"Plea," eh? Somehow TECT in the name of the Representative cannot picture HRINIAK, Klára, begging on her knees. How do you people put up with her? Never mind. TECT in the name of the Representative will have your—that is, her—decision in a matter of seconds. Please stand by**
"Mrs. Hriniak," said Courane, "TECT says it will have your decision—"
"I know, you fool, I can read as well as you can."
They waited in silence. Courane tapped his foot, wishing that he were elsewhere, almost any elsewhere. Klára just stared malevolently at the tect's console, daring it to defy her.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Here's the verdict. Yes and no. No, HRINIAK, Klára, can't have her property and furniture. It would be outrageously expensive to get all that junk to Planet D by teletrans.
**COURANE, Sandor:
On the other matter, HRINIAK, János, is not able to travel to Planet D to join her. He is currently in a hospital in Békés undergoing treatment for acute alcoholism. He will be unable to travel for an indeterminate period**
"Ha!" cried Klára with smug satisfaction. "I always knew without me he'd end up in the gutter."
**COURANE, Sandor:
To relieve the pain of these disappointments just a little, TECT in the name of the Representative is happy to announce that HRINIAK, Klára, may look forward soon to the company of her lovely thirty-one-year-old daughter, Zsuzsi. Zsuzsi is five feet six inches tall, weighs one hundred sixty pounds, has blonde hair and blue eyes and a friendly, outgoing personality. Unmarried and fun-loving, Zsuzsi works as a sentiment-composer for a prestigious line of greeting cards. She likes cabbage, radishes, and sausage, and in her spare time she enjoys participating in extinct folk dances while wearing flamboyant clothing she pretends is similar to that worn by her ancestors on festive occasions.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Please inform HRINIAK, Klára, that her daughter will be subceived to Planet D following the death of STANEK, Molly, which TECT in the name of the Representative estimates to take place 17 February, 8 YT, at 12:00:00 (10 Tomuary, 125, at 26:16:52). TECT is happy to reunite mother and daughter according to their wishes, and hopes that HRINIAK, Zsuzsi, will be a source of strength and comfort to her mother, while HRINIAK, Klára, will introduce the young woman to the hearty life of work and fellowship available on Planet D. Failure to comply with these suggestions will be considered Contempt of TECTWish.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Understanding of the above to be indicated.
**COURANE, Sandor:
Affirm?**
He looked at Klára. She nodded. Courane didn't believe she really understood all the implications. She had, in effect, just ordered her own daughter's execution. He said, "Yes," in reply to TECT's question.
**COURANE, Sandor:
HRINIAK, Zsuzsi, is a very nice young woman, COURANE, Sandor. You could do worse for yourself. She would make you a pleasant companion through the long, cold nights of the Planet D winter**
"What a foul thing to suggest," said Klára. She glanced at Courane. "You'd better not even come near—"
"Don't worry," said Courane, "I have enough troubles." He didn't think it necessary to mention that by TECT's own estimate he wouldn't even live to see the next winter.
The groon bulbs had been dug up, the deadrye had been harvested, the fishfruit picked, soufmelon plucked from their vines, the leverfrukt carefully collected, the ick smears scraped up, the ferroberries gathered from their thorny nests, the sandsquash pried from clefts along the riverbank, the schwartzreis culled, the dantella greens cut, the smudgeon "eggs" captured, and the fengsell0ks (those pale blue and pink vegetables whose name meant "prison onions" and which Kenny insisted on calling "deathballs") were snapped from their stalks and pickled. Everyone in the community was busy bringing in the crops, butchering animals and preserving the meat, storing up silage for the winter, and getting the house ready to withstand the fierce assault of the winter months.
