Nemesis (2 page)

Was it a real memory? After all, she had been getting on toward four then, so it might be.

But now that memory—real or not—was overlaid by other thoughts, by an increasing realization of just how large a
planet
was. Erythro was. over twelve thousand kilometers across, not eight kilometers. She couldn’t grasp that size. It didn’t look that large on the screen and she couldn’t imagine standing on it and seeing for hundreds—or even thousands—of kilometers. But she knew she wanted to. Very much.

Aurinel wasn’t interested in Erythro, which was disappointing. He said he had other things to think of, like getting ready for college. He was seventeen and a half. Marlene was only just past fifteen. That didn’t make much difference, she thought rebelliously, since girls developed more quickly.

At least they should. She looked down at herself and thought, with her usual dismay and disappointment, that somehow she still looked like a kid, short and stubby.

She looked at Erythro again, large and beautiful and softly red where it was lit. It was large enough to be a planet but actually, she knew, it was a satellite. It circled Megas, and it was Megas (much larger still) that was really the planet, even though everyone called Erythro by
that name. The two of them together, Megas and Erythro,
and
Rotor, too, circled the star Nemesis.

“Marlene!”

Marlene heard the voice behind her and knew that it was Aurinel. She had grown increasingly tongue-tied with him of late, and the reason for it embarrassed her. She loved the way he pronounced her name. He pronounced it correctly. Three syllables—Mar-LAY-nuh—with a little trill to the “r.” It warmed her just to hear it.

She turned and mumbled, “Hi, Aurinel,” and tried not to turn red.

He grinned at her. “You’re staring at Erythro, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer that. Of course that’s what she would be doing. Everyone knew how she felt about Erythro. “How come you’re here?” (Tell me you were looking for me, she thought.)

Aurinel said, “Your mother sent me.”

(Oh well.) “Why?”

“She said you were in a bad mood and every time you felt sorry for yourself, you came up here, and I was to come and get you because she said it would just make you grumpier to stay here. So why are you in a bad mood?”

“I’m not. And if I am, I have reasons.”

“What reasons? Come on, now. You’re not a little kid any more. You’ve got to be able to express yourself.”

Marlene lifted her eyebrows. “I am quite articulate, thank you. My reasons are that I would like to travel.”

Aurinel laughed. “You’ve traveled, Marlene. You’ve traveled more than two light-years. No one in the whole history of the Solar System has ever traveled even a small fraction of a light-year. —Except us. So you have no right to complain. You’re Marlene Insigna Fisher, Galactic Traveler.”

Marlene suppressed a giggle. Insigna was her mother’s maiden name and whenever Aurinel said her three names in full, he would salute and make a face, and he hadn’t done that in a long time. She guessed it was because he was getting close to being a grown-up and he had to practice being dignified.

She said, “I can’t remember that trip at all. You know I can’t, and not being able to remember it means it doesn’t
matter. We’re just here, over two light-years from the Solar System, and we’re never going back.”

“How do you know?”

“Come on, Aurinel. Do you ever hear anyone talk about going back?”

“Well, even if we don’t, who cares? Earth is a crowded world and the whole Solar System was getting crowded and used up. We’re better off out here—masters of all we survey.”

“No, we’re not. We survey Erythro, but we don’t go down there to be its masters.”

“Sure we do. We have a fine working Dome on Erythro. You know that.”

“Not for us. Just for some scientists. I’m talking about
us
. They don’t let us go down there.”

“In time,” said Aurinel cheerfully.

“Sure, when I’m an old woman. Or dead.”

“Things aren’t that bad. Anyway, come on out of here and into the world and make your mother happy. I can’t stay here. I have things to do. Dolorette—”

Marlene felt a buzzing in her ears and she didn’t hear exactly what Aurinel said after that. It was enough to hear—Dolorette!

Marlene
hated
Dolorette, who was tall and—and
vacuous
.

