Earthfall (Homecoming)

by Orson Scott Card

  But it was different. There was a clear moral difference and if she thought hard enough she would be able to explain it and then everybody would understand that the voyage school was a perfectly decent thing to do, while holding the twins as hostages was an unspeakable atrocity. She would think of it any minute now.

  Then a completely different thought came to her. Oykib had given her the Index. He had assumed that Dza would lead the other children to safety, but when it came time to hide the Index of the Oversoul, instead of doing it himself he had entrusted it to Chveya. And he hadn’t told her where to hide it, either.

  Everyone was gathered in the library. It was the only room large enough to hold them all, since it was a large open room using almost the whole girth of the ship. There were babies crying and little children looking puzzled and afraid. Chveya knew all the little children, of course. They were unchanged, gathered around their mothers. Kokor, Sevet, Dol. And Elemak’s wife, Eiadh. She wasn’t holding her own youngest, though, not Zhivya. No, Aunt Eiadh was holding one of the twins, Spel.

  And Elemak, standing at one edge of the library, was holding Serp.

  I will never forgive either of you, Chveya said silently. I may not be able to sort out the moral theory of it, but those are my brothers you’re holding, using the threat of harming them to get your own way.

  “Chveya,” said Luet, seeing her.

  “Shut up,” said Elemak. “Come here,” he said to Chveya.

  She walked toward him, stopped a good many paces away.

  “Look at you,” said Elemak, contemptuously angry.

  “Look at you,” said Chveya. “Threatening a baby. Your children must be proud of their brave daddy.”

  A hot rage swept over Elemak, and she saw his connection to her take on an almost negative force. For a moment he wanted her dead.

  But he did nothing, said nothing until he had calmed himself a little.

  “I want the Index,” said Elemak. “Oykib says he gave it to you.”

  Chveya whirled on Oykib, who looked back at her impassively. “It’s all right,” Oykib said. “Your father was the one who wanted it hidden. Now the Oversoul is telling him to give the Index to Elemak.”

  “Where’s Father?” asked Chveya. “Who are you to speak for him?”

  “Your father is safe,” said Elemak. “You’d better listen to your big uncle Oykib.”

  “Believe me,” said Oykib. “You can tell him. The Oversoul says it’s all right.”

  “How can you possibly know what the Oversoul says?” demanded Chveya.

  “Why shouldn’t he?” Elemak said snidely. “Everybody else does. This room is full of people who love to tell other people what the Oversoul wants them to do.”

  “When I hear it from Father’s mouth, I’ll tell you where the Index is.”

  “It has to be in the centrifuge,” said Vas, “if she’s the one who hid it.”

  Oykib’s eyes grew wide. “There’s no place to hide it in there.”

  Elemak snapped at Mebbekew and Obring. “Go and find it,” he said.

  Obring got up at once, but Mebbekew was deliberately slow. Chveya could see that his loyalty to Elemak was weak. But then, his loyalty to everybody was weak.

  “Just tell them, Veya,” said Oykib. “It’s all right, I mean it.”

  I don’t care whether you mean it or not, said Chveya silently. I didn’t risk my life to hide it, only to have a traitor like you talk me into giving it back to them.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Oykib. “The only power the Index has is to enable you to talk to the Oversoul. Do you think the Oversoul is going to have anything to say to a man like that?” His voice was thick with scorn as he gestured at Elemak.

  Elemak smiled, walked to Oykib, and then with one hand lifted him out of his chair and threw him up against the wall. It knocked the breath out of Oykib, and he slumped, holding his head where it had banged against the cabinets. “You may be tall,” said Elemak, “and you may be full of proud words, but you’ve got nothing to back it up, boy. Did Nafai really think I’d ever be afraid of a ‘man’ like you?”

  “You can tell him, Chveya,” Oykib said, not answering Elemak at all. “He can beat up on children, but he can’t control the Oversoul.”

