Carsing's mouth twisted. "No—no horses or trucks. Or tractors or washing machines. You'd better make up your minds to that right now. Transporting any large mechanical equipment all the way out here would be impossibly expensive. Outside of the few small devices we absolutely had to have, we've imported nothing. So please don't come complaining to me. From now on, you'll have to learn to improvise with native materials. All right"—he gestured to the two men who stood drooping behind him, as if leaning on invisible poles—"get them out and get going."
Carsing left the platform and went back into the building. For a moment, there was no motion among the settlers. Then several started maneuvering the heavily loaded carts, the men embarrassedly accepting the assistance of their wives.
The two guides waited, still leaning on their phantom supports, talking softly, hardly looking at the settlers. When all the carts were lined up in a straggling column, the two guides ambled to the road that led away from the spaceport. They paused and looked back briefly with worn eyes. Then with a motion that was more a shrug than a gesture, they started up the brown dirt road.
Harvey looked at Ruth. Her face was taut. All around him the settlers were silent, except for labored breathing or a hurried warning as the wagon wheels reached a rut or a rock. Reality had flooded over them with abrupt and dismaying force. The sky was still bright, the fields were still gloriously golden but the radiance seemed to have gone out of their paradise.
Harvey put an arm around Ruth's slim shoulders. Strangely, as spirits sank around him, his rose. Now his vague forebodings had become clarified; now he knew what the reality was, he knew what he had to cope with.
"They get a ship here from Earth every two years," he said to her. "We'll work hard and save our money, and if we find we can't stand it, we'll just pack up and go home."
She looked at him miserably. "How awful. After all our hopes...."
"Maybe it'll work out," he said lightly. "I hate to think of living in a place run by these guys, but I'm willing to give it an honest try. Keep your chin up, kitten."
The road became steeper, and the settlers slipped and grunted and struggled behind the carts. Near the crest, in a field to the right of the road, four people were working, apparently cutting and binding grain. As the column of settlers approached, the workers glanced up, said something to each other, and bent to their work again.