But what was the use? Aurinel had been hanging around her, and Marlene knew, just by looking at him, exactly how he felt about Dolorette. And now he had been sent to find her and he was just wasting his time. She could tell that was how he felt and she could also tell how anxious he was to get back to that—to that Dolorette. (Why could she always tell? It was so hateful sometimes.)

Quite suddenly, Marlene wanted to hurt him, to find words to give him pain. True words, though. She wouldn’t lie to him. She said, “We’re never going back to the Solar System. I
know
why not.”

“Oh, why’s that?” When Marlene, hesitating, said nothing, he added, “Mysteries?”

Marlene was caught. She was not supposed to say this. She mumbled, “I don’t want to say. I’m not supposed to know.” But she
did
want to say. At the moment she wanted
everyone
to feel bad.

“But you’ll tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Marlene asked. She said, “Okay, I’ll tell you. We’re not ever going back because Earth is going to be destroyed.”

Aurinel didn’t react as she had expected. He burst into a loud squawk of a laugh. It took him a while to settle down, and she glared at him indignantly.

“Marlene,” he said, “where did you hear that? You’ve been viewing thrillers.”

“I have
not!
”

“But what makes you say anything like that?”

“Because I know. I can tell. From what people say, but don’t say, and what they do, when they don’t know they’re doing it. And from things the computer tells me when I ask the right questions.”

“Like what things it tells you?”

“I’m not going to tell
you
.”

“Isn’t it possible? Just
barely
possible”—and he held up two fingers very closely together—“that you’re imagining things?”

“No, it isn’t possible. Earth won’t be destroyed right away—maybe not for thousands of years—but it’s going to be destroyed.” She nodded solemnly, her face intense. “And nothing can stop it.”

Marlene turned and walked away, angry at Aurinel for doubting her. No, not doubting her. It was more than that. He thought she was out of her mind. And there it was. She had said too much and had gained nothing by it.
Everything
was wrong.

Aurinel was staring after her. The laughter had ceased on his boyishly handsome face and a certain uneasiness was creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

Eugenia Insigna had grown middle-aged during the trip to Nemesis, and in the course of the long stay after arrival. Over the years she had periodically warned herself: This is for life; and for our children’s lives into the unseen future.

The thought always weighed her down.

Why? She had known this as the inevitable consequence of what they had done from the moment Rotor
had left the Solar System. Everyone on Rotor—volunteers all—had known it. Those who had not had the heart for eternal separation had left Rotor before takeoff, and among those who had left was—

Eugenia did not finish that thought. It often came, and she tried never to finish it.

Now they were here on Rotor, but was Rotor “home”? It was home for Marlene; she had never known anything else. But for herself, for Eugenia? Home was Earth and Moon and Sun and Mars and all the worlds that had accompanied humanity through its history and prehistory. They had accompanied life as long as there had been life. The thought that “home” was not here on Rotor clung to her even now.

But, then, she had spent the first twenty-eight years of her life in the Solar System and she had done graduate work on Earth itself in her twenty-first to twenty-third years.

Odd how the thought of Earth periodically came to her and lingered. She hadn’t liked Earth. She hadn’t liked its crowds, its poor organization, its combination of anarchy in the important things and governmental force in the little things. She hadn’t liked its assaults of bad weather, its scars over the land, its wasteful ocean. She had returned to Rotor with an overwhelming gratitude, and with a new husband to whom she had tried to sell her dear little turning world—to make its orderly comfort as pleasant to him as it was to her, who had been born into it.

But he had only been conscious of its smallness. “You run out of it in six months,” he had said.

She herself hadn’t held his interest for much longer than that. Oh well—

It would work itself out. Not for her. Eugenia Insigna was lost forever between worlds. But for the children. Eugenia had been born to Rotor and could live without Earth. Marlene had been born—or almost born—to Rotor alone and could live without the Solar System, except for the vague feeling that she had originated there. Her children would not know even that, and would not care. To them, Earth and the Solar System would be a matter of myth, and Erythro would have become a rapidly developing world.

She hoped so. Marlene had this odd fixation on Erythro already, though it had only developed in the last few months and might leave just as quickly as it had come.

