The Avatar (39 page)

Later sendings and transformations confirmed it. Attempts at television exchange failed; evidently the electronics were too unlike. Only music and radiance could say, back and forth: “Hello, there; we love you.”

The short day drew toward a close. Caitlín stayed ecstatic, while her companions grew slowly grim.

At last:

“We must go,” Dozsa said. “We have no choice.”

“We’ll be back.” Caitlín spoke as if in dreams.

“No, I hardly think we will,” Rueda told her with compassion. “Haven’t we agreed? It’s death to linger, down here or up in orbit. Oh, yes, we may be wrong about that, but what can we do except proceed on our best guesswork… and haven’t we agreed?”

She bowed her head. Twilight closed in; it was golden. The Danaans waited below for her next message.

Rueda leaned around in his seat to clasp the hand Caitlín lifted to him. “Those are not the Others,” he reminded. “They cannot be. I guess that they are a… a favored race. One that the Others come to openly, maybe because they’re happier, kindlier, more creative than most. If that’s right, then the Others give them metal things, for them to realize the better what they are—born artists, and who knows what else? But not scientists. Not engineers. They can’t help us. And we, we can’t survive long in these parts, unless we put
Chinook
into spin mode and make her unable ever to leave. And how often do the Others visit these adopted children of theirs? Maybe they will next week, but maybe they won’t for a thousand years. How can we tell?”

“Aye.” Caitlín squared her shoulders against the weight upon her. “Our best bet is to seek onward.” She laughed shakenly. “We’ve seen this much of what the universe holds. Ho for the next world!”

Dozsa bit his lip. “If possible,” he said. “We’re still out of touch with
Chinook
. We’ll have to fight our way alone, unguided, up to clear space.”

Caitlín cast regret from her. “Go, lad, go,” she urged. “You’ll make it. We’ll yet be seeing wonders more lofty than here.”

I
WAS A CHIMPANZEE
, born where forest met savannah. My earliest memory was of my mother holding me to her. The warmth and odors of her flesh mingled with the sharper fragrances of hair, and with the smells of soil and growth everywhere around us. Leaves glowed green-gold overhead, sunbeams slanting between them to fleck the ground whereon she sat. My lips sought through her crisp shagginess until they found a teat and gladdened me with belly comfort.

Later I ran free and noisy in the band, save when an elder bared teeth. Then one cringed respectfully back. The Eldest, He, was like the sky over us all, which sent rain and sunlight alike, and sometimes roared and flashed till we squalled in terror: for He did lead us to safe trees and delicious fruits, He did lead us in that grimacing, howling threat-dance which made the leopard slink off.

I learned where to find bananas and birds’ nests, insects and grubs. Later I learned how to moisten a stick and probe it into the anthills which loomed under the savannah blaze. I began to stand my share of lookout while we drank at the river. Further grown, I became the only female who joined our occasional hunts, when we went after a small animal, caught it, tore it asunder, grew wild from its meat and salty blood and crunchy bones. A craziness inore pure was to spring, swing, soar from branch to branch, become speed and air, clasp and let go the tree as a lover.

The first who mounted me was He. His grip was python-strong, He growled and thrust, the scent of Him whirled me away. But afterward when my seasons came upon me, I liked best another among the males, the gentlest. We would groom and nuzzle through long, lazy, lovely whiles, or sit hand in hand on a bough looking out over the moon-white plain.

There was everything to wonder at, sun, weather, a butterfly, elephants, lion roar, flower aromas, the creatures that came in bright shells and stepped forth on two long legs, the distant twinkle of the fires they made at dusk We peered, prodded, snuffed, nibbled, listened, hooted our merriment or chattered our anger or mutely marveled.

Greatest of wonders was whenever my waxing heaviness departed in pain and left a baby to cling to me. It would grow up and leave me at last, or it would grow still and I would carry it around, hurt, puzzled, till it turned strange; but always would come new babies, new love.

Once the male I liked best wanted me when He did too, and defied. But he was soon thrashed and, groveling, offered his rear. It was a different male who at last brought Him down and became He. A later morning, when we stirred awake, we found the body which had so long dominated us lying at the edge of our glade. A breeze played with its grizzled fur. The ants were busy. The vultures came. We went away, for somehow fear had touched us.

