Well, I tellyou that a Man's nature is built into his very chromosomes, and youshould know that."
"I know, mother." For Juba was educated.
"There was a reason once, why men should be as they are. Nature is notgentle and if nature is left to herself, the timid do not survive. Butif bloodlust was once a virtue, it is no longer a virtue, and if menwill end up killing each other off, let us not also be killed."
"No," Juba said. For who would mind the hearths?
"All that," the mother said, rising and dusting off her robe, "istheory, and ideas touch not the heart. Let me but remind you that thechoice is yours, and when the choice is made I shall not yea or nayyou, but think on this--a woman, too, must have her quiet strength,and you spring of a race of queens. How shall the people look to theTanaids for strength in times of doubt and trouble, if a Tanaid cannotmeet the Trial? The choice is yours. But think on who you are."
* * * * *
The mother slipped away and left Juba alone in the quiet precinct ofJuno, watching how the little fire caught at the silver backs ofturned leaves when the wind blew.
Yes, Juba knew who she was, though they had never made it an importantthing to be a ruler. But ruler or not, she loved her land and her homeand her people, and even this ringed space of quiet where the spiritof Juno burned safely. Life somehow had chosen for her to be born andhad made room for her in this particular place. Now _she_ must choose_it_, freely. Otherwise she would never have in her hands the threadsof her own life, and there would be no life for her. Only the completeloss of self that comes to the Watchers of the Holy Flame. And that isa holy thing, and an honor to one's house, if it is chosen from theheart. But if it is chosen from fear of crossing the passageways oflife--then it is no honor but a shame.
And Juba knew she could not bear such a shame, either for her house orwithin the depths of her soul.
"Mother Juno," she prayed, "make clear the vision of my soul, and letme not, in my vanity, think I find good what the goddesses see to beevil."
So she rose with a strong and grateful heart, as though she hadalready faced her trial and had been equal to it.
The rest of the night she slept warmly, so unaware are we of theforces within us.
* * * * *
The first fingers of the sun pulled Juba from her cot, as they pullthe dew from the green things of the earth, and she pinned in her hairthe first Laesa she saw that the sun's fingers had forced.
The Man was standing beside his space ship again. It was a smallship--indeed, from the angle of Juba's approach, and from theglancings of the sun, it looked smaller than the Man.
Juba's decision held firm within her, for she saw there was nohumility in him. He stood there laughing at the dawn, as though hewere a very god, and were allowing the earth and sky to draw off theirshadows for him, instead of standing in awe and full gratitude for thegift of life, and feeling, as one should, the smallness of a personand the weakness of a person's power, compared with the mighty forcesthat roll earth and sky into another day.
It is in this way, Juba thought, that men seem strong, because theyhave no knowledge of their own weaknesses. But it is only a seemingstrength, since it stems from ignorance, and the flower of it fallsearly from the bush.
Juba did not, however, say all this.
Rule d--A man's ego is his most precious possession.
"You are very strong," Juba said, her eyes downcast, for he was bareagain to the waist, and it had come to her that she would like tostring her fingers through the hair on his chest.
"Runs in the family," he said carelessly. "But come, I had dinner withyou yesterday. Let's have breakfast in my ship today."
"I...." What was she afraid of? If he'd meant to do her any violence,he'd have done it already. And this would provide Juba'sopportunity--"Yes," she said. "I would be delighted."
* * * * *
There had to be some talk, and perhaps something else, before shecould make her request of him. They had to be friends of some sortbefore he was at all likely to agree.
It is difficult to make conversation with a man.
Finally Juba gave up trying to think of something interesting to sayand asked, "What is your way of life, that you should be going aroundby yourself in a space ship?"
"My way of life?" He laughed. "It becomes a way of life, doesn't it?Whatever we do ends up enveloping us, doesn't it?"
For a man he was thoughtful.
"I'm a scout," he said. "I don't know that I chose it as a way oflife. I was born into the Solar Federation and I was born male and Igrew up healthy and stable and as patriotic as any reasonable personcan be expected to be. When war came I was drafted. I volunteered forscouting because the rest of it is dull. War is dull. It isunimaginably dull."
"Then why," Juba asked, for she was amazed at this, "do you fightwars?"
Again he laughed. Is there anything these men don't laugh at? "That'sthe riddle of the sphinx."
That is _not_ the riddle of the sphinx, but Juba did not correct him.
"When you're attacked," he went on, "you fight back."
"It could not possibly," Juba said, "be as simple as you make itsound."
"Of course, it isn't," he said, and he took two square sheets thatlooked like papyrus, and put them each in a bowl. "There is thequestion of what you did, or did not do, that you should be attacked."
"And what did you do, or not do, that you should be attacked?"
He was pouring a bluish-looking milk over the papyrus thing. His handswere too large for everything he handled, and Juba wondered, if hishand were on her wrist, if he could crush it. Or, being able to crushit, if he would take care not to.
