Dryland's End

by Felice Picano

  “I’m sure Azura can join him. Or –”

  “You don’t understand, Ay’r. I didn’t at first, either. ’Nton said ... well ... he said he doesn’t love Zhon. It’s still unclear how they were bonded. When they leave here, ’Nton won’t stay with Zhon. He already told him that. Already they sleep apart.”

  How does Zhon feel?”

  “You’ve seen how Zhon looks at ’Nton! He adores my brother.”

  Which explained Azura’s reticent, even hostile behavior when they first arrived at the Islands. Seeing ’Dward must have been a shock for Azura: the two brothers favored each other so much. Then Ay’r arriving to claim ’Dward and demanding to see ’Nton.

  “’Nton thinks Zhon won’t let go easily,” Oudma added.

  So this Islander society wasn’t so perfect and paradisiacal after all! No surprise, really. The equations always tilted off the scale whenever Humes were involved.

  “Not so odd,” Ay’r thought aloud. “It almost seems an exception when they do.”

  “Then think how exceptional your life must be,” Oudma replied. Drops of water were drying on her bare breasts, glittering in the sun. “To be loved and in turn to love two!”

  His response was a light kiss and a few caresses. But he also considered. What if, despite having mothered Cas’sio and having a womb, ’Nton was having second thoughts; or if, despite the physiological Relfian alterations, ’Nton remained romantically fixated on females. That would throw a real clinker into Lars’son’s future Greater Plan.

  Oudma went on, “The oddest thing is that ’Nton isn’t in love with anyone else. Except, he told us that he’s dreamed of someone. Not in his night dreams, but during the day, ’Nton told us, just before he falls asleep or awakens from a nap, or as he’s sitting quietly. He sees the image of a strangely beautiful young man. ’Nton told us he knows he’ll meet that man one day, and that he would be ’Nton’s true bond.”

  The Spec. Eth. in Ay’r went to work summing it up: the Relfian surgery and related injections did seem to work, in that the treated patients would thereafter commit to the desired (male for the project) gender-object. But Ay’r couldn’t help wondering if this occurred only if the subjects selected were at a particular period of their physiological development: the emotionally open, ambiguous, naturally bisexual years of adolescence. Would it work on older males, even those Ay’r’s age, or P’al’s or 'Harles’s?

  Oudma had become fearful for her brothers swimming out so far and had begun to call them back. They called back that they were on their way. Before they could return, Ay’r said, “I won’t mention what you told me of Zhon and your brother.”

  “When we leave, will you promise that all Ib’rs will leave together?”

  “It’s interfering in –”

  “Ay’r?” Oudma insisted.

  So Ay’r promised. ’Nton came back, looked at Cas’sio sleeping, and said, “He’s worse than I am. I’m always sleeping.” Then ’Dward arrived, dripping.

  Behind them, they heard the light sputter of land-sleds. P’al, Alli Clark, and ’Harles. With them, two others Ay’r hadn’t met and Creed Lars’son, who immediately walked over while the others went into ’Nton’s residence.

  Lars’son looked at them all, then said to Ay’r, “As per your wish, your traveling companions and I had a meeting on ... the subject.” He raised an eyebrow as though it were bent in half, and Ay’r saw with a little shock that the gesture was a mirror of what he himself did whenever he was being sardonic. “I think you’d better come inside and help us out a bit.”

  He looked over the others and smiled. “I have never seen a more beautiful family than you Ib’rs. What marvelous children you’ll give us!”

  As they approached the residence, Ay’r could already hear P’al and Alli Clark arguing.

  He shook the sand off his feet and stepped in. Two men Lars’son’s age stood up, one a racially pure Negroid with dark brown skin and bright, expectant eyes, the second with far lighter skin and a shock of black straight hair, of a Caucasoid-ethnic mixture Ay’r couldn’t identify.

  “Please don’t get up,” Ay’r said uselessly. The darker man was introduced as Leon Kinsava, the Island’s Psych-Counselor; the other man as Libo’r Couthard, Demographer, Community Planner, “a sort of general handyman of the social sciences,” as he explained.

