Part 22 (1/2)

”It'll be a human base on the Moon,” said Brent relievedly. ”An expedition will start in six weeks, according to plan. As long as we're the only American base in s.p.a.ce, we're going to be shot at. But a base on the Moon will be invulnerable. So they're going ahead with it.”

Joe said hopefully:

”Any orders for me to join it?”

Brent shook his head. ”We're to be loaded up with supplies for the Moon expedition. We're to be ready to take a robot s.h.i.+p every round.

Actually, they can't hope to send us more than two a day for a while, but even that'll be eighty tons of supplies to be stored away.”

The Chief grumbled, but somehow his grumbling did not sound genuine.

”They're going to the Moon--and leave us here to do stevedore stuff?”

His tone was odd. He looked at a letter he'd been reading and gave up pretense. He said self-consciously: ”Listen, you guys.... My tribe's got all excited. I just got a letter from the council. They've been having an argument about me. Wanna hear?”

He was a little amused, and a little embarra.s.sed, but something had happened to make him feel good.

”Let's have it,” said Joe. Mike was very still in another chair. He didn't look up, though he must have heard. Haney c.o.c.ked an interested ear.

The Chief said awkwardly, ”You know--us Mohawks are kinda proud. We got something to be proud of. We were one of the Five Nations, when that was a sort of United Nations and all Europe was dog-eat-dog. My tribe had a big pow-wow about me. There's a tribe member that's a professor of anthropology out in Chicago. He was there. And a couple of guys that do electronic research, and doctors and farmers and all sorts of guys. All Mohawks. They got together in tribal council.”

He stopped and flushed under his dark skin. ”I wouldn't tell you, only you guys are in on it.”

Still he hesitated. Joe found a curious picture forming in his mind.

He'd known the Chief a long time, and he knew that part of the tribe lived in Brooklyn, and individual members were widely scattered. But still there was a certain remote village which to all the tribesmen was home. Everybody went back there from time to time, to rest from the strangeness of being Indians in a world of pale-skinned folk.

Joe could almost imagine the council. There'd be old, old men who could nearly remember the days of the tribe's former glory, who'd heard stories of forest warfare and zestful hunts, and scalpings and heroic deeds from their grandfathers. But there were also doctors and lawyers and technical men in that council which met to talk about the Chief.

”It's addressed to me,” said the Chief with sudden clumsiness, ”in the World-by-itself Canoe. That's the Platform here. And it says--I'll have to translate, because it's in Mohawk.” He took a deep breath. ”It says, 'We your tribesmen have heard of your journeyings off the Earth where men have never traveled before. This has given us great pride, that one of our tribe and kin had ventured so valiantly.'” The Chief grinned abashedly. He went on. ”'In full a.s.sembly, the elders of the tribe have held counsel on a way to express their pride in you, and in the friends you have made who accompanied you. It was proposed that you be given a new name to be borne by your sons after you. It was proposed that the tribe accept from each of its members a gift to be given you in the name of the tribe. But these were not considered great enough. Therefore the tribe, in full council, has decreed that your name shall be named at every tribal council of the Mohawks from this day to the end of time, as one the young braves would do well to copy in all ways. And the names of your friends Joe Kenmore, Mike Scandia, and Thomas Haney shall also be named as friends whose like all young braves should strive to seek out and to be.'”

The Chief sweated a little, but he looked enormously proud. Joe went over to him and shook hands warmly. The Chief almost broke his fingers.

It was, of course, as high an honor as could be paid to anybody by the people who paid it.

Haney said awkwardly, ”Lucky they don't know me like you do, Chief. But it's swell!”

Which it was. But Mike hadn't said a word. The Chief said exuberantly:

”Did you hear that, Mike? Every Mohawk for ten thousand years is gonna be told that you were a swell guy! Crazy, huh?”

Mike said in an odd voice: ”Yeah. I didn't mean that, Chief. It's fine!

But I--I got a letter. I--never thought to get a letter like this.”

He looked unbelievingly at the paper in his hands.

”Mash note?” asked the Chief. His tone was a little bit harsh. Mike was a midget. And there were women who were fools. It would be unbearable if some half-witted female had written Mike the sort of gus.h.i.+ng letter that some half-witted females might write.

Mike shook his head, with an odd, quick smile.

”Not what you think, Chief. But it is from a girl. She sent me her picture. It's a--swell letter. I'm--going to answer it. You can look at her picture. She looks kind of--nice.”