The Child Goddess (21 page)
“Administrator,” he said softly. “I think we need some coffee.”
“I certainly do,” Boyer said with fervor.
“I do, too,” Adetti said. He gave Simon a look of respect. “That was good work, Edwards. I couldn’t have done it.”
Simon, scrubbing his hands, nodded thanks. “Well. It’s always been part of my job,” he said. He gave way at the sink to Adetti, and wiped his hands on a towel. “And I’m always glad when it’s finished.”
They sat together at a long table in the cafeteria. The room was empty except for the cooks just beginning dinner preparations behind the steam tables.
“You can tell your people one thing. Administrator,” Simon said. He rested his elbows on the table, and traced the rim of his coffee cup with his fingers. “Even if I’d been here, or Dr. Adetti—we couldn’t have saved your man. It went too fast.”
“My people will be glad to know that,” Boyer said gloomily. “And they’ll be glad they can finally hold a funeral.”
“I know.” Simon sat back in his chair, wincing at the pinch of strained muscles. “You could ask Mother Burke to help with that.”
Adetti’s flat black eyes were on Simon. “He had the virus,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Virus?” Boyer asked.
“That’s right.” Simon twisted his shoulders, trying to stretch the small of his back. “I think I can put an antiviral together, and everyone at the power park should be immunized. Sooner the better.”
Boyer’s long face creased. “You’re saying he died of a virus?”
“More specifically, he died of the side effects of the virus,” Simon said. “I’ll write a full report in the morning, but you might as well know the gist now.” He paused, glancing at Adetti, finding himself reluctant to put it all into words.
Adetti didn’t hesitate. “I told you, Jacob, that there was something strange going on with that girl—the one who survived the skirmish.”
“Yes?” Boyer looked wary.
“You saw her,” Adetti said with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Two and a half years, and she hasn’t changed. You saw for yourself!”
Boyer turned to Simon. “Can you explain this. Dr. Edwards?”
“Not yet,” Simon said. “Not fully. But it’s true, she hasn’t changed. And she had the same virus as your hydro worker.”
“But it didn’t make her sick!”
“No. But it did cause her to develop a tiny tumor on her pituitary gland, a benign tumor. And your deceased worker has the same tumor.”
“Benign? But then why . . .”
Simon steepled his fingers and stared at them. “I have a theory, only. I need to compare Oa’s scans with the dead man’s to draw a final conclusion.”
Adetti made an impatient noise in his throat. “Come on, Edwards,” he said. “You’re hedging. You know what it is.”
Simon let his eyes slide to Adetti. “A theory,” he repeated.
A few people started to wander into the cafeteria. The cooks were settling big pots of things into the receptacles on the steam tables, and stocking the tables with condiments. Boyer said quietly, “Tell me your theory, at least. Dr. Edwards. How worried should I be about my people?”
Simon dropped his hands to the table. “Both Oa and the dead man have elevated levels of an enzyme called telomerase,” he said bluntly. “In Oa’s case, it retarded the aging process.”
“Delayed senescence!” Adetti exclaimed. “Exactly!”
Simon shot him another glance, and then looked back at Boyer. “In your worker’s case, the flood of telomerase was fatal.”
“But—where did the virus come from?”
“That’s what I need to find out,” Simon said slowly. “And no one should leave the power park until I do.”
*
ISABEL THOUGHT SHE
had never seen such a utilitarian place as the Virimund Power Park. The barracks were only an oblong of foambrick, with low ceilings and unadorned walls, a common area with a table and a big reader. The administrator’s secretary showed them to a room that reminded Isabel of a nun’s cell she had once seen in an archeological project near Assisi.
Isabel set her valise down. Sheets and blankets had been laid ready, but the beds weren’t made up. The secretary went to show Gretchen Boreson to her room as Isabel began to shake out the sheets.
Oa stood uncertainly in the middle of the little room, tugging on a lock of her hair. “Oa likes to go to the island.”
Isabel stopped, a half-unfolded sheet in her hand. “I know, sweetheart. I want to go to the island, too. But we have to wait until Doctor Simon says it’s all right. And I need to interview someone—” She hesitated, and then decided she must be straightforward. “I have to speak with the man who brought you here.”