This would be Courane's first winter on Home, and Alohilani had warned him that it would be long and dreary. When he and Sheldon, Fletcher, and Daan came in from the hard day's work, they collapsed in the parlor, able only to stare at each other. Their faces were grimy, and shiny with sweat. They breathed heavily, aching in back and arm and leg muscles. Arthur and Alohilani were taking care of the endless work in the house, cleaning, washing, canning the fruit and vegetables, preparing the meals. Molly and Kenny tended the animals in the barn and pasture. Goldie kept watch in the infirmary. There was too much for everyone to do and, even with a twenty-seven-hour day and a thirty-five-day month, not enough time to do it in.
They were often too tired to engage in their usual pastimes and entertainments. Courane hadn't played chess with Arthur since the fall harvest began. Sometimes he sat in the den at the tect, staring at a game he had programmed. The computer was simpler to play with than a person because TECT didn't require any conversation or social interaction at all. On these occasions, Courane was grateful for that.
One evening, while losing to TECT in a game of two-handed pinochle, the red ADVISE light went on. Courane interrupted his game—with little regret; Courane was a poor loser—and answered the call. As it happened, the message was for him.
Hello. May I speak to Sandor Courane, please?
"This is Sandor Courane."
Hi, hi. This is Else again. You remember me, don't you? Else Wisswede? How are you? Did you miss me?
"I'm fine, Else. I've been working very hard trying to get all the firewood gathered before the snow makes it impossible."
Snow? What do you mean? It's only October.
"It's October where you are, Else. It's Vitelli here. That's winter."
Oh, like in Australia. Anyway, Sandy, I've been thinking about you quite a bit. My mother says I should stop, that it isn't healthy. And my new boyfriend (I haven't told you about him yet. His name is Gunter.) is actually getting jealous! I think that's sweet. But I have been thinking about you a lot. I think it's awful that you have to be there. You don't have much fun there, huh? You don't really have a place where you can go and sort of hang out either, do you? What do you do when you're not working? Do you have a hobby? If you have a hobby you can tell me about it and I can write an article for the U. of J. HEADHUNTER. The last time I talked with you, I realize I went on and on about my problem (you remember, about Hans and Anna), but now I see that it wasn't really a problem at all. Isn't that funny? Hans never cared for me as a person, not really, and what kind of friend could Anna have been if she acted that way without even letting me explain the situation or anything? You really find out who your true friends are sometimes. And since then Gunter has been so sweet that I stopped thinking about my own so-called problem and started thinking about you stuck way out there wherever you are. I wish you could visit me. I dream about you sometimes even though I don't know anything about you really except that you are a savage brute with a twisted mind. You don't hear the new songs or see the new shows. Do you have a girlfriend there? If not, I could be your girlfriend even though we are thousands of miles apart.
Courane stared at her message for a while, wondering how to attack the necessity of making a reply.
Hello? Are you still there? What's wrong?
Courane shrugged. "Sorry" he typed, "but there is a long time delay because our planets are so far apart." He didn't think she'd appreciate the absurdity of his remark. "Else, you don't have to feel sorry for me here, even though it's true that I don't hear all the new songs. The work around the farm is hard, but it's satisfying. I enjoy it, to tell you the truth. I have many good, new friends here, more actually than I had on Earth. I do have a girlfriend here, a Pacifican girl. I think you and she would be great friends. She is very ill right now."
She must be a nice girl, I suppose. I hope she treats you right. Is she as pretty as I am?
Courane was tempted to tell Else that one of Planet D's moons was just now crashing to the ground, or that a giant bat had carried off the
professor's daughter, or that an invasion of mechanical men was clanking its way toward their stronghold, or anything at all to end the conversation. Instead, he said, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. You and she aren't even in the same league."
Still, she's probably nice enough. I'm sorry I can't be there to comfort you. Gunter says I'm a very good comforter. I am actually learning to enjoy it. Maybe when you come back to Earth...
"Sure, Else. I have to go now. There's a huge chasm opening up in the barnyard and if I don't run, all of our food for the winter will fall down into the molten core of the planet."
