Earthfall (Homecoming) Read online

  So Shedemei hadn’t known. Not that that was a surprise.

  “I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me,” he said, wiping his eyes and getting back in control of himself. “I just want you to understand that if I had known—”

  “If you had known what? That Elemak hated Nafai? That he wanted him dead? How did you miss that little bit of information, considering that we all saw Nafai covered with blood from Elemak’s last little plot?”

  Anger flashed in Zdorab’s eyes. “It wasn’t Elemak with the little plot this time.”

  “No, it was the Oversoul,” said Luet. “And you. In fact, you managed to take part in conspiracies on both sides.” Then it dawned on her. “Oh, that was the point, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m an outsider here,” he said. “Shedya and I aren’t kin to anybody.”

  “Shedya is one of Aunt Rasya’s nieces.”

  “That’s not a blood relationship, that’s—”

  “It’s closer.”

  “But not me. My son, my daughter, they’re going to be caught up in this family quarrel between Nafai and Elemak no matter what I do. I’m not like Volemak or his sons, I’m not physically strong, I’m not—I’m not much of a man the way men are judged. So how could I protect my children? I thought that if I could have a good relationship with both Nafai and Elemak—”

  “That is not possible,” said Luet. “Especially now, thanks to you.”

  “I did what I thought was best for my children. I was wrong. Now neither side trusts me, and my children will pay for that, too. I was wrong, and I’m not trying to conceal what I did or how bad it was. But I wasn’t trying to betray you or Nafai. I was doing what I thought was best for my children.”

  “Very good,” said Luet coldly. “You have unburdened yourself. I’ve heard you and if I’m ever allowed to speak to anyone but my children again, I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you were motivated entirely by altruistic concern for your children.”

  “Mebbekew says you’re a cold one,” said Zdorab.

  “And we know what a fine observer of human beings Meb can be.”

  “But he’s wrong,” said Zdorab. “You’re not cold, you’re on fire.”

  “Thank you for that insight into elemental metaphors for my character.”

  “Just remember, Luet. I did you wrong. I know that, and I’m in your debt, deeply and forever. I’m not a dishonorable man by nature. I acted as men like me have always had to act—for survival, as best I understood it. There’ll come some future time when, no matter how much you despise me, you’ll need my help. I’m here to tell you that when that time comes, and when you or Nafai ask me, I’ll do whatever you need.”

  “Good. Tell Elemak to untie my husband.”

  “Whatever you need that’s within my power. I’ve already asked him to untie your husband. Kokor and Sevet have demanded it. Your oldest daughter spit in his face and called him a eunuch who had to imprison his betters in order to feel like a real man.”

  Luet gasped. “Did he hit her?”

  “Yes,” said Zdorab. “But she’s all right. Everybody was disgusted at him for it, and he hasn’t gone near her since. For what it’s worth, I think it turned even his own wife against him, to see him hit Chveya like that.”

  No doubt that was Chveya’s purpose. “That’s always been Elya’s problem,” said Luet. “He has always attempted to answer words with actions. It might silence the speaker, but it only confirms the truth of what was said.”

  “Even you, with your unbending silence—that’s half what the women talk about,” said Zdorab. “And Shedya has joined in your boycott of conversation. Everybody wants Elemak to stop. I thought you’d want to know that. What you’re doing, what Chveya and Oykib have done, even Nafai’s quiet endurance—it’s all a kind of resistance, stubborn and brave, and it makes everyone who’s on Elemak’s side so…so ashamed.”

  Luet nodded gravely. She needed to hear that. The fact that he came and told her didn’t make them friends.

  “I’ve seen real courage these last two days,” said Zdorab. “I’ve never had it myself, not the kind of courage that stands out in the open, even when you’re powerless, and dares the strong one to do his worst. Chveya. Oykib. My life might have been different if I’d ever acted like that.” Then he laughed bitterly. “Yes, I’d probably be dead.”

  It occurred to Luet that she actually knew almost nothing about Zdorab, about his upbringing. He spoke as if he had lived his whole life friendless and in fear. Why?

