Daughters Of A Coral Dawn Part 15

"How wonderful," I whispered, deeply moved. "How very beautiful."

She closed and returned the book to its shelf. "There are other books," she said, "which record our births.

And our deaths."

Reluctant to leave, I gazed behind me as she led me from the room.

"Let's go into the adults' discussion room," she said.

"Zandra's latest sculpture is there and Minerva tells me it's magnificent. I haven't had the ..."

Her voice traijed off and she stood rooted as did I in the entryway of a room whose contents I didn't see; my.eyes were riveted to the figures' on a fleece-covered platform between two permanently burning torches.

Compelled, I walked toward the sculpture. The heat that slowly rose to my face had nothing to do with the firelight that played over the two golden figures, one standing, one kneeling. The standing figure had risen to the b.a.l.l.s of her feet, slim legs apart and rigidly braced, slender body arched, head flung back so that the curve of throat was full and the shoulder-length hair hung suspended; her arms fell straight down from her shoulders, the tendons in her hands revealing tension as the frozen tension of her features revealed her rapture. Her body seemed both to yearn toward the figure kneeling to her and to strain away, as if to delay the greater ecstasy to come from the lover who fiercely clasped her hips, the fingers of both hands deeply sunk into the soft flesh. Tendons stood out on the kneeling woman's wrists, her arms, across her shoulders, down her neck; her eyes were half-lidded in.a face austere in its hunger, and she stared in her own rapture between the parted thighs as if straining, herself, not to end this moment before she would press her lover forward the final distance onto her waiting mouth, her tongue.

Waves of heat continued to pa.s.s through me as I stood hypnotized by the two rapturous figures. Never had I dreamed that eroticism could be so purely and powerfully captured in stone. Megan, I eventually saw, was also transfixed, her color heightened. She had perhaps become accustomed to the other art we had seen, but she now appeared as stunned as I.

Our fixation on the work broke simultaneously; and without a word.we left the room. And I realized as we emerged from the council chambers into sunlight that I. hadn't seen any other contents of that room ; Megan had called the adults' discussion room ...

*After a while I spoke into the bemused silence between us, asking about the subject of so much interest to me. "The children here, may I see one of their schools?"

Megan landed the hovercraft on a wide gra.s.sy knoll overlooked by rock homes built high in the hills. Three-sided structures were laid out over the knoll, seeming casually built, almost haphazard in placement. We strolled across the gra.s.s which was strewn with playthings and held the presence of children so strongly that I could almost hear their laughter.

Megan gestured to the structures. "Of course our children are all at the games today. Our cla.s.srooms, such as they are, are open always to surrounding playgrounds. We begin teaching in infancy, as soon as awareness begins, but at every age our children play constantly in full development of their physical capacity, in the full joy of childhood."

"Minerva tells me that all of you have opportunities to contribute your experience, your presence." I asked, smiling, "Is Megan also required to contribute her presence?"

"No woman on this world enjoys doing so more than I."

This answer was given with such simple honesty, the voice contained such effort to hold its even tone, that I turned away from this proud and gifted woman so that she would not see my anguish at her loneliness.

She helped me into the hovercraft. "There is one other place I would like you to see," she said softly. "We have enough time. I must be back at the games in fifteen minutes."

She'd made this statement without a glance at the placement of the suns or at any chronometer. I asked, "How do you know what time it is?"

"I always know, even asleep. An inner clock tells me."

Bleakly I wondered if anyone had ever broken through that solid wall of discipline to cause her to forget what time it was, however briefly.

The hovercraft soared high over Cybele, coming to land on a peak that overlooked both the colony and the sea. I sat for a moment gazing at the large square shape cut from the mountain, with rounded edges andino seam anywhere and covered with intricate carvings. Then I stepped onto a granite mountaintop deeply etched by a sighing wind that whipped my tunic about my legs and whirled my hair into my face.

Megan stood beside me; her voice was beil-ciear in the mourning wind: "in this place are mingied the ashes of all the dead of our Unity."

I walked to the structure, pa.s.sed my hands over some of its carvings.

"Having no time, we made it hastily." Megan's voice was uninfected. "For the first dead of our planet. Then a plague struck us downa""

*"Yes, I read of it in your history." I had been moved to tears by Minerva's eloquent account of the pain of that time.

"Those deaths devastated us all," she said, "and Zandra came to this mountain and remained here alone, refused to leave for the ten months it took her to make these carvings."

Wishing to be with my own thoughts in the windswept grandeur of this place, I turned my face from her, my eyes sweeping the vista of coral ocean and the hills of Cybele, its homes indistinct save for the creative art that had shaped their beauty into the land.

