Downbelow Station tau-3

by Caroline J. Cherryh

  Carefully neutral, Emilio thought. They would have gone with any winner of the quarrel out there, no help to him. He was not angry for it, only disappointed.

  “You all right, sir?” Jim Ernst asked.

  He nodded, stood watching, with Miliko beside him. “Call station,” he said after a moment. “Report it settled.”

  ii

  They nestled in together, in the dark space humans had found for them, in the great empty belly of the ship, a place which echoed fearfully with machinery. They had to use the breathers, first of what might be many discomforts. They tied themselves to the handholds, as humans had warned them they must, to be safe, and Satin hugged Bluetooth-Dahit-hos-me, hating the feel of the place and the cold and the discomfort of the breathers, and most of all fearing because they were told that they must tie themselves for safety. She had not thought of ships in terms of walls and roofs, which frightened her. Never had she imagined the flight of the ships as something so violent they might be dashed to death, but as something free as the soaring birds, grand and delirious. She shivered with her back against the cushions humans had given them, shivered and tried to cease, felt Bluetooth shiver too.

  “We could go back,” he said, for this was not of his choosing.

  She said nothing, clamped her jaw against the urge to cry that yes, they should, that they should call the humans and tell them that two very small, very unhappy Downers had changed their minds.

  Then there was the sound of the engines. She knew what that was… had heard it often. Felt it now, a terror in her bones.

  “We will see great Sun,” she said, now that it was irrevocable. “We will see Bennett’s home.”

  Bluetooth held her tighter. “Bennett,” he repeated, a name which comforted them both. “Bennett Jacint.”

  “We will see the spirit-images of the Upabove,” she said.

  “We will see the Sun.” There was a great weight on them, a sense of moving, of being crushed at once. His grip hurt her; she held to him no less tightly. The thought came to her that they might be crushed unnoticed by the great power which humans endured; that perhaps humans had forgotten them here in the deep dark of the ship. But no, Downers came and went; hisa survived this great force, and flew, and saw all the wonders which inhabited the Upabove, walked where they might look down on the stars and looked into the face of great Sun, filled their eyes with good things.

  This waited for them. It was now the spring, and the heat had begun in her and in him; and she had chosen the Journey she would make, longer than all journeys, and the high place higher than all high places, where she would spend her first spring.

  The pressure eased; they still held to each other, still feeling motion. It was a very far flight, they had been warned so; they must not loose themselves until a man came and told them. The Konstantin had told them what to do and they would surely be safe. Satin felt so with a faith which increased as the force grew less and she knew that they had lived. They were on their way. They flew.

  She clutched the shell which Konstantin had given her, the gift which marked this Time for her, and about her was the red cloth which was her special treasure, the best thing, the honor that Bennett himself had given her a name. She felt the more secure for these things, and for Bluetooth, for whom she felt an increasing fondness, true affection, not the springtime heat of mating. He was not the biggest and far from the handsomest, but he was clever and clear-headed.

  Not wholly. He dug in one of the pouches he carried, brought out a small bit of twig, on which the buds had burst… moved his breather to smell it, offered it to her. It brought with them the world, the riverside, and promises.

  She felt a flood of heat which turned her sweating despite the chill. It was unnatural, being so close to him and not having the freedom of the land, places to run, the restlessness which would lead her further and further into the lonely lands where only the images stood. They were traveling, in a strange and different way, in a way that great Sun looked down upon all the same, and so she needed do nothing. She accepted Bluetooth’s attentions, nervously at first, and then with increasing easiness, for it was right The games they would have played on the face of the land, until he was the last male determined enough to follow where she led… were not needed. He was the one who had come farthest, and he was here, and it was very right

  The motion of the ship changed; they held each other a moment in fear, but this men had warned them of, and they had heard that there was a time of great strangeness. They laughed, and joined, and ceased, giddy and delirious. They marveled at the bit of blossoming twig which floated by them in the air, which moved when they batted at it by turns. She reached carefully and plucked it from the air, and laughed again, letting it free.

  “This is where Sun lives,” Bluetooth surmised. She thought that it must be so, imagined Sun drifting majestically through the light of his power, and themselves swimming in it, toward the Upabove, the metal home of humans, which held out arms for them. They joined, and joined again, in spasms of joy.

  After long and long came another change, little stresses at the bindings, very gentle, and by and by they began to feel heavy again.

  “We are coming down,” Satin thought aloud. But they stayed quiet, remembering what they had been told, that they must wait on a man to tell them it was safe.

  And there was a series of jolts and terrible noises, so that their arms clenched about each other; but the ground was solid under them now. The speaker overhead rang with human voices giving instructions and none of them sounded frightened, rather as humans usually sounded, in a hurry and humorless. “I think we are all right,” Bluetooth said.

  “We must stay still,” she reminded him.

  “They will forget us.”

  “They will not,” she said, but she had doubts herself, so dark the place was and so desolate, just a little light where they were, above them.

  There was a terrible clash of metal. The door through which they had come in opened, and there was no view of hills and forest now, but of a ribbed throatlike passage which blasted cold air at them.

