“That we have to move out of the shuttle? Connie and I discussed it. We don’t think we have to face that decision just yet.”
“Oh, come on. The whole place stinks now. If you don’t know what mold and mildew smell like, I do. And there’s something else in there that smells, too, smells really bad to me, like something dead.”
“I think your olfactory sense might be keener than ours.” John reached up to touch his oversize nose, and Raef tried not to laugh. Instead he took a breath and tried reason.
“John, winter’s coming on. You have to be able to feel it in the air. It’s rained every night for the past week. Look around you, look how stuff is changing. I don’t think it’s going to get real cold around here, but I could be wrong. I do think it’s going to get real wet, lots of rain. The middle of winter is no time to be trying to build a shelter after that shuttle turns into a heap of slime around us. We should be starting now. There’s trees, up and down the riverbank. We need a way to cut them and make ourselves some sort of shelter. And I think it might be a good idea if we tried to build up a backlog of food. Not plant food: it looks like winter is going to mean a lot more plant life—there’s new stuff sprouting everywhere. But I think we should make some spears or something and go after fish at least. It can be dried over a fire, and that way …”
Raef let his voice run down. John had started shaking his head as soon as he mentioned cutting trees, and hadn’t stopped. “Now what’s the matter?” he demanded of John.
“Raef, you’re looking at it wrong.”
“What?”
“It’s not your fault. It was how you were brought up. It’s the lesson of the whole evacuation, and that sort of passed you by. We have to live, with this planet, and on it, not in spite of it. Otherwise we’re just starting the whole thing up again.”
“So what do we do? Wait for winter to come and freeze our asses off?”
“No.” John ignored his sarcasm. “We do what you say the animals used to do. We trek south, looking for warmer weather. It’s more harmonious than building a shelter and struggling against the weather. And we’ll get to see more of the world.”
“We can’t. If we leave the shuttle, Evangeline will never be able to find us. We have to stay here, where we can be located. Besides, building a shelter isn’t any different from, say, digging a den, and a lot of animals did that. All this ‘harmonious’ garbage … don’t you get it yet, John? Us cutting trees for a shelter is no damn different from beavers cutting them to build a dam.”
John sidestepped the argument. “Even if we stay here, we won’t be found, Raef. The signal beacon isn’t working anymore,” John pointed out gently.
“That’s just my point. The only way she’s going to find us is by remembering where we were, and …”
John was shaking his head again. “Raef, Raef,” he said softly, sounding almost like a parent. “She’s not coming back. At least, we can’t count on it. Not if she and Tug aren’t, uh, getting along. She probably intends to, but, Raef, she’s only a Beast. You can’t count on her to remember even that she left you, let alone where she left you. And if she did remember and come for us, it might be hundreds of years from now. Besides.” John paused and looked at Raef earnestly. “Would you really want to go with her, if she did come back?”
“Damn.” Suddenly Raef had no more breath. He swayed, almost passing out, and then crossed his arms over his chest and the heaviness that seemed to swell there. The pain seemed almost physical. It was so much like the first time his dad had talked to him about Jeffrey. So understanding at first, he’d been. He’d told Raef all about how Jeffrey was just too different to be his friend. He’d even said it probably wasn’t Jeffrey’s fault, that he was just sick or had something wrong with his glands or something. And that even though Jeffrey acted like Raef’s friend, he was only after One Thing, and that would ruin Raef’s life forever. That he couldn’t count on Jeffrey, fags were just like that. So forget your friend and go on. John sounded just like that, so patient and reasoning. And all the time, both times, Raef knew that no one had heard a thing he had said. John no more believed that Evangeline was smart and cared about him than Raef’s dad had believed that Jeffrey was really his friend. He took a breath, tried one more time.
“Why do you think I won’t want to go with her, when she comes back?”
