by neetha Napew
Tee was a considerate, even deferential, suitemate. He behaved from the first day as if he considered it a favour bestowed by Lunzie that she had chosen to move in with him. Without offering his opinions first, so as not to prejudice her to his choices, he begged her to look around the roomy apartment and decide if she felt anything ought to be moved or changed to make her comfort greater. Everything was to be done for her pleasure. Lunzie was a little overwhelmed by his enthusiasm; she was used to the laissez faire style of her roommates, or the privacy-craving nature characteristic of those who lived in space. Tee had few possessions of his own, except for a number of books on plaque and cube, and a great quantity of music disks. All of the furniture was secondhand, a commodity plentiful on a university world. Most of his belongings, he explained, had been divided up according to his previous will, automatically probated when he had remained out of touch with any FSP command post for ten years. It was a stupid policy, he argued, since one could be out of touch much longer than that in a large galaxy, and still be awake!
Careful to consider his feelings, and perhaps out of her naturally stubborn reaction to his insistence, Lunzie changed as little as possible in his quarters. She liked the spare decor. It helped her to concentrate more than the homey clutter of the student apartment did. When Tee complained that she was behaving like a visitor instead of a resident, she had taken him out shopping. They chose a two-dimensional painting by a university artist and a couple of handsome holograph prints that they both liked, and Lunzie purchased them, refusing to let Tee see the prices. Together, they arranged the pieces of art in the room where they spent the most time.
“Now that is Lunzie’s touch,” Tee had exclaimed, satisfied, admiring the way the colour picked up the moon in the predominantly white room. “Now it is our home.”
Lunzie put down the last datacube. She loved Tee’s apartment. It was spacious, ostentatiously so for a single person’s quarters, and it had wide window panels extending clear around two walls of the main room. Lunzie reached up for a tendon-crackling stretch that dragged the cuffs of her loose knit exercise pants up over her ankles, and dropped wide sweatshirt sleeves onto the top of her head, mussing her hair, and stalked over to open the casements to let the warm afternoon breezes through. The irising controls of the window panels were adjusted to let in the maximum sunlight on the soft white carpeting. At that time of the afternoon, both walls were full of light. A pot of fragrant herbal tea was warming on the element in the cooking area, which was visible through a doorway. The food synthesiser, a much better model than she’d had in the University-owned apartment, was disguised behind an ornamental panel in the cooking room wall, making it easy to ignore. She and Tee still preferred cooking for one another when they had time. Lunzie was becoming happily spoiled by the small luxuries which were rarely available to students or spacefarers.
During this school term, Lunzie had been assigned as Dr. Root’s assistant in the walk-in clinic. After she shamefacedly admitted having been upset by her heavyworlder patient, and voiced her concerns about its effect on her treatment to him. Root had counselled her and interviewed Rik-ik-it. It was his determination that there was nothing wrong with her that a little more exposure to the subjects wouldn’t dispel. He dismissed her fears that she was a xenophobe. “An angry heavyworlder,” he assured her, “could easily intimidate a normal human. You may fear one with impunity.”
She was grateful that he hadn’t seen it as a major departure from normalcy, and vowed to keep a cooler head in the future. So far, she hadn’t had to test her new resolve, as few heavyworlders made use of the medical facility.
The University Hospital clinic treated all students free of charge, and assessed only a nominal fee from outsiders. Accident victims, too, like the heavyworlder construction workers, were frequently brought directly to the University Hospital because the wait time for treatment was usually shorter than it was at the private facilities. Most of the Astris students Lunzie saw were of human derivation, not because non-humans were less interested in advanced education or were discriminated against, but because most species were capable of passing on knowledge to infants in utero or in ova, and only one University education per subject was required per family tree. Humans required education after birth, which some other member races of the FSP, particularly the Seti and the Weft, saw as a terrible waste of time. Lunzie felt the crowing over race memory and other characteristics to be a sort of inferiority complex in itself, and let the comments pass without reply. Race memory was only useful when it dealt with situations that one’s ancestors had experienced before. She treated numerous Weft engineering students for dehydration, especially during their first semesters on Astris. Young Seti, on Astris to study interplanetary diplomacy, tended toward digestive ailments, and had to be trained as to which native Astrian foods to avoid.