  In spite of herself, she had to admit that things might look very different from where he stood. For her, there was no choice—she had to do everything she could to help Nafai and the Oversoul prevail against Elemak, because if they did not win, there would be nothing left for her. But Zdorab could conceive of a future in which Elemak had won, and if that happened—and it certainly could happen—it wasn’t morally unspeakable for him to try to prepare a place for himself and his children in Elemak’s camp.

  The trouble was that he might easily end up without a place on either side. Which is where things were headed right now.

  She did not let herself sound so cold when she spoke again. “Zdorab, what you’ve said hasn’t fallen on deaf ears. If you’re worried about the future, I can tell you this with complete confidence. None of us will retaliate against you and certainly not against your children. They haven’t lost their place with us, if that’s where they want to be.”

  “Elemak is going to lose this one,” said Zdorab. “It’s only a matter of how many will die before he breaks.”

  “None, I hope,” said Luet.

  “I’m just saying that pure self-interest could have brought me here. You have no reason to trust me. I deceived you all. You thought I was one of you, and I betrayed you. You can never forget that. I certainly never will. But this you can count on: If you or Nafai ever need me again, I’ll be there. No matter what. Even if I die trying to help you.”

  Luet barely suppressed a scornful, mocking answer.

  “It’s not for me,” Zdorab said. “Or even really for you. I just…it’s the only way I can ever redeem myself in the eyes of my children. Everyone will know what I did, sooner or later. That’s why I didn’t bother trying to conceal this conversation from your children, the ones lying there awake with their eyes closed. My children will be ashamed of me, even if no one taunts them for it. Somehow, someday, I’m going to redeem myself in their eyes. That’s what survival means, for me. I thought it was a matter of staying alive, but it isn’t. Nobody lives forever anyway. It’s how you’re remembered. It’s what your children thought of you, what they think of you after you’re dead. That’s survival.” He looked Luet steadily in the eye. “And if there’s one thing that can truly be said about me, it’s this: I survive.”

  He got up from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting. Luet palmed the door open and he left.

  In the silence after the door closed, Zhatva spoke softly. “I’m glad I’m not in his shoes.”

  Luet answered wryly, “Don’t be so sure. Our own shoes aren’t all that comfortable right now.”

  “I wish I’d been as brave as Veya,” said Zhatva.

  “No no, Zhyat, don’t think that way. She was in a position where being brave could accomplish something. You weren’t. When the time ever comes when you need courage, you’ll have it. Enough of it. All you need.” To herself she added silently: May that day when you need courage never come. Even as she said it, though, she knew that the day would come. She shuddered.

  Oh, Nafai, she said silently. If only you could hear me as the Oversoul hears me. If only you knew how much I love you, how much I ache thinking of what you’re going through. And all I can do for you is take care of the children as best I can and trust in the Oversoul and in the workings of human nature to work some miracle and set you free. What I can do, I’m doing, but it’s not enough. If you die, what life will there be for me? Even if the children are all safe, even if they live to be good, strong, won
derful adults, it won’t be enough, not if I’ve lost you. The Oversoul might have brought us together as pawns in her game, but that doesn’t mean that the bond between us is any weaker. It’s strong, far more powerful than the cords they’ve tied you with, but without you beside me I feel as if I’m the one who’s tied, trussed up inside my soul and unable to move, unable to breathe. Nafai.

  His name rang through her mind. The image of his face seared her. She lay down on the bed, willing herself to relax, commanding herself to sleep. The less oxygen I breathe, the more he will have, the more the children will have. I must sleep. I must be calm.

  But she was not calm, and even when she finally slipped into a fitful sleep, her heart raced and she breathed quickly, short sharp breaths, as if she were engaged in battle, the enemy jabbing at her as she barely dodged each new thrust.

