by Ben Bova
Rapson smiled. “That’s the good part. Boscawen and Le Châtelier are dead; and the one or two Imperial guards Koll wasn’t able to control are under lock and key. Rice has recircuited security and barricaded an entire section of the sunstation, but he’s effectively on his own and cut off from them. Or, at least he thinks he is. Under my direction, Koll’s essentially let him do pretty much what he wants, which is to hide out in his little secure area and take care of the alien.”
“Good.” Rihana nodded, smiling. “This works out better, actually. This way Rice is doing a lot of the work for us. All we have to do is wait. You said he’d already started waking the alien up; how much longer before the thing is up and around?”
Rapson slid the sleeve of his expensive suit coat up a few centimeters and looked at the gold timepiece on his wrist. “Tomorrow morning.”
She thought a few moments, sipping delicately at the wine. As always, Rapson had picked a perfect vintage.
Rihana reached into her hair and removed the jeweled clip, tossing it casually on the desk as she shook out her hair.
“In that case, then,” she said, turning demurely to him and extending her wineglass, “I suppose that leaves us more than enough time for refreshment.”
11
OUTBACK
The water was silent; utterly quiet and deliciously warm.
Their hike from Ellenbrae had been long, the primitive Aboriginal track hot and dusty. Trudging through the lengthy gorge to reach this pool, Adela hadn’t been sure her tired feet could carry her farther, but the aching fatigue she’d felt in her legs and calves only an hour earlier was but memory now, soothed by her swim. She was alive again, and relished the way the tepid water slid past her naked skin as she glided gracefully, weightlessly upward.
As she swam slowly up to the air, Adela opened her eyes and saw the brightness rippling on the mirrorlike surface of the pool. The Sun itself was too low on the horizon now to be seen from their vantage point deep within the notch, but the rock faces were very light in color and easily reflected the remaining daylight, as well as its life-giving warmth, well down into the placid water.
A flash of silver caught her eye: a school of fish, startled at the unexpected intrusion into their private, quiet world. She stopped all movement, allowing herself to float casually upward, and watched the little animals as they turned in unison, sending another sudden flash in her direction before they wriggled out of sight.
She broke the surface and inhaled deeply, enjoying the heated, friendly scent of the Australian outback as it mixed with the water splashing at her shoulders. Closing her eyes, she ran both hands up across her face, then back over the top of her head, smoothing down her long hair. Another deep breath, then another; the air proved to be nearly as invigorating as the swim had been.
She floated there a moment, orienting herself. She had come up “backward,” facing the rocky crag that formed one side of the bowl-like notch containing the hidden pool. The entire area reminded her of a deep, narrow crater on the moon, but unlike the desolate surface of Luna, this “crater” was alive with greenery, its sides lined with every manner of shrub and tree native to northwestern Australia. Even the very water glowed a translucent emerald. Treading to keep herself afloat, she rotated to face Billy, calling out, “You never told me it was this beautiful!” Her excited voice echoed back at her from the steep sides of their enclosed paradise.
In contrast to the far side of the notch, which was a vertical, enclosing rock face accessible only by climbing precariously down from above, Billy had set up their camp on a sandy, crescent-shaped beach measuring some twenty meters at its widest point. Behind and to one side of their camp, a narrow, featureless gorge led back the way they had entered, to the somewhat more even terrain of the outback itself. The beach tapered as it encircled the pool to only a few meters at each end of the crescent before disappearing beneath the water; another ten meters, and the sand might have completely enclosed the pool instead of presenting a sheer rock face at this single spot on the far side.
“Glad you like it,” he replied, walking to the water’s edge. As he always did when outdoors, he had discarded most of his clothes, and now wore only a tattered pair of cutoff denim pants. “Now you know why I like comin’ back here so much.”