  A man came up it, dressed in brown, carrying one of the handspeakers. “Come on,” he told them, and they made haste to untie themselves. Satin stood up and found her legs shaking; she leaned on Bluetooth and he staggered too.

  The man gave them gifts, silver cords to wear. “Your numbers,” he said. “Always wear them.” He took their names and gestured out the passage. “Come with me. We’ll get you checked in.”

  They followed, down the frightening passage, out into a place like the ship belly where they had been, metal and cold, but very, very huge. Satin stared about her, shivering. “We are in a bigger ship,” she said. “This is a ship too.” And to the human: “Man, we in Upabove?”

  “This is the station,” the human said.

  A hint of cold settled on Satin’s heart. She had hoped for sights, for the warmth of Sun. She chided herself to patience, that these things would come, that it would yet be beautiful.

  iii

  Pell: blue sector five: 9/2/52

  The apartment was tidied, the odds and ends rucked into hampers. Damon shrugged into his jacket, straightened his collar, Elene was still dressing, fussing at a waistline that — perhaps — bound a little. It was the second suit she had tried, She looked frustrated with this one too. He walked up behind her and gave her a gentle hug about the middle, met her eyes in the mirror. “You look fine. So what if it shows a little?”

  She studied them both in the mirror, put her hand on his. “It looks more like I’m gaining weight.”

  “You look wonderful,” he said, expecting a smile. Her mirrored face stayed anxious. He lingered a moment, held her because she seemed to want that. “Is it all right?” he asked. She had, perhaps, overdone, had gone out of her way to look right, had gotten special items from commissary… was nervous about the whole evening, he thought. Therefore the effort. Therefore the fretting about small things. “Does having Talley come he
re bother you?”

  Her fingers traced his slowly. “I don’t think it does. But I’m not sure I know what to say to him. I’ve never entertained a Unioner.”

  He dropped his arms, looked her in the eyes when she turned about. The exhausting preparations… all the anxiety to please. It was not enthusiasm. He had feared so. “You suggested it; I asked were you sure. Elene, if you felt in the least awkward in it — ”

  “He’s ridden your conscience for over three months. Forget my qualms. I’m curious; shouldn’t I be?”

  He suspected things… a more-than-willingness to accommodate him, that balance sheet Elene kept; gratitude, maybe; or her way of trying to tell him she cared. He remembered the long evenings, Elene brooding on her side of the table, he on his, her burden Estelle and his — the lives he handled. He had talked about Talley a certain night he ended up listening to her instead; and when the chance came — such gestures were like Elene: he could not remember bringing her another problem but that. So she took it, tried to solve it, however hard it was. Unioner. He had no way of knowing what she felt under those circumstances. He had thought he knew.

  “Don’t look that way,” she said. “I’m curious, I said. But it’s the social situation. What do you say? Talk over old times? Have we possibly met before, Mr. Talley? Exchanged fire, maybe? Or maybe we talk over family… How’s yours, Mr, Talley? Or maybe we talk about hospital. How have you enjoyed your stay on Pell, Mr. Talley?”

  “Elene — ”

  “You asked.”

  “I wish I’d known how you felt about it.”

  “How do you feel about it — honestly?”

  “Awkward,” he confessed, leaned against the counter. “But, Elene — ”

  “If you want to know what I feel about it — I’m uneasy. Just uneasy. He’s coming here, and he’ll be here for us to entertain, and frankly, I don’t know what we’re going to do with him.” She turned to the mirror and tugged at the waistline. “All of which is what I think. I’m hoping he’ll be at ease and we’ll all have a pleasant evening.”

  He could see it otherwise… long silences. “I’ve got to go get him,” he said. “He’ll be waiting.” And then with a happier thought: “Why don’t we go up to the concourse? Never mind the things here; it might make things easier all round, neither of us having to play host”

  Her eyes lightened. “Meet you there? I’ll get a table. There’s nothing that can’t go in the freeze.”

  “Do it.” He kissed her on the ear, all that was available, and gave her a pat, headed out in haste to make up the time.

  The security desk sent a call back for Talley and he was quick in coming down the hall… a new suit, everything new. Damon met him and held out his hand. Talley’s face took on a different smile as he took it, quickly faded.

  “You’re already checked out,” Damon told him, and gathered up a small plastic wallet from the desk, gave it to him. “When you check in again, this makes it all automatic. Those are your id papers and your credit card, and a chit with your comp number. You memorize the comp number and destroy the chit.”

  Talley looked at the papers inside, visibly moved. “I’m discharged?” Evidently staff had not gotten around to telling him. His hands trembled, slender fingers shaking in their course over the fine-printed words. He stared at them, taking time to absorb the matter, until Damon touched his sleeve, drew him from the desk and down the corridor.

  “You look well,” Damon said. It was so. Their images reflected back from the transport doors ahead, dark and light, his own solid, aquiline darkness and Talley’s pallor like illusions. Of a sudden he thought of Elene, felt the least insecurity in Talley’s presence, the comparison in which he felt all his faults… not alone the look of him, but the look from inside, that stared at him guiltless… which had always been guiltless.