I reflected that the colonists who had first come to the American continent centuries ago had created a brilliant time in history, when, the very best of a person was called upon, courage no less than wisdom. But in the centuries afterward on my quarrelsome and strife-torn birthworld there had never again been a time like that, or kinship such as this, on this new world where a great artist would isolate herself for months in her grief at the death of many, to make this a more fitting place ... I caressed the carved stone that held precious contents within, as melancholy as if I too had known these dead ...

Megan broke into my thoughts. "We must return now."

I told her, "I am honored that you brought me here."

We flew in sober silence to the amphitheater, landing beside an entryway, I reached to her then. "You should look like a leader," I said gently, and rearranged soft strands of her dark hair which had been put into disarray by the mountain winds.

She smiled. "I suspect I rarely look like a leader."

You always do, I thought. Always.

"Great Geezerak," Mother muttered to Megan. "I thought you'd abandoned me to all these athletic paragons." She turned to me. "My dear, would you be good enough to a.s.sist me with the presentations?"

I soon learned what that a.s.sistance would be. All the athletes received medals, the event winners a wreath a"half of the athletes receiving their awards from Megan, the other half from Mother. The first athlete, a dark-haired girl no more than thirteen, approached Mother with all the enthusiasm of a fish swimming toward a shark. But Mother took her hand and smiled warmly. "You were lovely to watch, my dear. And you performed very well."

A very nice speech, I thought; and the young girl bowed gracefully, smiling shyly. "Laurel," Mother said, "be a dear and fasten the medal around this child's neck." I did so, and the girl bowed again and fled back to.

her companions.

The next athlete, a much older woman, was given the identical speech and medal; and also the woman after her, who received a wreath as well, which I fastened upon her. head as efficiently as I could.

*"Don't ever become important, Laurel dear," Mother grumbled as the next athlete approached, "it's such a dreadful bore."

I glanced over occasionally at Megan who was seated on a chaise quite near us. Taking their hands in hers, she spoke warmly to all the athletes, and she made her own presentation of award. I smiled in my own pleasure as she affixed the wreath onto Cytheria.

I noted that those who received awards from her stood in various att.i.tudes of acute self-consciousness.

Some shifted from foot to foot, some ducked their heads in embarra.s.sed acknowledgement of her compliments, the youngest ones blushed furiously. Megan had one singular effect on these graceful athletes: she turned them awkward before her. And when she took their hands in hers they gazed at her with expressions that ranged from awe to adoration.

There was something else I noticed about some of them, and I mentioned it to Megan when the award ceremonies concluded. "The youngest girls have similar hairstyles," I said teasingly, "Megan hairstyles."

She looked uncomfortable, almost distressed. "It's a recent practice. I don't know what I can do about it."

We dined at Mother's house, myself and Megan and the Inner Circle, on delicacies prepared by Vesta. The formidable Hera sat with me, pinioning me with impatient and searching questions. I observed Megan; she spoke for a considerable time with Mother, sitting at the foot of her chaise and gazing at her with the same reverence I had seen in the faces of the athletes for Megan. Megan also spent time with each member of the Inner Circle, at ease with all of them except, apparently, Venus, who sat with Vardis, the wreath-crowned, lithe runner I remembered from the games. Megan's slim shoulders seemed tense as she pa.s.sed a few courteous minutes with Venus, who lounged on a chaise and sipped wjne and somehow always managed to meet my eyes whenever I happened to glance at her.

Mother's house was singing in the nocturnal winds when Venus finally made her way over. "Hera," she said, "you're monopolizing our guest shamefully." As the scowling Hera began a retort Venus continued, "Vesta and Minerva tell me that Laurel and I have our profession in common. It seems therefore that I should have an opportunitya""

"Very well. Of course." Hera rose and nodded to me, then stalked grandly off with a swirl of her cape to join Mother and Demeter.

But it soon became evident that it was not Venus's intention to discuss biology. "Tell me," she said with a disarming smile, her azure gaze enveloping me, "have you been with women before?" , "Ia"" I was mesmerized by her eyes. "You mean . .. No."

"Is your preference restricted solely to men, then?"

Taken aback, I stammered unintelligibly. Never before had I thought of considering alternatives to what I had always known and been taught to accept.

*But she smiled, a bewitching, dazzling smile. "An answer is not required," she said. "Since your response was not immediate, your mind is stili open."

"Ia"well, I supposea"" I could not prevent my stammering; I felt heat in my face.

She smiled again. "Your hair is glorious, simply extraordinary," she said softly. "And you wear our clothes beautifully. You're a lovely, lovely young woman."

"Ia"thank you." I was no less fl.u.s.tered than before.

"It is now time to begin the evening's festivities," Megan said in a clear even voice from behind me.