"Oh--trade agreements, immigration agreements, how many space shipscan go where--who can say what either side did when or where to beginit all? Nobody is _making_ it happen. Sometimes, perhaps. But not asfar as this war is concerned. All I can say now is--O.K., for whateverreason I'm in a war. At this point, what can I do but kill or bekilled?"
Juba mashed the papyrus into the milk with her spoon, as the man wasdoing. She took a bite. It tasted just like it looked.
"You could," Juba said, "refuse to have anything to do with it at all.You could simply go away and...." She stood up and the spoon clatteredto the floor and she could feel the bowl of milk spill cold and stickyalong her thigh. Because that's just what you can't do. You can't pullthe thread of your life out of the general weaving.
* * * * *
She looked at her adversary, and he was as close to her as thedarkness is to the evening.
"No," he said. "Life flows. A person's life or a civilization's lifeor all humanity's life. If it cannot flow forward it flows backward.Isn't that true? _Isn't_ it?"
But she turned away from him, to recover herself a little. For shefelt that he was right and her country and her foremothers were wrongand she was wrong and yet--she had made her choice last night, at thealtar of Juno, and though she felt herself possessed by newunderstanding, she had to go on in spite of it, as though she foughtwounded or blinded.
"You are perhaps right," Juba said. "I am only a woman and I do notknow. But still, can you not take a few days from your war? Must youthink always on that and never on anything else?"
He ate another of the paper things, not melting it first, and drankfrom the container.
"Look, Juba," he said, "I've been thinking on other things ever sinceI got here, but first I want to...."
"First," Juba interrupted, for here was her moment, "I ask one thingof you. Only that you radio incorrect coordinates back to your base.Say you have moved on, that this is a barren world."
"Let me talk to you first," he said. "I want to...."
"Please," Juba begged, moving toward him. "It is no loss to you. Onlya small favor, to protect our planet from outsiders, in return for ...for whatever pleasures I can provide for you, or my sisters, if I donot please you."
"All right," he said, turning to his communication equipment. "Ifthat's the only way you're going to let me speak to you."
"Your tape," Juba said. "Turn on your tape."
"Tape!"
"I do not speak New-language. I will have to have it translated."
* * * * *
The man looked at Juba hard and worked at the corner of his mouth withhis tongue.
"All right," he said, flipping a switch. He turned to his equipmentand spoke his strange language into it. It was rough and she liked it.
"Now," he began.
"Give me the tape," Juba interrupted.
He jostled a flat box out of the wall, held the tape up to the lightand snapped off a small portion and handed it to Juba.
"Come outside," she said, taking his hand. "My world is more beautifulthan your space ship."
"Can't deny that," he said, watching the branches of the UntouchableBush draw away as they walked through it.
"Now," he said, when he was stretched out on the undulant moss. Hefelt at the patch of moss sprouting under the warmth of his palm, andwatched while an exploratory tendril curled around his little finger."Now--do you know what it is I want of you?"
"I have," Juba said, "some idea." She hadn't known they talked aboutit. She thought they just did it.
"Well, you're wrong."
"Oh," she said, and stood up and walked over to the brook so he wouldnot see her face. For she wondered wherein she was lacking and she wasembarrassed. "Then," she asked, "what _do_ you want of me?"
"There is, as I said, a war on. I am, as I said, a scout. I'm lookingfor a communications base halfway between a certain strategic enemyoutpost and a certain strategic allied outpost."
"Why?"
"Why? I don't know why. Does the grain of sand know where the beachends? And if I did know, what would it matter?"
"But why _this_ planet? There are other systems. Even other planets inthis system." The moss curled under her feet and pricked at her. Shewas not doing this right. What did she care about his war? But she didnot know what to do. She had been prepared for Seduction, Step II, andhad even thought up a few things to say, though conversation is notincluded in the manual, because there is usually a language barrier.It was his speaking the language that made the difference.
"This is the only immediately habitable planet. You don't realize howexpensive and cumbersome and logistically difficult it is to set upthe simplest station on an abnormal planet. Tons of equipment areneeded just to compensate for a few degrees too much temperature, or afew degrees too little, or excessive natural radiation, or a slightoff balance of atmosphere. Or even if a planet is _apparently_habitable, there's no way of being absolutely sure until there havebeen people actually living on it for a while. There isn't time forall this. Can't you just believe me?"
"I believe you," Juba said, "and the answer is no. It is not mydecision to make. I cannot decide for my people. And if I could, theanswer would still be no. That is exactly why we cut ourselves offfrom the rest of civilization. To stay out of your wars, to carry oncivilization when you have laid it waste. That is why we are a planetof parthenogenetic women."
"Is it?" he asked. "Was it to carry on the torch for civilization orto flee from it? Life flows, Juba. If it doesn't flow forward, itflows backward. Which way does your world go?"
