by Speer, Flora
“This is what you saw from the beach,” Tarik said. “Look there, the trees are thin enough in that direction to see through them, but the underbrush is too thick for us to make our way through it. We came by the right path, the way the builders intended it should be approached. See how the stones are laid across the clearing. Their pattern leads directly to the door.”
“Is it a palace, or some kind of religious temple?” Narisa spoke in a half whisper, awed by the simple beauty of the building before them.
It was overrun with vines, and wild shrubs had grown up close to it, but it was obvious that it had been created by the finest workmanship, and even now the still-smooth white stone surface gleamed luminously where the sun touched it. There was a scroll-shaped ornament at the top of each simple column, but no other decoration on the building save the wooden doors.
Three wide low steps led up to the colonnade and to the doors. Tarik climbed them, Narisa close behind him. The two panels of the door were dark wood, carved with figures of men and women in gracefully draped robes, apparently all bringing offerings to the building. Tarik pushed on the doors. They were locked.
“Perhaps there is another entrance,” Narisa suggested.
Tarik had gone to his knees to examine the door more closely, and now he began to laugh.
“There may very well be another way in,” he said, “but I think I can open this one easily enough. I see you brought the tool kit.” He put out a hand, and Narisa gave him the kit. He riffled through the contents for a moment or two before finding what he wanted. He drew out a long, thin metal rod.
“This may do it,” he told Narisa, flourishing the rod before her. ‘The simplest means may be the most effective, precisely because intelligent people always expect important things to be complicated. If my suspicions are correct, this very simple lock has held for centuries. And with this equally simple instrument, I will now unlock it.”
He bent to the door, inserting the rod into a hole in the carving, which Narisa had not noticed before. He twisted and turned it, pulled the rod out and put it back in again, muttering a word Narisa would never have used. She was about to make a tart comment on his simple solution when there was a loud click from inside the door.
“Now,” Tarik said triumphantly, replacing the rod in the tool kit, “behold.” He pushed on the double doors where their two halves came together, and they swung open.
Narisa caught the scent of dry, imprisoned air, and of something else, something unpleasant that tugged at her memory until she recognized it. The smell of death. She stood hesitantly in the colonnade while Tarik threw the doors wide.
There was an anteroom with a smooth white stone floor and half columns carved out of the white stone walls. An ornate lamp of some discolored and corroded metal hung from the low ceiling. On the other side of the anteroom was another double door. Tarik strode toward it.
“Be careful,” Narisa said, hanging back outside the first door.
“I need the rod again. This door is locked, too.”
She stepped unwillingly into the anteroom and handed him the rod from the tool kit. It took him only a few seconds to open this one and push both panels back.
They walked into the central part of the building, a large circular room with a colonnade around its wall, exactly matching the columns outside. The dome high above them had a round window in its very top, and through it came brilliant light. The room was entirely white, the ceiling where the dome was set being decorated with a carved frieze. In the center of the room was a round console, on which a primitive computer-communicator stood with two chairs beside it.
At one side of the room, on a carved wooden couch, lay the source of the unpleasant smell. It was the skeleton of a human, dressed in a simple blue robe and low blue boots. Its hands were folded upon its chest. On one finger a gold ring with a triangular purple stone hung loosely. Tarik went to the figure.
“Was it man or woman?” Narisa whispered.
“I can’t tell. There is nothing left but bones and the clothing. Perhaps if we can get the computer working, there will be information in it. Before you start that,” Tarik said quickly, seeing Narisa take a purposeful step toward the console, “let’s explore the rest of this building.”
There were twelve rooms around the circumference of the main room, all opening off the inner colonnade. Beginning at the anteroom through which they had entered, they turned left and worked their way around the building. First they found six personal rooms with two couches in each, all in perfect order with coverlets drawn up on the beds and garments neatly folded in chests and drawers. There was a bathing room with a deep tub carved out of stone, basins for washing, and toilet facilities, but no water. When Tarik manipulated the knobs and levers, nothing happened. There was a room that plainly had been a kitchen, though neither of them could find any evidence of a heat source for cooking. Lastly, they found three rooms just like the personal rooms, but these had been used for storage. Preserved food filled one room. Some containers had been damaged, their contents crumbled to dust in the dry air, like the person in the main hall, but most of the food was still in tightly wrapped packets.
“This solves our most immediate problem,” Tarik declared. “Look, see this sign on the packets. That was used in early Jurisdiction days. It means the food has been irradiated and is good indefinitely, for centuries if it’s left unopened. It was developed for space flight.”
“What is it made of? Can you read the labels on the packets?” When he studied one package and shook his head, Narisa added, “We don’t know it’s safe for humans.”
‘Those are human bones out there.” Tarik inclined his head toward the central room.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, “he, or she, tried some of it. Perhaps that’s what killed him. Or her.”
“You may be right.” Tarik put the food packet down. “Still, I’m getting awfully hungry on compressed wafers. If I don’t find something more appetizing soon, I may begin sampling this.”
Having finished their exploration of all the rooms, they went back to the main hall to examine the computer-communicator.
