New Writings in SF 29 - [Anthology]

by Edited By Keith Bulmer

  ‘But our detractors say - rightly - that we haven’t learned how to stem the blight that is steadily stopping the food plants, or to defeat the cold.’

  He wagged a long digit at her.

  ‘I’m glad you’re on my side, Atira. You argue too well. As you know, new strains of food plant are being developed in zero gravity conditions on the space platforms. All the resources of the Yorea Company are being utilized, but the problems are very complex. No one can tell if they will be satisfactorily solved. The cold is more of a long-term worry. People could always go underground. The only doubts I have are about not going. Look how society has changed since we were cubs. The increased pace of life, noise, crime, material pressures, a falling birth-rate and fewer live births. It’s almost as if nature has decreed that Hasub and all its life-forms shall stop. This is a world we no longer understand.’

  ‘And no longer want? They say that you are running away.’

  She was stretched out on the cushions, hands cradling her head.

  ‘Who says that?’

  ‘Irah and Noss, for two.’

  He stared at her.

  ‘I can’t believe it. They are among our closest friends. They were witnesses at our joining.’

  She reached up and touched his face.

  ‘You’ve been so involved with the project that you’ve become blind and deaf to what others are saying. Most of them don’t see it as the noble aspiration-

  He was indignant.

  ‘I don’t think of it as “noble”. It’s work, something that has to be done ...’

  He floundered into silence under her unwavering, compassionate gaze.

  ‘But you do, Simde, you do.’

  He stood up and wandered into the other room, to the window, fighting the impulse to be hurt. He forced his palms down on the ledge and watched the crystal wheel, his talisman.

  ‘You’re right, Atira. I see myself as a minor god, about to crown the culmination of hundreds of years of faith and effort. I’ve taken that responsibility to myself, almost selfishly, and accepted it. Was it so wrong to make a “noble aspiration” of it? The reality is very uncertain.’

  Atira moved behind him and encircled him with her arms as he continued talking and he was conscious of her single, central breast against his back.

  ‘You asked me if I had doubts. I said “no” and I mean that. But I have fears for you, for the cubs, for the others who are going with us. Any kind of simple accident could stop some, or all of us. Even if we reach our goal, perhaps we’ll find that, for any number of reasons, we can’t live there.’

  Atira turned him round to face her.

  ‘We have two planets to choose from and you haven’t come this far to fail now. I know you will be successful and together we’ll found a new world. Let’s go and see the cubs and then go to bed.’

  They left the room, their hands entwined, the sex digits anticipating the joining. Far down below the house, the food plant felt almost imperceptible twinges in some of its roots.

  Simde and Atira lay together in the silence. He said,

  ‘Noss and Irah. I really can’t believe it of them. At least, not of Noss.’

  Atira began to regret having told him, then dismissed the thought. As the time of the launch came nearer, Simde would have found out.

  ‘Don’t worry about them. They’ve involved themselves with a younger, wild crowd. Irah, no doubt, wanted to be among people nearer her own age, while Noss - it can only have been because of Irah, I suppose. They’ve both been silly. And I think that they’re beginning to realize it, now. Anyway, now that the climax is near, Noss won’t let anything interfere with his work.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Atira,’ Simde said. He’d see Noss tomorrow.

  Privately, Atira thought that Noss’s actions could be traced to his desire to be on the expedition; it had been part of his life for so long. And Irah’s influence had also to be considered. Atira was glad that she hadn’t told Simde that Irah was joining with one (or possibly more) of her new ‘friends’. Even Noss didn’t suspect that. Irah had no cubs. Perhaps that was the main reason for her behaviour. Five years was a long time to carry a cub, to have it born stopped, to know that you could have no more. Nature gave three chances, but only if the first cub was born alive. Irah had used her chances and was now barren. Her first cub had stopped shortly after its separation. Atira had been fortunate in separating two live cubs and having them survive the separation. Hasub was a kind world to very few.

  Their sex digits joined and it was joyous. It might be the last joining they would have on Hasub. Or perhaps the final one of their lives.

  * * * *

  Two

  Clouds, grey bronze, pink cyclamen, drifted across the eastern sky as the star rose, starting to dispel the glittering frost. It was an intense, throbbing red. The number of strong flares recorded during the past year had been unprecedented. Birds were busy among the branches of the trees screening the airship shed from the rear of the house. The breeze was light, so Simde didn’t have to rotate the shed. He walked the little craft out on its trolley and, minutes later, he was flying down from the hills and across the plain to the launch complex. Everywhere was ordered activity. A service shuttle landed and another was preparing to take off. Ground cars - maintenance, goods, private - zipped about like insects. Simde landed his airship in its place beside the workshops and went to his office on the ground floor. He preferred to be as near as possible to the site, where parts for the space ship were fabricated, then ferried up to orbit.

