Daughters Of A Coral Dawn Part 14

''Probably not." She grinned. "It would be helpful if you would not bring me to her attention,"

"If I speak too freely," I retorted, "you don't talk enough. I had to find out from Diana who you really are."

"Does that create .. . difference between us?"

I was astonished by the concern in her voice and the sudden shynessa"yes, shynessa"in her eyes. I *answered, "I've looked forward to this day with you, Megan. Do you have many special duties? Will you be able to show me Cybele?"

"I have duties. And I must open the games now." We were walking toward the hovercraft as she spoke.

"This was once Mother's prerogative which has fallen to me. Mother becomes less patient and more irrascible with the years."

I nodded, remembering Mother's greeting at the EV and how she had so confounded us.

"Mother and I both make awards to the partic.i.p.ants in the games. But I will have an opportunity to show you anything you wish to see."

We flew over a tranquil coral lake and into a huge natural amphitheater formed by high but gently shaped gra.s.s-covered mountains on three sides, the lake on the fourth. An audience of thousands was gathered along the canted slopes of the amphitheater, some in sheltered areas carved from the mountainsides, others taking their ease in the open air, on small plateaus, it was a casual, festive gathering of these thousands; most were lounging on fleece, with much evidence ;of food and drink.

Megan flew into the very center of the amphitheater, which I could now see was sectioned and shaped for athletic events. She landed and leaped from the hovercraft, a.s.sisting me from it amid a rising crescendo of sound.

I said impishly, "All that cheering is undoubtedly for me."

She grinned and led me to a cordoned-off area in which were a.s.sembled Mother and the six robed women I now knew were the Inner Circle. She presented me to Mother, who was draped in a green cape edged in gold and sat resplendent on a gold chaise.

Mother took my hand and patted it. "Welcome to our festivities, my dear. Now that you've shed that white sack, you're really quite lovely. Isn't she lovely, Megan?"

"Indeed she is," Megan said easily.

As I stood tongue-tied under the gaze of these two women with their identical eyes of emerald, my awkwardness was eased by the arrival of a member of the Inner Circle whom I had not seen before, a woman of remarkable beauty, her features sensually shaped perfection., her azure robe suggesting equal perfection of body. Her eyes were a more true azure than her robe, and rivaled Megan's in beauty, '

"Megan, I have not met your guest."

"Nor have several other members of the Inner Circle" Megan replied. I noted the testiness of her tone.

"Venus, I present Lieutenant Laurel Meredith." I also noted the formality of the introduction^ "I learned of your landing only this morning." Venus gazed at me with eyes hypnotic in their beauty. "I was on the continent of Nin on an expedition with . . . a friend."

*"I know what you accomplished with your friend," Mother said tartly, "but did you do any work?"

Venus said with dignity, "Farica and I will be making our presentation to the Council, Mother. Perhaps you will be interested in our discoveries ofa""

Mother waved a hand. "You know very well your poor old Mother isn't a bit interested in new bugs or strange shrubbery. Megan dear, let's get on with the games."

"Leave your guest to me," Venus said, smiling.

As Venus murmured something I didn't hear, I watched .Megan mount a small platform amid rising applause; .she stood with feet braced apart and said in a clear voice that echoed throughout the amphitheater, "On our fifteenth anniversary on this world which we chose, this beloved land which is our own, let us celebrate ourselves and each other." She had slowly raised her arms as she spoke, and she turned to all sides of the amphitheater as cheers thundered down, as , hundreds of young women clad in bright coral warmsuits streamed onto the arena floor, clapping their hands joyfully above their heads, running along the perimeter to the reverberating homage of their audience. It was a colorful and Stirring sight, and I was watching with great pleasure as . Megan returned to us.

"There are others I must have Laurel meet," she said to Venus.

Venus smiled at me. "May I also call you Laurel?"

"Of course."

"Will I be seeing you at the fete tonight?"

Megan said impatiently, "Excuse us, Venus. There is little time before the games are underway."