“It’s very old,” Narisa said. “The power source may be dead. We’ll have to find a way to recharge it. I’m sure we could get a message out over this. We could be rescued, Tarik, and soon, too.”
Tarik had been opening doors and pulling out drawers around the console. The doors simply gave access to the interior of the computer itself, in case repairs were needed. The drawers held the usual supplies and additional equipment. One drawer was locked.
“Use the rod on this lock, too,” Narisa suggested.
“It’s the wrong kind of lock. It needs a triangular insertion.” Tarik stared at the lock a moment, then hurried across the room to the remains lying on the couch. He gently slid the ring off the skeleton’s finger and brought it to the console. The triangular purple stone in the gold ring fit the lock perfectly, and the drawer slid open. Narisa moved forward quickly.
“A key!” With eager fingers, she picked up the flat metal artifact lying in the bottom of the drawer. “I remember about these ancient computer-communicators now. I learned about them in training. You have to insert the key and turn it, and then push the right buttons, and the machinery should start working no matter how long it has been disconnected. I think I can remember some of the common combinations of buttons, too. I’ll try it.”
“No, you won’t.” He snatched the key out of her hand.
“Tarik, give that back to me. We have to call the Capital.”
“Not until I’ve read this.” He held up the other item the drawer had contained. “Is this the effect the Empty Sector has on you, to make you reckless? We don’t want any nasty surprises, Narisa. We are still unarmed, and we don’t know if anyone else is on this planet. If you start sending out messages, who knows what may happen, or whether those you contact will be friendly?”
He was holding a book, the kind of notebook scientists sometimes used before they w
ere ready to consign new and uncertain data to a computer’s memory banks. Narisa could see as he flipped through the pages that they were thickly covered with writing.
“We could get more information out of the computer, and much more quickly,” she said.
“No.” He held on to the key.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I have no reason not to,” he told her. “Your determination to do your duty to the Service is laudable. All the same, I will keep the key until we mutually decide to turn on the computer.”
“You don’t want to leave here,” she accused him.
He did not answer. He was looking at the book, tracing a line of writing with one finger.
“Since you are the linguistics expert, I hope it’s in a language you can decipher quickly,” she said acidly.
“I can. It’s quite simple, an earlier version of our own speech, in fact. Are you hungry?” He closed the book with a snap.
“Hungry? Tarik, don’t change the subject. I want to call the Capital!”
“Later. Let’s go get our uniforms off the beach. They should be dry by now. I suggest we hide the raft, too, and smooth over the sand. Let’s leave no trace of our arrival on this island. Then we’ll come back here, enjoy a midday feast of compressed wafers and water, and I’ll start translating the book. I’ll read it to you as I go along. Will that please you?”
“What should we do about him? Or her, whichever it is?” Narisa indicated the skeleton on the couch.
“We’ll know that after we’ve read the book.”
They did as Tarik wanted. While they had been in the building, the sky had grown cloudy. By the time they returned to the beach, the sky was black, and a fierce wind churned the surface of the lake into white-capped waves. Narisa retrieved their uniforms and boots while Tarik used the edge of the raft to smooth out the sand, eliminating their footprints. Then they ran through pelting rain, back to the building, Narisa carrying the clothing, and Tarik the raft.
The storm had raised a childhood memory in Narisa. She dumped her burden in the anteroom and went back outside to stand on the moss-covered stones and let the rain wash over her, rubbing her face and arms and shoulders. Tarik joined her, water dripping off his hair and rough beard.
“This is not wise,” he shouted at her above the noise of the storm. “I thought you were always sensible.”
“It feels wonderful,” she called back. “We used to do it all the time on Belta. It’s a rain-bath.”
There was a powerful clap of thunder, and the downpour increased. Tarik caught her arm.
“Inside,” he ordered.
When the thunder sounded again, she obeyed him. She ran laughing into the shelter of the colonnade, pausing there to watch him as he came up the steps to her.
“I haven’t done that since I was a little girl,” she said, lifting her sodden hair to twist it and wring out the water.
She was as wet as she had been when she walked out of the lake earlier, her thin undergarments plastered to her skin. Tarik was just as wet, and his manly torso shone with moisture. The single garment barely covered his stiffening manhood. Narisa pulled her eyes away and met his intensely focused glance. The hands she had lifted to her hair were stilled by that look. She stood waiting, the damp locks twined in her fingers.
He took two steps, closing the distance between them. His arms slid around her, and hers around him, until they were locked in a close embrace. He covered her mouth with his, and she could feel the length of his body, his hardness pushing against her. She gave herself up to his kiss, her lips opening to his searching tongue, her hands wandering across his shoulders and into his wet hair, while her lips returned the pressure of his. The rain beat down around them, heavier and heavier, and the kiss went on and on.
