell me about it.”
Larry began the story, trying to make light of the roughing up he had had, but his father interrupted, harshly, “You could have been killedl You know that, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t, though. And really, Dad, it’s an incredible piece of luck, meeting Kennard and everything. It was worth a little trouble—Dad, what’s wrong, what is it?”
Montray said “I made a mistake ever letting you go into the town alone. I know that, now. That’s all over. It could have been very serious. Larry, this is an order: You are not to leave the Terran Zone again—not at any time, not under any conditions.”
Startled, outraged, hardly believing, Larry stared at his father. “You can’t mean that, Dad!”
“But I do mean it.”
“But you haven’t even been listening to me, then! Nothing like that would happen again! Kennard said I had the freedom of the city, and his father invited me to come again—”
“I heard you perfectly well,” his father cut in “but you’ve had your orders, Larry, and I don’t intend to discuss it any further. You are are not to leave the Terran Zone again—at any time. No”—he raised his hand as Larry began to protest—”not another word, not one. Go and wash your face and put something on those cuts and get to bed. Get going!”
Larry opened his mouth and slowly, shut it again. It wasn’t the slightest use; his father wasn’t listening to him. Fuming, outraged, he stalked toward his room.
It wasn’t like Dad to treat him this way—like a little kid to be ordered around! Usually, Dad was reasonable. While he washed his bruised face and painted his skinned knuckles with antiseptic, he stormed silently inside. Dad couldn’t mean it—not now, not after the trouble he’d had getting accepted!