And indeed there was scarcely time to be presented to Demeter, and the formidable Hera whom I remembered well from the time of our landing; then applause began again, signifying the beginning of the events. We lounged comfortably on luxurious chaises covered with thick soft fleece, a holographic unit before us. I gazed at several women nearby who were stripping off their warmsuits. Then I gaped. They were totally nude.

Megan had apparently observed my shock. She said quietly, "Part of the aesthetics of compet.i.tion is the total beauty of the athlete. We enjoy athletics in its fullest aspect."

"I see," I murmured, staring at a gloriously tanned, perfectly formed girl of no more than sixteen, staring at the blonde triangle of hair between her legs, at the white-blonde hair that whipped about her face as she practiced a toss of a crystal javelin which glistened in the sunlight. At her young age she was already full-breasted; I saw that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were held by a transparent band of material that did not diminish their beauty.

"These seats on the arena floor may be prestigious," Megan said in an amused voice, "but they offer the *poorest views of our games, I suggest that you watch the holograph, as I do."

I took my eyes from the blonde girl to see that the unit had been switched on; tiny three-dimensional nude figures were performing an elaborate ritual that seemed partially composed of dance steps. "What game is this?" I asked, fascinated by the subtle rhythms of the players as they blended and flowed together in energetic and intricate patterns, a series of small bails floating among them.

"We call it Criss-Cross. It's a ball game, but based on chess principles, and it makes intellectual demands as well as physical ones. It's very popular. Would you like me to explain it to you? Or would you like to see other-events?"

I said reluctantly, impelled by curiosity; "I think other events."

"You'll find our other games more familiar." She touched a color-coded key on the unit.

Naked runners crouched in a still tension of waiting, then exploded into flashing iimbs and flying hair; a lithe dark-skinned woman broke the beam seconds later,'arms raised in triumph, her compet.i.tors close on her heels.

"Vardis," Megan said. "She's perhaps our finest runner since the inception of the games." She touched another key.

Two women, both small-breasted and with dark glossy hair and delicate Oriental features, leapt high and in unison from a raised platform composed of a material which lent additional spring to their legs. They somersaulted and spun" in breathtaking synchrony, then landed softly and perfectly, together.

"Pairs-spring ballet," Megan said. "A lovely sport. Points are given for the difficulty of the leaps, the coordination between the performers." She reached for the keys.

"Please wait," I asked, compelled by the grace of the two figures. They had leapt again, handsjoined, to perform an artful somersault away from each other, then a spin back to link hands for their landing.

"You will surely enjoy our ballet this evening," Megan commented as I continued to be absorbed in an increasingly intricate succession of leaps and spins. The two women, hands joined, finished their final leap and bowed to a crescendo of applause. Megan touched another key and played back their performance, slowed to further distill its beautya"faultless to my untrained eye; but she said; "Slightly flawed, but quite lovely,"

Next we watched women swim in the coral lake that formed one side of the amphitheater, their bodies a.s.suming different angles in an ever-changing variety of graceful strokes.

"Terpsich.o.r.ean swimming," Megan said as I gazed in pleasure.

"Skin pigmentation varies so among all the women," I remarked. "Are some differences due to atmospheric *factors?"

"No," she answered, "purely genetic. Many of us come from various racial backgrounds and when we gene-select for our births we do not interfere with this. We enjoy all the differentiations among us. Genetic change is of great concern to us on this new world and we do continuous genetic a.n.a.lysis, especially on those born here. Diana says that if changes occur it may be only after several generations."

She touched a key. "The pentathalon is beginning. The blonde girl you saw earlier is Cytheria, one of our finest pentathletes."

This event was taking place so close to us that I looked up from the holograph to see Cytheria running with long fluid strides, crystal javelin poised; then the taut bracing of her nude golden body, the smooth powerful throw; then her stepsa"delicate, dancinga"her body teetering, leaning perilously forward with the force of her throw, her eyes fixed on the glittering flight until her implement struck and stood quivering in the earth as applause swelled around us.

I murmured, "May I see that again on the holograph?"

"I also would like to see her again," Megan said.

We followed her through all her events, leap-and-vault, ten-kilometer run, skim-discus, five-kilometer swim.

