Araminta Station

by Jack Vance

  A figure shrouded in white came out on the balcony, carrying a lamp. Glawen sat motionless; the play of light and shadow confused his perceptions; he felt only a passive interest as to who or what had come to overlook the chamber.

  The person in white fixed the lamp into a socket, then with a swift motion threw back the hood of the gown. In the yellow lamplight Glawen saw a thin face with large dark eyes, a thatch of tawny copper hair and fine, clearly defined features. The hair clasped the face like a copper casque, almost covering the ears, clinging to the forehead and swirling up in curls at the nape of the neck. With dull surprise Glawen saw this person to be the Ordene Zaa. Her gown was of a softer fabric than that which she had worn before and fitted her with rather more grace.

  Zaa looked down at Glawen, her expression inscrutable. She spoke in a light, almost airy, voice: “With great skill you have contrived an uncomfortable plight for yourself.”

  Glawen responded in measured tones: “My conduct has been quite correct. You have wrongfully placed me into this plight, for reasons quite beyond my understanding.”

  Zaa shook her head. “In terms of local realities, my conduct is correct. Yours is based upon naive theorizing; already it has been proved useless.”

  “I do not care to argue,” said Glawen. “It would seem as if I were complaining.”

  Zaa looked down with amusement. “You seem to have an unusually serene disposition.”

  Glawen perceived that Zaa was playing with him as a cat with a mouse, and made no comment.

  Zaa prompted him: “Is it by reason of stoicism? Or a resolute philosophy of elaborate parts?”

  “I couldn’t say; I am not much for introspection. Perhaps I have simply gone numb.”

  “A pity. If Mutis has a fault, it must be that he does not forgive lightly, and I believe that his head still rings from the force of your kick. But we cannot dwell upon past wrongs; we must look to the future. What do you say to that?”

  “I say, give me my information and I will be away from this dismal place without a moment’s delay, and never so much as look over my shoulder. This is your most sensible option.”

  Zaa smiled. “Only from your point of view.”

  “From yours as well. If you harass a police officer you make trouble for yourself.”

  “You forget that this is Lutwiler Country. Your authority is meaningless.”

  “The IPCC does not concede this point of view.”

  “Do not let this theory influence your conduct,” said Zaa. “I am in control of the seminary: such is the nature of local Truth. You must accede to my program, not I to yours. If this is unclear, then plainly you are in need of cerebral therapeutics.”

  “Your statement is clear. I need no therapy.”

  “I am not altogether convinced, after hearing statements from Mutis and Lilo. In the one case you made erotic suggestions -”

  “What? I did no such thing!”

  “- in the other you were brutally offensive and inflicted pain upon Mutis, whose ear still smarts and throbs.”

  “These accusations are absurd!”

  Zaa shrugged. “The gist of the matter is definite enough. Mutis describes you as intractable. Lilo is troubled by your tactics, and wonders where she has gone wrong.”

  Glawen managed a laugh. “I will tell you the facts. Mutis struck me in the back before I struck him. He provoked me to a fight - probably by your orders. As for Lilo, perhaps I was a trifle gallant, out of sheer boredom, just to add a bit of sparkle to her life. My conduct was certainly not lewd. The sexual obsessions are in her head, not mine.”

  Zaa gave another indifferent shrug. “It may well be, and why not? You are strong and confident; an impressionable young woman might find you appealing.” Zaa looked around the chamber. “These accommodations are not luxurious, but they are inexpensive: in fact, free. Since you insist upon paying nothing for your lodging, this cave must suffice.”

  “You would use an agreement to pay as proof that I stayed here of my own accord. That is not the case. I am here as a prisoner.”

  “Have you forgotten our contract?”

  “Contract?” Glawen looked blank. “The terms were so vague as to be meaningless. Neither this so-called contract nor any other contract has force between a captive and his captor.”

  Zaa laughed - a light tinkle, as of glass wind chimes moved by a breeze. “In Lutwiler Country such contracts have peculiar and particular force, especially in regard to the duties of the captive.”

  Glawen had no comment. Zaa went on. “Do you recall our agreement?”