  The first meal of the third day, Elemak was out of the room. Where he was, no one dared to ask. Nor did anyone mind. When he was gone, wariness remained; real fear only returned when he did. This was not because anyone trusted the good will of Meb, Obring, and Vas—Meb seemed to delight in tiny cruelties, and Obring, to all appearances, enjoyed his status as one of those who shared in authority. Everyone knew, though, that either of them would gladly betray Elemak in a moment, if they thought it would benefit them. Vas, on the other hand, seemed to detest what he was doing; nevertheless, he did it, and was the one Elemak relied on most. Elemak could give him a task and expect that it would be carried out resourcefully and well, even when Elemak was not there watching—something that could not be said of the other two Elemaki men.

  On this day, however, with Elemak gone, there came the first open challenge to his authority. Volemak, after a glance at Rasa, rose to his feet and began to address the group.

  “My friends and family,” he began.

  “Sit down and shut up,” said Mebbekew.

  Volemak fixed a gaze of snakelike calmness on his second son and said, “If you care to silence me, feel free to attempt it. But in the absence of physical force, I will have my say.”

  Meb took one step toward his father. Immediately, though they had not been prompted in any way, Volemak’s youngest son Yasai, Issib’s eldest boy Zaxodh, and Nafai’s eldest, Zhatva, all rose to their feet. They were nowhere near Volemak, but the threat was clear.

  Meb laughed. “Do you think I’m afraid of your children?”

  “You might want to be careful,” Rasa said. “They’ve been living in low gravity for six years, while you still seem a little uncertain on your feet.”

  “Come on, Obring,” said Meb.

  Obring took a step toward Volemak. Now Nafai’s second son, Motiga, stood up, as did Zdorab’s son Padarok. A moment later, Zdorab himself rose to his feet.

  “Vas,” said Meb, “you can pretend not to care, but this looks like a revolt to me.”

  Vas nodded. “Obring, go get Elemak.”

  “We can handle it ourselves!” Meb snapped.

  “I can see. We’re doing so well already.”

  Obring looked from Vas to Mebbekew, then turned and left the library.

  “As I was saying,” said Volemak, “this entire dispute is misplaced. It was I whom the Oversoul summoned into the desert, and I was the one who led this expedition at all times. It’s true that in the desert I delegated the day-to-day authority to Elemak, but this was never more than a temporary arrangement in recognition of his skill and experience. Likewise, during the voyage I have delegated command of the ship itself to Nafai, because he is the one to whom the Oversoul gave the cloak of the starmaster. The fact remains that I am the only lawful leader of this group, and when we arrive on Earth, I shall not delegate that authority to anyone else. Neither Elemak nor Nafai will be in command as long as I am alive.”

  “And how long is that, old man?” asked Meb.

  “Longer than you wish, you contemptible slug,” said Volemak mildly. “It is obvious that Elemak is out of control. Through threat of force and the cooperation of three weak-willed bullies”—he looked Vas in the eye—“and because Nafai has submitted to captivity in order to save the lives of his babies, Elemak’s mutiny at present seems to be prevailing. However, we are all aware that at some point Elemak will inevitably have to submit to reality—the ship cannot sustain us all awake, and the Oversoul will not permit him to put anyone into suspended animation while Nafai remains bound. So what I ask of you now is your solemn oath, every one of you, to submit to my authority and no one else’s, after this crisis has passed. While I live there will be no choosing between Nafai and Elemak, but only obedience to me, in accord with your solemn covenant. I invite all of you, men and women, to take this oath. All who vow to submit only to my authority after this crisis, rise to your feet and say yes.”

  Immediately all the men who were standing, except Vas and Mebbekew, said a resounding yes. Rasa, Hushidh, Luet, and Shedemei also rose at once, joined by the young women who had taken part in the school; their higher voices echoed those of the men. Issib rose slowly and said yes.

  “I assume,” said Volemak, “that if Oykib and Chveya were not being kept in isolation they would also join in this oath, and so I also count them among the lawful citizens of my community. When Nafai is released, I will also ask him to submit to this oath. Is there anyone here who doubts that he will affirm it? And that he will keep that oath, having taken it?”

  No one spoke.