Which way? The little stream scrambled over its bright rocks, flashingthe sunlight like teeth laughing.
Which way? The servants, the pets, the gladiatorial contests. The oldgoddesses. Were we becoming weary with time? Juba wondered. What sensedid it make? What future did it mold?
* * * * *
The Man got up and came to put his arms around Juba, crossing hisarms over her chest and putting his hands on her shoulders. He leaneddown until she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
Then it was that Juba could feel from his strength that everything hesaid must be right, because he said it, and that he was the name forall those things inside her which had no name.
"I cannot bring you in for the Ceremonies," Juba said. "Whatever youare and whatever I am--these futures must lie with the goddesses. Butsacrifice you I cannot." She turned in his arms. "Go," she said. "Andquickly."
He kissed her. "I will not go," he said, and she wanted very much forhim to stay, but not for the Ceremonies.
"I was to draw you into the gladiatorial contests," she said, "withrich promises. But I cannot. For those who die it is bad. But forthose who live it is worse."
"Well, now you have told me and I will not be drawn," he said withthat grin. "Who said women are not barbarous? It is up to you," hewent on, "to free your world from its deadly isolation."
He kissed her by the vein in her neck, the heavy one, where the bloodbeats through. And there flashed through her head the instructions forSeduction, Step II, and she wondered that other women had been able toremember printed pages when this happened.
"You must go," Juba said, holding him so that he would not. "What doyou want me to do?"
* * * * *
He lost his fingers in her hair, "I like blondes," he said. "And Ilike a slender waist." There was a tension in the muscles of his lowerlip and his eyes seemed to lengthen, and by this Juba knew what hefelt at that moment.
But he said, "I want you to switch off your planetary directionaldiverter. Even if you had let me radio in the coordinates I had theywould have been wrong, wouldn't they?"
"Yes," Juba said. "But the directional diverter diverts only incertain patterns, so that it might be possible to figure out...."
"I know. Maybe and maybe not. I want you to turn it off long enoughfor me to get up beyond your whole system and have my instruments takea fix on your orbit. Then we can planet in blind, if necessary, to setup our station."
"But as soon as you take off," Juba said, wondering if she wouldreally do such a thing or if she would suddenly wake as from a dreamand find her wits again, "they'll be on me with their questions. Andwhat could I say to them?"
"You won't have to say anything to them," the Man said. "You'll be onthe ship with me."
"With _you_!" The thought went all through Juba, as ice water doessometimes, and bubbled up into her ears. "With you." When she lookedat him she really couldn't see what he looked like any more. Only asort of shine. "You mean you'll take me away with you?"
"Do you think I could leave you?" he asked, all shiny. "Smash thething," he said. "They'll repair it, but by that time it'll be toolate."
She sat down on the moss, and he was over her, his face urgent, as forStep III. But he said, "Go ahead. Go now. And hurry."
She got up hastily, planning in her mind how she would arrange herface, so as to appear calm if anyone should see her and what excusesshe would make if there were anyone about the Machine House. They hadno guards and kept no watches, for why should they?
* * * * *
It was at the market place, near the fish stalls, that she met hermother.
The mother tugged at Juba's robe as she went by. "It is not easy foryou, is it?" she asked, low, so that no one could hear.
"No," the girl said. "It is not easy." Was it not written all overher? Was it not on her breath and shaken out of her hair?
The mother looked closely at Juba and felt at her forehead. "Perhapsit is forcing you too soon," she said with a hesitant frown which fora moment made her look like someone else. "It is not too late, Juba,to get someone else. Even now...."
"It is too late," Juba said, and pulled away, afraid to talk more. Butalthough the mother's face, Juba knew, was set, and her mind windingunhappily through surmises, she would not follow the girl, out ofpride.
Pride.
* * * * *
The machine was alone. Juba cut it off and pulled the handle of theswitch out. She then opened up the face plate and jerked out all thewires in sight. She reached in and broke off all the
fine points ofthe compass settings and pulled out everything loose she could reach.
Then she walked back quickly through the market place, so as not toseem to be skulking.
"Juba ..." the mother said, standing in her path.
"Later," Juba said. "It will soon be done. Mother ... I love you. Allof you." And she went around the mother, quickly.
* * * * *
"It is done," Juba said, giving him the switch key as though it meantsomething all by itself. "You have at least several hours, even ifthey find out at this moment. And they won't. There will be no realsuspicion until your ... our ship takes off."
* * * * *
After he had made love to Juba, she could see the sun was wheelinghigh, and in the temple they would begin to wonder a little. "We musthurry," she said, and she broke a budded branch off a laesa bush, sothat later, when everything was strange, this bit of what she had beenwould be with her to surprise her. In strange places, but with thisman.
She turned to smile at him, for her heart was full of love, and shefelt that he was as much
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