by Robert Reed
He wore white pajamas with black trim, and his sorry voice said, “You’re going to be safe very soon. Believe me. It may not be home, this place where you’re going, but with time I think you’ll see its pleasures—”
“The asteroid,” I whispered.
“Let me show you.” He produced a control panel, changing the image on the largest screen. I saw an enormous cavern without any clear floor or roof, bright lamps scattered on wire tethers and figures drifting in the distance. I couldn’t tell if the figures were robots or people, or both, but I watched them for a long moment. Then he was telling me, “I had this place constructed with the idea of some colony. Someday.” He coughed into his free hand, the cough dry and tired. “The surfaces are faced with inert stone. To avoid heavy metal toxins. The soils are netted against the surfaces, and by the time you arrive—in several months, I suppose—you’ll see green vegetation everywhere. And low-gee ponds netted into the low places.” He paused, watching me. Then he said, “Your work is just now beginning.”
I had trouble keeping my attention on the screen.
“Ryder? Look at me, son.”
I blinked and turned.
“I needed to see you. To tell you good-bye and good luck.”
“What’s going to happen to you?” I asked.
“Nothing much important,” he informed me. “I don’t matter much any longer, I fear.”
Lillith made a sound. A choked-off sob, I thought.
He said, “Look at me,” and smiled. He made himself smile. “There are a couple of things I wanted you to understand.” He breathed for strength and told me, “First, nothing is ever finished. The hounds breach our defenses and the earth perishes. Yes. But someday, sooner or later, people will quite surely return to this place. The asteroid out there, so remote? It’s going to be home for a growing population of talented souls, you included; and with time and much work there will come industry and power and fresh knowledge. People will learn how to recapture the earth. With a virus, perhaps. Or a toxin. Or maybe something considerably less sophisticated…a series of asteroids, for instance. Your descendants might kick them from orbit—huge bodies full of momentum—and with the proper aim, and some luck, the hounds might be dashed clean off the globe. Eradicated. These old continents would be reshaped, yes, but there would be no angry tenants standing in the way of settlers. Of new life…”
I was tired of this talk. I could scarcely imagine tomorrow or the next day, and the remote future was beyond all of my senses. I had to ask him, “Why do you tell me these things, sir?” with my voice sharp. I surprised myself with that voice.
“Why?” he said. “Well, that’s the other item I want you to understand.” He forced his smile once again. “It’s too simple to say that I’d like you to recall all of the things you’ve seen and heard. If that’s what I wanted I would have used a camera and tapes,” and he shook his head. “No,” he said, “I know better. I do. A camera cannot tell people, ‘Listen to me now! I have something to tell you!’ Tapes cannot say to an entire nation, ‘This isn’t just what I saw! This is what I felt! Let me tell you what I felt—!’”
“We have to be leaving,” Lillith interrupted. “Aaron?”
“In a minute.” He shut his eyes and collected his thoughts, then he told me, “There will be time on the journey, in these coming months, for you to watch a number of key tapes. And for you to read certain books and private journals. What I’m asking you to do, Ryder, is look hard at my work and my life. People will come to you—your children and grandchildren will come to you—and they’ll want to know about this time, and me, I should think, and you’ll be the voice who can tell them, ‘I knew Dr. Aaron Florida. He was this kind of man or that kind of man.’ Say what you like. Say what is right. And then tell them, just please tell them, that I felt so very sorry for being so foolish. I truly did.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Dr. Florida sobbed and seemed to straighten himself, but the effort was taxing and all at once he slumped forward.
Lillith said, “Aaron?”
He didn’t seem to hear anything.
She said, “Did you know about the soldiers? When did they come?”
“Not long ago,” he said. “Gracious of them, isn’t it? The U.N. wishes to see our precious facilities protected. They even ignored the formality of an invitation—”
“I thought you might have asked for them. Maybe.” Her voice was tense, her eyes glancing toward the sealed metal door. “Are we going to have any trouble?” she wondered.