Cybele glowed with light. Light from its homes, from torches outlining the main square. I sat with Mother and Megan and the Inner Circle before a newly erected platform flooded with brilliance from a source invisible to me. Women crowded the square, the balconies, the bridges of Cybele. The night air was soft and gentle as it had been during the day, warmth radiated by inconspicuous solar units on the colony's structures. There was a continuous murmur of expectancy, and I myself waited eagerly.

The brilliance dimmed; the stage was illuminated only by the silver night and flickering ribbons of gold from the torches around the square.

Figures draped in head-to-foot shapeless clothing shambled onto the shadowed stage, their features dark cavities in ghostly white faces. Light came up slightly to reveal coa.r.s.e heavy cloth garments, dark dismal gray. Each figure lurched about in isolation, yet with an odd poignant grace. Two figures moved tentatively toward each other, only to scuttle away; two others brushed together, stumbled apart, looking back li'ngeringly, yearningly . ..

Light narrowed, focused: one figure tremblingly raised an arm. Ugly gray folds fell away to expose a bare arm, round and white, and, in so somber a context, dramatically beautiful. The mouth in the face upturned to the naked arm was an O of wonder. The arm was hurriedly lowered and covered again; the figure lurched painfully off to the shadows. But in the shadows the arm was raised again, exposed ...

A deeply shadowed corner of the stage gradually lightened. Two gray figures peered at each other. One exposed a white arm; the other hastened to cover it and then turned away . . . and turned back . . . and reached to the other, pushed the grayness aside and gazed at the naked arm, and with trembling fear and need placed a hand upon it. ..

Shadowed sections of the stage lit up one by one. Figures lovingly stroked each other's bare arms . . .

Suddenly from center stage a figure cast off her confining garb. Shockingly nude amid all the shrouded figures, she leaped, head back, arms flung high in exaltation. She was pulied down, encircled, hidden from view as figures crouched over her. . .and she was dragged, again fully clothed, into the shadows,..

*But figures began to adjust their garb so that they might constantly reveal their limbs, raising and fastening hems to reveal bare legs... In narcissistic absorption they performed individual dances of self-discovery, dances of fascinating intricacy and grace . . . Then all stopped as at an internal signal, and gazed at one another. One figure held out her hands ...

Applause began, startling me; I had been immersed in a drama performed thus far to an utterly still and silent audience. Applause swelled as the figures joined hands and began a dance of compelling grace and inventiveness in their confining clothing . . .

The dance stopped, and the dancers turned and looked at the sky.

The stage abruptly darkened. For the first time, music began. Sonorous music from woodwinds, strings, into a single spotlight stepped a figure; there was but a microsecond to see a white shirt and black pants before the spotlight vanished. Then the stage flooded to brilliance as dancers clad in bright-hued single-piece trouser suits danced in ecstatic abandon around and through a gigantic holograph, a s.p.a.ceship identified by luminous lettering: Amelia Earhart. This dance had comic elementsa"pantomimed quarrels and acrobatic shovinga"which brought much laughter, from me as well; I remembered from their history the miserable months in their crowded ship during the journey across the stars.

Darkness abruptly descended again, even the torches outlining the square were extinguished. When light came it was not on the stage at all, but strobe-like upon the mural of Megan standing on Maternas. Amid the wild cheering I felt Megan stir beside me, and knew I should not look at her.

Bright -stage lights came up. The dancers opened and stepped out of their trouser suits, flinging them into the shadows. They stood before us, their nude bodies dusted with diamond-like particles that shimmered with slightest movement. Each was a single glistening shade, in hues ranging from bronze to diamond white, and areas of their bodies were enhanced: a greater radiance decorated each breast and pubis and one other feature of distinctive beauty on each dancer.

They leapeda"and floated in an antigrav field. Holographic images formed among them. A dancer the color, of warm sand pantomimed strokes on a holographic lyre, her slender wrist and hand outlined in brilliance. Another, the lovely sweeping line of thigh enhanced, shaped holographic pottery; another stood upon the prow of a hydro-flit navigating choppy seas, her bright delicate feet dancing for balance; another, the smooth powerful muscles of her arms outlined, hoisted and carried a woven basket of fruit; another, of sensuously rounded hip, created furniture; another, 'of finely shaped calf, laid mosaic... Scarcely breathing, I felt the joy and pricle of the women on this world in their daily work . . . and knew their beauty . . .

The holographs vanished. In the slow-motion of antigrav the dancers glided, and arched and spread and shaped their glorious bodies into magnificent glittering statuary, breaking and reforming into new friezes of exultation.