  Ay’r dumped himself on the nearest seat a bit away from the others, and thought that barefoot and clothed in merely a bathing suit, he might remain an observer. But the two men immediately asked what his opinion was.

  “Of what? These Islands? Unique!”

  “The differing alternatives your companions present?” Kinsava clarified.

  “I’ve not actually heard them,” Ay’r said.

  “Well, it appears,” Kinsava went on, “given what we’ve been told by both your companions of the current political situation outside our isolated little world that our plan might be of more practical application than we’d ever dreamed of.”

  “Indeed,” Ay’r said. And he knew that was what had kept him from relaxing: the suspicion that what had begun as a curious little side trip for the Matriarchy might prove to be a major event.

  Used to making presentations to groups, Alli Clark spoke first. She repeated for Ay’r’s benefit what she evidently had said before. Because she was herself a scientist, she understood their fears about any outside contamination of the project, as well as the possible political ends by which it might be manipulated. However, as Dr. Kinsava had put it, given the current situation outside of Pelagia and the great need for a solution to the sterilizing Cyber-virus, Alli Clark could make a very strong argument with the Matriarch herself, whose ear she had, to make Relfian Viviparturition an important possible solution. That meant the fullest possible funding, secrecy, all the male youths they required, even a protected place of their own for continuing the project. It was a complete turnaround from Alli Clark’s position of a few days ago, and with all the cold-bloodedness of the practical, she acted as though she had believed in it from the beginning.

  “All fine,” P’al countered. “But what happens to these males and their offspring if a solution to the Cyber-virus is discovered?”

  “You’ve been in closer contact with the outside galaxy than I,” she retorted. “Has another solution been found?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean one won’t.”

  “You said yourself that it’s unlike any other virus ever developed because it’s a Cyber, and a Cyber mechanism is needed to turn it off.”

  “To turn it on!” P’al corrected. “Hesperia negotiated long enough with Cray 12,000 to receive samples of a serum for use against some women still not infected. The serum had no other function but to prevent the virus from being turned on. Once on, it seems it somehow attaches itself to the reproductive system cells’ actual DNA and changes their programming to completely different ends. It cannot be turned off!"

  “Well, that only supports my point,” Alli Clark contended.

  “Yes, but we already know the Matriarchy’s attitude toward Lydia Relfi and Relfianism. We know from Lars’son the extent of Wicca Eighth’s own activity in destroying Sanqq’s work: how this community was ... hounded down across the galaxy until they found shelter here. How can you expect Her to turn around suddenly and support them?”

  “Because Wicca Eighth is a consummate politician, and supporting the Islanders now makes the best political sense.”

  “Until the time that it doesn’t,” P’al argued. “At which point they’d all be better off taking their chances here on Pelagia, even with disaster on its way.”

  Couthard spoke up. “Your alternative, Ser P’al?”

  “Return to Hesperia. Place yourselves under the protection of the Inner Quinx. No anti-Relfian sentiment exists or has ever existed in the City. The genders have equality there, as do the species. The Quinx can fund you as easily as the Matriarchy. There are many Hesperian resort worlds you could settle upon. In fact, Lesuth Gamma nea
r the Terminus Nebula in the Scutum Arm is a world with a sizable ocean only minutes away from Hesperia itself by Fast. You could reconstruct your Unmoored Islands there.”

  “No Hesperian resort world could provide protection from the Matriarchy,” Alli Clark commented. “Nor would you be assured of the secrecy you require. The egomania of the City makes it almost necessary that anything new be publicized and promoted immediately until it becomes a network fad.”

  “Obviously Hesperia can keep some matters secret, Mer Clark,” P’al retorted. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to serve in so many sensitive areas of the Matriarchy for so long.”

  “Which is another matter.” Alli Clark took up the cudgels. “The deceptiveness of the Quinx, which in its own political contortions over the centuries to ensure its survival makes Wicca Eighth look like a diplomatic neo.! How much pressure would Llega Francis Todd take before she simply handed over the project?”

