They were halfway back across the roof, when the old soldier paused, pointing westward as abruptly as if he had seen the comet.
Turning, Bob Star saw a white arrow with a head of pale blue flame.
It wheeled above the rusty crescent of Mars, and grew in the sky.
A rustling whisper came into the air.
The shubbery shook to a roaring gale of sound.
A silver spindle flashed overhead, so near that he could see the black dots of observation ports, and recognize the Phantom Star.
“My father!”
He felt the roof quiver faintly, as the landing ship came down on the great stage that topped the central tower.
“He’ll know all about the comet, and what the Green Hall has done.”
“Your mother is waiting in the Jade Room,” a guard in the corridor told Bob Star.
“There was an ultrawave message from John Star.
He’s coming to meet her there.”
The Jade Room was enormous, its high walls paneled with jade-green glass and polished silver.
On two sides, vast windows overlooked the darker green and brighter silver of the landscaped moonlet.
The floor and the massive furnishings were of Venusian hardwoods, shining ruby-red.
His mother, she who had been Aladoree Anthar, sat quietly in a great chair that made her seem almost tiny.
She looked up as he came in, and a quick smile brushed the pale trouble from her face.
He could guess how grave her thoughts had been, but she said only:
“You’re up early, son.”
He paused inside the door, feeling painfully awkward.
She was very lovely and he knew she intended to be kind.
Yet, when anything reminded him of her great trust, she became a personage, too aloof and great to be his mother.
He asked nervously:
“Father’s coming here?”
“He just landed.”
Her breathless gladness made her seem human again.
It made him want to run to her and put his arms around her.
Somehow it filled his eyes with tears.
He had started impulsively toward her, when he heard what she was saying:
“Your father sent a message ahead to ask me to wait for him here, alone.
Perhaps you had better go outside, Bob, for just a few minutes.”
That stopped him.
He stood looking at her.
His fingers were twisting savagely at a button on the front of his tunic.
It came off in his hand, and he glanced down at it blankly.
“Why, Bob!”
His mother came quickly toward him from her throne-like chair.
“Is something wrong?
What makes you look so strange?”
She caught his arm gently.
“You’re shaking.
Are you ill?”
He shook his head, blinking angrily at his tears.
“I’m all right,” he muttered huskily.
“If you didn’t treat me this way!”
“Bob!”
Her face looked hurt.
“I didn’t mean to seem unkind—”
“You’re too kind!” he broke in harshly.
“But I want to be trusted.