Beowulf's Children Part 47

"Sealed it airtight? Against something that ate the flesh from their bones, and left no trace? You believe this?"

" . . . No," he said. His plump, babyish face was tight with frustration. "But I don't believe in an invisible monster either!"

"Monsters from the id," someone sang.

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, we've combed the area. Dirt, rock, and soil samples. We found nothing out of the ordinary. The usual decomposed leaves, crushed rock, animal droppings, and general crud that makes dirt anywhere."

"Animal droppings?" Chaka asked, his interest roused. "What kind of animal?"

"We don't know," he said. "Not t.u.r.ds, more like a fine dry mist of concentrated s.h.i.t sprayed over everything. Aaron was sure it was something alive. You hear about that?"

"Yeah."

"The Scribe has a blue lip. There are other Avalon plants and animals that use blue to signal poison. I found four in Cadmann's garden at the Stronghold! We looked hard at that slice of skin Aaron cut, and it really is poisonous. But Cadzie blue is a darker color."

Chaka brooded. "Dammit, Edgar, it's such a neat notion." He suddenly grinned. "And Aaron is so ma.s.sively embarra.s.sed."

Like wind pa.s.sing over a wheat field, heads turned toward Aaron . . . who was apparently half-asleep.

Edgar said, "We have a piece of the lip itself. We have views through several sets of war specs. We have Justin's flash photographs. Cadzie blue is darker."

"Why don't you let me take a look at that stuff you collected?"

"Well . . . all right, Chaka. Right after dinner?"

Chaka smeared a trace of the dropping sample on an a.n.a.lyzer sheet, and ran it into tile kiln.

"What are you looking for?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. But Pop considers it to be the largest threat to the colony."

Aaron nodded. Somewhat to Justin's surprise, Aaron had wanted to come over, had cut his partic.i.p.ation in the revelry short.

Columns of numbers danced in the air as the computer began its a.n.a.lysis.

Aaron ran his finger through the air next to the column. "Phosphorus, carbon. Lots of nitrogen."

Justin asked, "As much as you would expect from a carnivore?"

"Sure. Urea-"

"And this stuff, it's what a mammal would turn urea into. Unless it's a hominid," Chaka said. "This matches what we know of Avalon biology."

"Not grendel, though?"

"No, not grendel. Way less water, for one thing." Chaka muttered under his breath to Ca.s.sandra, and the images of the droppings expanded. "It's like dust. And . . . there's more than one kind here. Lots of animal life up there, nothing very large."

"Could be barking up the wrong tree."

"Wrong d.a.m.n forest. I can't tell anything until we match the droppings with the animal samples that we have currently, and keep going. We might be able to determine a phylum. I doubt if we can get closer than that."

"h.e.l.l of a riddle," Aaron said. He looked troubled. "I know what I want to do. I want to take a look on the west side of that mountain ridge. There's something over there. Volcanic? Organic? Don't know. But something on that mountain somewhere killed two people, and I want to find out what it was."

"What about Stu's funeral?" Justin asked.

Aaron nodded. "Tomorrow morning. But before Robor arrives. Stu was Star Born, and we'll mourn him privately."

All eighty-five of Shangri-La's Star Born were crowded into the main recreation hall. The eighty-sixth was buried out on the Scribeveldt, his grave marked by a pile of stone as tall as a man, and recorded to the centimeter in Ca.s.sandra's files.

Katya walked somberly to the southeast corner of the rec room, and placed a foot-tall wooden plaque against the wall. With eight clean hammer-strokes she nailed it to the wall. On it were two lines of etched letters. The first read: STU ELLINGTON. Beneath it, GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN.

There was another plaque on that wall. TOSHIRO TANAKA. REST WELL, SENSEI.

She returned to the front of the hail, and stood beside Justin.

Aaron Tragon stood before them. He wore a dark shirt and pants. His flaxen hair lay down around his shoulders. He gazed out at their a.s.sembled faces, and began to speak.

"Most of those who have fulfilled this duty before me," he said, his voice swelling to fill the room, "have commended the inst.i.tution of the eulogy. It is good, they have said, that solemn words should be spoken over our fallen friends. I disagree. Acts deserve acts, not words."

Someone behind Katya said, "Amen to that."

