Eclipses (v1.0), page 29
“Defend!” The word startled Hilde. Then she nodded slowly, as if finally comprehending. She looked at Aram. “Will it be worse on the coast?”
“Yes, much worse.”
“What about Pola?”
“She’s welcome here, of course.”
“I’ve been so certain of the expedition’s success that I hadn’t given real consideration to the consequences of failure.” She looked around the empty room, her eyes brimming with tears.
“You shouldn’t be wasting valuable time on this … this fortress!” Marc said, openly angry now. “You should be preparing for the future.”
“lam,” Aram said loudly. “There are certain priorities to be considered, you and Hilde among the highest. I can do nothing to prevent chaos on Serensunar but I can, and therefore must, ensure your personal safety during the catastrophe.”
“Why do great men think only of the present? Will it never stop?” Marc turned away from Aram and stared into the fire, deep in thought. “Earth took two thousand years to reach this point in its history; we’ve done it in less than two hundred.”
“Yes,” Aram agreed sadly. “And we’ve done it despite knowing Earth’s problems. We programmed a computer to avoid pitfalls. It did a good job, but, in the end, Serensunar is no different. We didn’t expect Earth’s refuse to arrive by the shipload.”
“The problem has not come from Earth,” Marc said. “It’s in ourselves.” He looked at Aram and his brown irises sparked with reflections of the fire embers. “Have you ever listened to the campfire stories Mother used to tell?”
“The adventure stories about the Lost Expedition? Yes, I’ve heard them—fanciful extrapolations about the survivors’ disappearances. Barely related to the known facts of subterfuge and deceit.”
Marc nodded. “It doesn’t matter if you consider the tales or the facts. Either way the scale was small, and the misbegotten acts of compassion or the self-preserving subterfuge seem isolated; but in the end they all perished.”
“I remember in the stories,” Hilde said, “they were noble, but it was so sad.”
“Noble is a strange word, Hilde. It’s despicable to die because of ethics that are shabby and outdated. They died because they wouldn’t change, not because they couldn’t.” “Serensunar will change,” Aram said. “It has to now.” “But it will not change goals.” Marc sighed slowly. Then, realizing the other three were still watching him expectantly, he shrugged. “It’s what I was looking for in the computer this morning. But, if the pattern is man’s, he’s probably built it into his machines, too.”
“The computer has performed responsibly for this world.” “Does that mean that it is irresponsible to the future world?”
Aram watched Marc shuffle out of the gathering room. He tried to understand what Marc had said and he wondered about the boy’s inner thoughts. He’d expected remorse from both children, and remorse is what they showed. But Marc’s grief was strange, somehow inappropriately focused. He noticed Hilde leaving the room, head low and her hand wiping tears. There seemed no reasonable way to transform the solemn occasion into a joyous one, and somehow he felt it would be unreasonable for him to try. He had had almost a year to accept the circumstances and knew he had to give the children time for their grief, too.
Hilde closed a bedroom door behind her and Aram turned to see Megan stirring the fire with the poker, adding more logs while she thought. He had not openly suggested she accompany the family to the stronghold, but the very fact that he’d brought her with his family today implied an invitation. Finally she spoke. “What about Beth?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t deny I’d be tempted to shelter her from the devastation she herself has brought to Serensunar, but only because I must consider my children’s feelings for her.”
“Your own feelings are not to be considered?”
Aram looked at her. She was watching him while idly poking the logs. “I have no feelings for Beth anymore.” Megan shook her head. “I don’t believe you. It’s just that Beth has always taken care of your anger. You’ve forgotten how to deal with it alone … especially when it is she who has made you angry.”
Aram considered, remembering all the years with Beth and her yielding to him, always short of his rage, or her circumventing issues which might anger him. He remembered, too, that Beth always interposed herself between himself and hostile people … even only seemingly hostile people. “Yes, I suppose she did often prevent my anger, but so do you.” Megan laughed. “Yes, in that we are alike. Perhaps it’s an Earthborn trait that comes from having to isolate ourselves while within crowds. We lock doors for privacy, but there’s no lock we can use on other people’s emotions. We carefully cultivate the feelings we like and vigorously defend ourselves from the negative ones … fear, anger and sorrow. It’s a selfishness, though, not a kindness.”