Oa looked at her feet, and Isabel saw that her eyes reddened and her lips trembled. She dropped the sheet onto the bed. “What is it, Oa?”
The girl gave a shuddering sigh. “Oa is afraid.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of him, Oa. You don’t have to see him.”
“No, Isabel. Oa is not afraid of the man.” Oa’s nose began to run.
Isabel put her hand under Oa’s chin and lifted her face. “Then tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why you’re afraid.”
Oa sniffled. Isabel fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and gave it to her, then led her to the bed, where they sat together on the bare mattress. She waited until Oa’s tears had subsided, and then repeated her question. “Why are you afraid?”
Oa leaned against her shoulder, and Isabel pressed her cheek against the soft black hair. “The anchens. Oa is afraid there are no more anchens.”
“Ah. Yes, I see. That is a frightening thought.” Isabel stroked her hair, and felt her trembling. Oa sniffed again. “Blow, sweetheart,” Isabel said, lifting the handkerchief to the girl’s face. Obediently, Oa blew her nose. Isabel patted her shoulder. “We have to be patient a little longer, I’m afraid.”
“Be patients?” Oa asked, distracted, frowning.
“Oh, no, not patients. Not as if we were sick. We have to be patient . . . let’s see, that means calm, I guess. Waiting without being upset. Not because we like to wait, but because in this situation we don’t have a choice.”
Oa put the handkerchief down. “Patient. Oa is patient.”
“Good. That’s good, sweetheart.”
Oa turned her reddened eyes up to Isabel. “Oa does not like to be patient.”
Isabel hugged her. “No, I can see that. Sometimes we just have to.” She stood up, and pulled the girl to her feet. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we? We can make the beds up later. Let’s see if we can find our way past all that equipment, and you can show me Mother Ocean.”
When they left the barracks, Isabel hesitated on the sandy path, trying to get her bearings, but Oa turned unerringly toward the sea, tugging Isabel after her. The pastel sand was resilient under their feet, and the fading daylight left the air soft and sweet. Invisible birds sang somewhere, twittering their evening greetings.
“Jin-Li!” Oa called. Isabel looked up to see that the archivist had emerged from one of the other barracks and was waiting for them at the turning of the path.
“Hello, Oa. Isabel.” Jin-Li lifted a hand. “How’s your room?”
“It’s fine,” Isabel said. Oa danced ahead to meet Jin-Li. Isabel walked slowly, still feeling uneasy on her feet.
“Are you all right?” Jin-Li asked when she had caught up with them.
“I feel odd,” Isabel said with a shrug. “As if the gravity were off, or something.”
Jin-Li nodded. “It is, a little, but I don’t think it’s the gravity. I felt the same when I first made planetfall on Irustan, and some of the others did, too. I suspect there’s no logical explanation. It’s just—alien.”
“Yes. A good word for it. It feels alien, to my feet, my eyes, even my lungs.”
That made Jin-Li’s narrow lips curve. “Better air than home.”
“I know. But different.” Isabel glanced down at Oa. “Did you feel strange when you first came to Earth, Oa?”
Oa considered for a moment. “Oa feels strange on Earth,” she said. Her eyes flicked around at the scene, the dull buildings, the bristling ranks of solar collectors. She added, quietly, “Oa feels strange on Virimund.”
Jin-Li and Isabel looked at each other. “Tough on her,” Jin-Li said.
“Yes. In every way.”
The girl looked up at both of them. “Oa is . . . a-h-en. A-li-en.”
Isabel caught her hand, and held it between hers. “No. No, sweetheart. Not alien.”
“That’s right, Oa,” Jin-Li said. “You belong to both Earth and Virimund. You’re a child of two worlds.”
Isabel looked into Jin-Li’s long dark eyes. They were hard to read, and yet full of intelligence and honesty. “Beautifully said, Jin-Li.”
The archivist laughed a little, and looked away.