John looked genuinely perplexed. “Why would you want to? I mean, it’s not as if we ever really belonged inside a Beastship. This planet, this is what it’s all about, Raef. This is the proper place for Humans, maybe the only place in the universe where we truly belong. I think I finally understand that old poem. ‘Here he lies where he longs to be; home is the sailor, home to the sea, and the hunter come home to the hills.’ This is what we were always looking for when we said we wanted the stars, this sense of belonging, of oneness.”
“John, that’s really fucked.” The words came out harsher than Raef meant them to. And the profanity was wasted, because John plainly didn’t understand it. It was hard to breathe, shit, maybe it was physical pain. “It’s so stupid,” Raef managed to say. “If we belong on the earth, we belong in the universe. Just as much as anything does. And that poem … you messed that up, too. It’s about dying. And it’s home from the sea, from the hills … when you’re all done roving … I’m not done.” Heaviness squeezed his chest.
John put a hand on his shoulder, crouched to be on eye level. “Raef, what’s wrong?”
“I hurt.” He had a feeling lying down would only hurt worse, so he curled forward, holding his chest. “I’m sick. Diseased. That’s why they wouldn’t let me off … Evangeline. So long ago. Gonna die from cancer. Or maybe I’m just too old. Chest hurts. Heart attack?”
“Oh.” John looked at Raef as if he had just sprouted an extra head. He patted him, a helpless fluttering of his small hands against Raef’s shoulder. Was there a reluctance to touch him there, or was Raef just imagining it? “Just sit still,” John told him needlessly. “Uh, try not to, uh, hurt yourself.” He stood up abruptly, and raced off down the beach, calling for Connie. She looked up, and even at this distance, Raef could see the puzzlement in her glance. It took forever for John to reach her, and then Raef watched his hands gesture wildly as he tried to explain. It seemed to take a very long time. Everything was taking a very long time. Why did it matter? He didn’t think they could do anything, anyway. All they would want to do was ask him questions, and talking took so much effort. And even then they didn’t understand. He missed Evangeline with a sudden desperation. She always understood, she listened and he didn’t even have to try to talk. But she’d had to leave him, and now he might die before she ever came back. With a sudden clarity he knew that he loved her, and he’d never even told her that. And now he was going to die, before he ever got to be with her again. The thought was a pain that made his chest squeeze again.
He felt something strike his thigh. He looked down to see his right fist resting on his leg. Very slowly he reached down with his left hand and picked it up. Like picking up a stick of wood. He dropped it again, felt the impact only on his leg. Weird. Someone was turning him off, a bit at a time, like you’d shut down a factory. Odd to think about.
“Raef. Raef, can you hear me?”
Of course he could. John was practically shouting in his face. He looked up slowly, and tried to answer the question. “But it was the only place I ever belonged. Inside her. With her.” Voice dragging like an old tape. He didn’t think they understood him. Didn’t matter. Evangeline understood.
It was the richest irony Tug had ever encountered. Better than any Human story had ever offered him. He assembled the pieces one more time in his mind. They still fit perfectly. He recited softly to himself. “Those who have not lived here will return for what was left. Its essence will cry out in a voice that cannot be ignored. Riding in the balance between war and omnipotence rests all that they would know. But they must put aside the ways of adults and be again as children if the door is to open to them. They must not speak
in the tongues of men nor of angels, for it will not avail them. Rebirth is within for all.” Lousy poetry, but acceptable as a secret message.
It would have made such an elegant mystery novel. Tug’s Last Case he might have called it, or The Adventure of the Alien Linguist. And it would have been unfolded step by step, leading the reader inexorably deeper into the maze, until he was hopelessly confused, only to be rescued in the last chapter by Tug’s concise analysis of the clues, putting each hint into place until the final, complete picture was revealed.
He imagined himself ensconced in Nero Wolfe’s chair, or in Holmes’s study, tapping tobacco loose from the toe of the Persian slipper and unfolding his proof, as Connie and John and even Raef stood openmouthed in astonishment. A sudden cramp melted his image and he shifted his bulk uncomfortably. The beauty of the painstakingly deduced conclusions crumpled, and he was back in his chamber, in his ruined body, deep inside a Beast that refused to either listen or answer anymore. Isolated. Dying. And his final monumental work, his classic of deduction, would die with him.