She was a feast to my eyes, she above all her nine glorious compet.i.tors, my absorption in her scarcely distracted by Vesta's serving of another feast, for the palatea"a lavish tray of delectable bite-size morsels, no two alike, and a lovely com-piementing wine.

The pentathalon events concluded and Megan declared, "Cytheria will receive the victor's award, She has undoubtedly won."

I asked happily, "What has she won?"

"A garland. Fashioned of crown-shaped leaves from a most regal tree that grows in profusion far north of us.

She'll wear it with pride at the fete tonight and be celebrated by all of us, she and all the athletes."

The marathon had begun, a fifty kilometer run over a grueling course laid out in the foothills, with several hundred women of greatly disparate age competing. "This is the best time to show you Cybele," Megan told me. "The dynamics and challenges of the marathon are fascinating, but the event is several hours in duration."

We made an un.o.btrusive exit. Megan smiled at my frown of concern as we took a hovercraft near the entrance. 'These craft are our main means of local transportation and we have a great many. None belongs to anyone. Someone may take the one we came in."

We landed in what I soon learned was the main square of Cybele. As Megan a.s.sisted me from the *hovercraft my eyes were taken by an immense mural forming one entire curving side of the square. The figure of a woman stood next to an EV in waist-high gra.s.sa"a heroic figure with raised head and proud straight shoulders, confident and splendid in a white shirt and black pants, standing with hands on her hips, her dark hair tousled and blowing in the wind, her eyes of emerald . . .

Megan did not speak nor did I. For some time I gazed at what I knew to be the depiction of the landing upon Maternas, without necessity for asking its subject, the woman who stood beside me with white shirt susurrous in the light breezes of this fine warm day. Finally I looked away to the structures carved from the foothills forming Cybeie's main square, buildings simple in design and apparently purely functional. My eyes followed the curves of hills upward, taking in a labyrinth of dwellings, glazed and burnished jewels in the sunlight, long balconies and rock bridges interconnecting' the whole into a unity of great delicacy and beauty.

I asked in amazement, "Do all of you live here?"

"Most. Some live beside lakes and streams nearby, like Vesta and Carina, Several dozens are scattered all over Maternas, preferring to live in isolation and seeing the rest of us only occasionally."

"How many of you are there?"

"In fifteen years we have increased from four to ten thousand. I'm currently occupied with the design of a new colony, necessary because of our growth. It will be ,on the coast not far from here. We have decided to call it Kendra."

"I know of her," I said softly. "Minerva showed me some of your history. She was a very great woman."

"Yes. She was."

Still I gazed at Cybele, stunned by the artful, symmetrical, logical design .of it. "Who created this?"

"It is my basic design. Colony design was my specific . training on Earth. But all of us worked to create it."

"Is there anything you do not do well?" I murmured, looking at her.

Again there was shyness in her eyes, but her smile was pleased. "Let me show you our council chambers." , "What form of government do you have?" I inquired as we walked toward this structure.

She answered first with a chuckle; then said, "Very little. We believe each of us is the best judge of her own interests. We place highest value on self-reliance, privacy, respect for each other, and instinctively we oppose authority, uniformity, any kind of fixity . .."

I was listening with concentration, trying to absorb her words along with my surroundings. The essential element in the ma.s.sive main room of the council chambers was simplicitya"in the pillars and walls and all *of the furnishings: a long crystal table, smaller tables apparently for discussion groups, functional chairs.

Soft grays and blues and greens were conducive to reflection; no bright color intruded, no cleverness of line distracted the eye.

". . .Our primary function is simply protection of the colony," Megan was saying, "and preventing any individual from interfering with another, which happens even in a rationally based society . .."

Then my attention was taken entirely from her words. Between two pillars stood a life-size sculpture, ivory-colored, smooth and warm, sensuously carved, of two slender nude women coming together in embrace; they leaned toward each other on tiptoe, one's hands clasping the other's shoulders, one's hands circling the other's waist. Their small lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s were just lightly touching at the nipples; their parted lips were also just lightly touching ...

I gazed at the sculpture, struck by the grace and tenderness of the two figures. Then I became aware that Megan had stopped speaking and was observing me.

"Are you displeased?" she asked as I looked at her.

