Science fiction; Short stories; Space colonies -- Fiction
It was easy to act as though he had some inside information, but Karl
had to admit to himself that he actually knew very little about it. He
was a Second System colonist and had never even seen an Earthwoman.
He had heard tales, though, and even discounting a large percentage
of them, some of them must have been true. Old Grundy at the rocket
office, who should know about these things if anybody did, seemed
disturbingly lacking on definite information, though he had hinted
broadly enough. He'd whistle softly and wink an eye and repeat the
stories that Karl had already heard; but he had nothing _definite_ to
offer, no real facts at all.
Some of the other colonists whom they hadn't seen for the last few
months shouted greetings, and Karl began to feel some of the carnival
spirit. There was Jenkins, who had another trapping line fifty miles
farther up the Karazoo; Leonard, who had the biggest farm on Midplanet;
and then the fellow who specialized in catching and breaking in
yllumphs, whose name Karl couldn't remember.
"They say they're good workers," Hill said.
Karl nodded. "Pretty, too."
They threaded their way through the crowded and muddy streets. Landing
City wasn't big, compared to some of the cities on Altair, where he had
been raised, but Karl was proud of it. Some day it would be as big as
any city on any planet--maybe even have a population of ten thousand
people or more.
"Joe," Karl said suddenly, "what's supposed to make women from Earth
better than women from any other world?"
Hill located a faint itch and frowned. "I don't know, Karl. It's hard
to say. They're--well, sophisticated, glamorous."
Karl absorbed this in silence. Those particular qualities were, he
thought, rather hard to define.
The battered shack that served as rocket port office and headquarters
for the colonial office on Midplanet loomed up in front of them. There
was a crowd gathered in front of the building and they forced their way
through to see what had caused it.
"We saw this the last time we were here," Hill said.
"I know," Karl agreed, "but I want to take another look." He was
anxious to glean all the information that he could.
It was a poster of a beautiful woman leaning toward the viewer. The
edges of the poster were curling and the colors had faded during the
last six months, but the girl's smile seemed just as inviting as ever.
She held a long-stemmed goblet in one hand and was blowing a kiss to
her audience with the other. Her green eyes sparkled, her smile was
provocative. A quoted sentence read: "I'm from _Earth_!" There was
nothing more except a printed list of the different solar systems to
which the colonial office was sending the women.
She was real pretty, Karl thought. A little on the thin side, maybe,
and the dress she was wearing would hardly be practical on Midplanet,
but she had a certain something. Glamour, maybe?
A loudspeaker blared.
"All colonists waiting for the wife draft assemble for your numbers!
All colonists...."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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