  It seemed to be just a flick of Elemak’s hand, but the result was Oykib’s head striking the cabinets again with such force that he fell to the floor.

  Chveya saw the great, bright strands of loyalty connecting Oykib to her. It had never been like this before. And she realized that he was undergoing this beating at Elemak’s hands solely to convince her that he was not a traitor, that what he was saying was true. She could give the Index to Elemak.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even if Oykib was right and the Index would be useless, Uncle Elemak didn’t seem to think so. He wanted it. She might be able to get some leverage out of that.

  However, she couldn’t very well let Oykib take any more abuse if she could help it. “I’ll tell you where it is,” said Chveya.

  Obring and Meb were poised at the ladderway in the center of the library.

  “When you let me see that Father is all right,” Chveya added.

  “I’ve already told you that he’s all right,” said Elemak.

  “You’re also holding a baby to make sure you get your way,” said Chveya. “That proves you’re a decent person who would never tell a lie.”

  Elemak’s face flushed. “We’ve grown up with a mouth, have we? Nafai’s influence over these children is such a wonderful thing.” As he spoke, though, he walked to where Mother sat silently with her other children. He handed Serp to her. “I don’t threaten babies,” said Elemak.

  “You mean now that you already got Father to surrender to you,” said Chveya.

  “Where is the Index?” said Elemak.

  “Where is my father?” asked Chveya.

  “Safe.”

  “So is the Index.”

  Elemak strode to her, towered over her. “Are you trying to bargain with me, little girl?”

  “Yes,” said Chveya.

  “As Oykib said, the Index is useless to me,” said Elemak with a grin.

  “Fine,” said Chveya.

  He leaned down, cupped his hand behind her head, whispered in her ear. “Veya, I will do whatever it takes to get my way.”

  As soon as he pulled away from her, she said loudly, “He said, ‘Veya, I will do whatever it takes to get my way.’”

  The others murmured. Perhaps at her audacity in repeating aloud what he had whispered to her. Perhaps at Elemak’s threat. It didn’t matter—the network of relationships was shifting. Elemak’s hold on his friends was a little weaker. Fear and dread still bound all the others to him, of course; his mistreatment of Oykib had strengthened Elemak’s control. But Chveya’s boldness and his blustering against her had weakened the loyalty of those who were following him willingly.

  He seemed to sense this—he had been a strong leader of men, taking caravans through dangerous country, and he knew when he was losing ground even if he didn’t have Chveya’s and Hushidh’s gift of seeing ties of loyalty and obedience, love and fear. So he changed tactics. “Try all you like, Veya,” he said, “but you can’t make me the villain of this little scene. It was your father and those who conspired with him who betrayed the rest of us. It was your father who lied when he promised to waken us in mid-voyage. It was your father who cheated our children out of their birthright. Look at them.” He waved his hand to indicate the four-year-olds, the five-year-olds, the eight-year-olds who were still trying to reconcile these tall adolescents with the children of their own age whom they remembered seeing only hours before, when they were put to sleep together before the launch. “Who is it who mistreated children? Who is it who exploited them? Not me.”

  Chveya could see that Elemak was winning sympathy again. “Then why is your wife still holding Spel?” asked Chveya.

  Eiadh leapt to her feet and spat out her answer. “I don’t hold babi
es prisoner, you nasty little brat! He was crying and I comforted him.”

  “Maybe his own mother might have done it better,” said Chveya. “Maybe your husband doesn’t want you to give Spel back to Mother.”

  Eiadh’s immediate glance at Elemak and his irritated gesture proved Chveya’s point for her. Eiadh sullenly carried Spel to Luet, who took him and sat him on her other knee. In all this time, however, Luet had said nothing. Why is Mother silent? Chveya wondered. Why have these adults left it to me and Oykib to do all the talking?

 

  The thought came into her mind with such clarity that she knew it came from the Oversoul. She also understood the Oversoul’s meaning at once. Because the adults have little children, they’re afraid of what Elemak might do to them. Only adolescents like Oykib and me are free to be brave, because we don’t have any children to protect.