The crushing gravity of the Earth and then the increased G’s of Evangeline’s departure had ruptured things inside him. The leakage of fluids was like an insidious cold spreading throughout his body. And his posterior segments were developing the leathery cases that would protect his segments in a dormancy that they would likely never be roused from. The immortality of his fertilized segments carrying on his memories and knowledge was no more than a fantasy now. Even if he could be returned to his homeworld right now, this mangled body would be treated with disdain and ridicule: an encysted one who had lost control of his Beast to a Human, a scholar who’d become the gullible dupe of an inferior race. Worse, one who had left Humans in a position to reach out and be free of their planet-bound status, who had endangered all of Arthroplania. Shame pressed him as heavily as his damaged body. He wouldn’t even live to give warning to his race. He wondered if Evangeline knew the half of what she had done; not just killing him, but what she was racing toward.
It was becoming harder to focus his thoughts. It seemed to him there was a way to buy life for his segments, an equation he could work that would persuade Evangeline to at least return his body segments to his home that they might be salvaged. It came to him in glimpsed bits, and he wasn’t sure if any of it would work. But trying it could not harm him now. The whole plan rested on him remaining alive as long as possible. And the factors he could not control appalled him. If Evangeline did not return to Terra for the Humans, or if, as he had predicted, they were all dead, then his plan would have to change. Dealing with the Humans would be simplest, but if they were dead, if Evangeline faced intellectual isolation again, then perhaps she might become reasonable. Perhaps even now. Desperately he locked ganglia with her again.
“Evangeline?” He tried to sound casual. There was no reply. But she might be listening. He gathered his strength. “Listen to me, Evangeline. This is important, to both of us.”
Only silence. Forget pain, he counseled himself. Speak well and persuasively.
“I know a secret, Evangeline. One that would be of great value to all my people. One they would richly reward you for bringing to them. All you would have to do is alter your course. Be gentle with me, and take me home. Return me to them, and all will be forgiven you, and you will be rewarded, and long remembered among them. Would not that be a better fate than to be alone and a pariah to the end of your days?”
He had to pause, to gather what remained of his dwindling energy. There was no halting or controlling his body’s physical response to the damage he had sustained. His segments were siphoning off fluids from his failing body, selfishly taking the nutrients they needed for their dormancy in the age-old game of perpetrating the race. It was right, and his only chance for immortality. Except that he needed that last strength if he was to bargain with Evangeline.
“Are you listening?” he asked in desperation, but received no confirmation. “Listen. It’s the only chance for either of us. For my knowledge and memories to be preserved, and for you to survive. It will buy you your life, and fertilization for my segments. My people will forgive you for all you have done. You will not have to live out your years in utter loneliness, totally bereft of the company of your own kind. Evangeline, I am telling you true. If you go back to the Humans, you give up all hope of ever being with other Beasts, of ever mating again. You sacrifice all for them. And what will they give you? What can they give you?”
No reply. The first and largest segment was separating from his body. He felt the reflexive twitching that tore it free, watched in a dull fascination and horror as fluids briefly spurted and then were sealed off. If she would bear it home, if they would fertilize it, they would know all. It wouldn’t have all been in vain. “Evangeline?” He felt another shuddering twitch. He threw all honor and pride aside.
“Please,” he said, begging like a Beast. The words poured from him as swiftly as his pain would allow. “Please. Listen to me. It could be different. I could be different. We could be as pupil and master. There is so much I could teach you. What can Raef tell you about yourself, about your species? I never fully understood what you were capable of. Now that I do, I would teach you. And you could still go among your own kind. We’d be able to pretend, to trick the rest into thinking you hadn’t changed. I’d survive, and be able to give this secret to my people. And you, you’d have …”
His words suddenly ran down as he realized he didn’t really know what she would want. Uninterrupted food and mating, he supposed. What else was there for a Beast? “… whatever you want,” he finished lamely. “Whatever you want.” As if she needed him for that, as if he were really offering her anything.