It had been a slow day in the office. None of her case histories demanded immediate action, so she pushed them into a heap on the side of the couch and sat down with a cup of tea. There was time to relax a bit before she needed to report back to Dr. Root. He was a good and patient teacher, who only smiled at her need to circumvent the healing machines instead of chiding her for her ancient ideals. Lunzie felt confident again in her skills. She still fought to maintain personal interaction with the patient, but there was less and less for the healer to do. Lunzie sensed it was a mistake to learn to rely too heavily on mechanical aids. A healer was not just another technician, in her strongly maintained opinion. She was alone in her views.
The band of sunshine crept across the room and settled at her feet like a contented pet. Lunzie looked longingly across at her portable personal reader, which had been a thirty-sixth birthday gift from Tee, and the small rack of ancient classical book plaques she had purchased from used book stores. An unabridged Works of Rudyard Kipling, replacement for her own lost, much-loved copy, sat at the front of the book-rack, beckoning. Though there wasn’t time to page through her favourites before she needed to go in to work, there was, coincidentally, just enough to perform her daily Discipline exercises. With a sigh, she put aside the empty cup and began limbering up. “Duty before pleasure. Kip,” Lunzie said, regretfully. “You’d understand that.”
The tight Achilles tendons between her hips and heels had been stretched so well that she could bend over and lay her hands flat on the floor and relax her elbows without bowing her knees. Muscular stiffness melted away as she moved gracefully through the series of dancelike fighting positions. Lunzie was careful to avoid the computer console and the art pedestals as she sprang lightly around the room, sparring with an invisible opponent. Discipline taught control and enhancement of the capability of muscle and sinew. Each pose not only exercised her limbs, but left her feeling more energetic than when she began the drills. Under her conscious control, her footfalls made no sound. She was as silent as the black shadows limned on the light walls by the sun. She moved in balance, every motion a reaction, an answer to one that came before.
Holding her back beam-straight, she settled down into a meditation pose sitting on her crossed feet in front of the couch with the sunshine washing across her lap. She held her arms out before her, turned her hands palms up, and let them drop slowly to the floor on either side of her knees.
Lunzie closed her eyes, and drew in the wings of her consciousness, until she was aware only of her body, the muscles holding her back straight, the pressure of her buttocks into the arches of her feet, the heat of the sun on her legs, the rough-smooth rasp of the carpet on the tops of her hands and feet.
Tighter in. At the base of her sinuses, she tasted the last savour of the tea that she had swallowed, and felt the faint distension of her stomach around the warm liquid. Lunzie studied every muscle which worked to draw in breath and release it, felt the relief of each part of her body as fresh oxygen reached it, displacing tired, used carbon dioxide. The flesh of her cheeks and forehead hung heavily against her facial bones. She let her jaw relax.
She began
to picture the organs and blood vessels of her body as passages, and sent her thought along them, checking their functions. All was well. Finally she allowed her consciousness to return to her centre. It was time to travel inward toward the peace which was the Disciple’s greatest source of strength and the goal toward which her soul strove.
Lunzie emerged from her trance state just in time to hear the whirr of the turbovator as it stopped outside the door. Her body was relaxed and loose, her inner self calm. She looked up as Tee burst into the room, his good-natured face beaming.
“The best of news, my Lunzie! The very best! I have found your Fiona! She is alive!”
Lunzie’s hands clenched where they lay on the ground, and her heart felt as if it had stopped beating. The calm dispersed in a wash of hope and fear and excitement. Could it be true? She wanted to share the joy she saw in his eyes, but she did not dare.
“Oh, Tee,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight. Her hands were shaking as she extended them to Tee, who fell to his knees in front of her. He clasped her wrists and kissed the tips of her fingers. “What have you found?” All of her anxieties came back in a rush. She could not yet allow herself to feel that it might be true.
