"I'm from the Star-Herald," one of the umbrella-shrouded faces told him, the voice steady and without highlight, like the rain. "Have you heard the news yet?"
"News?" demanded Allerton as he went down the ramp to the apron and was soon swallowed up by the sea of umbrellas.
"You're Allerton, aren't you?"
An aisle was cleared as Allerton drew a slicker from his duffle and pulled it across his shoulders. Flash-cameras glared briefly against the dusky sky, making him blink his eyes uncomfortably.
"Yes, I'm Allerton, but I haven't heard any news."
It was a woman's voice this time, sharp and precise as a pencil point. "The Eros was gone for three years, Mr. Allerton, on a one year trip. Sixteen months ago you were presumed to be lost. You were legally dead a year ago."
"Here I am," said Allerton foolishly. "Here we are." He wished they would all go away so he could check in at the administration building. He thought that the copter-cabs might be grounded by the low ceiling and realized his homecoming, two years tardy, would be delayed still further because it would take him hours to get home to his wife and son. "We had some trouble in the Jovian Moons," he said unnecessarily, for the rest of the crew must have made that fact known by now. "Really, I'm no hero."
It had been largely through Allerton's efforts, as noncommissioned officer in charge of maintenance and repair, that the Eros had been able to blast off from Io at all. It was a moment he had not considered, this hero's welcome. His picture and the story of his exploits might appear on the video newscasts even before he reached Nancy and the boy. But now that he had stooped low to be included in the protection of the umbrellas, he could see the faces of the reporters.
This was no hero's welcome. Allerton waited for what was to come with a growing sense of the ridiculous. He had been almost ready to sign autographs.
"Hasn't anyone told you your wife has re-married, Mr. Allerton?"