  “You offered all your information in return for certain services not specified: a bargain to which I could not agree. You then tried to teach me Monomantic Syntoraxis as your end of the contract. It is a fine joke, but do you wonder that I no longer take you or your contract seriously?”

  “That is a mistake. The contract must be taken seriously.”

  “In that case, this is my suggestion,” said Glawen. “Let me out of this hole, give me the information I need, then explain what you want of me. If it is something I can do, and is not criminal, immoral, harmful, hurtful or even disgraceful, and won’t take too long or cost too much, I will do it.”

  Zaa reflected. “That is a disarmingly simple plan.”

  “I am happy that you like it.”

  “Ah! I am concerned less for your happiness than your sincerity.”

  Glawen considered the word. “I am sincere in regard to my undertakings.”

  “Hm, perhaps so. But I must be certain. I am almost afraid to test you out. One moment; we will discuss the matter further.”

  Zaa stepped back from the balcony; the door closed. A few moments later the lower door swung aside. Zaa entered and the door closed behind her. “It is easier to talk at this level.”

  “True.” The substance of Zaa’s white gown was sheer; she seemed metamorphosed from the epicene creature Glawen had first encountered; in the lamplight the sharpness of her features became delicacy; the cap of copper-red hair gave her face a piquant cast; her dark eyes were soft and luminous. A waft of subtle perfume crossed the five or six feet between the two.

  Zaa looked about the chamber with a vague expression. “Have you familiarized yourself with this place?”

  “In the dark? I am a Clattuc, but I am not insane.”

  “Look about you now. It is a void at the very heart of the Point.”

  “It is a dreary place, certainly.”

  “Notice the dais against the wall yonder. The bundle on top is a pad and a blanket, which visitors may use for a bed.”

  “What fee do you ask?”

  “None. You may sleep free of charge where Zab Zonk lay in his white jade catafalque, shaded under swagged curtains of moonstones and pearls.”

  “It is peculiar accommodation for indigent guests.”

  “Do you find it so?”

  “The atmosphere is picturesque if a bit macabre. The appointments are minimal.”

  Zaa looked around the chamber. “It is austere, beyond a doubt. Better facilities are more expensive.”

  Glawen ignored the silken jest. “Do the Fexels know that you have found the tomb?”

  Zaa languidly stretched her arms to either side, and glanced at Glawen over her shoulder. Glawen watched in fascination. “Naturally,” said Zaa. “Why else do they oblige us at all times and indulge our whims? Because thousands of tourists spend fortunes straggling across the steppes, hoping to find the tomb. We keep the secret, and the Fexels leave us in peace.”

  Glawen looked thoughtfully toward the dais. Strange how casually he had been entrusted with so precious a secret! Zaa had not even suggested discretion. How could she be sure that he would keep this rather sensational information secure, once he left the Point? Evidently she took his good faith for granted. Remarkable! Zaa did not seem a trusting woman. Other ideas entered Glawen’s head; he pushed them and their implications to the side.

  He asked Zaa: “What of the fabulous treasure?” />
  “The catafalque was smashed. Zonk’s bones could not be found. There was no treasure.” Zaa turned and walked slowly across the chamber. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

  Glawen followed, feeling as if he were walking through a dream. Great events hung in the air; what might be their import? He could not guess; his mind veered this way and that in the effort to avoid thought of any sort.

  Zaa stopped by the little rill which trickled across the floor. She looked back at Glawen. “You have noticed this stream?”

  “Yes. On the chance that it was not connected to your drains, I went so far as to taste it.”

  Zaa nodded gravely. “The water is mineralized but it is potable. Look now, how the water drains into a tunnel. Other persons, even more afflicted with mental disorder than yourself, thought to curtail their therapy by crawling down the hole. It is not a good plan. The tunnel narrows and the adventurer cannot return. If he manages to squeeze past the narrow place, he falls into a deep dark pool. The water is cold and after a few moments of splashing about, he drowns, and his tissues quickly become mineralized. It is said that a very thin person once crawled down the tunnel at the end of a rope, in search of treasure. He found nothing of value, but when he shone his lamp into the pool, he saw a number of white shapes at the bottom, disposed in various postures. Some of these petrifactions date back to the time of Zab Zonk; indeed, one may well be Zonk himself, though we have never troubled to make sure.”