Quick, before you go, Sandy, please answer me one question. What does a man really think of a girl who can keep up with his drinking?
Courane groaned. "My mother always used to say that a man will be amused by a girl like that, that she'll be the life of a group outing or a party, but that a man doesn't think that type of a girl is the kind of person he'd want to make his wife. It proves to him that she is the kind of girl who likes to show off. It's no achievement to become this kind of girl and it will only decrease her popularity in the end."
Sometimes you sound like my father. How old did you say you were? Never mind. The reason I asked, I have this girlfriend who likes to go drinking with the boys. But I'll let her know what you said. Thanks. Well, got to run. Blue skies, sweetie.
"It was nice talking with you again, Else. Take care of yourself." When he switched back to the card game, he had to stifle a cry of exasperation. It would be a while before he could clear his mind of the glutinous traces of Else Wisswede.
Courane called a meeting. The community had grown smaller since the last one: Molly had gone upstairs and Daan would follow soon. "I suppose you all know why we re here," said Courane, searching for a way to begin.
"We're here because TECT sent us here," said Goldie.
"Yes, but what I meant was why we're here in the parlor."
"So TECT can't overhear us," said Fletcher.
Courane nodded. That wasn't what he was trying to get at either, so he decided to take another approach. "We're forced to live here together, so the most important thing is that we do so without quarrels and bitterness and mistrust. Recently I learned that one of us has been acting as an information-gathering agent for TECT."
Fletcher reacted violently. "Who is the bastard?" he said. "I'll make sure he never informs on anyone ever again. He can go right from this house into the ground without having to pass through the infirmary."
"Hold it, Fletcher," said Courane. "I'm sure that this person didn't understand the truth of the situation here." He didn't go into more detail because Rachel, Klara, and Goldie were still unaware of the truth. "I'm also positive that his informing days are over."
"I'd still like to know who it was," Fletcher muttered. He looked suspiciously around the room.
"It was me," said Arthur.
"How about that," said Fletcher. "Moleman himself."
"It just emphasizes what I said about trusting one another. We shouldn't be at odds with each other. We have a common enemy: TECT. But TECT is smart enough to keep us off-balance and disorganized. That way we can't get together long enough to fight it."
"You shouldn't say that TECT is our enemy," said Goldie. "That's a bad thing to say."
"Organized or not, we can't fight TECT," said Arthur.
"Oh, we can fight TECT all right," said Klára hopelessly. "Maybe we just can't beat TECT."
"Wait a minute," said Courane. "You're giving up already."
"Well, what do you want to do first?" asked Arthur.
Courane didn't exactly know. "We have to work this out together. We have to pool our experience and our ideas. We know that we can communicate with people on Earth on a limited basis. We should try to devise a way of letting them know of our real trouble here. We have to get information to them somehow without TECT realizing it."
"TECT thinks you're a clown," said Arthur timidly.
Courane closed his eyes as if in pain. "Then it won't suspect anything devious from me, will it?"
"No," said Fletcher, "and until I hear differently, Cap, neither do I."
"Give him a chance," said Rachel.
The meeting was getting out of control. Courane decided that it was time to act like a leader and delegate responsibility. "Fletcher," he said, "I want you to pick a couple of people and try to come up with some ways we might pass information to people on Earth. Kenny, you and Arthur devise some clever means of getting TECT to grant our requests. Arthur might be able to write a pocket program through our tect."
"It will take a lot of experimenting," said Arthur.
"Then do it," said Courane. "Let me know how it turns out. The rest of you can help by remembering and writing down every instance you can recall of TECT allowing some favor, either in your own experience or in someone else's. We need to know under what circumstances TECT is likely to agree."
"What if there isn't any kind of regular pattern?" asked Nneka. "What if it's just a matter of whim?"
"Machines don't have whims," said Fletcher.
"I wouldn't be so sure about TECT," said Arthur.
