TUNNEL IN THE SKY by ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

“Deacon,” his wife said, “Aren’t you going to tell him?”

“It has no bearing. It would be an unfair way to influence his judgment.”

“You men! I’m glad I’m not male!”

“So am I,” Matson agreed pleasantly.

“I didn’t mean that. Men behave as if logic were stepping on crack in a sidewalk. I’m going to tell him.”

“On your head be it.”

“Tell me what?” demanded Rod.

“She means,” said Matson, “that your parents are back.”

“What?”

“Yes, Buddy. They left stasis a week ago and Daddy came out of the hospital today. He’s well. But we haven’t told him all about you we haven’t known what to say.”

The facts were simple, although Rod found them hard to soak up. Medical techniques had developed in two years, not a pessimistic twenty; it had been possible to relax the stasis, operate, and restore Mr. Walker to the world. Helen had known for months that such outcome was likely, but their father’s physician had not approved until he was sure. It had been mere coincidence that Tangaroa had been located at almost the same time. To Rod one event was as startling as the other; his parents had been dead to him for a long time.

“My dear,” Matson said sternly, “now that you have thrown him into a whing-ding, shall we go?”

“Yes. But I had to tell him.” Helen kissed Rod quickly, turned to her husband. They started to walk away.

Rod watched them, his face contorted in an agony of indecision.

Suddenly he called out, “Wait! I’m coming with you.”

“All right,” Matson answered. He turned his good eye toward his wife and drooped the lid in a look of satisfaction that was not quite a wink. “If you are sure that is what you want to do, I’ll help you get your gear together.”

“Oh, I haven’t any baggage. Let’s go.”

Rod stopped only long enough to free the penned animals.

16 The Endless Road

Matson chaperoned him through Emigrants’ Gap, saved from possible injury a functionary who wanted to give Rod psychological tests, and saw to it that he signed no waivers. He had him bathed, shaved, and barbered, then fetched him clothes, before he let him be exposed to the Terran world. Matson accompanied them only to Kaibab Gate. “I’m supposed to have a lodge dinner, or something, so that you four can be alone as a family. About nine, dear. See you, Rod.” He kissed his wife and left.

“Sis? Dad doesn’t know I’m coming?”

Helen hesitated. “He knows. I screened him while Deacon was primping you.” She added, “Remember, Rod, Dad has been ill . . . and the time has been only a couple of weeks to him.”

“Oh, that’s so, isn’t it?” Used all his life to Ramsbotham anomalies, Rod nevertheless found those concerned with time confusing planethopping via the gates did not seem odd. Besides, he was extremely edgy without knowing why, the truth being that he was having an attack of fear of crowds. The Matsons had anticipated it but had not warned him lest they make him worse.

The walk through tall trees just before reaching home calmed him. The necessity for checking all cover for dangerous animals and keeping a tree near him always in mind gave his subconscious something familiar to chew on. He arrived home almost cheerful without being aware either that he had been frightened by crowds or soothed by nonexistent dangers of an urban forest.

His father looked browned and healthy but shorter and smaller. He embraced his son and his mother kissed him and wept. “It’s good to have you home, son. I understand you had quite a trip.”

“It’s good to be home, Dad.”

“I think these tests are much too strenuous, I really do.”

Rod started to explain that it really had not been a test, that it had not been strenuous, and that Cowpertown Tangaroa, rather had been a soft touch. But he got mixed up and was disturbed by the presence of “Aunt” Nora Peas coat no relation but a childhood friend of his mother. Besides, his father was not listening.

But Mrs. Peascoat was listening, and looking peering with little eyes through folds of flesh. “Why, Roderick Walker, I knew that couldn’t have been a picture of you.”

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