STROLL

BOB SHAW

The tiny ship floated down out of the night sky and, for the first time in eight years, its tripod nuzzled into the soil of Earth. The engines gave a brief sigh, like a man settling into his favourite chair after a long walk, then were still.

Presently the airlock opened.

Frank Houseman sat for a long moment on the rim of the lock. The air of Earth was pleasant to him -in eight years he had forgotten just how sweet it was. After a while he took out a cigarette and sat drawing on it in the darkness. The tobacco smoke tas ted better somehow, when it was mixed with the scents of the familiar meadow.

>From all over the ship came clicks and whirs as each machine busied itself with the task of becoming deactivated. Houseman grinned to himself, savouring the feeling of being home.

He finished the cigarette and jumped down into the lush grass. They would be waiting for him at the house.

With a leisurely stride he covered the half mile to the south gate and turned into the lane leading to his home.

Eight years, he thought, eight years since he had seen his mother and father. Back in the old days he would have had to run. Eight years had been a tenth of a lifetime before The Shots.

The strangeness of the idea had often intrigued Houseman...were they very much different in those days? Did they run everywhere, knowing that their time was short? Did death not frighten them?

Using three hundred years of training, he put the subject out of his mind.

When Houseman reached the last bend before the house came in view, he paused and leaned on the gate to the orchard. The night air was heavy with the scent of apple-blossoms, and Orion had just lifted above the horizon. He lit another cigarette, and stood watching until the mighty Pleiades reached their zenith. Perhaps three hours passed. Never having carried a watch, Houseman wasn't sure.

Strangely, he felt a slight surge of impatience. He continued on his way, walking rather faster than usual.

In eight years the house hadn't changed.

There were lights on. The detectors would have let the family know he had arrived. Probably his mother had prepared a meal for him-again Houseman grinned.

The front door opened for him, and he went in, feeling glad to be back. His mother in another part of the house heard the clatter of his booted feet. He heard her voice before he saw her...

"I didn't expect you back so soon, Frank," she called cheerily, "Did you have a nice trip?"

"Quite nice, mother," he answered, "What have we for breakfast?"

THE END

Data entry and page scans provided by Judy Bemis

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