Colonists on Talbor had little time for
anything but work, which was bad for morale. So
Earth sent a special ship—with a unique cargo.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1953
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Marsden had filled a basin with well water and began to lather hishands and face with soap when Marie entered their cabin. He lookedup and clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Lord," he said. "Look atyourself."
Marie scowled at him as she removed her bandanna and shook loose hershort-cropped hair. "How do you expect me to look?" Her plain butpretty face was sweat-streaked. She wore a simple tunic which fellhalfway down her thighs and almost matched her sturdy, sun-darkenedlegs in color, although sweat darkened the back of the garment and leftrings of white under the armpits where it had evaporated.
"I know how I'd like you to look."
"Harry Marsden, just what do you mean by that?"
He had felt it for some time now, this smouldering resentment whichhad wedged its way between them after only two years of marriage. Hecouldn't talk to her without arguing, not after they had finishedworking for the day under the broiling sun and returned, bone-wearyand stiff-muscled, to their cabin. The routine sickened him: he wouldcome in first, splash cold water on his face, maybe scrub up some.Marie would follow after feeding their chickens (chickens here onTalbor, three dozen long light years from Earth!), strip off her tunicand try to scrub the grime from her body while he looked at her. Andif it were warm she'd prepare their simple dinner half-naked, with nothought for modesty, until he knew every plane, every curve of her bodyand realized it was a body strong for work and not soft for play, abody good for bearing children, a body which could work all day in thefields like a machine but which would never lose the grit from itspores.
"I didn't mean anything by it. Forget what I said, Marie." Marsden wentto the clothing rack and took down his one good suit. He looked againat Marie, then closed his eyes and let a growing eagerness engulf him.
The ship from Earth was coming. Not the ship with more farm machinery,not the battered freighter which reached Talbor twice every year, buta tourist ship—the first one in Marsden's memory. There would bereal Earth people on it, men and women. He thought deliciously of thewomen, wasp-waisted, high-breasted, lithe-legged and delicate. Mariewould seem so plain against them, so tragically unfeminine—unless thepictures lied. Born on Talbor, Marsden had never seen a real woman ofEarth.
Maybe Marsden would feel more inclined to watch the patterned yearsdrag by on Talbor if he just once saw the women of Earth. He never toldthis to Marie, for she wouldn't understand.
"We'd better hurry," she said, "or we won't get to town till after theship comes in."
Marsden nodded. "Like to see it land. Everyone will be there, I'll bet."
"I suppose so. It's a great deal of trouble, if you ask me."
"Trouble? Don't you want to see the people of Earth?" There it wasagain—Marsden felt an argument brewing. Marie spoke like an old woman,but she was only twenty-five. You couldn't blame her, though, and everytime Marsden's thoughts took that tack he felt sorry for his wife. Shehad known nothing but Talbor all her life.
"They're people," said Marie. "Just folks." But she carefully removedthe frilly dress which had hung near Marsden's suit on the rack andexamined it critically.
"You're g