Nita was afraid to move. Llare suddenly stood up, in one fluid movement. “But this talk brings no answers. I leave you to your records now.”
Nita stared after Llare until the door closed, then shrank back against the couch. Llare had said another time was coming. Perhaps the people of Earth weren’t the only ones who sought the death of others; maybe Llare’s people did as well. She could understand why Llare’s kind might fear Earth’s people; those who could kill so many of their own kind might be merciless toward others. Llare’s people might want to make certain Earth could threaten no one else. Such a goal might have been hidden from Llipel and Llare until they learned more about Earth and any dangers they might face here—or else they knew and had kept their secret. Their gentleness might only be a deception.
Nita imagined other furred beings waiting in ships beyond Earth, waiting for the time when they could at last erase any remnant of Earth’s people, when Llipel and Llare might come to see their purpose. Llare had spoken of a struggle. She thought of Llare’s claws and seemed to feel them digging into her chest.
9
Dusky and Tanj were in the courtyard, prowling near the wall. Nita walked along one tree-lined path, calling out Sven’s name, then saw that he was not there. She hurried back inside and went to the screen near the door.
“Where’s Sven?” she asked.
“He is in the residential quarters on the fourteenth floor of the tower,” the mind replied.
Turning away from the screen, she walked toward the corridor that led to the tower. She had been so preoccupied with the library’s records that she had not yet bothered to explore much of the Institute.
As she strode between the walls of closed doors, she pondered what Llare had said. Nita’s people couldn’t be hidden here in the Institute or Llare and Llipel would have found them long ago. Neither did she imagine that they were lurking outside in the forest; vast as the woods were, there would have been some sign of their presence. But they might have found a way to conceal themselves elsewhere while Llipel and Llare were exploring this world.
She sighed. Perhaps she should not hope that her people would suddenly appear, or come to the Institute to fetch her and Sven. If they were as violent as the records showed they had been, and if they had reason to be suspicious of the alien visitors, they might not welcome two who had grown up with those who could be Earth’s enemies.
Satisfying her curiosity had led her to this—revulsion at the acts of her kind and fear of Llipel and Llare.
She would have to tell Sven of her suspicions; she could not hide her thoughts from him. They might have to leave the Institute if what she suspected was true. But where could they go? How could they hide from the ship if Llipel and Llare pursued them? Where could they even begin to look for others of their kind? What would they do if more of Llipel’s people came to Earth?
The door to the lobby slid open. She walked toward the lifts and entered one, so lost in her musings that she did not notice that the lift had stopped until a voice announced that she had reached the fourteenth floor.
A hallway stretched before her. A door opened; Sven wandered into the hall. She was surprised to see him in a pale brown shirt and loose dark brown trousers.
“Your clothes,” she said.
He started, then came toward her; he was frowning. “If you knew I was here, couldn’t you have told the screen you were coming?”
Stung, she stepped back. “I didn’t think it mattered. If you wanted to be by yourself, you could have left a message on the screen saying so. I always do.”
“It’s all right.” He lowered his eyes. “I’m just not— I’m still used to being by myself a lot of the time.”
“I know,” she said a little more gently. “I’m the same way sometimes.”
“You can stay if you want. I mean, it’s all right with me.”
Sven was holding two objects in his hand that seemed like the foot coverings some of the screen images wore. “Where did you get those?” she asked. “And the clothes—where’d you find them?”
“In here.” He pressed a door open; she followed him into a room. Two small couches and three chairs were grouped together near a window; he led her into an adjoining room, where a platform with two pillows stood against a wall.
He crossed the room and opened a wide panel in the opposite wall. “These clothes were here,” he said. “I looked in some of the other rooms. Most of the closets were empty, or had clothes that wouldn’t fit me.” He dropped the two foot coverings. “I tried on these shoes, but they pinch my toes.”
“I wonder why they left those things behind.”
Sven’s mouth twisted. “Anyone who could leave embryos behind in the cryonic facility probably wasn’t paying attention to clothes. Maybe they didn’t need them, or didn’t have time to get them.” He pulled a round, flat object from a shirt pocket. “I found this inside a jacket.”
She peered at his find, which was marked with letters and held a small needle. “What is it?”
“A compass. The needle always points north, so you can tell where you’re going. I read about compasses in the records. Somebody must have used it to go for walks in the woods. We might need it if we ever go exploring.”
She was about to speak of her conversation with Llare, then caught sight of the small screen near the pillowed platform. She might give herself away if she said anything here; their guardians could be watching or might look at the mind’s records later. She could ask the mind to close its sensors here, but she had not made such a request since becoming authorized. It might be better to speak to Sven where they could not be observed.
“Come on,” Sven said as he left the room. She followed him into the hall and down to another numbered door. “I looked in this room before. There are some clothes here that might fit you. I was thinking of surprising you with them later.” They entered another room with chairs and couches, then passed through a door into a room with a closet.