They turned to each other. An interweaving of bodies began, fluid and sensuous. Pairs formed, each performing separate pas de deux. Some playfully somersaulted in slow motion tumbling grace around each other. One dancer formed her body into a circle, fingertips touching toes, slender body slowly revolving around her lovingly imprisoned partner. More and more-erotic elements emerged: dancers caressed the outlined features of their partners, and they soon embraced, briefly at first and gently, separating to stroke *a glowing breast, a thigh . . . coming together again with shimmering limbs intertwining . .. The dancer of broad strong shoulders carried the tiny dancer of slender wrist and hand, using her strength to treasure her partner's delicacy as she brushed her lips over an exquisitely formed breast; the tiny dancer ardently caressed the broad shoulders of her partner, glorying in her strength. In a slow dimming of light each dancer also slowed, her body gradually fusing in love with her partner's. Locked in embrace they floated in a circle, and out of that circle each extended a hand and took the hand of a sister so that the circle was joined . ., The stage lights extinguished.

No less than any woman on that world I was on my feet applauding, tearful in grat.i.tude and pride. To a thunder of love the twelve dancers arranged themselves, forming an arrow that pointed to us, Mother and Megan and the Inner Circle; and as one the dancers bowed. The arrow shape broke, the dancers formed a line and joined hands to acknowledge the continuing homage of us all.

The fete began. The platform that had held beauty and enchantment now was taken up by a lavish presentation of food and drink on numerous tables, and by three musicians, one strumming a multi-level, multi-stringed instrument, the other two electronically producing graceful melody and vibrant percussion.

The lights of Cybeie had been extinguished. To the pulsing rhythms of the music women danced all around me, danced on the balconies and bridges, danced under the light of the gold moons and the torches that themselves danced with flame in the night breezes.

Mother had told us, 'Til leave you dears to your silliness," and had gone off to her house. Other members of the; Inner Circles-were availing themselves of food and drink, or were dancing. On a fleece-laid chaise before a small table with wine and a tray of fruit I sat with Megan. This place had been made ready especially for her, positioned between two torches and with a fine view of the square and the activity.

Only one thing seemed strange to me nowa"and that was myself, not these women who danced in joyous embrace. How could the love among them, their loving relationships, have ever seemed strange to me?

I watched the dancers, thinking that of all the beautiful women I had seen this day, none was more beautiful to me than the woman whom I sat beside ... thinking that with her straight slender shoulders, her slim hips and long legs she would be a willow-graceful dancer, beautiful to watch ... to dance with ...

I asked Megan, "Do you dance?"

"It would not be . . . appropriate."

Again the isolation, from the women on this world who so adored her ..."

Minerva and Christa danced nearby, Christa magnificent in dark brown flowing silk shirt and pants, Minerva *equally striking in an elegantly draped full-length sapphire tunic. Ail the women I could see around me wore fine and ornate garb for this night. Hand in hand, Minerva and Christa came over and sat with us, and I expressed again myr great pleasure-in the ballet.

"Historically," Minerva said with pride, "achievement in the arts has always occurred late in the development of a new society. But we have come very far in only fifteen years."

Christa smiled. ''Think of our accomplishments if we' hadn't been so occupied with the problems of settling."

Christa and Minerva had left us to dance again when Venus sauntered over, startlingly beautiful in satin turquoise pants and jacket with iapeis edged in silver, She held out her hands. "Dance with me, Laurel,"

Automatically I took her hands and as if obedient to a hypnotic command began to risea"then caught myself. I love dancing, but knew now that Megan would be displeased if I danced with Venus. And so I released her hands and murmured, "I think not, thank you. I ... I'm tired, it's been a long day." And truthfully I was tired, drained by the emotion of this day.

"Will you sit with us,, Venus?" Megan asked courteously.

Venus accepted this invitation with a nod. "Laurel, you'll be with us at least two weeks, I understand. Until your crew returns and decisions are made. Perhaps part of that time we could work together?"

I looked at Megan; this was not my choice to make.

"Plans haven't been made yet about Lieutenant Meredith's activities," Megan said stiffly. "I must consulta""

"But perhaps she could work with me?"

"Perhaps."

Vardis came up to us then, held out a commanding hand to Venus; Venus said coldly, "I wish to remain."

"I'm taking Laurel back to Vesta's," Megan said easily, rising to her feet. "As she said, she's tired."

I hadn't intended to cut short this evening with Megan, but I was helpless to prevent it. And so I wished Venus and her friend a good night. I felt isolated, cut adrift.

"Will I be seeing you tomorrow?" I asked disconsolately as Megan a.s.sisted me into the hovercraft.

"I'm fully occupied tomorrow. But perhaps . . . I'm fully occupied, as I said. You may enjoy spending more time with Minerva and Vesta, and among the books in our library."

I had heard her hesitation, had heard very clearly the regret in her voice. As we landed at Vesta's house an idea struck me and I blurted, "i wish to be useful here. I want to earn my way, contribute."