Altogether, it would be the height of ingratitude to complain. No one could possibly have imagined a habitable world in orbit about Nemesis. The conditions that created habitability were remarkable. Estimate those probabilities and throw in the nearness of Nemesis to the Solar System and you would have to deny that it could possibly have happened.

She turned to the day’s reports, which the computer was waiting, with the infinite patience of its tribe, to give her.

Yet before she could ask, her receptionist signaled and a soft voice came from the small button-speaker pinned to the left shoulder of her garment, “Aurinel Pampas wishes to see you. He has no appointment.”

Insigna grimaced, then remembered that she had sent him after Marlene. She said, “Let him come in.”

She cast a quick look at the mirror. She could see that her appearance was reasonable. To herself, she seemed to look younger than her forty-two years. She hoped she looked the same way to others.

It seemed silly to worry about her appearance because a seventeen-year-old boy was about to enter, but Eugenia Insigna had seen poor Marlene looking at that boy and she knew what that look portended. It didn’t seem to Insigna that Aurinel, who was so fond of his own appearance, would ever think of Marlene, who had never been able to rid herself of her childhood pudginess, in any way other than as an amusing child. Still, if Marlene had to face failure in this, let her not feel that her mother had contributed to that failure in any way and had been anything but charming to the boy.

She’ll blame me anyway, thought Insigna with a sigh, as the boy walked in with a smile that had not yet outgrown its adolescent shyness.

“Well, Aurinel,” she said. “Did you find Marlene?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right where you said she’d be, and I told her you wanted her out of there.”

“And how is she feeling?”

“If you want to know, Dr. Insigna—I can’t tell if it’s depression or something else, but she has a rather funny
idea in her head. I don’t know that she’d like my telling you about it.”

“Well, I don’t like setting spies on her either, but she frequently has strange ideas and she worries me. Please tell me what she said.”

Aurinel shook his head. “All right, but don’t tell her I said anything. This one is
really
crazy. She said that Earth was going to be destroyed.”

He waited for Insigna to laugh.

She did not. Instead, she exploded. “
What?
What made her say that?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Insigna. She’s a very bright kid, you know, but she gets these funny ideas. Or she may have been putting me on.”

Insigna cut in. “She may have been doing exactly that. She has a strange sense of humor. So listen, I don’t want you to repeat this to anyone else. I don’t want silly stories to get started. Do you understand?”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

“I’m serious. Not a word.”

Aurinel nodded briskly.

“But thanks for telling me, Aurinel. It was important to do so. I’ll speak to Marlene and find out what’s bothering her—and I won’t let her know you told me.”

“Thank you,” said Aurinel. “But just one thing, ma’am.”

“What’s that?”

“
Is
Earth going to be destroyed?”

Insigna stared at him, then forced a laugh. “Of course not! You may go now.”

Insigna looked after him and wished earnestly that she could have managed a more convincing denial.

Janus Pitt made an impressive appearance, which had helped him in his rise to power as Commissioner of Rotor. In the early days of the formation of the Settlements, there had been a push for people of no more than average height. There had been thoughts of having a smaller per capita requirement for room and resources. Eventually, the caution had been deemed unnecessary and had been abandoned, but the bias was still there in the genes
of the early Settlements and the average Rotorian remained a centimeter or two shorter than the average citizens of later Settlements.

Pitt was tall, though, with iron gray hair, and a long face, and deep blue eyes, and a body that was still in good shape, despite the fact that he was fifty-six.

Pitt looked up and smiled as Eugenia Insigna entered, but felt the usual small surge of uneasiness. There was something always uneasy-making about Eugenia, even wearying. She had these Causes (capital C) that were hard to deal with.

“Thank you for seeing me, Janus,” she said, “on such short notice.”

Pitt placed his computer on hold, and leaned back in his chair, deliberately producing an air of relaxation.

“Come,” he said, “there’s no formality between us. We go back a long way.”

“And have shared a great deal,” said Insigna.

“So we have,” said Pitt. “And how is your daughter?”