Nita opened the closet’s panel. Three garments hung from a metal pole. She reached for a red shirt, marveling at the smoothness of the fabric, then removed a pair of black slacks. She had unzipped her coverall and was shrugging out of it before recalling that Sven was still in the room. Beate probably would have advised her to excuse herself first, but it was too late for that now.
He looked away, reddening a little, as she dressed. “It’s a little loose,” she said, plucking at the shirt, “and these pants are too long.”
“Roll them up, then.” He paused. “You look different.”
“Different?”
“Better.”
She smiled at the compliment, then stooped to roll up the trousers. “We could live in these rooms,” he went on. “We’d have everything we need here. Llipel and Llare probably wouldn’t mind.”
Her pleasure at having the new clothes faded; he had reminded her of her fears. “It’s something to think about,” she said. “I’m glad you found the clothes. I was getting tired of coveralls.”
“You look nicer than you did in coveralls.”
“So do you,” she responded. He smiled before she averted her eyes; all these compliments were making her feel awkward with him. “Sven, would you come to the lobby with me? There’s something I want to do.”
“Don’t you want to look for more clothes?”
“Later, maybe. This is important.”
He shrugged. “All right.”
“What’s so important?” Sven asked as they entered the lift.
“You’ll see.” They rode down to the lobby in silence; Sven seemed puzzled but did not speak.
“Well?” he said as they left the lift. “What is it?”
She walked toward the doors ahead without answering, not trusting herself to speak. As she approached the entrance, she slowed her steps, afraid that her fear might turn into panic. But she had been in the garden often enough; this couldn’t be that different.
Sven said, “You want to go outside.”
�
�Yes. You keep talking about exploring. We’ll have to try it sooner or later.”
He took a breath. “Might as well see what it’s like.” His voice shook a little.
They walked through one door as it opened, then down the steps that led to the ground. A flat, stony surface stretched before them, marred by a few cracks and strewn with bits of rubble. The sun was nearly overhead and the surface felt warm under her feet. A wind whipped past her, lashing her hair; it was stronger than any breeze she had ever felt in the garden. She shivered, aware that there were no walls here to protect them.
The desolation of the surface nearly overwhelmed her. “They came here,” she said, “in their ships and hovercars. I used to think I’d see one someday.” Her voice sounded weak and small.
“I’ve seen the images. I wish we had one of those hovercars—we could have done a lot of exploring in one.” He glanced at her. “We really are alone. Don’t you feel it? It’s hard to imagine anyone coming here now.”
She moved farther away from the steps. She was struggling against the urge to flee back to the lobby, to safety, then reminded herself that the Institute might not be safe for long. The surface under her feet was fairly smooth, but avoiding the rubble slowed her steps. Sven trailed after her, treading carefully on the expanse.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” he asked. “Expecting visitors?” He made a small, choked sound that might have been a laugh as he came to her side. They gazed at the edge of the wood to the south. She wondered how she could ever bring herself to enter the forest and to face whatever dangers lay there.
I’m wrong about our guardians, she thought; I have to be wrong.
She glanced back at the tower, then continued to walk until they reached the eastern edge of the surface. In the distance, a mower was clipping the grass bordering the east wing; the robot was too far away for the mind to hear them through its sensors.
Sven’s lips were pressed tightly together. He was clearly as anxious as she was to go back inside, although he probably would not admit it.
She said, “I have to talk to you. That’s the real reason I wanted to come out here. It may be important, and I didn’t want to say anything to you inside.”
“What is it?”
“Llare talked to me today, in the library.” She told him quickly about what his guardian had said, and then mentioned her own suspicions. Sven was silent as she spoke. A grim look had come into his eyes by the time she was finished.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and paced over the grass as she waited for his reaction. Perhaps he would convince her that she was mistaken.
He stopped pacing. “I wish I could say you’re probably wrong,” he said at last, “but I’ve been wondering some of the same things lately. I keep asking myself how they could have come here without knowing anything about their kind—their people couldn’t have sent them here for no reason. And if they’re here because of an accident, or because they were lost somehow, there’d be no reason to hide that. I told myself I was imagining things, but now I don’t know. If you have the same ideas—” He sighed. “And now you say that Llare told you another time’s coming. That doesn’t sound good.”
“What’ll we do?”
“What can we do?” His eyes narrowed. “They kept us here. We don’t know how to survive outside. They didn’t tell us about each other—I think I started doubting Llare the first time I saw you. If they could deceive us about that, they could lie about their real reasons for being here. Maybe some of our people are alive, and they’re keeping that from us, too. After all, they didn’t tell us about each other.”
She tensed. “Do you think—”
“I don’t know. You say Llare talked of a struggle. Maybe they’re here to make sure all of our people are dead.”
“But why would they bring us up?” she asked. “Why didn’t they let us die? Why did they repair the Institute’s power source instead of letting the place rot? For that matter, why didn’t they destroy all the embryos in the cold room after they knew what was there?”