Oa tugged at Isabel’s hand again. “Isabel. Oa sees Mar-Mar now. Mother Ocean!”
“Yes, Oa, I’m coming. We’ll find our way to Mother Ocean. Jin-Li?”
“Sure.”
Isabel laughed. “Not that we can’t see Mother Ocean all around us! But Oa and I want to find the beach.”
“Sounds good.”
The three of them trooped along the path that ran behind the terminal. It bypassed the cafeteria, and the curious eyes of the Port Forcemen and women, and led through banks of solar collectors to a narrow slice of beach curling around a tiny inlet. It was empty, but it looked as if it must be a popular spot. A couple of collapsible chairs rested in the sand, and someone had left a folded blanket, with a pair of sandals on top.
Oa kicked off her shoes and raced ahead, the pink soles of her feet leaving brief sparkling footprints. She held out her arms as if to embrace the sea as she splashed into the water. The gentle, almost imperceptible surf swirled around her ankles, and then her knees, but though she walked a good distance, it grew no deeper. Isabel picked up Oa’s shoes and carried them in her hand as she and Jin-Li walked down onto the beach. She bent to unbuckle her own shoes and turned up her trouser legs.
“Are you going to wade, Jin-Li?” she smiled.
“I’ll watch from here.”
The foamy shallow water was cool on Isabel’s skin. The breeze from the ocean caressed her bare scalp, and tickled her nostrils with its scents of salt and fish and that unfamiliar scent, something pungent and sweet. She wondered what leaf or herb gave off that unique odor.
She waded out to Oa, digging her toes into the resilient sand, taking deep, refreshing breaths of salt-scented air. Her mind could hardly take in that there was actually another world beneath her feet, a different gravity, a slightly different atmosphere, a world with its own plants and creatures and constellations. She laughed at the immensity of it, and began to feel better.
Oa, seeing, flashed her white smile. “Mother Ocean is beautiful,” she said.
“Very,” Isabel agreed. “Is it good to be home, Oa?”
Oa pulled her hair ribbon off to let the long locks of her hair float in the wind. “Home is good!” She stamped, splashing the salty cool water over Isabel’s trousers, and her own, and she, too, laughed up into the darkening sky.
As they watched Virimund’s mild star settle past the horizon, their feet grew cold. Stars began to shine on the eastern horizon, and the sky turned to violet, shading to purple in the distance. They waded out of the water, and rubbed the wet sand from their feet. They put their shoes on, feeling the grit of sand inside, and turned to walk back up the path. Jin-Li led the way, and Oa and Isabel followed.
“Isabel,” Oa said softly.
“Yes, Oa.”
“Oa . . .” She paused, and her small hand searched the air for the words. “Oa likes to see the anchens. But Oa is home with Isabel.”
“Ah.” Isabel drew Oa’s hand under her arm and patted it. “Do you mean that home is where I am?”
Oa’s eyes flashed white in the dusk, and she nodded. “Home is where Isabel is.”
Isabel offered a prayer that she would never, ever disappoint this mysterious creature, this ancient child. This child of two worlds. She couldn’t bear to fail in the face of such trust.
22
SIMON CARRIED HIS
computer to his room in the barracks, where he sat poring over the data until his eyes burned and his head ached, and he judged there was no more he could do until he rested. Isabel had taken Oa to their room right after dinner, away from the intense scrutiny of the hydro workers in the cafeteria. Jin-Li, after asking if he needed any help, had gone to bed, too. Gretchen Boreson had not made an appearance at dinner, and Adetti had gone to check on her before seeking his own bed. It had been a long, arduous, and worrisome day. Simon knew he should find the r-wave center and send a message to Anna, to keep his promise to call when they made planetfall. It was hard to believe they had only arrived today, and he had seen nothing of Virimund past the airfield and Port Force terminal. He was exhausted. He told himself he would take care of it first thing in the morning. With a mental apology to Anna, and a wish for her not to be unhappy, he fell into bed, and was asleep in moments.