After a crocodile got my special mate, I drifted into a different band. Rank by rank, I rose to be first among its females. We ordered ourselves in less clear and less conscious wise than the males, but we knew who ruled over whom. Indeed, now in my ripeness I had no more dread of them, from Him on down. They came and went on their foolish errands; we endured; and the band was really ours—was mine. I took the choicest food and resting places among females, but I also often kept watch over children, not just my own, and herded them back from danger.

Less and less often did my seasons come upon me. Less and less eager for movement, I took to staring outward from the troop, into shadows or rain, across open land, upward at night to the stars, full of a feeling that more lay yonder than we had wind of.

Suddenly, from darkness, the Summoner came. I was borne off and became One, as it were with dawn and lightnings. The tree among whose limbs I leaped was the tree which bears the worlds. I would be returned to live out my chimpanzee days, unharmed, but would ever be haunted by joy I could not really remember. I was Mammal.

W
ANING FROM HALF PHASE
, the red sun ever closer to its illuminated crescent, Danu remained sublime to the eye. Opposite, a pair of moons stood forth among the brilliances that filled the firmament.

Martti Leino could not bear to watch. Alone in his cabin, he hung tethered, for his hands were clasped white-knuckled together except when he smote the bulkhead and rebounded, his legs kicked at nothing except when they trailed helpless. Tears bobbed glittery around his head.

“No, God, Lord, no,” he croaked. “Please. You know not what You do if You let her die—” Horrified: “Forgive me! Lord, I spoke ill there. But save her. You can. You will, nay? Please—”

He drew lungful after lungful of air till his head spun, his limbs tingled, but he could at least say in a flat voice, in Finnish: “Martti, boy, you are developing a classic case of hysterics. Do you know that? Very well, stop. It isn’t helping Caitlín a bit. Offer an orderly prayer if you wish, but don’t tell God His business, and do be about yours.

“Ow-w-w-w!” he howled and writhed about.

He was halfway back under control when the door chimed. “Hoy?” he asked aloud, stupidly. The chim repeated. “Come in,” he hiccoughed. The chime sounded again. He remembered he had locked himself in, to be undisturbed after he began to tremble. Well—Slipping his leash, he kicked toward the entrance, misgauged and fetched up against a table, and went through a set of rookie mistakes before he got the latch released.

Frieda von Moltke entered, checked her flight at the jamb, had a good look at Leino, and secured the door behind her. Since he merely gaped, she took the initiative: “Hell and damnation, you are worse off than I expected.”

He closed his jaws. “What do you want?” he managed.

She clasped him by the upper arms. They drifted off, a slight rotation making the room wobble slowly around them. “I saw how you were getting frantic,” she said. “You went away. Good, I thought, maybe a drink, a tranquilizer, a nap; he calms down when nobody watches. But you were gone too long.”

He turned his face from hers. “They are gone too long.”

“Yes, communication broken for hours, and now they must be blasting from the planet, if they are still alife, without guidance, yes. It is very bad for us if we haff lost our boat.”

“Jesu Kriste, believe you that matters?”

She gripped him harder. “Martti, dear, listen. My family were soldiers from as long ago as we haff chronicles. They knew what it is to lose a friend.
Ich hat’ einen Kameraden
…
ja
. You mourn. But you go on.”

He knotted his fists. “If you think—simply a friend—”

Frieda nodded to herself. She checked their flight as they passed a chair, hooked an ankle behind it to hold them, kept him by her left hand, and used her right to cup his chin. “You are being no use to anybody, you know,” she said mildly.

“Yes? Who is not? The whole crew is waiting, only waiting. What else can we do?”

“We can hearten us, to be ready for tomorrow,” she said. “We can comfort each other. I came to you for that. Cry if you want. It will not make you small. I saw my father cry more than once, when we went to lay flowers in the cemetery for his old guerrilla corps.”

“Frieda, Frieda,” He clasped her, buried his face in her bosom, and shuddered. She stroked him.

“ATTENTION!”
the intercom boomed. “All hands! Listen!”

Both heads snapped that way.