"But I can offer no act to equal that of Stuart Ellington. So it is with apologies to our fallen friend that I offer only words. We cannot understand Stu's sacrifice merely by considering the life he saved, or the life he lost in so saving. We must look to the sacrifices made to conquer Avalon, the world which we have inherited, with all of its terrors and treasures.

"Twenty years ago there came from Earth a group of men and women who dreamed of Humanity's destiny among the stars. These courageous folk were willing to invest their lives in that dream. And all of us here descended from that dream."

There were quiet nods of agreement.

"Most of you were born into the world through the bodies of your mothers, children of Love.

"But others of us-like me, like Chaka and Trish, like Stu-were children of the dream itself, brought into the world by mind and force of will. Mind and Heart together have inherited this world . . .

"Stu enjoyed his garden, and his mathematics, and his flying. G.o.d, how he loved his flying. The true wealth of Avalon is found in the fact that pleasure motivates us-not the pain of lesser cultures. We don't have discipline on Avalon-we have hunger. Hunger to grow, to learn, to share. We are lovers of beauty, of wisdom, of knowledge. We differ from the states which preceded us in regarding the man who holds aloof from public life not as 'quiet' but as useless. Together in debate and action we have created every aspect of this world, and of that, we may be proud.

"For we are at once the most adventurous and the most thoughtful human beings who have ever lived. But there is a price for the wealth, the opportunity, the beauty which fills our lives. Stu paid that price. More of us will pay it. We may pray to be spared his bitter hour, but remember his sacrifice and hope that if your moment of duty comes, you may discharge it as n.o.bly.

"It is because of this n.o.bility that I do not mourn. For I know that we have been born into a world of manifold chances, and that he is to be accounted happy to whom either the best life, or the best death falls. The two are joined inexorably as one.

"There is only a plaque to celebrate Stu here. His body belongs to the soil, to the cycle of life. This whole planet is the sepulcher of a brave man, and Stu's story is not merely graven on this plaque, but lives on in our hearts as we think of him, and strive to follow his example. As we try to lead a life, or die a death, one half so n.o.ble as his."

Aaron closed his eyes, and placed both hands, folded together, above his heart. "Good-bye, Stu," he said quietly.

Chapter 30

FAMILY TIES.

Sun-girt city, thou hast been Ocean's child, and then his queen; Now is come a darker day, And thou soon must be his prey.

PERCY BYSSHE Sh.e.l.lY, Lines Written Amongst the Euganean Hills

There were those who felt that the intent of Shangri-La was as stated in their formal manifesto: to explore and conquer the mainland. To others, the major intent was to create a world separate from their parents. To a few, the major intent was to party.

By agreement, anyone who didn't do his share, or compromised camp security, could be sent back to Camelot. Surf's Up was a more forgiving environment. There had been two such expulsions, both times at Aaron's insistence. There were no slackers at Shangri-La.

But children want the respect of their parents.

Despite everything that had been said and done, and all of the accusations and protestations of independence, it was noticeable that the streets were a little cleaner, that things moved with a little more sparkle and polish when the dirigible was due to come over from the island.

Much of the work stopped at least an hour before Robor's imposing shadow fell across the land. The landing pad, surrounded by electrified fence and another trench, was cleared. The landing crews stood by. Everything and everyone was in place.

Aaron, Justin, Jessica, Chaka-the entire Board of the Star Born were there to meet Robor. Today there were special visitors inside.

The skeeters purred gently as they urged it toward its destination. Sudden music blared out: the Shangri-La Symphony Orchestra was now the town band, as Ca.s.sandra played a match composed by Derik and Gloria with theme suggestions from Jessica. The tune went from oompah to swing with odd transformations as the dirigible glided into the restraining web. The ground-crew volunteers hauled the mooring lines taut and cleated them down.

"Clear and secure!" Heather McKennie called. The pilot acknowledged, and let down the landing ramp.

Cadmann Weyland was the first out. He waved to Justin and Jessica as he strode down the gangplank. Sylvia followed, then the stooped figure of Big Chaka.

Cadmann and Jessica regarded each other. Justin watched carefully. This was, the first time they had seen each other in eight weeks. The longest they had ever been separated. Their relationship had suffered a terrible blow: who knew what might happen?

Sylvia went to Justin, and embraced him. He wanted to lose himself in his mother's arms. He'd forgotten how much he missed her, how very good it felt to allow himself to be enfolded. She looked a little tired, a little more worn, but still wonderful.