“Being loving and considerate of me was not selfish.” “Was making those contracts an amiable or obliging act?” Aram hesitated. “Yes, for the refugees.” He found it easier now to accept Beth’s compassion for the refugees than to believe she’d spited him just so she could abscond without fear of pursuit.
“Don’t look to external forces for Beth’s reasons. Look for something very self-centered within her. She would not have made the contracts unless she would benefit.”
“I don’t know what that could be,” Aram said sadly. “You once described her as fleeing because she’d lost her love for you. Do you still believe that?”
“No, not now. It seemed rational then, for I thought somehow, sometime when I was too busy to notice, her love must have turned to hate and she wished to destroy me. But Beth is not vengeful, she’s self-sacrificing. If she no longer loved me, she would simply have left. I’ve never had the power to hold her against her will. We’ve both known that since before Alexi was bom. I’ve had a lot of time to remember the years I spent with her, and I’ve considered Beth’s hatred and rejected it.” Aram smiled longingly. “Per-
haps I’m simply being kind to myself, telling myself that it wasn’t that she loved me less, only that she loved the refugees more. And now, I’m being very unkind to you, Megan, talking this way. Forgive me.”
Megan shook her head. “I’ve turned the conversation to Beth because I will not accept your invitation to come here if the expedition fails. If Beth doesn’t return to you, someday, when you realize why she left, you’ll go after her. I know you will.”
“And you’d be compromised?”
“There would be other complications I’d have to deal with. By accepting your protection, I’d be renouncing my affection for … another person.”
Aram looked at her sharply. She was unembarrassed and smiling. “You’ve fitted in so perfectly, I’d not considered that your heart could be elsewhere,” he said.
“It isn’t elsewhere. It’s just many-faceted. I’ve known many fine men.”
“But there is one who is special to you?” She did not answer but seemed to be studying Aram. He felt indulgent toward the unknown man, grateful, for only in these past few minutes had he finally admitted to himself what his heart had always told him: Beth was his only love.
Finally Megan quietly answered. “This is a family of special men.”
Aram was surprised. “Alexi?”
“Erik.”
“Oh, I thought that was over before it had even begun,” he said, trying to hide his concern. Erik’s need for continuous adventure was not compatible with Megan’s need for security.
“It never ended,” said Megan. “You understand why I cannot come here.”
Aram nodded. “I’m surprised you accepted my contract.”
“That’s different. He encouraged Alexi to help me leave the vineyards; he was pleased when Beth contracted me during her illness. He wouldn’t begrudge my accepting your contract, but to come here—”
“Yes, I know. He’d feel helpless against me, and you won’t put him in that position. I respect you for that but …”
“But it still hurts?”
“Not from losing you,” Aram said, smiling at her concern. “Since I never had you, how can I lose you? No, the pain is from Erik. It’s not lessened any since the day I first knew it. I love my son.”
“He knows that,” she said. Megan replaced the fireplace poker on its hook, stood up and started to the kitchen.
“Megan?” She stopped when she heard her name, but Aram found it difficult to speak. There were many things he should say, but how to say them? Could he speak of the hypocrisy of sleeping with her again when it had not been so just yesterday? Could he say he wouldn’t sleep with her again because he no longer denied his love for Beth without seemingly making judgment on her love for Erik? Aram regarded her, and, from the compassion in her eyes, knew he did not need to speak of these things. She knew they were settled. So he spoke of the one thing remaining on his mind. “If Beth did not hate me, nor act only from sympathy for the refugees, why did she leave me?”
“I believe she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.” Megan left and Aram stared after her, puzzled. The logic was there. If he eliminated hatred as a motive, what else could there be but fear? Beth was afraid of many things— winter, loud noises, violence, pain—but what could she possibly fear from him, the man whom she loved? Assuming she still loves me—of course she does! I still love her! How could fear motivate her to make the contracts? How could fear induce her to run? Fear of me?
