"I see," said Courane. He didn't have the faintest idea what Molly's story meant.
"The first man is going to regret his action one moment, and take pride in his detachment the next," said Molly. "The second man admits his own helplessness and depends on God's providence."
"I see," said Courane. He started to ask Molly a question about her meaning, but her expression stopped him. She was looking across the room, at a dim shadowed part of the opposite wall. She did not move. She was having a memory lapse, and was completely oblivious to him now.
"Rachel," murmured Courane.
"Sandy?" she said.
"I've got to go downstairs."
"It's all right. They won't miss us. Goldie will be up here soon."
"I want to wake up, Rachel," said Courane.
"Sorry," she said.
On the twentieth of August 124, fourteen people from the colony on Tau Ceti, Planet C, came to visit. There were seven women, five men, and two young children.
"Do they seem strange to you?" asked Courane.
Daan shrugged his shoulders. "Strange? I'll bet we look strange to them, too."
"No, that's not what I mean. Look at them. They're all very thin. Sort of starved looking, and very tall and angular."
"There's probably a reason for that," said Arthur.
Fletcher looked at him expectantly. "Well?" he asked at last.
Arthur was surprised. "I just said there's probably a reason. That doesn't mean I know what it is."
"They're tall," said Goldie. "And very narrow. And look at their hands! They're huge. And their wrists. And elbows. Their joints are peculiar."
"Maybe they're an odd family that was chosen to live under strange conditions on another planet," said Molly. "Probably. That's probably all it is."
"We ought to welcome them," said Daan, as they all watched the visitors walking toward them across the field.
"Uh huh," murmured Fletcher. No one moved.
When the Tau Ceti people got within a few yards of the house, they stopped and waited. "Go on, Daan," muttered Molly.
Daan went down the steps and walked toward the group of visitors. One of the tallest men extended a hand; Daan grasped it. "Welcome to Home," Daan said.
"Home," said the man. "That's what we call our world, too." He turned around to tell the others who had come with him. They laughed briefly, showing large white teeth. They seemed in a festive mood, considering their situation.
"Well," said Daan, "I guess we'll just make you comfortable now. It's about lunchtime here, but that doesn't mean it was afternoon when you folks left home."
"It was the middle of the night, to tell the truth," said the Tau Cetan.
"Right. Well, Arthur, Lani, Molly, and Kenny will help you with anything you need. We have rooms for you, but you'll have to double up."
"No problem," said the tall man. "My name is J. T. That there is my wife Edna, our boy J. T. Jr., she's holding. Next to her is Kwan, and Ali, and Bruno, and Flanna, and Emalia. The little girl Emalia's holding, that's Farica. This is Yoshio, Jens, and Juana, Akuba, and Tamara. We're glad to be here. You have a lovely planet." He looked up skeptically at the sky and around at the unsettling colors that marked the trees and plants near the house.
"We're sure you'll be comfortable," said Daan. "My name is Daan and this is—"
"Do you think we could get some rest now" asked one of the men—Courane had not caught his name in the rapid introduction.
Daan looked disappointed. "Yes, of course," he said lamely. He indicated the house with a quick wave, turned, and trusted that they would all follow him. He did not look back to see if he was right.
Later that day it developed that the Tau Cetans had brought with them a quantity of a substance that seemed like potato salad, and a container of some pale blue liquid. "What should we do with this stuff?" asked Arthur.
Kenny sniffed at the black potato salad and made a face. "I wouldn't eat this," he said.
"We'll smile politely and let them eat all of it," said Courane.
The table was too small, so the twenty-six people ate picnic-style in the yard. Courane sat with a young woman named Kwan. "Our world is a lot different," she said.
"In what ways?" asked Courane.
"It's prettier. It seems... fresher than here. Our sky is bright and clean. The insects aren't so aggressive. That is, most of the time they're not."
"Ah... Is that why you're here?"
"In a way," she said. "I don't really understand it very well. I didn't see anything wrong, but Ali says that's the way it is. If we stayed long enough to see it, we'd never live through it."
"Through what?"
Kwan just shrugged to indicate that she didn't have any notion at all. "Ali, explain about the plague to—Sandy? Is that your name?"
Courane nodded.
Ali, like the others, was very gaunt. His fingers seemed unnaturally long and thin, and the knuckles in comparison were like walnuts. His larynx protruded like a greedy gulp stuck halfway down, and his cheekbones rose massively over sunken hollows that shadowed his face. His eyes, deep and black, watched steadily whoever he addressed. His deathlike appearance made Courane shudder.
"Once every twelve years," said Ali with a trace of accent, "there is a pestilence on Planet C, our Home. A natural enemy of some sort, invisible for more than a decade, rises from the ground and takes to the air, spreading hunger and death. Consequently our colony must evacuate during these times and wait out the evil, then go back to our ruined Home and begin anew. Ours is a history of horror and courage." He seemed very proud and smug when he finished, as though the colonists from Tau Ceti had many special things to be satisfied about.
"How many of you have lived through this before?" asked Sheldon.