Tee slipped a small ceramic information brick from his pocket and placed it in her palms. “It is all here. I have proof in three dimensions. Grade One Med Tech Fiona Mespil was retrieved off-planet by the EEC shortly before the colony vanished. She was needed urgently on another assignment,” Tee explained. “It was an emergency, and the ship which picked her up was not FSP - a nearby merchant voyager - so her name was not removed from the rolls of poor Phoenix. She is alive!”
“Alive ...” Lunzie made no attempt to hold back the flood of joyful tears which spilled from her eyes. Tee wiped them, then dabbed at his own bright eyes. “Oh, Tee, thank you! I’m so happy.”
“I am happy, too - for you. It is a secret I have held many weeks now, waiting for a reply to my inquiries. I couldn’t be sure. I did not want to torture you with hope only to have bad news later on. But now, I am glad to reveal all!”
“Two years I’ve waited. A few weeks more couldn’t hurt,” Lunzie said, casting around for a handkerchief. Tee plucked his out of his sleeve and offered it to her. She wiped her eyes and nose, and blew loudly. “Where is she, Tee?”
“Dr. Fiona has been working for five years on Glamorgan, many light years out toward Vega, to stem a plague virus that threatened the colony’s survival. Her work there is done. She is en route to her home on Alpha Centauri for a reunion with her family. It is a multiple-jump trip even with FTL capabilities, and will take her probably two years to arrive home. I did not make contact with her directly.” Tee grinned his most implike grin, obviously saving the best for last. “But your three grandchildren, five great-grandchildren, and nine great-great-grandchildren say they are delighted that they will get to meet their illustrious ancestress. I have holograms of all of them there in this cube.”
Lunzie listened with growing excitement to his recitation, and threw her arms around him as he produced the cube with a flourish. “Oh! Grandchildren. I never thought of grandchildren. Let me see them.”
“This is downloaded from the post brick brought from Alpha Centauri by the purser aboard the merchant ship Prospero,” Tee explained as he tucked the cube into the computer console reader. Lunzie scrambled up onto the couch and watched the platform with shining eyes as an image began to coalesce. “There is only sketchy family information on all of these. The message is short. I think your grandson Lars must be a tightwad. It is his voice narrating.”
The holographic image of a black-haired human man in his early fifties appeared on the console platform. Lunzie leaned in to have a closer look. The image spoke. “Greetings, Lunzie. My name is Lars, Fiona’s son. Since I don’t know when this will reach you, I will give the names and Standard birthdates for all family members instead of the current date. First, myself. I’m the eldest of the family. I was born in 2801.
“Here is Mother, the last image I have of her before she blasted off last time.” The voice was reproving. “She is very busy in her career, as I guess you know.”
And before Lunzie was the image of a middle-aged woman. It was clearly a studio picture taken by a professional, sharp and clear. Her dark hair, stroked only here and there with a gentle brushing of silver, was piled up on top of her head in a plaited bun. Standing at her ease, she was dressed in a spotless uniform tunic which in contrast to her stance was formal and correct to the last crease. There were fine, crinkly lines at the comers of her eyes and underscoring her lashes, and smile lines had etched themselves deeply between her nose and the corners of her mouth, but the smile was the wonderful, happy grin that Lunzie remembered best. She closed her eyes, and for a moment was back on Tau Ceti in the sunshine, that last day before she left for the Descartes Platform.
“Oh, my baby,” Lunzie murmured, overcome with longing and regret. She pressed her hand to her mouth as she looked from the holo of Fiona as a teenager to the image she saw now. “She’s so different. I missed all her growing up.”
“She is fine,” Tee said, halting the playback. “She was happy, see? Wouldn’t you like to see the rest of your family?”
Shortly, Lunzie nodded and opened her eyes. Tee passed his hand over the solenoid switch, and the image of Fiona disappeared. It was followed by a very slim young man in Fleet uniform. “My brother Dougal, born 2807,” stated Lars’s voice. “Unmarried, no attachments to speak of outside his career. He’s not home much, as he is commissioned in the FSP Fleet as a captain. Sometimes transports Mother and her germ dogs from place to place. It’s often the only time one of us gets to see her.
