It was indeed a grand dream. He would spend his wealth for books and music and treasures of art. He would try to bring back artists and teachers, too, and from Neustadt would spread the wonder of the new, old culture; it would reach out to all the colonies of the Andromeda galaxy, giving texture to life. And it would be there like a shining beacon when Man made his next great step across space, across the millions of light years to the Camora galaxy, and beyond....
The stewardess again touched his shoulder, with a gesture that was not entirely according to shuttleship regulations.
"We're through the warp and are now in orbit," she said. "We'll land at Uniport in three minutes."
Uniport! The fabled entry port of Earth! It was the new hub, the pulsing heart of the homeland. It was the syndrome of all Earth culture, and its stratoways reached out like spokes of a spidery wheel to every city of the planet.
Walther's knees were a little shaky as he moved down the ramp, and the moisture in the corners of his eyes was not caused by the sleety December wind that whipped across the vast landing area. He was on Earth. He was the first of his people to return to the fatherland that had cradled them and sent them out into the universe.
When the stewardess said good-by to him at the foot of the ramp, she looked both puzzled and disappointed. Her smile had been an invitation, and she had sensed the tug of it in his answering grin. But he only tipped his hat, and went on into the customs office.
He felt like a small boy suddenly confronted by so many delights that he knew not which to sample first.
"Destination?"
The customs officer's blue pencil poised over the question on the Uniport entry form. Walther shrugged carelessly.