"Displeased?" I repeated in surprise. Then I realized that I hadn't felt any sense of shock or even slight discomfort at the sculpture; I had simply enjoyed its aesthetics.

"I should have remembered," she said apologetically. "There is much public art in Cybele that celebrates the love among us. But the art in these rooms where only the adults a.s.semblea""

"Let's go on," I said firmly, and asked as we walked, "Since you don't have formal government, you must have laws, surely?"

"We have a Central Code and a yearly vote to determine if any part of it needs to be changed, anda""

I halted before a huge painting, its background the soft coral hues of this planet, its foreground a woman with dusky skin and burnished black hair, her nude body voluptuous, her mouth avid on the full breast of a slender blonde who lay arched, arms flung up and concealing her face, luminous thighs parted, pale hair curling up around the dark cupped hand and fingers that lay curled intimately within.

Disconcerted, I walked on, and blurted the first question that came to mind: "Do you have courts? There must be criminal acts here, even occasionally."

"We have occasional . . . errors in judgment or deeda" which need to be atoned for. Then we have an informal tribunal composed of six, chosen by lot to decide the nature of the atonement."

I'd noticed that she remained curiously undisturbed by the art which had had so opposite an effect on me.

Perhaps she had simply grown accustomed to it. "Minerva tells me that you have no arbiters to settle disputes among you., when your.. . Joinings are dissolved."

She said quietly, "We have no equivalent of divorce . arbiters or courts. We recognize no contract between *two people arising from pa.s.sion or sentiment. And most disputes are caused by property considerations, and we have no transferring of property here, no .bequeathing of it. There is too much on this world for all of us to share."

She led me to a series of small enclaves. "These are areas for individual contemplation, for those who wish a period of solitude before they a.s.sist with the decisions of our world."

I walked into one of the enclaves, into a blending of soft warm whites through deep grays, the colors of the mind, I thought, just before the drifting into sleep. There was a piece of sculpture in this room, smooth curves of silver; and I gazed at it for a long rrioment before I realized that it was two women, featureless and with highly, stylized limbs, bound together in a pa.s.sionate knot of consummation. I stared at the inextricably twined limbs and said with a smile, "Is that physically possible?"

Megan was also looking at it, hands on her slim hips; she c.o.c.ked her head to one side and said seriously, "Zandra's interweaving of arms and legs needs some deciphering, but the physical position is possible."

She added with a grin, "With a considerable degree of athletic ability."

Laughing, we walked on, into a high-vaulted chamber of small interconnected rooms well, lighted and with lumi-screens and other optiscan equipment.

"This is a most interesting place," Megan told me. "It was designed by me but constructed, under the direct, supervision of Minerva. It houses all knowledge we acc.u.mulated to bring with us, all'that we've acquired since coming here, it's an eleqtronic-storage historical archive, but Minerva chooses to call it... a library,"

She led me to an inner room warmed by fire-grottoes and covered floor to curved ceiling with rows of objects I had seen only in old films and photographs. She said, "Minerva has revived the ancient art of bookbinding. Only in the past few years has she had the time. She and Christa have taught themselves penmanship, have taught it as well to several of our children who expressed enthusiasm for learning it."

"May I look at. . . a book?" I spoke the word with reverence.

She hesitated, then chose. "This is poetry by Selene, one of the Inner Circle I never knew, she died many years ago.. Before we came here we acquired a number of rare works, some with great difficultya"they had been suppressed for hundreds of years. Such as this newiy bound book of poetry by a legendary woman named Sappho."

I held the books in my hands with awe, first hefting them, then staring at shaped print I'd never seen in such form in a lifetime of lumiscreens. "You must come here very often," I said, returning each book carefully to its shelf, knowing I would implore Minerva for permission to return.

"Seldom," Megan murmured, "I lack the time, and must do my reading by lumiscreen." She took down a large book which lay upon its own shelf, the cover of rich coral and gold brocade. "In this book Minerva records by hand our Joinings."

Again I stared, the first time I had ever seen interconnected writing thus formed. Megan turned back pages *to find the entry: Christa and Minerva Joined in their Love 1.11.26.