“No, I’ve spoken to the field commander. A reasonable fellow.” He sighed and said, “He assured me that my people can come and go as they see fit. For now—”
“I’ll take the children to the airfield,” she started to say.
“And go with them. To Hawaii,” said Dr. Florida. “Promise me? Will you and John make sure their shuttle is launched on time?”
“I want to be here!” she exclaimed.
He blinked. “Come back,” he said. “As soon as you can. I’ll wait for you.”
She said, “Aaron?”
His face was distant, detached and so terribly sober that I believed that nothing—not whirlwinds or explosions, or anything—could have made Dr. Florida bat an eye. He was strong in some way that required no apparent strength, turning to me and saying, “I hope you don’t think too much ill about old Dr. Florida.”
“No, sir,” I said. After everything, I said, “I don’t.”
“And in the future? Will you please mention my good traits?”
“Yes, sir.” He was Dr. Florida, after all, and I couldn’t imagine not loving him. How could he doubt how I felt—?
Lillith said, “I’ll be back soon, Aaron.”
He blinked and smiled and said, “Fine,” without the right voice. His mind had decided something, and when he said, “Fine,” I heard what Lillith heard too.
She said, “Aaron—?”
“Go,” he told us. “Go.”
His smile was bright and fragile.
We went through the metal door, and it pulled shut behind us. Then Lillith froze. I watched her shiver, then she turned and said, “I forgot something,” and touched the thumbprint pad. Nothing happened. We stood together in the empty hallway, and she said, “Something’s wrong,” and tried her other thumb. “A mechanical problem,” she muttered, and then there was a sound almost too faint to detect. It came from inside the sealed office. I thought of a hammer driving a nail into living wood in the distance—a simple pop—and then there was nothing and Lillith pressed the side of her face against the door and cried and said, “No,” once, then again. “No,” she said softly. I watched her crying and saw the shine where the door was damp, and she pulled herself upright and breathed through her mouth, now turning and taking a step and stopping. She didn’t look at me or in any way notice my presence. I waited. I didn’t know what to do, standing next to her and feeling the silence around us. Finally I made myself touch one of her warm hands, saying, “We need to go, ma’am.” I tugged on a finger. “Ma’am? We should leave, I think.”
Dr. Samuelson was desperate to be driving, to be at the airfield and then airborne. Out of reach. He barely spoke to Lillith. I was scarcely down in my seat when he punched the accelerator, turning the wheel and taking us back out of the garage.
Now Cody was between Beth and me.
Nobody was talking. The darkness of the garage yielded to the almost-darkness outside, and we were driving fast for a brief way. The Dr. Samuelson saw lights, bright and graceful, just ahead of us. “Shit.” He told Lillith, “I’ll handle this,” and braked just short of a new group of soldiers. I could see their faces in our headlights, and their guns, and they weren’t the same soldiers. An officer approached the driver’s side, a bright flashlight in one hand and a smooth pistol in the other. It wasn’t for throwing darts, that pistol. I knew at a glance.
“Sir?” he said. “I’m sorry, sir. These roads are off limits—”
“I’m getting these
kids out of here,” said Dr. Samuelson. He jerked his head to one side, toward us, and added, “I’m not just anybody here, son. I’d appreciate some slack, if you can help me.”
Lillith said, “John—?”
The officer walked back alongside the van. He peered at us, at each of us, seemingly hunting for someone he recognized. There was something patient and teasing about his expression. He enjoyed this extended moment, his lips now curling into the faintest of smiles.
“Aaron didn’t think there’d be any problem,” Lillith explained, whispering. “He had been assured—”
“Sir?” The officer returned. “Sir, I’d like you and your party to please step from the van. If you would, sir.”
“Is there a problem, son?”
“Please humor me, sir.”
Dr. Samuelson sat motionless for a long moment, then he said, “Fine,” and the moment he opened his door I felt myself being shoved down against my seat. I felt the van accelerating without warning, the engine racing and soldiers leaping aside and one man, ahead of us and too slow, and I saw a bit of his face and then felt the van striking something. Lillith squealed, “God!” and we were past the roadblock. I turned to look behind us, and Lillith said, “They could have shot—!”