Aram’s fists pressed his temples. “Idiot computer!” he muttered rapping his knuckles against his brain. “Of course she was afraid. Damn her … damn me! I’ve coddled her feelings more than she has mine. How foolish! How shortsighted!”
Presently he stopped berating himself, wandered into the kitchen and whistled happily to the bewilderment of his gloomy children. Only Megan smiled for him.
Chapter 31
Beth wore sandals to cross the blistering heat of the deck to where Alexi waited by the parafoil. He still wore heavy socks and boots from his final visit to the iceberg. He smiled at Beth’s approach. His dark hair was in need of a trim and his beard would require complete removal to attain Beth’s approval, but the deep tan was handsome. His light eyes were like gemstones in a rich setting.
“Is all well?” Beth asked, gesturing at the iceberg.
Alexi nodded. “The drillers are sinking a new shaft. They want to resecure the foremost cable. If they leave it where it is, the stress might split the berg when melting is at its peak. We don’t want to leave half of it. Several of the others need new shafts, too. But they’ll all arrive safely.”
“I was hesitant about the prepaid contract you wrote for those drillers, but they’ve turned out to be exceptionally conscientious women.”
“We had to prepay them. There may not be unlet drill contracts in Sibemia when they return … if they return. I suspect they’ll try to stay in Greatland. Big things are happening there.”
Beth nodded and looked up. A few gulls soared and dived beneath her vision, leaving the clear sky with only the sun to be seen. But at night she had often seen the great Earth-made satellites climbing across the sky like fiery stars. Each star carried five hundred refugees frozen in time, awaiting the signal Beth had given ten months ago. It had to be done, she thought, and he’ll have only me to blame.
Tropical breezes wafted her thin silver-trimmed sari as she led the way to the parafoil. She had said her farewells to Steig and Johanna and the crew and had no reason to hesitate before entering the cabin. But it was a hard step to take, knowing she was returning to face Aram’s anger.
“Come on, Mother,” Alexi said, taking her arm and gently pressuring her toward the cabin. “Another day won’t change it.”
Beth looked at Alexi. His gray eyes shone with excitement and his teeth gleamed through a hoary grin. “How can you be so eager to face your father?”
“Because we’ve succeeded. He’ll get over his anger when he knows that. His contracts will be met. Each berg has enough water for coastal needs for a month and my dear Baron father has claim-staked on the End of the World where they come from.” Alexi steadied her and she passed through the portal. “Erik’s the one to pity—not us. One month of summer when, if he’s lucky, the temperature will rise to twenty degrees.”
Beth nodded and strapped herself into the navigator’s chair. Alexi sat next to her and began checking his instrument panel. His grin was gone.
The Baron’s contracts, made by his renegade lady, had the source for fulfillment. The Baron would not renege. I should take pleasure in that knowledge, Beth thought. But the lady was a renegade the moment she’d signed the contracts against the Baron’s will… without his knowledge … in direct conspiracy against his dictatorship. She had shattered Aram’s trust and with it their lifelong contract. The Baron’s ex-lady was more free now than any other person on Serensunar, yet she was shackled forever. Aram held the chain binding her feet. Did he know it?
Chapter 32
It was springtime and the temperature in Hidden Valley was cool. Even so, Aram was perspiring, for he was carrying a case of wine on his shoulder. The heavy box bit into his flesh, and when he shifted it he almost upset it. Groaning, Aram swung the box to the ground and sat on it for a moment and wiped his brow with his sleeve. Spring zephyrs rustled tender leaves and music-mad marsh birds sang everywhere. The trees were filled with the small, brightly colored tuweer birds who migrated from the southern tip of the continent to Hidden Valley. They nested in the trees, even in the saplings and meadow brush, and then departed in the fall with a greatly increased flock. Aram wasn’t sure whether they nested some other place as well. No one lived in the swamps, and consequently the marsh birds’ habits were still something of an enigma. Their number this year was large enough to be a nuisance, yet Aram found the brightly flashing wings and the melodious notes companionable. He felt less lonely than he had just an hour before in the parafoil.
