O Pioneer! by Frederik Pohl Page A

waiting carts were already taken. Olse Hagbarth was waiting for another in the shelter of the doorway and she grinned at him. "Real catfight today, wasn't it?"
    "What was it all about?" he asked.
    "Oh, didn't you know? It's the six-planet meeting coming up. They're all antsy because they want to look good for the VIPs from home—ah, here's my cart," she finished as one last vehicle rolled up to the curb.
    She was heading for it before Giyt could react. He hastened after her. "Look, Olse," he said, "I need to get to the terminal."
    "Of course you do," she said sunnily, one hand on the cart door. "Have a nice time."
    "Well—what I mean is, any chance you could give me a lift?"
    She looked surprised. "I wish I could help you out, Evesham, but I'm going the other way. Anyway, it isn't that far to walk, is it? And, look, it's hardly raining at all anymore."
     
    Actually the rain had almost stopped by the time Giyt got to the Sommermen terminal and so he was only mildly soaked this time.
    What surprised Giyt was to see how many people, and nonpeople, had gathered at the terminal, most of them sitting warm and dry in the cars that had brought them. (Which explained how so few cars had been available at the Hexagon.) He caught sight of Hagbarth and Wili Tschopp standing by Hagbarth's portal control, but before he could go there, squeals from one of the carts attracted his attention. He turned to see the Divinely Elected Savior of the Centaurians, Mrs. Brownbenttalon, poking her long nose out toward him. The translator in his ear piped, "Apologetics, Mayor Large Male Giyt. Should have to offered the sharing of transportation from Hexagon. Trust you scurried well through raindrops."
    "Thanks. Actually I was glad for the exercise," he lied.
    It seemed to Giyt that Mrs. Brownbenttalon was giving him a skeptical look—as much as a curly-haired anteater could manage a look of that kind—but Wili Tschopp was shouting at them to stand back. The golden glow was beginning to surround the terminal. Almost at once it began to flash blue and white.
    The transmission from Earth was arriving. No, had arrived; the portal lights went out as the sharp puff of displaced air startled Giyt. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, fifteen or twenty large crates were stacked in the bay. A woman was sitting on the edge of one of them, tapping her feet and frowning impatiently, and behind her were three other rather worried-looking adults and a small child, all of them holding suitcases, purses, and each other's hands.
    It was time for Giyt to carry out his mayoral duties. He advanced on the newcomers, hand outstretched. "Welcome to Tupelo," he said. "I'm your mayor, Evesham Giyt, and this gentleman over here"—waving toward Hagbarth, hurrying in their general direction—"is your Ex-Earth representative, Hoak Hagbarth. Hoak will arrange for your housing, and all your other needs, so if you'll excuse me—"
    Hagbarth gave him a scorching look. "Stay here, Giyt," he ordered. "Keep these people company while I take care of Emissary Patroosh."
    "How?" Giyt asked, but Hagbarth was already most obsequiously greeting the woman on the box.
    So Giyt found himself doing the tour-guide thing for the new arrivals, while out of the corner of his eye he saw all the nonhumans getting out of their carts and swarming over the cargo. Mr. Brownbenttalon had leaped off his mate's back and was running the fabric of some new garments through his tiny paws; four or five of the Petty-Primes were concentrating on the luggage belonging to the immigrants. One of them sniffed at a bunch of grapes suspiciously, then bit one of them in half, stared at the interior and then spit the thing out. The woman Giyt was talking to cried out, "My basket of fruit!" They all abandoned Giyt to protect their belongings as Wili Tschopp came up behind him.
    "When they've got their stuff," he said, "you can take them to Olse's house. She's sorting out places for them to live."
    "I never had