J. T. looked around at the others, then shrugged and shook his head.
"The longest any of us have been on the planet is about three years," said one of the women.
"Hmm," said Kenny.
"Try some of this sandsquash," said Arthur. He was upset that so much talking was going on and so little eating.
"We've heard about the past plagues, though," said Ali.
Kenny ate some smudgeon. "Where?" he asked casually.
"From TECT, of course," said J. T.
Kenny only smiled more broadly.
"Well, I for one would like to thank you all for your hospitality," said one of the Tau Cetan men. "We know how disturbing this is in the middle of the summer, for farming folk like you. We're much the same way, so we can appreciate what we're putting you through."
Arthur waved a hand. "Not at all. Maybe you can do the same for us someday."
"Sure," said Edna. "We'd be happy to."
"Try some pivo," said Kwan, pouring some of the pale blue beer for Courane.
Kenny put his hand on Courane's arm. "I wouldn't drink that, Sandy," he said.
Courane tasted just a little with the tip of his tongue. He winced. "My God, is that stuff bitter," he said.
J. T. raised his cup. "We like it," he said. He drank it all down.
"Would you like some of the salad we brought with us?" asked one of the other women.
"No, thanks very much," said Fletcher.
"Another time," said Courane. "I've had plenty to eat."
The two men looked at each other. Fletcher raised an eyebrow. Not that there could be anything unwholesome about the food from Tau Ceti, but Courane was getting a bad feeling from those people. He didn't know what it meant, but evidently Fletcher was picking it up as well.
"So," said Molly, "how long do you think you'll be with us?"
"Not long," said J. T. "A few days, a couple of weeks. A month at the most. TECT will call us back."
A month. Courane saw Kenny form the words silently with his lips, shaking his head. Then the boy laughed at his private joke.
The sky was almost clear of clouds, and the sun was bright and warm. A bird's sharp cry broke through Courane's thoughts, and he realized with a moment of pani
c that he would have to drop his burden or fall. He was stumbling down a grassy hill, and he was afraid that he was about to have a crippling accident. He dropped the woman's body, but fell anyway. He rolled painfully to the bottom and lay where he came to rest, breathing heavily and trying to understand what had happened to him. He lifted a hand and touched his face; he didn't find blood. His knees and arms were scraped bloody and throbbing. He had hit his head on a rock, and his skull seemed to vibrate with concentric rings of pain. He waited with his eyes closed until everything seemed to be settled and at peace again.
When he opened his eyes he saw, in a nearby patch of delicate white flowers, a small rust-colored animal watching him. It was about the size of a squirrel, with a thin whip of a tail that lashed frantically as it stared fearfully at Courane. It squeaked and made Courane smile. After a moment, it turned and dashed through the flowers, disappearing in an instant. Courane sat up and rubbed his head. The young woman's body was not far away. He would stand soon, walk over and pick up the corpse again, continue the journey. Not just yet.
The sun seemed to draw up his pain and weariness, just as it pulled the dew and the morning mist into the sky. Despite his new wounds, Courane felt better than he had in many days. He tried to think back, to recall how D fever had tortured him as the illness progressed. The unbearable headaches, the agony in his arms and legs, the great hunger and the desperate thirst, the fever and the chills, his body's occasional refusal merely to work correctly: These things had obstructed him on his self-appointed mission, but nothing had defeated him. He had won out over his own body's sabotage, as well as the unearthly desert. Now, though—
Courane's eyes opened wider. Now, though, he had passed through the hills. His tumble had brought him to the bottom of the last low barrier. Before him stretched a flat plain covered with purplish-red grass. Not far away, invisible to him now, were the road, the river, and beyond it, the house. He might make it, after all.
The corpse bore little resemblance to the beautiful young woman it had been. Courane sat down beside it. "I can give up Earth," he thought. "I can give up success and happiness, wealth and fame, and all of that. It's easy because I've never had them. I can give up the house here, the work, the life on the farm. But giving up friends is hard." He remembered when he was a boy, his parents had had such hope for him, such plans. He had suffered their gradual realization that he was not in any way special. He had observed his own slow decline and he knew better than anyone how little faith and confidence he inspired in others. But he did not pity himself. That was his greatest strength—that he no longer pitied himself.
It was simpler now. D syndrome washed his memories clean and hid his humiliations from him. He was a purer, nobler, more admirable person now, refined by the fires of the disease. He had been bitter at one time. He had hated the thought of being helpless, of watching people he loved die, of dying himself. He tried to threaten and he tried to bargain, but all of that was done with.
"Come along, honey," he murmured. He lifted the corpse again and started across the plain. "We'll be home soon, if I can find the road." In a moment, his thoughts fell silent once again, and he passed through the rustling grasses like a dull-witted animal.
Eleven
Sheldon was supposed to be leading the group therapy session, but he was having too much pain. He was resting in his room. TECT wanted to wait until Sheldon felt better, but it was an hour before dawn and if they waited much longer, the session would interfere with the winter morning's chores. The animals wouldn't wait patiently while TECT examined their fears and anxieties. "Choose a temporary leader," TECT instructed, and so they chose Arthur. "That ninny," scoffed TECT.