 

  So if you can talk to me, and it’s all right for me to give the Index to Elemak, why not say so?

  But there was no answer.

  Chveya didn’t understand what the Oversoul was doing. Why she was telling Oykib one thing while not confirming it to her, not telling her anything she needed to know. The Oversoul could pipe up and explain why the grownups weren’t saying anything, but she didn’t have any helpful advice about what Chveya should actually do.

  Maybe that meant that what she was already doing was fine.

 

  “Take me to see Father,” said Chveya. “When I see that he’s unharmed, I’ll give you the Index.”

  “The ship is not that large,” said Elemak. “I can find it without you.”

  “You can try,” said Chveya. “But the very fact that you’re so reluctant to let me see my father proves that you’ve hurt him and you don’t dare let these people know what a violent, terrible, evil person you are.”

  She thought then, for a few moments, that he might hit her. But that was just an expression that flickered in his eyes; his hands never moved; he didn’t even lean toward her.

  “You don’t know me,” said Elemak quietly. “You were just a child when we last met. It’s quite possible that I’m exactly what you say. But if I were really that terrible, evil, and violent, why aren’t you bruised and bleeding?”

  “Because you won’t make any points with your toadies if you slap a girl around,” said Chveya coldly. “The way you treated Oykib shows what you are. The fact that you aren’t treating me the same just proves that you’re still not sure you’re in control.”

  Chveya would never have dared to say these things, except that she could see with every word, with every sentence, that she was weakening Elemak’s position. Of course, she was bright enough to know that this was dangerous, that as he became aware of his slackening control he might behave more rashly, more dangerously. But it was the only thing she could think of doing. It was the only way of asserting some kind of control over the situation.

  “But of course I’m not in control,” said Elemak calmly. “I never thought I was. Your father is the only one who wants to control people. I have to keep him restrained because if I don’t, he’ll use that cloak thing to brutalize people into doing what he wants. All I’m looking for is simple fairness. For instance, all of you overgrown children can go to sleep for the rest of the voyage while our children get a chance to catch up halfway, at least. Is that such a terrible, evil, violent thing for me to want?”

  He was very, very good at this, Chveya realized. With just a few words, he could rebuild all that she had torn down. “Good,” she said. “You’re a sweet, reasonable, decent man. Therefore you’ll let me and Oykib and Mother all go and see Father.”

  “Maybe. Once I have the Index.”

  For a moment Chveya thought that he had given in. That she had only to tell where the Index was, and he would let her see Father. But then Oykib interrupted.

  “Are you going to believe this liar?” demanded Oykib. “He talks about Nafai brutalizing people with the cloak—but what he doesn’t want anybody to remember is that he and Meb were planning to murder Nafai. That’s what he is, a murderer. He even betrayed our father back in Basilica. He set Father up to be slaughtered by Gaballufix and if the Oversoul hadn’t told Luet to warn him—”

  Elemak silenced him with a blow, a vast buffet from his massive arm. In the low gravity, Oykib flew across the room and struck his head against a wall harder than ever before. Gravity might be lower, but as all the children of the school had learned, mass was undiminished, and so Oykib’s full weight was behind the collision. He drifted unconscious to the floor.

  Now the adults did not keep silence. Rasa screamed. Volemak leapt to his feet and shouted at Elemak. “You were always a murderer in your heart! You’re no son of mine! I disinherit you! Anything you ever have now will be stolen!”

  Elemak screamed back at him, his self-control momentarily gone. “You and your Oversoul, what are you! Nothing! A weak, broken worm of a man. I’m your only son, the only real man you ever begot, but you always preferred that lying little suck-up to me!”

  Volemak answered quietly. “I never preferred him to you. I gave you everything. I trusted you with everything.”

  “You gave me nothing. You threw away the business, all our wealth, our position, everything. For a computer.”

  “And you betrayed me to Gaballufix. You are a traitor and a murderer in your heart, Elemak. You are not my son.”