He woke early to the sounds of the power park gearing up for the first rays of light to touch the solar collectors. Cart motors hummed on the road, and in the other rooms, all as small and plain as the one he had been given, he heard the thump of boots, the yawns and other noises of people rising for work. At one end of the barracks, showers splashed, and at the other, the door banged open and shut. By the time Simon had gathered his toiletries and found the shower, most of the hydros were up and gone, leaving their doors ajar. Only one or two, night workers perhaps, were still in their rooms, the doors closed. Simon showered, brushed his teeth, applied a depilatory, and went in search of the r-wave center.
The tech on duty smiled when she saw Simon. “You’re Dr. Edwards, aren’t you? Jacob—Administrator Boyer, that is—said to expect you.” She rose, and pushed her own chair forward. “Here you go. Would you like some coffee? We ran out last week, but your transport brought a whole new supply, thank goodness.”
“Coffee would be wonderful.” Simon accepted the chair, and fitted the transmission wand into the receptor. He spoke the numbers and letters to route the call to Geneva, and sat back, yawning, to wait for the connection.
The tech brought an enormous mug and set it before him. “Got everything, Doc? Call me if you need something else.” She vanished into another room. He took a grateful sip of strong black coffee.
“Simon? Is that you? I can’t hear you. Simon?”
He leaned forward, pushing the cup to one side. “Yes, yes. I’m here, Anna. I’m here. There’s a slight delay. You have to allow for it.” He had explained it to her before, that the r-waves were almost, but not quite, instant. He rubbed his forehead, willing himself to be patient.
“Are you all right? Are you finally on Virimund?” Even over the reaches bridged by r-waves, her voice sounded thin and tired.
“Yes, Anna. I’m—we’ve reached Virimund. Right on schedule. I’m fine. And you? How are things going?” He drank more coffee while he waited for her answer.
“I’m all right,” she said. Her voice grew a little stronger. “Our funding came through, with Hilda’s help. We’re going to be able to add two classrooms, and hire two more teachers.”
Simon closed his eyes. He imagined her sitting at their kitchen table, the wavephone in her hand, leaning on her elbows. Though he had seen her in that posture a hundred times, it felt like looking at a stranger. It seemed impossible they were a couple, that the two of them had once decided to live together, to be married. What Simon had that been, to marry someone like Anna, someone as predictable as the passing of days into weeks, months into years? When had he begun to change? He couldn’t think now if Anna had always been—dull, was the disloyal word that came to mind. Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe it was only that they were dull together.
She prompted him gently. “What’s it like there? Is it hot?”
He glanced out the small window of the r-wave center at the patch of jungle left by the bulldozers. “Not hot. It’s rather like Hawaii,” he said. “Only more—more vivid.”
“What did you say? Vivid?”
“Yes. Vivid.”
He could feel her puzzlement over the romantic word. It was not a way they usually spoke of things. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know, exactly.” He lifted one hand, rather like Oa, searching for a way to explain his thought. “The colors seem more intense. The sea, the trees, the sky . . . The air is so clean, and it smells spicy.”
“I wish I could see it,” she said sadly.
“Yes.” He dropped his hand. “I wish you could, too.”
“I miss you,” Anna said.
Simon bit his lip. Whatever was between them, he and Anna, they never lied to each other. He couldn’t do it now, either. “It’s exciting being here, Anna,” he finally said. “The most exciting thing I’ve ever done.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “I understand,” she said. “I can certainly understand that.”
“I need to get to work now.”
“Yes, of course.” But she didn’t ask about it, didn’t ask about the girl, or the research. Or Isabel. It was remarkable, he thought, that he could sense her misery even over the immense distance that separated them. “Well. Call when you can.”
“I will.”
It was a relief to turn the r-wave tech’s desk back over to her, and take up the computer and reader and disks, to bury himself once again in work.
*
THE MORNING, LIKE
the evening before, was warm, the air soft with humidity that promised to be muggy by noon. Isabel stepped outside the barracks with Oa, to make their way to the meal hall for breakfast. Gretchen Boreson stood on the path, shading her eyes as she looked out toward the ocean. Oa shrank back when she saw her, and Isabel put an arm around her.
“Good morning, Ms. Boreson,” Isabel said.