“Listen.” Brodersen’s tones came raw, gulped forth, as if he was weeping. “Message from
Williwaw
. They, they, they’re okay. Bound back to us. Arriving in two-three hours. They didn’t find any help for us, but… they’re alive! Well! They’re coming back!”

“Ya-a-a-ah!” Frieda screamed, and grabbed Leino’s whole body against hers. He floated like a rag doll, mouth working. Between sounds she did not know, she heard: “Lord, I thank… Christ, I thank….”

After a few minutes Brodersen made a calmer announcement. Joelle could talk the boat home, and he personally would handle the chores of docking. Everybody else might as well
sleep. The three from
Williwaw
would certainly be needing to. In about twelve hours, or however long it took, there’d be breakfast call, followed by a general debriefing. Then probably
Chinook
would boost back to the T machine for another jump. That would take more than an Earth day. Meanwhile they could throw a proper wingding to celebrate. “Good night. A real good night, ain’t it? A real good night.”

(Chinook
entered the shadow cone of Danu, and half of heaven was blotted out.)

“We celebrate right away,” Frieda laughed, and kissed Leino.

He jerked back. “What do you mean?”

She widened her china-blue eyes. “Why, what do you suppose, luffer? We are both glad.”

He thrust clear of her. Floating off, he held denying palms in her direction. “No. Not right. I will thank the Lord.”

“Oh, yes. Afterward—”

“Get out!” he yelled. “You slut!” He struggled. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. But—-well—please go, Frieda. You mean well, but please go.”

She regarded him for several seconds, and went.

Brodersen had restlessness to work off. (Pegeen, Pegeen.) Usually at such times he did exercises, but that would now have been intolerable. Therefore he made a tour of inspection. Everything was in order, he knew it would be, but the gesture helped him, gave him a sense he was doing what he could for the worldlet that would most likely be his and Caitlín’s till they died. Not that he was its God—Judas priest, no! (The juxtaposition tugged a brief smile from him.) He merely needed to give whatever he was able.

Goodbye, Lis,
he thought as he flew down silent corridors.
Goodbye, Mikey, boy. You ought to do all right, and you may not even remember me. Goodbye, Barbara, dear darling. You may
….
Why do I worry most about you, Babsy? You’ll grow to be like your mother, a free-standing woman who can shove the world up its own south pole if it dares to threaten you
.

I’ll miss you, my kids. I really don’t want you to miss me, but it’d be nice to believe you’ll remember me kindly
.

He rounded a corner, catching the metal to swing himself about.
Lis
—
God damn it, Us, I love you!

I love you too, Pegeen, and how the hell can I measure
between the two of you, and why should I? Us sits forsaken; but she can have another man if she wants, or men, and live out a long and full life. Pegeen is here; but chances are she’ll die young in space along with the rest of us, and I’m not worth that
.

Brodersen mustered a grin.
I do not feel guilty. I was in a war, and this was how things worked out, and if I made mistakes, the opposition did too. It’s a shame what’s happened, but Lis and Pegeen both would whop me in the chops if I started whining about it. They’d tell me just to keep on trying
.

Triumphantly went through him:
Pegeen’s alive. I’ll see her again in a couple of hours
.

The broad door to the common room appeared. He knew no reason to check inside, but did anyway. As he passed through, he heard sobbing.

He snagged a table whereon miscellaneous games were played, felt the reaction surge through his muscles, and hung anchored by his fingers. The viewscreens showed a total eclipse. Danu—which Caitlín had named—stood monstrous, not quite black but mysteriously ashimmer and ringed in crimson, while elsewhere the stars blazed and a visible pair of sickle moons went by. Mumbling ventilators underscored the stillness. The normal, health-reinforcing temperature and ionization cycles had brought a chill to the air, with a subliminal smell of night.

The inkblot shape of Susanne Granville huddled in a corner. She clasped a chairback while her free hand covered her face. The brightness from heaven was enough to be merciless.

Brodersen kicked off and speared through the cold. “Hey, Su, what’s wrong?”

“Oh!
Monsieur le capitaine
….” She snatched for breath while he halted by the same chair. “I am sorry. It is no never-mind,” she coughed.

“Aw, come on.” He realized anew what a sweet person she was, how much he liked and, yes, respected her. Almost shyly, he laid an arm across her shoulders. “You got troubles, Su.”