  What do I say to him? He echoed Elene’s ugly questions, Sorry? Sorry I never got around to reading your folder? Sorry I executed you … we were pressed for time? Forgive me …usually we do better?

  He opened the door and Talley met his eyes in passing through. No accusations, no bitterness. He doesn’t remember. Can’t.

  “Your pass,” Damon said as they walked toward the lift, “is what’s called white-tagged. See the colored circles by the door there? There’s a white one too. Your card is a key; so’s your comp number. If you see a white circle you have access by card or number. The computer will accept it. Don’t try anything where there’s no white. You’ll have alarms sounding and security running in a hurry. You know such systems, don’t you?”

  “I understand.”

  “You recall your comp skills?”

  A few spaces of silence. “Armscomp is specialized. But I recall some theory.”

  “Much of it?”

  “If I sat in front of a board… probably I would remember.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  They had reached the lift. Damon punched the buttons for private call, privilege of his security clearance: he wanted no crowd. He turned, met Talley’s too-open gaze. Normal adults flinched, moved the eyes, glanced this way and that, focused on one and the other detail. Talley’s stare lacked such movements, like a madman’s, or a child’s, or a graven god’s.

  “I remember you asking that before,” Talley said. “You’re one of the Konstantins. You own Pell, don’t you?”

  “Not own. But we’ve been here a long time.”

  “I haven’t, have I?”

  An undertone of worry. What is it, Damon wondered with a crawling of his own skin, what is it to know bits of your mind are gone? How can anything make sense? “We met when you came here. You ought to know… I’m the one who agreed to the Adjustment. Legal Affairs office. I signed the commitment papers.”

  There was then a little flinching. The car arrived; Damon put his hand inside to hold the door. “You gave me the papers,” Talley said. He stepped inside, and Damon followed, let the door close. The car started moving to the green he had coded. “You kept coming to see me. You were the one who was there so often — weren’t you?”

  Damon shrugged. “I didn’t want what happened; I didn’t think it was right. You understand that.”

  “Do you want something of me?” Willingness was implicit in the tone — at least acquiescence — in all things, anyway.

  Damon returned the stare. “Forgiveness, maybe,” he said, cynical.

  “That’s easy.”

  “Is it?”

  “That’s why you came? That’s why you came to see me? Why you asked me to come with you now?”

  “What did you suppose?”

  The wide-field stare clouded a bit, seemed to focus. “I have no way to know. It’s kind of you to come.”

  “Did you think it might not be kind?”

  “I don’t know how much memory I have. I know there are gaps. I could have known you before. I could remember things that aren’t so. It’s all the same. You did nothing to me, did you?”

  “I could have stopped it.”

  “I asked for Adjustment… didn’t I? I thought that I asked.”

  “You asked, yes.”

  “Then I remember something right. Or they told me. I don’t know. Shall I go on with you? Or is that all you wanted?”

  “You’d rather not go?”

  A series of blinks. “I thought — when I wasn’t so well — that I might have known you. I had no memory at all then. I was glad you came. It was someone… outside the walls. And the books… thank you for the books. I was very glad to have them.”

  “Look at me.”

  Talley did so, an instant centering, a touch of apprehension.

  “I want you to come. I’d like you to come. That’s all.”

  “To where you said? To meet your wife?”

  “To meet Elene. And to see Pell. The better side of it.”

  “All right.” Talley’s regard stayed with him. The drifting, he thought… that was defense; retreat. The direct gaze trusted. From a man with gaps in his me
mory, trust was all-encompassing.

  “I know you,” Damon said. “I’ve read the hospital proceedings, I know things about you I don’t know about my own brother. I think it’s fair to tell you that.”

  “Everyone’s read them.”

  “Who — everyone?”

  “Everyone I know. The doctors… all of them in the center.”

  He thought that over. Hated the thought that anyone should submit to that much intrusion. “The transcripts will be erased.”

  “Like me.” The ghost of a smile quirked Talley’s mouth, sadness.

  “It wasn’t a total restruct,” Damon said. “Do you understand that?”

  “I know as much as they told me.”

  The car was coming slowly to rest in green one. The doors opened on one of the busiest corridors in Pell. Other passengers wanted in; Damon took Talley’s arm, shepherded him through. Some few heads turned at their presence in the crowd, the sight of a stranger of unusual aspect, or the face of a Konstantin… mild curiosity. Voices babbled, undisturbed. Music drifted from the concourse, thin, sweet notes. A few of the Downer workers were in the corridor, tending the plants which grew there. He and Talley walked with the general flow of traffic, anonymous within it

  The hall opened onto the concourse, a darkness, the only light in it coming from the huge projection screens which were its walls: views of stars, of Downbelow’s crescent, of the blaze of the filtered sun, the docks viewed from outside cameras. The music was leisurely, an enchantment of electronics and chimes and sometime quiver of bass, balanced moment by moment to the soft tenor of conversation at the tables which filled the center of the curving hall. The screens changed with the ceaseless spin of Pell itself, and images switched in time from one to another to the screens which extended from floor to lofty ceiling. The floor and the tiny human figures and the tables alone were dark.