Boreson turned toward her abruptly, almost staggering, as if she had lost her balance. She pulled a pair of wide dark glasses out of a breast pocket and put them on with a visibly trembling hand. Her silver hair was ruffled, and she had forgone her cosmetics. “Mother Burke,” she said hoarsely. “When are we going?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you know when we’re going? To the island?”
Oa stood stiffly, eyes cast down. Isabel said gently, “Simon thinks we should wait. Until he knows exactly what happened to the Port Forceman who died.”
“But I want to go now. Today.” Boreson’s voice rose, and she lifted a shaking hand to her mouth.
“I’m sure Simon’s doing the best he can,” Isabel said. “And apparently he and Dr. Adetti are in agreement about . . .” She watched in alarm as Boreson swayed, a strange involuntary movement, like a marionette on invisible strings. “Administrator—” Isabel began. She put out her hand, and Boreson seized it with her own, the polished silver claws glinting in the morning light. Isabel gasped aloud.
Her “little talent,” as Simon called it, could be a painful thing. The desperate need that blazed through Gretchen Boreson’s white hand into Isabel’s sensitive fingers felt like the lick of an open flame. She wanted to pull away, but Boreson’s grip, though her arm shook with palsy, was like a vise.
“Where’s Paolo?” Boreson hissed through pale lips. “He knows I want to go today.”
“Gretchen,” Isabel said. She made herself put her other hand over Boreson’s thin fingers, trying to soften their death grip into a handclasp. “No one can go yet, Gretchen. They don’t want to put more people at risk. It’s the virus, remember?”
Boreson wavered on her feet, swaying like a sapling in a wind.
“Come now, Gretchen. You and I will go to breakfast, with Oa, and you’ll see Paolo and Simon there, and they can explain everything. And look, here’s Jin-Li. Come now. Everything will be all right.”
Jin-Li approached. Boreson’s grip eased, and a moment later the administrator seemed to pull herself together, smoothing her hair, folding her arms around herself. Isabel made a small gesture, and Jin-Li and Oa started down the path ahead of them.
“Are you ready, Gretchen?” Isabel said quietly.
Boreson cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Breakfast. It’s just that . . . we’ve come so far. Waited so long.”
“We certainly have,” Isabel said mildly as they started after Oa and Jin-Li. “A great distance. Another day or two won’t hurt, surely.”
She stayed close to the older woman, worried she might fall. Boreson, her hands tight on her elbows, walked carefully, as if the pastel sand were made of broken glass, or as if she didn’t trust her feet. She didn’t answer.
*
“DR. EDWARDS?” JIN-LI
knocked briefly on the open door of the data room. “Isabel sent me to remind you to eat lunch.”
Simon looked up, frowning, then rubbing his brow with his hand. “Oh, Jin-Li. Good morning. Where is Isabel?”
“In Administrator Boyer’s office. She’s meeting with the cryotech who brought Oa from the island.”
“She didn’t need you there? Or me?”
“She said not. Nothing medical. The administrator will be present, and his secretary.”
“Okay.” Simon turned back to his computer. “Look at this.” Jin-Li saw a three-dimensional figure rotating slowly on the screen, a human figure. A pattern of scarlet dots radiated across the figure, lighter at the head, growing darker in the torso, almost solid in the left leg. “It’s the pattern of the viral infection, and the computer is tracing it down to its source.” He spoke a command, and the figure rotated again, and the leg, the ankle, the foot enlarged. The dots converged into a patch of solid scarlet at the heel. Simon spoke again, and it froze. “There’s the initial site of infection. The red dots show the dispersal pattern of the virus through the body—pretty generalized, probably travels right through the cell walls. Bet it moved fast. He could have stepped on something, I suppose. Or been bitten.”
“There’s a spider here,” Jin-Li said. “A long-legged black one. One of the Port Forceman told me it bites.”
Simon looked up. “It does? Others have been bitten?”
“Guess so. He said it hurts.”
Simon leaned back, rubbing his reddened eyes. “Okay. We need to look at those spiders, then. What else?”
