The others followed him, Hazel carrying Lowell. Roger Stone stopped when they were down and looked around. ‘I could have sworn,’ he said with a puzzled air, ‘that I spotted the War God not very far east of us just before we landed.’
‘There is something sticking up over there,’ Castor said, pointing north. The object was a rounded dome swelling up above the extremely near horizon — an horizon only two hundred yards away for Castor’s height of eye: The dome looked enormous but it grew rapidly smaller as they approached it and finally got it entirely above the horizon. The sharp curvature of the little globe played tricks on them; it was so small that it was possible to see that it was curved, but the habit of thinking of anything over the horizon as distant stayed with them.
Before they reached the dome they encountered one of the steel walking strips running across their path, and on it a man. He was spacesuited as they were and was carrying with ease a large coil of steel line, a hand-powered winch, and a ground anchor with big horns. Roger Stone stopped him. ‘Excuse me, friend but could you tell me the way to the R.S. War God? Berths thirty-two and -three, I believe she is.’
Off east there. Just follow this strip about five miles; you’ll raise her. Say, are you from the Rolling Stone?’
‘Yes. I’m her master. My name’s Stone, too.’
‘Glad to know you, Captain. I’m just on my way out to respot your ship. You’ll find her in berth thirteen, west of here when you come back.’
The twins looked curiously at the equipment he was carrying. ‘Just with that?’ asked Castor, thinking of the ticklish problem it had been to move the Stone on Luna.
‘Did you leave your gyros running?’ asked the port jockey.
‘Yes,’ answered Captain Stone.
‘I won’t have any trouble. See you around.’ He headed out to the ship. The family party turned east along the strip; the traction afforded by their boot magnets against steel made much easier walking. Hazel put Lowell down and let him run.
They were walking toward Mars, a great arc of which filled much of the eastern horizon. The planet rose appreciably as they progressed; like Earth in the Lunar sky Mars never rose nor set for any particular point of the satellite’s surface — but they were moving over the curve of Phobos so rapidly that their own walking made it rise. About a mile farther along Meade spotted the bow of the War God silhouetted against the orange-red face of Mars. They hurried, but it was another three miles before they had her in sight down to her fins.
At last they reached her — to find a temporary barrier of line and posts around her and signs prominently displayed:
‘WARNING! — QUARANTINE — no entrance by order of Phobos Port Authority.’
‘I can’t read,’ said Hazel.
Roger Stone pondered it ‘The rest of you stay here, or go for a walk — whatever you please. I’m going in. Mind you stay off the field proper.’
‘Shucks,’ answered Hazel, ‘there’s plenty of time to see a ship coming in and run for it, the way they float in here. That’s all the residents do. But don’t you want me to come with you, boy?’
‘No, its my pidgin.’ He left them at the barrier, went toward the liner. They waited. Hazel passed the time by taking a throat lozenge from her gun and popping it in through her mouth valve; she gave one to Lowell. Presently they saw Roger walk up the side of the ship to a view port. He stayed there quite a while, then walked down again.
When he got back to them his face was stormy. Hazel said ‘No go, I take it?’
‘None at all. Oh, I saw Van and he rapped out some irrelevant insults. But he did let me see Edith — through the port’
‘How did she look?’
‘Wonderful, just wonderful! A little bit thinner perhaps, but not much. She blew a kiss for all of you.’ He paused and frowned. ‘But I can’t get in and I can’t get her out.’