Page:Astounding Science Fiction (1950-01).djvu/66

GYPSY

BY POUL ANDERSON

Colonists to the far stars must have built-in yearning for the far horizon—the desire to go back of beyond. Some of them, though, may have too much.

Illustrated by Gaughan

From afar, I caught a glimpse of the Traveler as my boat swung toward the planet. The great spaceship looked like a toy at that distance, a frail bubble of metal and air and energy against the enormous background of space. I thought of the machines within her, humming and whirring and clicking very faintly as they pursued their unending round of services, making that long hull into a living world—the hull that was now empty of life—and I had a sudden odd feeling of sympathy. As if she were alive, I felt that the Traveler was lonely.

The planet swelled before me, a shining blue shield blazoned with clouds and continents, rolling against a limitless dark and the bitterly burning stars. Harbor, we had named that world, the harbor at the end of our long journey, and there were few lovelier names. Harbor, haven, rest and peace and a sky overhead as roof against the naked blaze