Eye of the Comet (3 page)

3

Lydee crawled out from the shade of her tent into the light. A globe bearing food on its tray floated out from under the trees bordering the sandy beach. Another metallic servant, this one a large, golden crab, sat beside the tent. It had brought the tent to her, and she had forgotten to order it away.

Reaching toward the globe as it hovered near her, she accepted a cup of tea, drank it quickly, then waved the rest of the globe’s offerings away. She had not eaten for some time. Her body would compensate for that awhile longer, and then she supposed that the crab or one of Homesmind’s other servants would force some nourishment on her.

As the globe floated back toward the trees, she thought she saw someone hiding near one of the pale, white trunks. Limbs covered with feathery green leaves swayed in the breeze. Lydee turned away, suspecting that a few small children or other curious folk were lurking there. Most of the people of Home, she was sure, had never seen anyone so unbalanced. She had screamed at the first group of visitors, chasing them away from the beach, but this had only attracted others to view the spectacle. Rising, she walked down to the water’s edge and sat in the wet sand. Here I am, she thought bitterly. Come and look; see the primitive.

She had slept three times in the tent, and did not know how long she had been on the beach. Homesmind had said nothing; even Reiho had not come to see her. They no longer cared what happened to her. Homesmind could wipe the knowledge of her origins from her mind, but eventually she would have to go through the shock of learning about Earth once again.

“Lydee?”

She turned. Pilo was standing by the trees. She raised a hand to her mouth, surprised.

“Lydee?” he said again. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”

She motioned to him. He walked down the beach toward her and sat down several paces away. His black eyes watched her warily; he clutched his elbows as he covered his chest with his arms. It must have taken all of his courage to approach her; she suddenly felt ashamed.

“What do you want, Pilo?”

“Only to speak to you.”

“You could have done that through the link. You could have sent your image.”

“I thought it might mean more to you if I came myself.”

She looked down, poking at the white sand with her fingers. “That was kind of you,” she said, beginning to resent his concern. “I suppose Homesmind has told you why I’m upset.”

“It has said only that you’re disturbed and unhappy. It didn’t say more. It didn’t even ask me to come here. I don’t know what to say to you. To see you like this is hard, Lydee. It disturbs my own balance. I don’t understand what could have caused such a thing. Perhaps you need another calming implant.”

She lifted her head. “That wouldn’t help.”

“Why are you here?”

“Are you so sure you want to know?”

“Lydee — I’m your friend. You may tell me whatever you wish. If you want my companionship, I’ll stay. If you don’t, I’ll leave. We’re all concerned about you.”

“You’re the only one here.”

“The others are afraid. Jerod would have come, but he was worried that he couldn’t maintain his own balance in your presence. They will come here if you ask.” His body was tense, as if he were prepared to flee.

“Pilo,” she said, “I know where I’m from and what I am. When you know, you may not want to be my friend.”

“I am sure it’ll make no difference.”

“I’m from Earth.” She had said it. His eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped open. “You know that there are still a few primitives there, people who will have nothing to do with us. Reiho and his mentor brought me from that world to this one. I am one of those Earthfolk. I’m sure Homesmind will be happy to tell you the whole sorry tale.”

Pilo swallowed, then bowed his head; she could not tell what he was thinking. At last he lifted his eyes to hers. “That cannot affect our friendship. All of us are of Earth in a way, aren’t we?”

“You don’t understand. The Earthpeople live like animals. Their lives are short. They lack our tools and our knowledge. I didn’t even come from a womb chamber as you did — I was expelled from a woman’s body.”

Pilo started.

“I was given to this world,” she continued, “because the Earthpeople didn’t want me. I was born without the mindpowers all of them have, and Earthfolk kill such children.” The boy’s eyes were wide with horror. “I was raised as a child of the Wanderer, but I’m not. My genes were a chance combination — I wasn’t even shaped and modified before birth. I don’t come from a comet world at all. Earth rejected me, and I don’t know if I can ever truly be one of you.”

Pilo was clearly struggling with himself. He wrung his hands, glanced toward the lake, then covered his eyes. Shaking his head, he let his hands drop.

“You live here now,” he said in a toneless voice. “You grew up on Home, so you are one of us. What you were before doesn’t matter.”

Her gratitude was tainted with suspicion. Pilo would be too disciplined, too much in balance, to mention his repulsion outright, but he could not hide his feelings completely. He crossed his arms over his chest protectively, watching her through narrowed eyes.

“Is that what you really think, Pilo?”

“How could I feel otherwise?”

She got up and took a step toward him. He threw out his hands, then scrambled up, tripped, and fell. Climbing to his feet again, he raced toward the trees.

“Coward!” she screamed after him. “I see what you really think. Why don’t you say it?”

He ran on without answering, disappearing among the trees.

* * *

A woman in flight was approaching the beach. Lydee watched as the woman landed gracefully on her feet and recognized the dark-brown skin and frizzy red hair of Reiho’s former mentor Etey. She had seen the woman’s image, but had never met her in the flesh.

“I greet you, Lydee,” Etey said as she drew near.

“What do you want?” Lydee shouted.

The woman seemed unperturbed by Lydee’s lack of courtesy and seated herself so close to the girl that Lydee could have reached out and touched her. Lydee glared. Etey’s brown eyes were calm; she smiled as she wrapped her slender arms around her long, thin legs. “Why, what do you think I want? I wish to see the girl who is the wonder of the Refuge, who frightens little children with her wildness. I’m as curious as anyone.”

“You know what I am. It’s your fault I’m here.”

“Indeed it is. My fault that you’re not dead.”