  Noss wasn’t in his office and Simde assumed that he was out somewhere on the shop floor, where he usually was. As Chief Technical Officer of the project, Noss was always fully occupied and worked harder than anyone, Simde included. And he was never late, which was more than could be said for some of the younger workers. It was fortunate that the Yorea Company was tolerant.

  Despite the rapturous joining of the previous night. Simde hadn’t slept well. Concern about the project was probably mostly to blame. But he had been unable to stop thinking about Noss, his life-long friend, his most skilled and diligent employee, virtually a partner and soon to be the owner of the Yorea Company. Simde had never mentioned this to Atira, that he thought that Noss had made a bad joining with Irah. She was younger than Noss, a beautiful and resolute woman who took what she wanted and damned the consequences. At first, she had seemed good for Noss, who tended to see everything in terms of stresses and strains, tolerances and workloads.

  Eidas, his vivacious assistant, came in and he asked her if she’d seen Noss. She took some papers from a sheaf in her arms and put them on his desk.

  ‘Not this morning, Simde Yorea. I don’t think that he’s been in his office.’

  ‘He’s probably outside somewhere. Could you put out a call for him, please, when you’ve finished your rounds? He might be back by then. Thank you.’

  Eidas cheered him up. She made everyone feel happy.

  He was half-way through the reports when he heard the call go out for Noss. He glanced at the tell-tale on his communicator. Noss didn’t respond. Usually, he would come through, acknowledge the call, and say when he would appear.

  Simde went into Eidas’ office.

  ‘Come to think of it, his airship isn’t outside. Could he be where the call can’t reach him?’

  ‘He always leaves a note in that case. Shall I try again?’

  Simde had been thinking about what Atira had said last night.

  ‘No. Would you get me his home code, please?’

  He returned to his own office as the communicator buzzed to indicate that a line was open and the code being called.

  A woman’s voice said, ‘Noss Sidl’s house. Who’s calling, please?’

  The video screen stayed blank. As Simde’s code had automatically registered on her set, she knew who was calling.

  ‘Irah. Simde here.’

  He heard her breath indrawn and the screen cleared. Irah looked something - apprehensi
ve, irritated - Simde couldn’t be sure. She was wearing a demure lemon-coloured lounging tunic and her long tawny hair glistened. Her gum staining was, for her, subdued.

  ‘Simde— Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, Irah. Is Noss there? He doesn’t seem to be at work.’

  ‘No ... yes. He’s here. He’s ... ill.’

  Simde felt a stab of alarm. If anything had happened to Noss at this critical stage—’

  ‘What’s wrong with him? Is it serious? When did he take ill?’

  She passed a hand across her forehead and her eyes were like enormous green pools.

  ‘I don’t know, Simde. The healer is with him now. It happened about thirty, forty minutes ago.’

  ‘Sorry, Ira. I shouldn’t have fired off questions at you like that. Is there anything I can do? Would you like Atira to come to you?’

  The great green eyes were wary.

  ‘Not just now, thanks.’

  ‘Please call me again as soon as you know what is wrong.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Simde.’

  The screen blanked out, leaving Simde with the feeling of knowing less than he did before he called.

  * * * *

  He punched out his own home code. Atira took the call.

  ‘Simde. This is a surprise.’

  He could hear the cubs arguing in the background.

  ‘Noss is ill. I called Irah. The healer’s there now.’

  Atira’s eyes changed colour, to a deep mauve.

  ‘Oh.’ That was all she said.

  ‘Oh? What does that mean?’

  Simde was getting more puzzled by the minute.

  Atira reached down out of sight of the screen and activated the scrambler.

  ‘It means,’ she said distinctly, ‘that Irah has been joining with some of her young men and that Noss has found out the painful way.’

  Simde was suddenly conscious of the blood in his veins.

  ‘Then he has ... he has—’ He couldn’t say it.

  ‘Yes. Noss has the disease.’

  ‘You knew.’

  ‘That Irah was joining elsewhere, yes. And I suspected as much when their food plant was causing so much trouble. Noss must have thought that it was blight. Did you never really wonder why I wouldn’t let the cubs go there in recent months, why we’ve never taken up their invitations, or given any? There was danger even in the ritual bonding all guests partake in.’

  ‘We’ve all been busy with the final stages of the project.’ He broke off and asked: ‘Is there no way to prevent Noss knowing?’

  ‘Be realistic. It’s there, in his body, in his blood. Irah has tainted him and their food plant. I think it will be too late to save him.’

  Simde said through his sorrow, ‘How long has Irah - I mean-‘

  He thumped the desk in exasperation.