Narisa was lost in a sea of glorious sensation. Tarik’s near-nakedness against her own flesh was sweeter than she had ever imagined a man might be. She pressed closer, wanting every inch of her body to touch his, wanting to feel the warmth of him, and the sweetness. He responded by tightening his arms until she could hardly breathe. She reveled in the sudden unleashing of his need, and thrust her tongue against his repeatedly, feeling the moist heat of his inner mouth. He caressed her lower back, then moved lower still, pulling her nearer so his manhood rubbed against her. She could have screamed with the exquisite agony of that touch through two thin layers of wet clothing.
She wanted him. She wanted to offer to him that part of herself no one had ever possessed, and see in his eyes his joyful acceptance of the gift.
But he loves Suria, her better sense reminded her. Suria, not you. He would not value what you would give him.
She felt as though she had been tossed onto a cold, rocky shore after nearly drowning in rapture. She fought valiantly to recover her drugged senses. It took all her willpower and self-control, but she succeeded. She had begun to pull away from him before the sudden lightning flash and crack of thunder made him raise his head and loosen his arms.
“We had better get under cover,” he said, giving her a last quick kiss before pushing her gently toward the door.
She fled to the anteroom, picked up their uniforms and boots, and continued into the main room, while he closed both sets of doors. Here the sound of the storm was muffled into a distant murmur. Tarik came toward her across the white stone floor, and from the flaming desire in his purple-blue eyes she knew what he intended to do.
“Here.” She held out his uniform and boots with a hand that shook almost as much as her voice. “I’ll dress in one of the personal rooms. You choose another room and do the same.”
She did not wait to hear his reply or see his angry face. She was thoroughly unnerved by her own conflicting emotions. The only thing she was capable of doing just then was reverting to formal manners and treating him as she had on board ship. She ran into the first room she came to, swung the door shut and sank down on one of the beds, her damp uniform clutched against her chest.
She had never experienced anything like this. Her body had betrayed her mind. She wanted Tarik to come crashing through the door and pull her into his arms and tell her he wanted her and only her, and then take her until he had released the painful burning ache that still held her in its grip. But he did not come to her. There was complete silence on the other side of the door.
It took her a long time to pull herself together. When she could stand without trembling, she found a garment in one of the drawers, and dried herself with it, toweling her hair hard. There was a comb in another drawer, and she used it. Then she put on her uniform, and her professional demeanor with it, and went out to the round central room.
Tarik, fully dressed, sat in one of the two chairs by the computer-communicator console, reading the notebook he had found. The second chair had been pulled up to face him. Next to it on the console were one food wafer and the water container. Narisa slid into the chair. Tarik did not look up.
“Tarik,” she began, leaning toward him, not certain how to explain the way she felt, “I’m sorry.”
“Stow it,” he said harshly, and added a spaceman’s crude epithet to the ancient phrase. This was the cold-blooded first officer of the Reliance, who did not deign to look at her when he spoke to her. “My mistake. I misunderstood you. Again.” He went back to the book.
The silence between them deepened. Narisa looked at the food and water. If she tried to swallow, she would choke. She wanted Tarik to kiss her again, tenderly this time, and listen to her explanation. She wanted him to care about her, but he did not. He loved Suria. She sighed.
Tarik did look up at that, his eyebrows raised, and she believed what she saw in his face was contempt for her timidity in a matter that meant little to most people. She did not know another woman who would have refused him.
“I have begun to translate,” he said, his voice cool and businesslike. “I deciphered the date. This book was written not quite six hundred years ago.”
“Will you read what it says out loud?”
she asked.
He nodded, his gaze falling to the book again. Narisa settled back in her chair, relaxing a little, and Tarik began to read.
Chapter Five
“My name,” Tarik read, “is Dulan, though that hardly matters to the story I must tell. There were one hundred and two of us originally, eighty humans and the rest of mixed Races, all driven from our home planets in the Jurisdiction after all telepaths were banished. We were a difficult group, and sometimes quarrelsome, for our customs and needs were too diverse for easy friendship, but we were firmly united in one purpose - to find a place outside the Jurisdiction where we could live without fear.
“During the Time of Dread immediately following the Act of Banishment, when so many telepaths were being killed or hounded to the very edges of the galaxy and beyond, we. maintained contact with each other, and finally assembled at a chosen place on a neutral planet whose ruler turned a benign eye upon our presence. Her own mother had been a telepath. She herself lacked the Power, but for her late mother’s sake she would make no move against us, daring punishment by the Assembly if her kindness were discovered. From such acts of conscience is freedom born.
“Through means best not recorded here, we commandeered a spaceship large enough to accommodate all of us and our considerable belongings. There was not one soul who was not a telepath who dared to go with us on that perilous journey. Families were broken, and hearts, too, mine among them, for my lover deserted me.
“There was good cause for such trepidation on the part of those not actually banished. We had taken a vote and had agreed that the safest place for us to settle would be the Empty Sector. Jurisdiction ships were unlikely to pursue us into that forbidden part of the galaxy, though we knew we would be tracked until we reached it. When we disappeared, as we planned to do, we would leave debris and a last transmission pleading for help. The Empty Sector has such a bad reputation that we believed the Assembly would assume ours was one of the many ships mysteriously destroyed there, and would promptly forget about us. So far as I know, that is what happened.