“There are several varieties of snake, but mostly a lot of birds. Long feathers, long beaks. The biologist hasn’t had time to catalog everything. She’s been pretty busy with the biotransforms, and getting hydroponics up and running.”
“Can you ask her what samples she has so far? I know a lot of this isn’t in your job description, but we’re shorthanded all around.”
“Happy to do it.” Jin-Li hesitated in the doorway.
Simon looked up, brow creased again. “Something else?”
“Yes. Isabel—”
At her name, Simon’s face brightened. “Oh, lord. Right. Lunch.”
He laughed. “I’m going, Jin-Li. Promise. I don’t want Isabel to worry.”
Simon’s grin dropped years from his lean face. Jin-Li thought of Simon and Isabel, isolated in the Victoria Desert, spending hours together every day, eating their meals together every evening, falling in love under the blistering Australian sky. Surely it had been inevitable, if complicated. And where did it leave them now?
Simon hurried off toward the meal hall, and Jin-Li turned to go into the terminal, to ask at the comm center for the biologist. Above the drab buildings the sky was a vault of clear blue, punctuated by fluffs of white cloud. Grains of pastel sand glittered on every surface, and wherever the eye turned, the emerald waters stretched to the horizon. Jin-Li paused for a long moment, savoring it, breathing the spicy air, wondering what dark secret marred the perfect beauty of the planet.
*
THE CRYOTECH CALLED
Ice was small, with thinning hair that had once been blond, but had faded to a yellowish-white. His sunburned scalp showed through in ragged patches. He perched on the edge of a chair in Jacob Boyer’s office, his red-knuckled hands resting uneasily on his knees. He spoke with an accent Isabel recognized.
“You’re from Australia,” she said with a smile. “I worked there two years ago, in the Victoria Desert. ”
“Other side,” he said in a reedy tenor. “I’m from Adelaide.”
Isabel nodded. She pointed to her reader, set up on Boyer’s desk. “I thought you might be more comfortable with fewer people present, so I told our archivist I’d record everything, if it’s all right with you, Mr. Foster.”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said. “But call me Ice.” He managed a wan grin. “I don’t answer to much else these days.”
Isabel put out her hand, and he took it diffidently, giving it a tentative shake. “Ice.” The touch of his fingers gave her a faint feeling of sadness, as of long-suppressed grief.
“Yeah.” His smile faded, and he crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. “Listen, Mother Burke. It all happened a long time ago, and I’ve kinda tried to forget it. I told Mr. Boyer, here, everything at the time.”
“I know you did, and I read the report. But it would help me to hear it for myself. You understand how important it is, not only to the children on the island, but to your colleagues.”
The look that crossed the man’s weathered face had only one meaning. Without thinking, she breathed, “You blame yourself.”
He nodded, mutely.
She watched him trying to disguise his emotion. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Should have.”
“Mr. Foster. I mean, Ice,” she said gently. “Let’s work together. Perhaps we can prevent more deaths. Sometimes a tragedy can be turned into something positive.”
“Won’t bring my buddy back.” His voice was strained.
“No.” She shook her head. It may have been, as he said, a long time, but she suspected it was as fresh to Ice as if it had happened yesterday. As fresh as it was to Oa. Oa had difficulty talking about it, but at least Ice could express himself. She leaned forward and tapped her reader to begin recording.
“Ice, tell me why you landed on the island.”
“Well. No need for cryo that early in construction. No product yet, you know? So we were checking out the other islands. Not looking for anything, just . . . looking. New planet, lots of islands . . . Other guys were doing it, going in different directions.”
“And when you reached this particular island?”
“Well, we picked that one because we thought we saw smoke. Just a little, a thin stream . . . could have been from one of the old volcanoes, or even a grass fire. But then we saw this monument kind of thing. Square on top, wider at the bottom, piled-up stones. It didn’t look natural.” He dropped his eyes to his work-roughened hands. “We were just curious,” he muttered. “We never meant—” His eyes came up to hers, slid to Boyer, came back to Isabel. “We never meant for anyone to be hurt. They came at us!”