“My wife’s camera shy, and won’t stand still for an image.” In the background, Lunzie could hear a high-pitched shriek. “Oh, Lars! Really!”
Lunzie grinned. “He has the family sense of humour anyway.”
The image changed. “My daughter Dierdre, born 2825. Her husband Moykol, and their three girls. I call them the Fates. Here we have Rudi, born 2843, Capella, 2844, and Anthea Rose, 2845.
“My other girl, Georgia, 2828. One son, Gordon, 2846. Smart lad, if his own grandfather does have to say so.
“Melanie, daughter of Fiona, born Standard year 2803.” This was a stunningly lovely woman with medium brown hair like Lunzie’s own, and Fiona’s jaw and eyes. She had a comfortably motherly figure, soft in outline without seeming overweight for her slender bones. She stood with one arm firmly around the waist of a very tall man with a sharp, narrow, hawklike face which looked incongruous under his mop of soft blond hair. “Husband, Dalton Ingrich.”
“Their third son. Drew, 2827. Drew has two boys, who are away at Centauri Institute of Technology. I don’t have a current holo.
“Melanie’s older boys Jai and Thad are identical twins, born 2821. Thad, and daughter Cassia, born 2842.
“This is Jai and his wife and two imps, Deram, 2842, and Lona, 2847.”
There was an interruption of Lars’s narration as the image of Melanie reappeared. She stepped forward in the holofield to speak, extending her hands welcomingly. “We’ll be delighted to meet you, ancestress. Please come.”
The image faded. Lunzie sat staring at the empty console-head as the computer whirred and expelled the datacube.
Lunzie let out her breath in a rush. “Well. A moment ago I was an orphan in the great galaxy. Now I’m the mother of a population explosion!” She shook her head is disbelief. “Do you know, I believe I’ve missed having a family to belong to.”
“You must go,” Tee said softly. He was watching her tenderly, careful not to touch her before she needed him to.
“Why didn’t they tell me where she is?” Lunzie asked. Tee didn’t have to ask which “she.”
“They can’t. They don’t know. Because her assignments deal with planet-decimating disease, who knows when a curiosity seeker might land, perhaps to get a story to sell to Tri-D.”
Lunzie recalled the holo-stor
y about Phoenix. “That is so true. He might spread the plague farther than his story might ever reach. But it is just so frustrating!”
“Well, you will see her now. She will arrive home from the distant edge of the galaxy within two years.” Tee looked pleased with himself. “You can be there waiting for her, to celebrate your reunion, and her new appointment, which, was made public. That is how I found her at last, I confess, though it was because I was looking that I noticed the articles of commission. For long and meritorious service to the FSP, Dr. Fiona is appointed Surgeon General of the Eridani system. A great honour.”
“Did you notice? A couple of the children look just like her.” Lunzie chuckled. “One or two of them look like me. Not that these looks bear repeating.”
“You insult yourself, my Lunzie. You are beautiful.” Tee smiled warmly at her. “Your face is not what cosmetic models have, but what they wish they had.”
Lunzie wasn’t listening. “To think that all this . . . this frustration could have been avoided, if Phoenix could simply have transmitted word that Fiona’d left when she did. It was the one blocked path I couldn’t find my way around, no matter what I did. The planet pirates are responsible for that, for two, almost three years I’ve spent - in anger, never knowing if I was hunting for a ... a ghost. I think - I think if I had someone I knew was a pirate on my examination table with a bullet near his heart that only I could remove. . . . Well, I might just forget my Hippocratic oath.” Lunzie set her jaw, furiously contemplating revenge.
“But you wouldn’t,” Tee said, firmly, squeezing her hand. “I know you.”
“I wouldn’t,” she agreed, resignedly, letting the hot images fade. “But I’d have to wrangle it out with the devil. And I’ll never forget the sorrow or the frustration. Or the loneliness.” She shot Tee a look of gratitude and love. “Though I’m not alone now.”