  That did it, Chveya knew. In that moment, though fear remained, all loyalty to Elemak evaporated. People would still obey him, but none of them willingly. Even his own oldest son, eight-year-old Protchnu, was looking at his father with fear and horror.

  Rasa and Shedemei were taking care of Oykib. “He’s going to be all right, I think,” said Shedemei. “There’ll probably be a concussion and he may not wake up very soon, but there’s nothing broken.”

  Silence held for a long time after her words. Oykib would be all right—but nobody could forget who had caused the injuries he did have. No one could forget the utter savagery of the blow, the rage that was behind it, the sight of Oykib flying through the air, helpless, broken. Elemak would be obeyed, that was certain. But he would not be loved or admired. He was not the leader of choice, not for anyone, not now. No one was on his side.

  “Luet,” said Elemak softly. “You come with me and Chveya. And Issib, too. I want you to witness that Nafai is all right. I also want you to witness that he is not going to be in command on this ship again.”

  As Chveya followed Elemak down the ladderway to one of the storage decks, she wondered: Why didn’t he just take her to see Father when she first asked? It made no sense.

 

  How childish of him.

 

  Well, he’s done that.

 

  It gave her a glow of triumph as she followed Elemak to the storage room where Father was imprisoned.

  The glow dissipated quickly, though, when she saw how they had treated him. Father lay on his side on the floor of a storage compartment. His wrists had been bound tightly—savagely—behind his back. She could see the skin bulging above and below the twine, and his hands were white. They had also tied his ankles together, just as tightly. Then they had pulled his legs up behind him, bowing him painfully backward, and had run two cords from his ankles up over his shoulders, twisting them before and after so they were held tight along his neck. Then they ran the cords down his stomach to his crotch and passed them between his legs to where they fastened them, behind his buttocks, to his bound wrists. The result was that the cords exerted constant pressure. The only way Father could relieve the pressure on his shoulders, at his groin, was to pull his legs even higher or bend himself
backward even more. But since he was already pulled in that direction as tightly as they could force his body, there was no relief. His eyes were closed, but his red face and quick, shallow breaths told Chveya that he was in pain and that even breathing was hard for him in that impossible posture.

  “Nafai,” Mother murmured.

  Nafai opened his eyes. “Hi,” he said softly. “See how a little storm at sea can disrupt the voyage?”

  “How cleverly you tied him,” Issib said with venom in his voice. “What an inventive tormentor you are.”

  “Standard procedure on the road,” said Elemak, “when a needed person is being stubborn about something. You can’t kill him and you can’t let him get away with his defiance. A couple of hours like this is usually enough. But Nyef has always been an exceptionally stubborn boy.”

  “Can you breathe, Nafai?” Mother asked.

  “Can you? asked Father.

  Not until that moment had Chveya realized that the air was rather close and stuffy.

  “What do you mean by that?” demanded Elemak.

  Issib answered for him. “The life support system can’t handle so many people awake all at once,” he said. “It’s straining already. We’re going to get lower and lower on available oxygen as the hours go by.”

  “Not a problem,” said Elemak. “We’re putting all the sneaks and liars and their overgrown children back to sleep for the rest of the voyage.”

  “No you’re not,” whispered Father.

  Elemak regarded him quietly. “I think when I have the Index, the ship’s computer will do what I want.”

  Father didn’t even answer.

  “The Index, Chveya,” said Elemak. “I kept my word.”

  “Untie him,” said Chveya.

  “He can’t,” said Issib. “Nafai has the cloak. It can’t be taken from him. So if he ever lets him go, Nafai will be back in control in moments. No one could stand against him then.”

  So this was what holding the twins as hostage had accomplished. Father had willingly submitted to being tied like this, so that his little ones would be unharmed. For the first time, Chveya really understood how powerless parents were. Only people without children were really free to act on their own best judgment. Once you had little ones to care for, you could always be controlled by someone else.