  And so it went, back and forth, with an occasional query from Kinsava and Couthard, as P’al scored a point and a hit at his opponent, then Alli Clark scored a hit then a point at her opponent. When they began repeating their arguments, Lars’son raised his hand and stepped in.

  “Gratitude! Gratitude! I believe we’re all now well versed in the alternatives. Would you mind if we now discussed them among ourselves?”

  As they were leaving – P’al to take a water-sled lesson, Alli Clark to join ’Harles and his children at the beach – she turned and said, “Coming Ay’r?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Lars’son said. “Ay’r joins us.”

  “I don’t understand why,” Alli said.

  “Mer Clark, surely you realize that your companion is now heir and patentee to Relfian Viviparturition, and when I die, he becomes leader of this community. No one could be involved more closely.”

  Ay’r shrugged at her, but both she and P’al stared at him – almost glared at him – before they turned and left.

  “What do you say now, Son?” Kinsava asked. It was an odd and very special prerogative on the Islands that, because of Ay’r’s unique status, everyone his elder might think of him and call him “son” and everyone his junior, “father.”

  “You all understand that both of their arguments seem true. And both seem equal to me,” Ay’r began. “More important, however, is saving the Islanders, and hopefully the Drylanders, too. To do the latter, we need outside help. If we mean only to save ourselves and a small group of Drylanders as” – he was about to say “Lars’son,” but changed it – “my mother told me, then we need no one’s help, but should continue with the already devised plans.”

  They all nodded in agreement.

  Lars’son now said, “The problem, however, is no longer that of merely saving Islanders or Drylanders. It’s that of saving the Three Species. This is the added dimension which complicates our situation.”

  “To deny that aspect, Son, would be most ungenerous of us,” Couthard added.

  “To offer our discoveries and our lives as a gift to all Humeity! That’s what we should aim to do!” Kinsava seemed inspired.

  “What does your father say?” Lars’son asked. As though he didn’t know.

  “My father has been on Pelagia a long time, and he forgets how terrifying difficult exigencies can become outside the shield.” Ay’r hoped he didn’t sound too cruel, and added, “Naturally, he agrees that nothing could be more pleasing than the fullest possible vindication of his beliefs to everyone’s benefit.”

  “But you don’t?” Kinsava frowned.

  “Do you have a spot planned to go to?” Ay’r asked. “If so, I say you should continue your plans as you’ve been doing all along and aim for that place.”

  “There is still much to be done. It might take weeks,” Couthard said.

  “An MC Fleet could be here before that.”

  “Only if they’re called. If need be, we’ll take over or cripple the Fast the three of us arrived in so that neither P’al nor Alli Clark can return,” Ay’r said. “Remember: if, as you seem to agree, we are to save the Three Species, it may be necessary first to save only ourselves.”

  They looked at each other, then at him.

  “I know it sounds completely ruthless,” Ay’r added, embarrassed.

  Kinsava said, “Neither of your parents could be quite so ruthless, although Lars’son does his best to persuade us he could be.” He turned to Couthard. “Might this be an imperfection of the RV offspring? Something we should look to immediately before –”

  “It’s my own personal defect, Fathers,” Ay’r said quickly. “A recent discovery within myself when faced with awesome responsibility. And doubtless because I grew up as an orphan in a society which could not accept even the concept of being born without at least one female parent.”

  That cleared up, the four of them spoke to the point a bit more, and all, even Kinsava, agreed that perhaps Ay’r was right. A little saddened, the group broke up just as the Ib’rs were returning from the beach, ’Dward carrying the baby.

  “You have lifted a great burden from me,” Lars’son whispered, “and are wise.”

  The comment confirmed Ay’r’s worst fear about his role and dimmed even ’Dward’s smile.