“I love it, too!” Delighting in the echo, Adela tilted her head back, cupping her hands over her mouth while treading with her feet. “Helloooooooo!” She laughed out loud, feeling relaxed and happy for the first time in weeks. As the echo died away, Adela waved and dove one last time into the welcoming depths of the pool before swimming back to the beach.
“You’re lookin’ a bit waterlogged,” Billy said, smiling, as she walked waist-deep toward the shore, then turned back to tend the small fire he’d built. “I’ve about got the water hot enough if you’re ready for some kapati.”
She retrieved her clothes and dressed unhurriedly, feeling little false modesty about covering herself after her swim. With anyone else she might have been uneasy, or at least a bit self-conscious about stripping to bathe in the sunshine, but around Billy everything seemed—what? More relaxed? More easygoing? There was a tranquillity about the Aborigine—and about this special, secret place that he was willing to share with her—that somehow transcended stuffy rules and protocol. Here with him, in this place, she could be herself.
No worries, she said to herself, remembering the phrase he liked to use whenever he thought that everything was all right, that all would be for the best.
There had been a dramatic change in her friend since she had last seen him, back at the Imperial estate in Kentucky. Physically, although he remained stockier and more broad-shouldered than when they had first met, he had slimmed down a great deal since his return to Earth. “I got too soft, in too many ways,” he’d told her, “like some jackeroo on the dole.” He vowed never again to lose sight of what he had always believed to be important. The many weeks of his walkabout had returned him to a physical condition he’d not enjoyed since assuming the governorship of Darson. Even the simple act of reaching over to the fire sent muscles rippling beneath the dark skin of his back and shoulders.
He had changed emotionally as well. Working with his people, he was sure of himself again. As it turned out, there were many among the Arunta who shared his concerns for the changes taking place among his people. Billy had been able to rally them, not to a “cause,” but rather to a reaffirmation of their Song Lines. The more people he spoke to in Kalumburu, the more he came to realize that the old ways were not dead at all, but merely sleeping. And he was helping to wake them up.
No worries, she thought again. A warm smile came to her lips. It’s a good phrase.
Buttoning her blouse, she picked up her boots and socks and crossed barefooted to the camp, dropping them unceremoniously next to their rolled swags. There were some rocks here near the fire, and she sat cross-legged in front of one, using the big stone as a backrest.
“Thank you, Billy, for bringing me here.”
“I’ve not shared it with many others,” he said, handing her a tin cup of steaming, freshly brewed tea. The battered cup looked ancient, and was in nearly as bad shape as the matching tin pot—the “billy,” as he had referred to it—that he used to boil the water. “A coupla me mates knew of it, years ago. And I brought Eric here once. Way back before he was Emperor. I think he liked it here as much as you do … .” He glanced skyward briefly, gauging how much daylight was left, then regarded her as he sat on one of the rocks and sipped at the hot liquid in his own cup. “When’d you say you’re leavin’ again? Before you go, you should talk’m into comin’ back here with me. I think it’d do him good.”
Adela nodded wordlessly, considering the suggestion. “I’ve arranged passage to Gris and will be leaving in about three weeks.” Eric had offered Imperial transportation, of course, but she had refused it, preferring to run away on her own. “But I do plan to see him before I go.”
There was an uncomfortable silenc
e that lasted several seconds. In the quiet moment, the gathering twilight and growing night sounds seemed to weigh heavily on both of them.
“I promise I’ll talk to him about it. Before I leave.”
“Hungry?” Billy asked, changing the subject. He reached for the worn canvas rucksack he had brought and rummaged around inside.
“Starving.” She hadn’t thought about food at all in the last hour, but the mention of it now set her stomach to growling and she reached for her own backpack, a more modern carryall constructed of brightly colored synthetic fabric. “What have you brought?”
Billy produced a variety of foil-wrapped packages as well as several pieces of fresh fruit sealed in a cool-sack. “If you want,” he said, smiling, “I’ll catch us a fish and cook it right here.”
