The Golden Space (28 page)

Merripen nodded.

“Terry told me. Terry won’t work with human genes.”

“I know that.”

“She’ll only work with birds, and even there she’s conservative. She doesn’t approve of most of the things you’ve done. She only stays here because it’s easier to do her work here, and because …” Andrew looked away. “She’s safe. Safe from others and from herself.” He smiled. “I’ve known Terry since I was a child.”

“Really?”

“I always come back to her.” He stood up. “I’ll probably go with you. I suppose we’ll need time to prepare. We should wait until spring; it’ll be easier then.” He turned, went up the steps, and disappeared inside the cottage.

Merripen rose. As he walked under the pines, he wondered again about Andrew. But he had to travel with someone; Andrew was his only hope.

He should wait. The Citadel would protect him. If he couldn’t find his children, and if Peony refused to let him return, where would he go? He shook his head. He was scaring himself for no reason. There were other Citadels, and Peony would soften in time, forgetting her disagreement with him.

He would be able to return. He had grown too fearful, he who had once wanted change. Now he was afraid to alter his life even for a moment; there was too much time in which he would have to live with the results of his decisions.

Merripen had fallen into the habit of meeting with Andrew to discuss their journey. He had hoped that they would not only plan, but would also use the discussions as a way to grow accustomed to each other’s presence. But Andrew remained opaque. Merripen could not figure out why he had decided to leave, or why he had remained in the Citadel for so long with so little to do. He never spoke of Terry and never even made the conversational digressions so common among others. He spoke of equipment or routes, then went his way.

Merripen’s Bond signaled; someone was calling. He put down his glass and turned on his holo, expecting to see Andrew’s image, or possibly Leif’s. Instead, Terry appeared.

“Merripen?” She rushed on, heedless of ceremony. “I want to talk to you.”

He sat up on his couch. “Talk away.”

“Not like this. I’ll come over. I’ll be there right away; I’m nearby. Is that all right with you?”

“Certainly,” he said, and her image was gone before he could say more. He leaned back. He did not know Terry well and had always considered her an anomaly here, with her birds and her barely disguised disdain for almost everyone. He supposed that she wanted to talk to him about Andrew. Maybe she did not want him to leave.

Terry arrived a few hours later, more punctual than he had expected. She strode past him at the door and sat down by his front window without a greeting. She brushed a hand through her reddish-brown hair and crossed her legs, swinging one leg nervously. He sat in a chair across from her.

“May I offer you something?”

She said, “You’re going to leave the Citadel with Andrew.”

“So it seems.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“You’re not the only one. If you don’t want Andrew to go, then talk to him about it. I don’t want to interfere.” He thought of all his plans, but his regret was tinged with relief.

“It’s not that,” she replied. Her abrupt tone and belligerent stare were making him uneasy. “You don’t know anything about him. I’m saying that if you go, you should take someone else.” She extended one leg, then crossed her legs again, jiggling her foot. “I know Andrew. I’m the only one who does. You could call it a fixation. He always finds me, wherever I go, or I find him. There are things we can’t really share with anyone else, even though we never talk about them. That’s how it is.” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t care if he goes; we can’t be together all the time. I’ve always looked out for him, though. I protect him.”

Merripen was bewildered by this contradictory speech. “What is it, Terry? I still don’t know what you want.”

She uncrossed her legs and was still. “Andrew’s afraid. He’s always been afraid. He has his reasons, but I won’t talk about them. The point is that he keeps trying to show that he isn’t. He tests himself against his fears. He’ll do something to prove he isn’t a coward rather than deciding calmly that it’s not worth the bother. I don’t even think he would go on this trip of yours if you hadn’t asked him to—he would have gone somewhere else he knows, where he’d be safe. But you gave him a challenge. He could do something reckless. It might mean trouble for you.”

“What should I do, then? Call him and tell him I’ve changed my mind? I won’t go at all, then. I don’t mind admitting that I am afraid. I won’t go out there alone.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He started at her rudeness. “It’s not that dangerous. I don’t care what anyone says. Really murderous people must have died out a long time ago. But Andrew might cause you trouble. He’s drawn to danger, in a way.”

Merripen stood up. “If you don’t want Andrew to go, then work it out between yourselves. I’ve made my plans.” He spoke with a confidence he did not feel. She would talk Andrew out of going, or he would travel with a companion he would have to worry about. He continued to stand, but Terry showed no sign of getting up to leave. At last he sat down again.

Terry bowed her head. “If you insist on going, then be careful. If you get into trouble, just look out for yourself. Don’t let Andrew get you into something you can’t handle.”

“Maybe you’ve known him too long. He might have changed.” He looked at her hopefully for a sign of confirmation. “You might be seeing him the way he was.”

She shrugged. “Don’t tell him I talked to you. He probably suspects I have, but I’d rather his suspicions weren’t confirmed.”

Merripen grimaced. Now she wanted deception from him. He hardly knew the woman, and with one short visit she had disoriented him and threatened his plans.

She got up and moved slowly toward the door. “Tell me something,” he said quickly. “If it’s not that dangerous out there, then why are you here? You don’t seem to like it, but you stay.”

Terry looked away from him. “I’m dangerous,” she said in a low voice. “I’m dangerous to them. I’m all right here.” She stared at her hands, as if wanting to thrust them from her. Then she left.

II

Merripen and Andrew stepped outside. The massive door closed behind them with a clang. The light of false dawn, reflected by the vast, flat surface of the wall, lighted their way to the hovercraft. They would go north for a bit, then approach the settlement Leif had visited from another direction. No one would know they were from the Citadel. They had made up a story to offer if asked about themselves: they were two visitors from the south, bored with long, idle days.