“How can we know?” he responded. “Maybe they wanted to study us first. And how can we be sure they didn’t destroy everything in the cold room? We’ve never been inside, and separate circuits control it. Maybe there’s nothing left—maybe they took care of that after they took us out. Llare told me never to go there, because he was afraid I might make his mistake, and we couldn’t get in without authorization, anyway, but maybe he just wanted to see that I didn’t find out what they’d done. Even the mind isn’t linked to those circuits.”
Nita sank to the ground, stunned by the horror of that possibility. She had been hoping for reassurance from Sven; instead, he had magnified her fears. She was beginning to see that the boy was ready to accept the darkest possibilities, while she still fought against believing the worst.
“They couldn’t,” she said. “They—” She gazed at him as he sat down in front of her. “We’re authorized now. We could go to the cold place anytime. They know that, and they can’t really prevent it, can they?”
“They haven’t had to try, really. They knew we wouldn’t want to go there, even now. I could find out about my parents now, but I’m afraid to. I guess I just don’t want to hear that the two people who created me went off to kill other people and die, and that’s what I’d find out. In a way, it’s easier if I don’t hear it.”
That was true, she thought. The cryonic facility still frightened her; the prohibition Llipel had placed on her was still strong. She was afraid to confront the room where potential members of her kind were suspended between life and nonexistence; she shrank from learning of the two parents who had left her there. She did not want to stand in a place that would remind her that only chance and a mistake had enabled her to live at all.
“How can we stay here, Sven?” she asked. “Where can we go?”
“We can’t leave yet, not until we know more about how to survive.” He drew his brows together. “Trouble is, we don’t know what they might be able to do. They learned a lot here—they may have ways to protect themselves we don’t know about. They might have weapons on their ship.”
“Maybe we’re wrong,” she said desperately, wanting to wish away her suspicions. “Maybe we are just imagining things. We don’t want to believe that our people were the only ones who could do evil things, and now we’re coming up with reasons to see our guardians as enemies.”
He gripped her arm. “Listen, whether we’re right or wrong about this, the only safe thing to do is to protect ourselves somehow. If we’re right, we have to figure out a way to escape them, and if we’re wrong, it won’t matter.” He let go of her and rested his chin against his knee. “Let’s assume that they kept some secrets just to protect us, and that they’re honest about not knowing why they’re here. Maybe they are as kind as they seem. They might not hurt us, but that doesn’t mean others of their kind couldn’t. They might just be waiting until it’s time.”
“I’ve been feeling that Llipel’s watching me more,” she admitted. “I never really feared that before—it only annoyed me once in a while.” She bowed her head. “I don’t want to believe any of this, and then I think of what Llare said.”
“At least we’re together in this, Nita. They don’t know what we think yet. As long as they don’t, we’ve got some time.” He was silent for a moment. “I wish we had weapons of some kind, just in case. If they have a time for fighting, too, they may not be able to control their actions.”
She grimaced, sick at the thought. “Well, there aren’t any weapons here.”
“How do we know? We never asked the mind. Somehow, considering what I know about our people, I can’t believe they wouldn’t have had weapons of some sort here.” He stood up, then helped her to her feet. “We’d better go and find out.”
The desks inside the lobby’s transparent booth held small screens that lay flat against the desktops. Sven lifted one screen until it locked into place.
“If we’re going to
explore the forest,” he said, “we may need some way to protect ourselves against dangerous animals. Are there any weapons here?”
“You are not authorized to have that information,” the mind replied. “I cannot answer.”
“But I have authorization,” Sven protested.
“I see no security guard’s medallion.”
Sven tapped his fingers on the desktop, then began to search through the desk drawers. He pawed through a pile of authorizations, then lifted a chain from which a circular disk dangled. “Is this a medallion?”
“It is,” the voice replied. Sven hung the chain around his neck. “You may now enter the door marked security in the hallway that leads from the lobby into the garden. You will be issued your weapon there.”
Sven rummaged in the drawer, then handed Nita another disk. “That was easy enough.”
Too easy, she thought; Llipel and Llare had to know about these weapons. Could that mean they had intended no harm? Or had they only supposed that their claws might be defense enough against a helpless, unarmed child?
They went to the hallway. The door marked SECURITY opened; on the opposite wall, slim metal rods with curved grips were held to the wall by clamps. Sven strode toward the wall and reached for a rod; the clamp snapped open as he gripped the wand in his hand. “Go ahead, Nita.”
She forced herself to take one. A button was on the spot where the grip met the silvery rod; she was afraid to touch it. She looked toward the screen near the door. “Tell us how to use this,” she said.
The tiny figure of a man appeared on the screen. “You must hold it in this way, aim at your target, and press the button firmly with your forefinger.” The man turned and aimed; a beam shot out from the rod. “The beam will stun the target and cause a loss of consciousness for a period of five to ten minutes, thus allowing you time to apply restraints.”
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