Johnson knew he was annoying the younger man, who so obviously livedby the regulations in the Colonial Officer's Manual and lacked theimagination to understand why he was doing this.... Evelyn E. Smithis famous for her bitter-sweet stories of the worlds of Tomorrow.
Once these irritating farewells were over with, hecould begin to live as he wished and as he'd dreamed.
Johnson went to see theothers off at Idlewild. Heknew they'd expect him toand, since it would be the lastconventional gesture he'dhave to make, he might aswell conform to their notionsof what was right and proper.
For the past few centuriesthe climate had been gettinghotter; now, even though itwas not yet June, the day wasuncomfortably warm. Thesun's rays glinting off thebright metal flanks of theship dazzled his eyes, and perspirationmade his shirt stickto his shoulder blades beneaththe jacket that the formalityof the occasion had required.He wished Clifford wouldhurry up and get the leave-takingover with.
But, even though Cliffordwas undoubtedly even moreanxious than he to finish withall this ceremony and takeoff, he wasn't the kind of manto let inclination influence hisactions. "Sure you won'tchange your mind and comewith us?"
Johnson shook his head.
The young man looked athim—hatred for the olderman's complication of whatshould have been a simple departureshowing through thepellicule of politeness. He wasyoung for, since this trip hadonly slight historical importanceand none of any otherkind, the authorities had felta junior officer entirely sufficient.It was clear, however,that Clifford attributed hiscommandership to his merits,and he was very conscious ofhis great responsibility.
"We have plenty of roomon the ship," he persisted."There weren't many left togo. We could take you easilyenough, you know."
Johnson made a negativesign again. The rays of thesun beating full upon hishead made apparent the greythat usually blended into thestill-thick blond hair. Yet,though past youth, he was farfrom being an old man. "I'vemade my decision," he said,remembering that anger nowwas pointless.
"If it's—if you're just tooproud to change your mind,"the young commander said,less certainly, "I'm sure everyonewill understand if ...if ..."
Johnson smiled. "No, it'sjust that I want to stay—that'sall."
But the commander's clearblue eyes were still baffled,uneasy, as though he felt hehad not done the utmost thatduty—not duty to the servicebut to humanity—required.That was the trouble withpeople, Johnson thought:when they were most well-meaningthey became mosttroublesome.
Clifford lowered his voiceto an appropriately funeralhush, as a fresh thought obviouslystruck him. "I know,of course, that your lovedones are buried here and perhapsyou feel it's your dutyto stay with them...?"
At this Johnson almost forgotthat anger no longer hadany validity. By "loved ones"Clifford undoubtedly hadmeant Elinor and Paul. It wastrue that Johnson had had acertain affection for his wifeand son when they were alive;now that they were dead theyrepresented an episode in hislife that had not, perhaps,been unpleasant, but was certainlyover and done withnow.
Did Clifford think that washis reason for remaining?Why, he must believe Johnsonto be the most sentimentalman on Earth. "And, come tothink of it," Johnson said tohimself, amused, "I am—orsoon will be—just that."
The commander was stillunconsciou