With the advent of spring, Maria, pinched, wrinkled and thin, had returned to the mansion. Despite her age she was still spry and capable, and she’d resumed her duties at once.
Within a few days, Megan had come to Aram and quietly announced that her services were no longer needed.
“Maria and I are duplicating efforts,” Megan said. “It’s time for me to leave.”
“Leave?” The thought of separation startled him. Megan had continued to be Aram’s very good friend after the winter trip to the renegade stronghold, and he loathed seeing her go. Megan, it seemed to him, was the only person who fully understood his predicament of wanting Beth back without losing his own pride or Beth surrendering hers. But then, as he looked into Megan’s guileless eyes and watched her nod, Aram realized he couldn’t protest. “Where will you go?” “Home for a while. To the vineyard.”
Partly from gratitude, but more to delay the parting, he’d flown her to Erik’s vineyard colony. It was Aram’s intention to depart from there immediately and spend a few days at the fortress tallying the strength of his retreat. But the vintners had greeted them at the vineyard foilport and would not hear of his leaving.
“You can stay a few days, can’t you, Aram?” Megan had said. “I’d like you to see where I live … see what Erik has done here and meet his friends.”
Aram couldn’t resist. “Yes, I would like to see everything.” Aram had stayed in Megan’s cottage, which was one of perhaps five hundred homes in the village. It was a simple structure, smaller than most of the others, a single circular room with a central fireplace and a skylighted roof. When he’d retired for the night, he had found Erik’s clothes in the wall closet near the bed Megan had assigned him. He had borrowed a robe and was surprised to find it was too large. It reminded him of the terrible time gulf since he’d last seen his son.
When, after three days, Aram explained that he now had to return to the mansion, his hosts had been understanding. But Aram realized he was reluctant to leave the colony. It was an energetic community with keen, amiable people. He consoled himself by promising to bring Hilde and Marc for a visit during the summer. Megan assured him that her door was open to them even if she were not able to be present.
Aram hadn’t been able to leave without accepting cases of wine as departing gifts. And, on a whim, he’d followed his original plan and made the small detour to the stronghold, intending to stay only long enough to leave a case of wine in the house before hurrying back to the mansion. But the case was heavy, not designed for human handlers, and the walk through the forest was uphill. The radio on his wrist buzzed. Almost grateful for the interruption, Aram put down the case.
“Yes,” he said, and heard static for a reply. Then the noise thinned and he heard Pola’s voice. She sounded breathless.
“I thought I was going to have to wait until you got home, but the vineyard was able to boost the signal.”
“What is it?” Aram said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Erik sent word that they’ve passed the tropics. The ablation is less than the estimate. They’re going to make it with icebergs to spare.”
Aram nodded, unable to speak.
“Dad, did you hear me? I said—”
“I heard you, Pola. Thank you for calling.” He switched off the radio, more stunned by the shocking good news than he would have been by bad. For a moment, he couldn’t think of what to do next; carry the case to the stronghold, or back to the parafoil. Home, he thought. I’ll take the wine home.
Before he picked up the case again, Aram ducked through the trees for a short distance until he came to the glacier-fed stream that cut through the valley. It was running rapidly, swollen from the spring thaw, and he drank heavily of the sweet-tasting runoff. Had he not been on his hands and knees, the sparkling below the water, different from sunlight flashing off water facets, would not have been seen. Had not a sun shaft been reflecting the scintillating light at just the right angle, he would not have blinked and noticed. He plunged his hand into the cold water and took out a small pebble. It was not quartz and certainly not marble. He believed he was holding a diamond; even rough, it had its own special beauty. He carefully looked around the streambed but saw only water glittering. He stirred the sand and gravel where he’d found the one, but there was not another stone like the one in his hand.