  Glawen said in subdued voice: “The pool would be a tourist attraction in itself.”

  “No doubt! We want nothing to do with tourists! The confusion, noise and litter would sorely try our patience. The tomb will never know change, nor the pool. Think! A million years from now explorers of some alien race may chance upon the pool. Imagine their amazement as they peer down through the water!”

  Glawen turned his back to the tunnel. “It is an interesting thought.”

  “Quite so. Here in the tomb one feels the flux of time. In the stillness, I often think to hear the murmur of those far future voices, as they explore the tomb.” Zaa dismissed the subject with a flippant wave of her fingers. “But it need not concern us. We are the things of Now! We are alive! We are aware! We ordain! We ride our personal worlds across the universe as if they were great rumbling chariots!”

  After a moment Glawen said, somewhat more cautiously: “I am surprised that you have confided so much information, particularly in regard to Zonk and his tomb.”

  “Why not? Information is what you came for! Am I not correct?”

  “Correct! And yet -”

  Zaa wandered to the dais. She seated herself on the edge and looked up at Glawen. “And yet?”

  “Nothing in particular.”

  Zaa said “Either you must sit or I must stand; I cannot talk with my head tilted back.”

  Glawen gingerly seated himself at a discreet distance, and appraised Zaa from the corner of his eye. The lamplight blurred her features and gave her face an odd end-of-nowhere charm.

  Zaa spoke softly: “As I mentioned, Lilo is convinced that you are charged with an immoderate and rampant eroticism, so that you fairly sweat with lust.”

  “Lilo’s hopes or fears - whichever it may be - exceed reality by a factor of fifty to one,” said Glawen. “She is too excitable for her own good, and no doubt is a victim of fantasies. On the other hand, if the only men she sees are beasts like Mutis and Funo, I can appreciate her yearnings.”

  “Funo, so it happens, is a woman.”

  “What! Are you serious?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ha! I wonder that poor Lilo is as sane as she is.”

  “Do you consider Lilo sexually stimulating?”

  Glawen frowned off across the room. The situation was becoming ever more rife with delicate possibilities. Time was the important factor! Surely by now Plock must be in receipt of his message, and surely would not delay at undertaking his rescue.

  Meanwhile, Zaa seemed relaxed and might well be inclined to provide more information. If he exercised his gallantry to the fullest, she might become more relaxed than ever. Glawen winced. Zaa undeniably seemed less grotesque and more nearly human than before but there was still about her the unnerving suggestion of a white reptile: a walking lizard, or a white-skinned newt with red hair. Glawen winced again. He must expunge these ideas from his mind; if Zaa suspected their presence she might become not only cold but spiteful.

  So much passed through Glawen’s mind in no more than two seconds. What had she asked? Did he find Lilo sexually stimulating?

  Glawen said: “I will be absolutely candid. Men are stimulated in a different manner from women, as you must know.”

  “I have never troubled to explore the subject.”

  “Well, it is true. In the case of Lilo, the gray gown simply swallows her figure, which needs all the help it can get. Her hairless scalp is far from appealing, and I’ve seen corpses with a healthier skin color. On the positive side, she has good features and beautiful eyes. She is graceful and there is a certain wistful charm to her manner. As I think back, I can’t believe that I alarmed her; she seemed to come to life under the attention.”

  “These feelings perhaps disturbed her, causing both guilt and confusion, which she attributed to you and, as I see now, perhaps exaggerated. It seems, then, that you find her gauche?”

  “Gauche, prim, resolute: whatever. If she were to grow hair, dress nicely and get some color in her skin, she would seem passably attractive.”

  “Interesting! As of now: you find her unappealing?”

  Glawen wondered how best to phrase his remarks. “Spacemen encounter all kinds of women. I have heard them say that at night all cats are gray.”