"It doesn't make any difference," said Goldie. "I'm not having anything to do with any of this. It's like a treacherous uprising."
Everyone was quiet for a moment. "Exactly," said Klára at last.
The storm began in the morning, a spring storm, a sudden and blinding storm with gale winds and rain falling so heavily that it threatened to flay the skin of unprotected victims. It rained so hard that no one could run from the house to the barn, and so everyone stayed in the house and watched. Puddles formed in the yard. The puddles grew into small pools, and then rivulets connected them and they grew still more until the entire yard was flooded. The house was surrounded by rising yellow water beaten and churned by the ferocity of the storm. The morning passed and the afternoon was as dark as midnight. Thunder cracked incessantly and lightning flashed like the deadly flares of a distant battle. When dinnertime came, the storm hadn't weakened a bit. The roar of the wind was like the unending moans of a tortured giant. The evening turned to night and the colonists went to sleep, agitated by the continuous drumming of the slashing rain.
In the morning, they awoke to find that nothing had changed. Lightning, thunder, wind, and rain had not even slowed. The farmyard was a lake with an outlet that ran across the fields and down to the river. Courane was getting very edgy; he began to feel trapped in the house. He tried to distract himself at the tect, but the knowledge that he was trying to ignore the storm only made it that much more evident.
After lunch on the second day, it looked like it was beginning to let up just a little. Rachel said that she had to look in on the animals; Courane said he'd go with her. The blerds in the pasture were probably all right: they had lived with the storms of Planet D for countless millennia. But Rachel was concerned that some of the beasts in the barn might have drowned if the water had risen too high. She had a worried mental picture of dozens of lifeless animals, varks and icks and smudgeons, all trapped and killed by the flood water.
They ran from the house across the yard to the barn. The rain, even though it was falling slower now, stung their skin until their faces were flushed red. They were relieved to see that the animals in the barn were safe and well. The water hadn't risen very high inside; most of it had drained away and down to the river. The damp enclosed smell of the barn was choking, however, and Courane would have liked to have been back in the house. He didn't look forward to running out into the rain though, so he and Rachel waited for the storm to slacken even more.
After a while, Rachel got a thoughtful look on her face. It took Courane a few moments to notice. "What's wrong, Rachel?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Do you hear anything?" she said.
Courane concentrated. "No. What do you hear? The blerds?"
"No, nothing like that. I thought I heard—"
Then Courane heard it, too. It was unmistakably a cry, a
human voice. "Where is that coming from?"
"I can't tell," she said. "I can't judge the direction in this storm."
"There's somebody out there." Courane stepped out into the downpour. In a few seconds he jumped back into the barn. "I heard even less out there, with the rain pounding on me."
"I think it's coming from the deadrye field," she said. "Do you want to go take a look?"
"No, I don't want to, but I think we have to anyway." Reluctantly the two ran through the muck and standing water. When they got to the field they saw a man lying in the mud, barely able to hold his head above the shallow water.
"Who's that?" asked Rachel.
"I don't know," said Courane. "A new recruit, I'll bet."
"I wonder how long he's been there."
"I'm afraid to guess." Together they helped the man up to his feet and back to the house. His face was swollen and bloody and he was in a dazed, semiconscious state. He was cold, wet, and matted with twigs and mud. They took him up to the infirmary. Nneka was tending the sick now that Goldie herself occupied one of the beds. The month was Domiti, and Goldie had begun to suffer so greatly from the worsening symptoms of D syndrome that she could no longer adequately care for Molly, Kenny, and Daan.
"Someone new?" asked Nneka. She looked at the man with pity, and directed Rachel and Courane to put him gently into an empty bed.
"Yes," said Rachel. "We found him in one of the fields. We don't know how long he's been here, exposed to that storm."
"Help me get his clothes off," said Nneka. "I'll take care of him. He'll be all right in a little while."
The man murmured something that Courane couldn't hear. "He seems to be conscious," said Rachel.
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