“No, that’s all right.” Adela wasn’t entirely certain if he was even serious or not: The smile on his face indicated that however reacquainted he may have become with the outback since his return, he still looked a bit doubtful about remembering the necessary hunting skills. “I’m so hungry, I don’t think I can wait that long,” she said, opting for discretion, and tore open one of the pouches. Between what the two of them had brought, their appetites were more than adequately taken care of.
An hour later, they each lay back next to the fire, staring at the star-filled sky above them. Adela had unrolled her swag, and was surprised at how comfortable the simple sleeproll could be on the packed sand underneath. Billy, meanwhile, lay on the bare ground, hands clasped behind his head, leaving his own swag untouched. She wondered why he’d even brought it along.
The fire was still hot, the heaped coals glowing a dull redorange, but the flames had died down. Their camp now in near-darkness, the stars visible beyond the rim of the notch glimmered in the night sky like white-hot diamonds.
“I don’t think I’m ever goin’ back there,” Billy was saying. “There’s not much more I can do there anyway. Eric gave me the governorship, asked me to have a go at helping turn it into a civilized world. Well, I done that.”
Adela smiled at her friend’s show of modesty. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him across the fire, but was barely able to make out his prone figure in the ruddy light. “From what I’ve been able to learn, you did considerably more than that. You took a failing colony and made it thrive. Eric told me that were it not for you, Darson would most likely have been abandoned.”
“I doubt that.” He shrugged, the gesture more felt in his words than seen in the weak illumination cast by the glowing coals. “Anyway, I did what I could and it looks like she’ll be sweet up there without any more help from me.” Billy got abruptly to his feet and walked a few meters away from the camp, then returned with several pieces of dry driftwood, which he dropped next to the fire.
“I hated you, ya know,” he went on as he squatted to stir the embers and add the pieces of wood one at a time. He remained in a squatting position, curling one strong arm around his knees and absently poking the embers while he spoke. “I saw what’d become of my people—the whole bloody Earth!—and I blamed you for all of it.”
The fire glowed brightly now, and in the light Adela could see how important this confession was to him. Obviously, this time they shared alone together before she returned to Gris was as meaningful to him as it was to her.
“But you savin’ the Sun was no more responsible for changin’ the world than my leavin’ was for changin’ my people. I was a bloody hoon to think it was.”
“You were not a fool,” she said sensitively. “In truth, I’ve done my own share of self-blaming, too. I let Jephthah get to me. I knew, somewhere deep down inside me, that nothing he said was true, but I used what he said to punish myself for something that I knew was … Well, I know better now.” She paused, swallowing audibly as she formed her thoughts. “And I’ll tell you something else: When I decided to go back to Gris, I was just running away. I didn’t admit it to myself then, but I just wanted to run away from everything that had to do with the decisions that are a part of my past. Decisions I had made.” She sat up into a cross-legged position and regarded her old friend across the dancing flames. Billy met her eyes silently and wrapped both arms around his knees, waiting for her to go on.
“But you know what, Billy? My situation and yours are more similar than you might think. You did everything you wanted to do on Darson, accomplished what you wanted to accomplish. But knowing that your work was done is what allowed you to come back to Earth, it’s what allows you to work so hard now for your people.” There was a sudden high-pitched cry, that of some night bird, and Adela waited, listening, as it faded in the distance. “Let me ask you something: When you left Darson, did you leave anything behind?”
“I … No, nothing. I was finished there.”
“You didn’t want to stick around, watch what became of your handiwork? Become a part of it yourself?”
Billy’s eyes narrowed, a look of puzzlement spreading across his face. “Adela … I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”
She nodded, a new realization coming to her for the first time, and sighed deeply, sadly. “I did,” she said finally, her voice a whisper. “Everything was done on the project when I decided to go into cryosleep; to become a—what do they call it? A ‘slow timer’?” She snorted distastefully at the word. “There was no need for me to stay involved, Billy. I wanted to be there when my project was completed, work with it through the centuries. I didn’t even realize that I had equated this thing with myself—I was the project, and felt that the project was nothing without me. I was selfish and self-centered.” She paused, exhaling heavily. The fire was dying again, the shadows deepening around them once more. Neither said anything for several long minutes as they listened to the ever-present insects singing their night songs.