But he kept a bit of peripheral vision on Jessica and her father, and he wasn't disappointed.

Jessica took the step forward, and held out her hand. Cadmann took it.

He held it, and they looked at each other.

Justin could see Aaron's face over Sylvia's shoulder. As Chaka and Justin and Jessica embraced their parents, Aaron Tragon beamed like a proud schoolmaster . . . well, not quite.

"How is Mother?" Jessica asked finally.

"She's fine. Your brother Mickey is watching her. She wanted me to come over to check on you."

"I can believe that." Her eyes shone.

There was still so much in his face. She had looked up and into those eyes so many times, over so many years, and she had watched it slowly age like good leather. He was still the man that she knew, and she couldn't quite bring herself to say the things that she needed to say.

"Come on," she said. She took his hand, and led him away from the others. Aaron tried to stay in step with them at first, but she locked eyes with him. This is about me and my father. There really wasn't a place for him here. He nodded, and turned to something else.

Big Chaka embraced his son. "I saw the grendel brain scans," he said. "A month ago Tonya got bitten by a leech-like parasite, didn't she? While swimming upriver . . . ?"

Jessica led Cadmann though the streets. They rang with the smell of iron and singed plastic. There were a thousand different projects under way at the same moment. Everywhere, Star Born labored efficiently at a hundred vital tasks.

Little Carey Lou Davidson ran past lugging a bucket of plastic nails.

He called "Hi, Cadmann!" and disappeared into a half-erected wood frame.

Cadmann waved back. "You've done well," he said.

"You must have been able to see most of this through Ca.s.sandra."

"Yes. That was nice, the virtual tour through the streets. But it's never quite real for me until I can feel the wind on my skin, and smell the trees."

They walked all the way through the town, back to the stone stairs cut into the mountainside. She took the stairs two at a time until they were above the rooftops, until they could see everything in the colony at one sweeping glance.

She sat him down, and took his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I wanted you to see this," she said. "I wanted you to really know that it wasn't just a pipe dream."

"I knew that it wasn't going to be that . . ." he said, and his voice trailed off. He was looking out over the mainland shantytown. From here, the individual human voices were as soft as wind chimes, and the sounds of industry dwindled to a burr. There was something of newness in the air, and it was easy to imagine that it was the beginning of a new world. Of course, in some ways it was. He could see more than the camp from here, too. From this alt.i.tude, he was looking out over a river plain, seeing the stretch of mountains gently wreathed in fog. There was a mystic quality to the scene. The land was waiting. The land was alive. Beyond the mists lay adventure, and romance.

The clouds on the horizon were a light haze shading slowly from blue to white, to blue again in the sky above. Tau Ceti burned a yellow-orange hole through the haze.

Cadmann inhaled deeply. Jessica watched as something within him tensed and then relaxed, but she didn't interrupt him.

What are you thinking, Father? She reached out to touch his arm, and felt him take her hand. There was a rough quality to his skin, a masculine smell to him, which was of infinite comfort. His face, so weathered by the elements here, so grooved by care and loss, seemed more angular to her. He didn't seem old to her now, as he often did. He seemed . . . historical. She almost laughed.

The silence stretched on, long and unnatural. Then Colonel Cadmann Weyland said to her, at last, "You may have done the right thing, but that can't make up for how it was done. Nothing can."

"Toshiro?"

"More than that."

"What could be-more than that?"

"We trusted you, then. When we found we couldn't, everything changed. Toshiro died because we no longer knew what we could expect from you. From any of you. From him."

"But he wouldn't-oh." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'd have said that about you," the colonel said. "And did. Toshiro wouldn't kill Carlos. Jessica wouldn't-Jessica, I can stand being made to look a fool. Anyone who has to make decisions knows that will happen some day. But-you came into our home and took advantage of your status there. That can't happen again."

Her throat tightened.

"But there's another thing that you need to hear," he said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm still your father, and I love you."

"Really?" she hated the sound of her own voice, the little-girl quality, the needing-Daddy's-approval quality. There was something there that she hadn't heard in her own voice for years, and she wasn't certain if she hadn't missed it.

"Really," he said. "I'll visit you here on the mainland. Both of your mothers will come over. But you're no longer welcome at the Bluff. Not now. Perhaps later, after we see what you do with your responsibilities here. Love you get just because you're my daughter. Trust has to be earned."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. Started to speak, and he said, "Shhh."