“No!” he shouted. “And risk the kids?”
There wasn’t anyone behind us. Marshall asked, “Where are we going?” and nobody answered him. The van jerked to the left and went fast down the main road, and I saw headlights behind us. Where was this plane? I wondered. Where were we going? Those headlights were growing stronger. Lillith asked, “What if they’re at the plane? Waiting?”
Dr. Samuelson grunted an answer. I didn’t understand him.
There was a turn to the right, very sharp, and we were racing on a flat straight new road. The headlights had vanished. Dr. Samuelson killed our own lights, and I felt scared and helpless in the rushing darkness, wishing so much that everything was finished. Whatever was to happen, I wished it was past now. Done. Then headlights swung into view again, closing on us again—
“In the glove compartment,” said Dr. Samuelson. “Get it!”
“What?” asked Lillith.
“Just reach inside!”
She said, “Oh goodness,” and brought out some kind of gun. She said, “We’ll talk to them, John. We can’t outrun the U.N. in the air,” and she put the gun on the floor between them.
“Give it here!” said Dr. Samuelson.
I could see the trees blurring beside us, and the van itself seemed to shudder with our speed. It seemed to say, “Don’t trust me at this speed,” and I saw Dr. Samuelson driving and trying to reach for the gun too, Lillith saying, “Leave it,” and the engine finding a touch more power. We were going even faster, and Lillith said, “Slow—!” as we started to leave the road. I felt Cody moving beside me, and Dr. Samuelson said, “Shit,” and we were diving into a ditch that I felt more than saw, down and then up again and me seeing Cody’s hand reaching for me…and then came the awful crashing noise.
I left my seat with the impact.
I saw Lillith evaporate into the breaking glass and splitting metal. The van clipped a tree and jerked to one side, and nothing happened slowly enough for me to see it. I was out of my seat and past Cody’s hand, and the world was full of motion and noise; and I fell unconscious for an age, or for an instant, and someone had me and pulled me onto a flat stretch of grassy ground. I knew that gentle strength. I breathed and said, “Cody?”
My savior said, “Who’s Cody?” Then he said, “Lie still. Just lie there and keep still, son.”
He was an enormous soldier. I saw him smiling. It was still night, but there were lights nearby and I could see his face now.
“Is Cody one of your pals?”
“Where is she?”
“Somewhere,” he said.
“And Marshall? And Beth? And—?”
“Easy. Easy.”
“Are they okay?” I wondered.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just got here myself.”
“Can you please see for me? Please?”
“I know Florida’s mistress is dead. And that crazy old fart of a driver too—”
“My friends though…are they hurt?”
“One of them.” He was watching me. “One of them is pretty badly broken up, and I don’t know. It’s touch and go—”
Which one? I wondered. I tried to move, to look for them; but some tiny needle pricked my arm and I started slipping into sleep. There was nothing I could do. I imagined each of my friends dead and bloody, flat beneath stained sheets, and I made a vow to myself. Whoever did die, I would remember them. I would find every moment I’d shared with them, and I’d string the moments together. I’d make them real again by remembering the look of their hair and the sound of their voice and the exact feel of their living hands—
—and then I was asleep, so deeply asleep that I didn’t dream and I barely thought, the sensation pleasant and endless, not unlike floating suspended in a still pool of warm, warm black milk.
I was awake.
Doctors stood around me. The lights were brilliant, making me squint, and one doctor in white bent and said, “Hello, Ryder.”
“Hello?”
“Do you know where you are?”
I said, “No, sir.”
“It’s been several days,” he said, “and you’ve been tranquilized.”
I felt my body wrapped snug inside white bandages. “Are we going to the asteroid now? Sir?”
“No. No, we’re not.”
He wasn’t a doctor. I suddenly understood that few of these people were real doctors, something in their hard watchful eyes telling me.
“We’re still on the earth,” he told me. “Good old Earth.”