Her silence was implacable. His second segment was tearing loose. He regarded his newly reduced body in dull resignation. “You condemn yourself, then. Remember that, for all time. You condemned yourself.” The threat sounded feeble, even to himself. He broke the useless ganglial docking, and drew what was left of himself together. Survive, he told himself. Survive, and make your deal with the Humans. Heedless of pain, he dragged himself forward, attached his scolex to the feeding scar. Feed. She couldn’t stop him from feeding. Though he was unsure how well his mangled body would be able to process the nutrients. But even if only a small portion reached his system, it must add to his pitiful supply of strength. So feed and plan. It was all he had left.
He forced his mind to calmness. This was, he told himself, but another kind of deduction. First, could the Humans help him obtain his goal? Evaluating it coldly, it did not seem likely that they could succeed in getting Evangeline to obey after he had failed. But was it a question of obedience? Perhaps not. If he died, and she did not have Raef, she’d face total isolation. Everyone knew how dependent Beasts were on the stimulus and approval of a Master. Sooner or later, she’d have to seek companionship. Probably among her own kind. And when she did, the Humans could use their radio frequencies to contact the encysted ones on those Beasts, and request rescue. Evangeline could be recaptured, and his segments salvaged. It could work that way.
But would the Humans want to help him? Of course, he told himself. After being stranded in that hellish place, what could they desire more than a return to normalcy, a chance to get back to their own kind. Connie, especially. John might be fearful of punishment. So reassure him there would be no bad consequences. Promise to help him cover up his part in Earth Affirmed’s illicit activities. Promise to help him legitimize his license. Promise them both there would be no Readjustments, no termination. Promise them anything. They were his final remaining hope. He’d have to make them want to try.
Suddenly the effort of feeding seemed to take more energy than he had. He sealed the feeding scar as he lifted his scolex. He tried to consider his plans impartially. They seemed so simplistic; was the pain impairing his reasoning?
He tried to go back over his plans, to find faults in them. What could go wrong? Raef. Raef was what had gone wrong. His freakish a
bility to communicate with Evangeline had started all this. But with luck, Raef would already be dead, or close to it. If he were still alive, he must be kept from making contact with Evangeline, at all costs.
Another wave of pain washed through him. He doggedly clung to his reasoning, forced the pain aside to resume his logic. Eliminate Raef, if necessary. He could persuade John and Connie to do that. The man was diseased, and whatever he might have told them about Evangeline, Tug could put down to his derangement.
The second segment freed itself and fell clear of him. He watched its idle twitching dispassionately. Continue, he told himself. Continue the logic. But suddenly he was weary. Tired to death, he told himself wryly. Rest now, while he could. Save what strength he could, for he would need every bit of it.
“Were you ever in love with a woman?”
“I …” Raef groped for words, realized the hopelessness of trying to explain to John how isolated he had been in a crowded world. “No,” he said at last. “Not really. Are you?” He managed a weak smile in response to the scowl John threw at him. Both of them, hundreds of years old, and sitting around in a dimly lit shuttle, talking about girls and love like a couple of teenagers. Raef suspected that’s what they actually were. Only this teenager had suffered what he guessed was a stroke and had been flat on his back in this lounger for days now.
John had been sitting on the floor beside the lounger. Raef’s tray of mostly refused food was on the floor beside him. John stiffened his shoulders. “You know, there’s nothing funny about any of this. There’s ship’s discipline to consider, and appropriate behavior for a captain …”
“What ship?” Raef asked quietly.
John’s eyes widened. He was silent.
“You see,” Raef said gently. “None of that matters anymore. Neither of you are who you were. It’s like the worst old joke you could imagine. You’re the last man and woman on Earth, and you’re worrying about manners. John, listen to me. I had a friend, once.” Raef paused suddenly. He gave a bitter laugh. “There. That sums up my life before Evangeline. I had a friend, once.” He shook his head to clear it of old thoughts.
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