  ‘About half-a-year, I’d say. She never actually told me, of course, but all the signs were there for a woman to see. Noss might not be as bad as we fear. He and Irah didn’t join much, if at all recently. Noss is much older than Irah and she did tell me that Noss was never very keen on joining even at the beginning.’

  Atira started to laugh and smothered it at Simde’s scowl.

  ‘Irah once said that Noss always tackled joining as if it were a mechanical problem and seemed to be scared that he would strain himself.’

  ‘How like Noss.’

  ‘So you see what I mean—’

  ‘But surely the frequency of joining has nothing to do with it? Once would be enough.’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see. What are you going to do?’

  She knew that Noss was vital to the success of the initial part of the project.

  Simde was at a loss. ‘As you say, wait. We can carry on here for a bit, and hope that no snags arise. I want to go and see Noss, but I don’t think that the time is right. And Irah doesn’t want you there, either.’

  Atira said without malice, ‘I’m not surprised. Anyway, I’d better let you get back to work. I’ll see you this evening.’

  She had reminded him gently that he was spinning out time.

  He said good-bye and went into Eidas’ office.

  ‘If Irah Sidl calls, let me know and hold till I get back here. I’m going to talk to Remlin Dor - Noss is ill and I don’t know when he’ll be back at work.’

  ‘Is Noss seriously ill?’

  He’d hoped to evade that question and was snappish, unusual for him.

  ‘I don’t know, Eidas. I wish I did.’

  Eidas - and everyone else - would know soon enough what was wrong with Noss.

  * * * *

  Instead of going immediately to see the Assistant Chief Technical Officer, Simde went back to his office and sat at the desk.

  Noss. I haven’t really thought about him, only about the project and the inconvenience to me. Perhaps Atira was right. I am blind and deaf. Selfish. What would Noss do -supposing he recovered? Joining outside the family was, or had been, virtually unknown on Hasub. Social and environmental conditions were slowly changing that and many other parts of the old, accepted code of conduct, and the pace was accelerating. But among people of their level— He couldn’t recall when he’d last heard of such an occurrence. Would Noss contemplate the ultimate step of breaking the joining? It entailed much anguish for the man, the woman and their psycho-food plant. Fortunately there were no cubs. Simde hoped that Atira was wrong. That was unlikely. Sometimes he wondered if she could see the future, even in a vague way. Cases of such a gift, if that’s what it was, had been reported occasionally from remote places.

  He went to the fabrication shops and had been with Remlin Dor for about thirty minutes, when Eidas buzzed him.

  ‘Irah Sidl calling.’

  He excused himself and returned to the office.

  ‘She sounds very agitated.’ Eidas whispered, anxious, somehow, to involve herself in what was happening.

  So would you be, if you knew, Simde thought.

  ‘Irah-’

  ‘Simde! Noss has left the house, in his airship. I don’t know where he’s gone. He won’t answer his communicator. I’m worried.’

  Simde felt like telling her it was a bit late for that. Instead, projecting a calm he didn’t feel, he asked, ‘What did the healer say?’

  ‘I - I don’t want to talk about it here.’

  ‘But it is serious ?’

  Irah started to react to his brusqueness, then the fight went out of her.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘The healer went into another room to arrange for Noss to go for observation and treatment. Noss suddenly ran out and then I heard the airship taking off.’

  ‘Which way did he go?’

  ‘I... don’t know. I was so confused.’

  Simde, his mind racing on, said, ‘Try and relax. Noss won’t do anything rash. He’s probably coming here. I’ll ask Atira to go and see you.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he cut the connection and dialled Atira. He told her the story and she agreed to go at once and see Irah.

  Simde sat drumming at his desk. Noss wasn’t coming to the site, he knew. He had said that to calm Irah. The two families had a cabin in the mountains. Noss would go there. It was about an hour’s flight from the complex. He called in Eidas.

  ‘I’m going to be away for some time. I don’t know how long. If it’s vital, you can reach me on the airship circuit. Let Remlin Dor know.’

  Soon he was airborne. He didn’t try to get in touch with Noss. The extra time on his own might help. Simde didn’t know what he was going to say or do when he arrived at the cabin, so he pushed the problem to the back of his mind and thought about the project.

  The space ship would be ready, if they maintained schedule, in eight days. The parts being finished off in the fabrication shop would be sent to orbit tomorrow. The main hulls of the vessel were assembled and some engine tests had been successful. Nothing must be allowed to go wrong, now.

  The incoming planet would be at opposition in
sixteen days, when it would be twenty million miles from Hasub and travelling along its orbit at 25.5 miles a second. If the launch did not take place then, all the years and frustrations of planning and hoping would be for nothing and the opportunity would be lost, perhaps for ever. Certainly, he and Atira would never see the planet again. If the impetus were not to carry them to the new worlds, then it would falter and stop, as surely they would. It had to be now.