The night air was cold. Merripen shivered; he had not slept. The sprouting grass glittered after the frosty night; spring would be delayed. Merripen got inside and waited for Andrew, then put in their route. The craft lifted and floated forward silently. Merripen leaned back and gazed at the stars.

He had seen Peony only yesterday. She had asked him again not to go, hinting that she might not let him return, but he had not relented. Then she had given in, apologizing, looking defeated and unhappy.      

Merripen still wore his Bond, but he would soon be too far from the Citadel for help to arrive in time. The craft would be their only protection; its motion soothed him.

Andrew was silent. At first Merripen thought he was sleeping, but the other man stirred in his seat and cleared his throat. The hills in the east, outlined by gray light, were black; Andrew’s face was hidden in shadow. He said, “It’s an odd name.”

“What is?” Merripen asked.

“Your name. Merripen.”

“It’s a Gypsy name. It means life. It also means death.”

“I suppose that’s appropriate.” Merripen heard Andrew move in his seat again. “You should enjoy traveling, then.”

“Wanderlust isn’t a genetic trait.” The hovercraft floated up a hill. If he looked back, he might be able to catch one last glimpse of the Citadel. He did not turn around. He could not go back now. Somehow, the thought eased him; he had been more nervous while planning the trip, while thinking that he could still change his mind.

He rubbed his forehead. His eyes burned, and his eyelids felt gritty. “Terry didn’t want me to go,” Andrew said.

“I know.”

“She talked to you about it, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did.” Merripen was sure there was no harm in admitting it now.

“She thinks I’ll cause problems, I suppose. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“She told me that.” Merripen glanced into the darkness where Andrew sat. “What happened with you two?”

“It’s nothing. We’ve separated before. She told me that if I didn’t come back, she’d find me sooner or later. But she’s wrong. I don’t think she’ll leave the Citadel. I’ll have to find her.” Andrew paused. “We lost a friend long ago—I mean truly lost him. He died, right in front of us. Terry blamed herself in part. I guess I blamed myself, too. We were helped afterward, of course; we could have had the experience completely erased. In fact, I think Terry did, a couple of times, but I always brought it all back when she saw me. After a while, we didn’t want to forget. If we had forgotten, our friend would truly be dead. His memory brings us together.”

Merripen shivered. It all sounded morbid to him; it was unhealthy to dwell on such things. Did it make Terry and Andrew savor life more to ponder their dead friend? It seemed a perversion. He imagined Terry and Andrew behind the shutters of her house, making love in a room dark as a grave. Whatever gratification it gave them, he could see that it imparted little joy.

“We’re not lovers, you know,” Andrew continued. Merripen looked at him in surprise. He could now see Andrew’s face in the dawn light; his eyes were the black hollows of a mask. “We never were. But that sort of thing doesn’t hold people together for long.”

Andrew was trying to unburden himself. Merripen did not want to listen. He did not want to know that much about the man; it would only make him worry throughout their journey and distract him from his purpose. He waited, but Andrew was silent.

The sun was high when Merripen awoke. He looked through the grayish surface, of the dome at a deep blue sky and a bright, round star. The hovercraft was floating over a field of stubby brown grass toward a forested ridge.

Merripen raised his seat and sat up. Andrew was awake, finishing a piece of fruit. He climbed into the back with the pit, dropped it into the top of the materializer, opened the dispenser door in its side, and offered a peach to Merripen. “The town’s up there,” he said.

“I know.” Merripen ate his fruit. “They’ve probably seen us already.” They had been careful not to bring anything from the Citadel that might give them away. The craft drew closer to the ridge; the slope was steep. A dirt road led into the trees.

They floated up the ridge, over the road. The sun was hidden by the trees; something small and furry darted away from the path. The road was leading them deeper into the woods. As Merripen began to wonder where the town was, he suddenly saw it. Houses of brown unpainted wood with sharply angled roofs were ahead, lining the road. The town seemed deserted. Merripen took over the hovercraft and brought it to a stop; it bumped the ground lightly.

Nothing stirred among the houses. Merripen thought he saw a face in a nearby window. Andrew was back in his seat; he had folded his hands so tightly that his knuckles were white. A light flashed on the panel in front of Merripen; he heard a soft chime. He turned on the small screen next to it and saw a dark face.

“Who are you,” a deep voice asked, “and why are you here?”

“My name’s Allen,” Merripen replied. “My friend is Andrew. We’re sightseers from the south.”

“Would you please give me your personal codes and the code to your system, so that we can check?”

Merripen gave him the information, and the screen went blank. They had arranged with a Citadel farther south to have codes for their false identities placed in the system of a southern town which, although not friendly to the Citadel there, was not overtly hostile either. The man would discover that he and Andrew were two aimless fellows who considered themselves students of geography. Even so, he was nervous. He tried to steady himself. The worst that could happen was that they would be told to go away; in the absence of any reason for hostility, no one would risk a confrontation. But this town was his only lead.

The man’s face reappeared. “Please get out of your vehicle and walk up the street. You’ll get your things back when we’ve searched them. Keep your hands at your sides.”

They got out. The sun’s warmth was blocked by the trees around the houses and road. Merripen hugged himself while Andrew stamped his feet. They had worn light clothes, as if unaware of how cold it could get in the north. Merripen lowered his hands, remembering the man’s warning.

They walked up the street, stopping when they reached an island of grass and benches in the middle of the road. Merripen looked back, regretting that he had left his lifesuit in the vehicle. Three people had appeared and were now climbing into the hovercraft.

A tall man was walking toward them; as he came closer, Merripen recognized the face of the man who had spoken to them. He wore a parka and baggy brown pants; his frizzy black hair was clipped close to his head. He stopped near Merripen and smiled, showing large white teeth, then thrust out a hand.