  “Remember, please, that I am asking you to accept my authority after the present crisis has passed. I am not asking you to jeopardize yourselves by entering into resistance to Elemak at this time. But if you do not take this oath at this time, you are not citizens of the colony I will establish on Earth. You may, of course, apply for citizenship at a later time, and then I will take a vote of the citizens to see whether or not you will be admitted. If you take the oath now, however, you will be a citizen from the beginning.”

  To everyone’s surprise, Vas spoke up. “I will take this oath,” he said. “When the crisis has passed, your authority is the only authority I will accept as long as you are alive. And I will do all I can to prolong your life as long as possible.”

  With Vas having spoken, his wife Sevet rose to her feet, along with her three young children. She said, “I take the oath,” and her children echoed her.

  Those who remained seated obviously were feeling beleaguered indeed.

  “Elemak won’t be happy with you,” said Meb to Vas.

  “Elemak isn’t happy these days anyway,” said Vas. “All I want is peace and justice.”

  “My father was part of Nafai’s little plot, too, you know,” said Meb. “He’s hardly unbiased.”

  “I know that some of you are unhappy about the children who were kept awake to be schooled during the voyage,” said Volemak. “Unfortunately, Elemak has never permitted us to explain. Every one of us whose children were included in the school were urged by the Oversoul to do so. Nafai was very reluctant to do it. We pressed him until he agreed. These children were chosen by the Oversoul, and they and we freely chose to go along. The result is not an unhappy one. Instead of having only a handful of adults and many unproductive children, we have divided the younger generation, so that we will now have a continuous population of young people coming into adulthood for many generations to come. Whatever disadvantage you think you perceive at this time will disappear when you realize that you will have more years of life on Earth than those who stayed awake during the voyage.”

  Dol rose to her feet, causing her children to stand, also.

  “Sit down, you disloyal bitch!” screamed Mebbekew.

  “My children and I will be citizens of your colony,” said Dol. “We all affirm the oath.”

  Mebbekew rushed toward her. Vas stepped between him and his wife, putting out a hand to restrain him. “This isn’t a good time for violence,” said Vas. “She’s a free citizen, I think, and has the right to speak her mind.”

  Mebbekew flung Vas’s hand away from his chest. “None of this w
ill mean anything after Elemak comes back!”

  Only a meter away from him, Eiadh rose to her feet. Immediately her oldest son, Protchnu, plucked at her sleeve to pull her back down. “After the crisis, I will submit to your authority, Volemak,” she said.

  Protchnu turned to the other children and shouted at them, “Don’t you dare take the oath!” The children were obviously frightened of his rage.

  “I recognize that your younger children are being intimidated into not taking the oath,” said Volemak. “So they will be given a chance to take it freely at a later time.”

  “They’ll never take it!” shouted Protchnu. “Am I the only one here who is loyal to my father? He’s the only one who should lead us!”

  Kokor stood up, her children with her. “We’ll be citizens too,” she said. “After the crisis.”

  “You will if you take the oath,” said Volemak.

  “Well, that’s what I mean, of course,” she said. “I take the oath.”

  Her children nodded or murmured their assent.

  From the doorway, Elemak spoke softly. “Very well,” he said. “Everyone has made their choice. Now sit down.”

  Immediately, Kokor sat down and urged her children to join her. Gradually the others also sat, except for Volemak, Rasa, and Eiadh, who turned to face her husband. “It’s over, Elya,” she said. “You’re the only one who doesn’t see that you can’t possibly win.”

  “What I see,” said Elemak, “is that I won’t permit Nafai to rule over me or anyone else.”

  “Even if that means that your own children suffocate?”

  “If Nafai’s pet computer chooses to kill the weakest of us, I can’t stop it. But it won’t be me killing anyone.”

  “In other words, you don’t care,” said Eiadh. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s the final proof that you aren’t fit to rule this colony. You care about your pride more than the survival of our babies.”

  “That’s enough from you,” said Elemak.

  “No,” said Eiadh, “that’s too much from you. Until you stop this childish display of masculine temper, you are not my husband.”