“The hounds—?”
“Dead,” he promised. “All dead.”
A woman’s voice said, “Your parents wish to see you, Ryder. But first we have to ask you questions. May we?”
“About Dr. Florida,” said the man. “The late Dr. Florida.”
“What happened to the hounds?” I wondered. “How did you kill them?”
“Luck and hard fighting,” he said. “Plus some last-minute gear we got up into the sky.” He told me parts of it, and I learned the rest later. I learned how the U.N. had watched Dr. Florida preparing his ark and certain shuttles. They hadn’t been fooled; not for long, at least. And at the last possible instant the U.N. had interceded, claiming the shuttles for themselves and boosting certain freshly minted bombs into high orbits. “Enormous nukes,” said the man. “Special nukes. They were designed to throw their blasts in one direction, you see. A shotgun effect.” But instead of steel pellets, the ammunition was hard radiation in abundance. The scattering clouds of nest fragments and hounds and eggs were mostly killed; and the few survivors were finished just short of the atmosphere. Thankfully. While I slept in this hospital bed, unaware, the world had been saved. And now everyone was busy celebrating their good fortune, each day like an endless, breathless party—
“You mentioned an asteroid,” said another man. “What do you know about the asteroid?”
“Not much,” I confessed.
The first man said, “What’s important is why. Do you know why you were going there?”
“I think so.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you know, would you please? Please?”
I tried. I concentrated and began to sort the past, working to tell the essential details. Then all at once I stopped talking. My head was spinning now. I was tired now. I said, “Sir? Could you please tell me…which one of them died?”
“Who do you mean?” he wondered.
My friends. I named my four best friends—
“Died?” he said.
I braced myself.
“They’re all doing quite well, Ryder.” He grinned and said, “Why did you think one of them had died?”
“The soldier had told me. ‘It’s touch and go,’ he said.”
&n
bsp; “He meant you, Ryder. You’re the one who was badly hurt.”
I was speechless for a long moment.
He grinned and said, “Rest.” All of the people were grinning.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“For a minute,” he said, “rest. Then we’ll bring in your parents.”
“I’d like that, sir,” I told him. “I would.”
Fifteen
I spent the rest of the summer mending—my arm and leg were broken, plus I needed an operation to patch up my insides—and when things were almost finished, me close to fit and the air tasting of fall, my folks packed everything and moved us to a different city some two thousand miles away.
It was due to business.
Real estate wasn’t doing well. Not at all. Lawyers and politicians were starting to dismantle Dr. Florida’s empire, and common logic said they would kill the city too. People were going to have to be paid for their pain and anguish, of course. Dr. Florida had promised to make good such debts. And there were physical damages too, particularly on the moon—farm domes smashed and industries frazzled and several cities resembling battle zones—and to raise the needed cash, without fuss, Dr. Florida’s companies were being sold piecemeal. “Which means their new owners aren’t going to keep them here,” Dad warned me. “They’ll move them closer to the action, Ryder. In a year. In five years. Eventually.”
“That’s why we’re going?” I asked.
“We don’t have a choice. Who’s going to want a new home, or an old home, in a shriveling city?” He shook his head and touched the cast on my leg; he felt sorry for having to bring me the news. “I wish we could stay. I do. But we have to eat too. Son? Ryder? Are you listening?”
The TV was full of news about Dr. Florida. In death, it seemed, he garnered even more attention than he had in life. People learned about the big shuttles full of kids and seeds and durable machinery, and they heard stories about an ark out in the asteroid belt. Sometimes reporters would call our home and inquire about me. What would have been my role in the thing? Was it true that Dr. Florida had spent his last hours with me, talking just to me? They had reports, unconfirmed but tantalizing, that I was to serve as some grand chronicler of this strange, Florida-built society. Did my folks have any comments? “No,” Mom told them. “You heard it wrong and stay off this line. This is a business phone, please!” But was it true that I had a gifted memory? Ryder? Was my name Ryder? “I’m asking you to get off this line. Now!”