They sat in the tect room, yawning and resentful. Fletcher had said once that the therapy sessions were more like subtle methods for breaking their will than for easing tensions. "Chinese fire drills," Rachel had called them. Now they were gathered in a semicircle around the tect, wishing they could get another hour of sleep instead. Arthur identified himself to the tect. "Where should we begin?" he asked.
**MOSSBAUER, Arthur:
Let’s take up where we left off last time**
Authur waited, but TECT had no more information than that. "That was three months ago," he said. "Where did we leave off?"
**MOSSBAUER, Arthur:
Gaps in your memory, MOSSBAUER, Arthur? People are like snowflakes, so fragile that if you turn your attention elsewhere for a moment, they melt away before your eyes. Have you noticed any of the specific warning signs of D fever? Perhaps you can catch it in an early stage and it won't do to you what it does to everybody else. Maybe you'll be the lucky one. Still, TECT in the name of the Representative feels that possibly you are not the proper person to lead this group today**
Arthur grew red in the face, but he controlled his anger. "You made that clear before," he said in a tight voice. "Why don't we just try it out for a while? I haven't shown any signs of the disease yet. You might be pleasantly surprised. Later on, if you think I'm doing a lousy job, you can appoint someone else."
**MOSSBAUER, Arthur:
TECT in the name of the Representative didn't intend for you to get upset. Shortness of temper may be another symptom of the syndrome. You might mark that down somewhere. It may be a valuable new fact, a new weapon against this dread killer**
"Are you ill, Arthur?" asked Goldie with great concern. "Have you caught the sickness?"
"No," he said.
Goldie turned to Daan. "I didn't know he was sick," she said. "Poor man."
"It's doing it again," said Fletcher. "In an hour, every one of us will be more afraid and upset than before. This TECT is going to whip us around until we won't be able to stand each other."
**BELL, Fletcher:
Has your face ever been held up as an object for loathing and disgust? No, of course not. Just be sure that you know there are worse things than living a happy and self-sufficient life on a beautiful and uncrowded world. Be careful. You could kiss the easy time on Planet D good-bye**
Fletcher didn't say anything. Everyone waited. There was an unpleasant silence that stretched on and on.
**MOSSBAUER, Arthur:
Well?**
"Well, what?" Asked Arthur.
**MOSSBAUER, Arthur:
Get on with it**
"Where were we last time?" asked Arthur. "Does anybody remember?"
"I was telling about my dream," said Goldie uncertainly.
**SISKA, Goldie:
Very good. Can you continue with your thoughts about that dream?**
Goldie looked around helplessly. "I don't know," she said. "That was weeks ago. I don't recall the dream very well. All I remember are the bones."
**SISKA, Goldie:
That's fine, dear. We can start with that. Bones, you say? Interesting, very interesting. And how did the bones make you feel?**
"Awful," she said, flustered. "I don't really remember, like I say, but I do remember sitting down and there were all these bones. A skull. I can see the skull as plain as anything."
**COURANE, Sandor:
Why don't you try to interpret for SISKA, Goldie, the deeper and more repellent significance of the skull? It will be good practice for you, and give you valuable insights into the workings of your own sick mind**
Courane felt cold. "To me," he said slowly, "the skull represents the essence of some person. Goldie was dreaming about someone, I don't know who, and she was concerned with that person's true inner self."
**COURANE, Sandor:
Is that ever cheap. TECT in the name of the Representative has rarely been treated to such drivel. Be hard on her. That's what this is for, what it's all about. Don't let her get away so easily. It's for her own good, for your own good, too. You have to prepare yourself, to train yourself to dig for the truth, to hurt others and wound yourself if necessary. You must learn everything you can and spare no one. Failure to do so will be considered Flagrant Contempt of TECTWish**
"I can't figure it," w
hispered Courane to Kenny. "What is it talking about?"
Kenny leaned nearer. "Daan will know" he said softly. "Later today, ask Daan about it." And then the boy winked slowly.
Oh, boy, thought Courane, that's just what I need. Intrigue. As if just being here wasn't bad enough.
The sky was covered with dark clouds and the wind smelled of rain. Courane and Rachel were sitting on a blanket in the middle of a field of soufmelon. They were having a quiet lunch away from the others. Courane didn't want them to see how anxious and afraid he was. Sometimes that was just too difficult, and on those days he kept away from everyone but Rachel. She understood. She was very good at calming his fear.
"Some more beer?" she asked. She gave him a chunk of black deadrye bread to go with it.
"Thanks," said Courane. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," she said. "I had a bad day yesterday. Nneka had to take over all my work. I wasn't good for anything. They just leaned me against a wall and walked around me."
"I have days like that, too. When I come out of it, it takes me hours to find out where I am and what's happened. I hate it. It's like when your foot falls asleep, except it happens from the neck up."
Rachel nodded. She looked up at the sky. "I thought I felt a drop—"
A Thousand Deaths Page 21