“Billy, when you left Earth for Darson, did you leave anyone behind?” she asked finally.
The Aborigine shook his head in understanding. “Nah. I had someone once, before leaving Earth. But she and I had different goals and parted long before I met you. I had a lot of good mates on Darsori, and even fell in love once, but it ended decades ago.”
“Do you think about them?”
Billy hesitated at the question, then said, “I s’pose so, now and again.”
“I’ve fallen in love only once,” she said. “And I gave him up just so I could keep myself involved in something that no longer truly needed me.” She chuckled somberly at the newfound awareness. “I thought I had to keep myself as young as I could, so I could see everything about this project through not only to its completion, but for centuries afterward. I let that blind me to just how important Javas was to me, and how unimportant I had become to this project. It seduced me, Billy, away from what I’d really wanted all along: to be with a man who loved me above all else. I could have had that.” She pointed to him. “Look at you, Billy. Other than short periods of cryosleep before wormhole travel was perfected, you’ve not slept your whole life away. Medical rejuvenation still has its limitations, I know, but I could have stayed with Javas and still have been here right now, working on this thing if I’d wanted to.”
The driftwood in the fire shifted noisily and the glow increased, bathing them both in unexpected brightness.
“But no,” she said, turning away shamefully from the gentle radiance. “I wanted more assurance than that. And I traded Javas for it. I’m the fool, Billy.”
Her friend started to say something, but she paid little attention as she lay back on her swag and turned away from the fire. Billy, sensing her need for solitude, said nothing more and he, too, settled in for the night.
Adela lay thinking for a few minutes longer, listening to the crackling of the dying fire, the cluttering of the insects and the occasional night animal. Before long, however, she fell into a troubled, restless slumber.
12
BACK IN THE GAME
It was still dark, but only barely, when she opened her eyes at the sound of some incon
gruously loud and annoying night bird. Overhead, the stars twinkled in a sky that was just now beginning to show the first hint of gray with the approaching dawn. The chirping cry was muffled and seemed, once she managed to blink a bit more of the sleep away, to be coming from the other side of what was left of the fire, now reduced to a pile of smoking, dull orange embers that peeked out from beneath a blanket of gray-white ashes.
She sat up, shedding the thin blanket she must have pulled over herself during the night, and in the growing light found Billy digging into his canvas rucksack.
“Billy, what is it?” She was wide awake now.
“Nothin’. Just me bloody … Ah, here.” He pulled out a chirping communication handset—a “handlink,” as it was customarily called, due to the way it was linked into the cislunar satellite communication network. She had several of her own and had, in fact, brought one in her pack. She had purposely turned her handlink off, however; Billy’s, evidently, had been left on the normal standby setting. He unfolded the unit into an open position, abruptly silencing the incessant chirping, and pressed it to his face.
“Yah?” He waited several moments, then, “Sure.”
Seeing that he was obviously waiting for a connection to be put through, Adela asked, “What’s going on?” She was surprised at the hint of irritation in her own voice, and wondered why Billy’s carrying a handlink should annoy her so. Maybe it was the contradiction with his lifestyle the piece of high technology represented that was so jarring. Or maybe it was the passing thought that because of her presence here in this untamed environment, he felt he needed to remain in touch with civilization out of some personal obligation to look out for her, take care of her. As the first rays of sunshine crept over the notch walls and illuminated the tiny paradise, she quickly discarded both ideas. In truth, it was the intrusion into a private moment of her life that the demanding handlink represented, and nothing that Billy had done in carrying it. Noting that his own expression had changed from one of annoyance to concern, she instantly regretted her tone of voice and asked again, more delicately this time, “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”