  Ay’r tried not to wake up, since he suspected that the new day would be even more difficult than the previous one. It was still dark outside, but all of Pelagia’s moons had set, and this gauzy, almost starless section of the eastern sky was recognizable to him as the precursor of sunrise. ’Dward had replaced Oudma in Ay’r’s bed and had managed to arrange his longer body to fit spoon fashion within the shallow enclosed curve of Ay’r’s body. He slept soundly, content in his affection and in the return of that affection. Ay’r tried to go back to sleep and couldn’t. To remain in bed would be to uselessly awaken ’Dward, or – almost as bad – awaken him to lovemaking.

  He got up quietly, pulled on a tunic against the cool night air, left the bed chamber, walked into the large windowed front room that opened up to the beach, found a seat, and stared at the ocean’s waves, trying not to think of anything, to leave his mind blank, to make the surf tire him with its relentless regularity.

  After a few minutes, Ay’r heard gravi-sleds along the boarded paths while they were still distant. He wondered who it was who traveled about so late – or so early. When the first sled turned at ’Nton’s residence, Ay’r leaped out the door, hoping to keep them from awakening the others.

  “Azura!” Someone saw him and called out.

  “No, it’s me. Ay’r Sanqq’.”

  “Ah, Father! Perhaps you’d do even better than Azura.” Two other sleds pulled up, idling. Islander men on all three. Ay’r had the sudden terrible feeling that his father had died. No, that was impossible. Then Creed. His mother. The awfulness of no longer being an orphan was suddenly revealed: there were parents to fear for.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Father. We intercepted someone tinkering with the shield.”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “It was let open for a craft to come in. Not open long, but long enough. Maybe two minutes elapsed, maybe three. We didn’t catch who it was, and we managed to close the shield again. But someone did get in.”

  “Father,” another of the men spoke. “We checked the guest house and your companions. Apologies, Father, but they ... are outsiders.”

  “You did rightly!” Ay’r said.

  “The woman and her Ib’r spouse were sleeping. The other one – the man – was not in his sleep chamber.”

  “Father, we believe this companion was shown many places here on the Island and remembered well what he was shown.”

  “Could a Fast get into the shield?” Ay’r asked.

  “Not in that short a time – and where would it land?”

  “No large craft could get in. But a smaller craft. A T-pod. Or more than one.”

  Ay’r’s mind whirled. P’al was certainly clever enough to have spotted the shield’s controls and found out how to bypa
ss them. There was no doubt that he had been in contact with their Fast before. Was he simply calling down the T-pod to report, as he had done before? Or had one of those previous reports brought another Fast? And from where? Hesperia, doubtless, since it was for Hesperia that P’al had argued today. Better than from Regulus Prime. Still...

  “Is there any way to find out where it might have landed?” Ay’r asked.

  “We’re doing a search right now. But, naturally, it must be rather quiet. We don’t want to panic anyone.”

  Another man said, “There are many places. But we believe they would select a spot away from the main island.”

  The third man had stopped his gravi-sled a slight distance away and not gotten off. He was speaking quietly to someone now, and Ay’r supposed it was through some type of comm. device.

  “Father!” This man spoke up suddenly. “We may have a lead.”

  ’Dward chose that moment to come outside, naked and sleepy-eyed. Seeing the sleds, low lights, and people, he asked, “What’s happening, Ay’r?”

  “Go back into the residence,” Ay’r said, but when instead ’Dward came up behind him and held his shoulders for warmth, Ay’r simply turned to the man with the comm. and said, “You were saying something about a lead?”

  “The Pisciculture Station located at the tip of the second island has a night staff. They noticed a water-sled approaching the long spit of their island about twenty minutes ago Sol Rad. At first they thought it was one of their own staff. Then, when no one appeared at the station ... It’s uninhabited at the spit. Just dunes.”

  “We’ll take T-pods.” The leader of the men turned to go.

  “Wait!” Ay’r stopped him. “Whoever came off that Fast might be able to monitor the approach of our T-pods from a distance and elude us. We’ll have to use water-sleds.”

  “Then it will have to be water-sleds without lights,” the man said.

  “I know that spit,” the second man said. “I used to take my Drylander spouse there all the time for privacy when we were courting.” He was about to say something else, but stopped as the others chuckled.