  Zaa nodded thoughtfully. “Lilo of course is totally innocent. Her life to date has been formally Monomantic and unified, and for certain reasons we are interested in her instinctive response to the proximity of a personable young man such as yourself.”

  “So this is why Lilo became my instructor.”

  “In part.”

  “Surely I am not the first man of her acquaintance?”

  Zaa gave a sad laugh. “I see that I must explain. The Monomantics espouse Unity as their goal. The Polymantics accepted Duality, but they were dominated by masculines. The Monomantic rebellion was led by heroic females, who insisted upon sexual equality, and thought to create a race in which sexuality was not a coercive force. In the biological workshops at Strock, many roads were tried, but the efforts always fell short. The Zubenites of Lutwiler country were at first considered a glorious success, because they proved at least partially intrafertile. To this degree Duality has been conquered; we have perfected Monomantics in many phases. The doctrine asserts that ‘man’ and ‘woman’ are archaic and essentially incidental words. Mutis is a man; Funo is a woman. They may not even be aware of their differences, which are not functional. Mutis is impotent; Funo produces no eggs. So it is among the Zubenites. Their survival as a people is barely tentative.”

  Glawen kept a closed mouth upon his opinions.

  “Still, our efforts have been at least theoretically successful. Duality has been discredited and sent reeling; it can no longer be considered an inspirational philosophy. Do you agree to this?”

  “I have never taken a position, one way or the other.”

  “Unity is now the rule. Men and women are equal in all respects. Women have been freed from the ancient curse of childbearing. In their turn, men no longer suffer the glandular pressures which distracted their energies and sometimes prompted them to illogical gallantries. What do you say to that?”

  “It’s an interesting point of view.” Glawen cautiously went on to say: “I have no difficulties with my glands, and I certainly would not care to attempt Unity.”

  Zaa smiled. “I may inform you that a new theory has won strong supporters, among them myself. The Zubenites are not altogether satisfactory; they will not copulate, for one reason or another, and t
he population will not sustain itself. Younglings are brought in from Strock or the folk would not survive.”

  “Lilo does not seem the typical Zubenite woman - nor, for that matter, do you.”

  “Lilo has an interesting history. To facilitate our work at Strock, we brought in a brilliant young geneticist from Alphanor, not altogether by his own volition. Out of boredom he began to perform secret experiments. It seems that in the case of Lilo he used a sample egg of high quality and his own sperm. He bred her in a special culture dish; the zygote was nurtured in a tub to itself, without sequestrators or hormone suppressants, and fed special nutrients. In his regular work, because of his resentment and general cheerlessness, he defaulted upon his duty and produced a thousand one-eyed creatures with one leg, blue Spots and enormous genital organs, which he conceived to be a ludicrous joke. In another vat he wasted three dozen prime eggs by impregnating them with the sperm of a raccoon which chanced to be on hand. The joke escaped detection until the infants began to grow tails, and then of course the truth was made known and the geneticist was discharged with prejudice.

  “Lilo almost shared the fate of the teratoids, but someone noticed that she was developing along more conventional lines, and so she survived. But how her rather striking excellence was achieved we never learned, since the geneticist was no longer alive.”

  “That is an interesting tale,” said Glawen.

  “As of now, Lilo is similar to a female of the old Duality. Not wishing to embarrass her, we have not shared this information with her. It seems that she has received the news by another means.”

  “All this aside,” said Glawen, “My first concern is for myself. How much longer do you intend to keep me confined in this hole?”

  “I see that I must be totally candid,” said Zaa. “In our efforts to expunge Duality, we have overachieved: this you know. We can produce Zubenites at will, but they have many negative characteristics and changes are necessary. Must we amend Monomantics and risk a new sexuality? The theory which I mentioned suggests that this may be necessary, through the inherent nature of protoplasm. From Strock comes nothing but dismal news. The processes are failing. Zygotes die faster than they can be produced; the younglings are sickly and abnormal. To survive, it appears that we must return to primitive techniques. Ah, but how? The men are like Mutis, incapable to the task, while the women are like Funo; they would go into convulsions at the idea.