“Where’s Reiho? He’s my mentor. Why didn’t he come here?”

“Why should he? It’s obvious you prefer to be alone. Speak to him through your link if you’ve changed your mind.” Etey tilted her head, still smiling. “As a matter of fact, I asked him not to come. He would only have commiserated with you, tried to console you, and fed your self-pity. You are feeling sorry for yourself, aren’t you? Why, you could easily restore your balance and allow yourself to grow calm, but apparently you wish to explore these emotions. Poor Lydee. How unfortunate you were to be snatched from death and given a life here.”

Lydee clenched a fist. “Leave me alone.”

Etey raised an eyebrow. “Chase me away. Go on. You can strike me with that fist, can’t you?”

Lydee scowled. “Why bother?”

“Why, indeed?” Etey reclined on one elbow. “So that you can prove to us all that you’re the savage you think you are, I suppose.”

“One of my closest friends came to see me,” Lydee said. “Even he ran away when I told him what I was.”

“Ah.” Etey’s eyes were unfocused for a moment; she was obviously communicating with Homesmind. “Yes, a boy was here earlier. Do you know what he’s doing now?”

“Telling the others what he knows, I imagine.”

“Not at all. He’s in his room, sorry that he caused you pain by his reaction. He’s over the shock and unhappy that he could not console you — so Homesmind tells me. He doesn’t know how to make amends.”

“I don’t believe you, Etey.”

“Homesmind will verify what I’ve said — open your link and see for yourself. I think the boy might be happy to get a message from you.”

“I know what Pilo thinks.”

Etey sighed. “I know what he is likely to think and what others will think if you go on this way. They’ll begin to believe that you
are
a savage, a subhuman. You’ll prove it to them. I suppose you must want that. It will certainly make you distinctive. I almost envy you. You can live here, and rail against Home, and be completely free to do whatever you like. No one will ask anything of you, and you’ll owe others nothing. You’ll be our own wild creature. Well, we can hardly blame you, can we? What else can one expect of a girl with such primitive origins?”

“Go away.”

“Poor Lydee. I guess that even Homesmind can make a mistake in judgment. It was so sure you could adapt to life here.”

“It’s easy for you to talk.” Lydee pitched her voice low, trying to show that she could speak calmly. “How would you know what I feel?”

“Oh, I guess I don’t, not really.” Etey traced a line in the sand. “Right now, I’m thinking of Daiya, the girl who gave you to me. She was about your age at the time. She had to stand up to all her people, at great risk to herself, to try to save Reiho — Reiho as he was then. I’m thinking of him, too. He was the first one of us to communicate with Earth in thousands of years, and he wasn’t much older than you are now.”

Etey sat up, folding her legs. “Reiho brought Daiya here,” she went on. “Her curiosity had made her an outcast, and he hoped she could have a home here. But she could not adapt to our ways. She asked to go back to Earth, and I went there with her and Reiho. I thought I could help somehow.” She glanced at the lake for a moment. “I was also curious. But I failed Reiho. He died there, and I could do nothing to prevent it. At least I was able to bring him back here, and you were given to me.” She frowned. “I’m thinking of Reiho and Daiya — of their courage. And I’m sorry that you seem to lack it. Perhaps I expected too much.”

Lydee looked away.

“That Earthgirl was wild, a girl of strong feelings and intense thoughts. She was your sister — that was what she called it. She wore dirty clothes that hid her body, and I suspect that an occasional insect made a home in her long, tangled hair. With her mental powers, she could fly without one of our belts and could touch the thoughts of others. She could have killed us both, and if Reiho had not been able to break down the wall of fear that first separated them, she would have killed us without a qualm. She was ignorant and superstitious. But she was also brave, and in her own way intelligent. I would have been proud to claim her as one of my people. Of course, she might not have felt the same way about you.”

Lydee could not speak.

“You can live here, if you like,” Etey continued. “Homesmind will see to your needs. Of course, Reiho and your friends will be unhappy for a bit, but they have many ways to prevent unhappiness and will soon get over it. In the end, they’ll pity you, as you pity yourself. Think of that. Why, through your link, you might allow their pity to resonate with yours. That would make for a fine wallow, wouldn’t it? Poor thing.”

“Be quiet!” Lydee stumbled to her feet and strode toward the lake. Her eyes stung. She managed to squeeze out a tear, wiped her face, and stared at her hand, wondering if Earthpeople were able to cry. Perhaps they cried as untrained children did, shaking as they wept.

She turned around. Etey had summoned a globe and was eating heartily, dipping her fingers into a bowl. First the woman had mocked her; now she seemed indifferent. Lydee stomped toward her. Etey poured a glass of wine and handed it to the girl.

Lydee wanted to throw the glass to the sand; instead, she sat down and sipped the pink liquid. Etey nibbled at a green vegetable spear. “That girl,” Lydee managed to say. The woman reached into her bowl for another spear. “Daiya. What happened to her?”

“You wish to know?”

“Yes.”

“And I had thought you would be too preoccupied with your own misery to care.” The woman poured herself more wine. “She lives near the village where she grew up. Her life has been a hard one, for her questioning of her world’s customs has made her an outsider, but her people occasionally speak to her, and sometimes younger ones seek her out. She is waiting for her people to accept what she learned from us — that Earth does not have to keep to its old ways, but can change. Homesmind has watched over her. It can speak to the cybernetic Minds of Earth, and through those Minds It can communicate with Daiya. But she has not spoken to It for a few years now, and Homesmind says that even the Minds housed in the pillars have been silent recently.” Etey frowned. “We think of Homesmind as a vast intelligence. But It is a young mind compared to those of Earth. Even It cannot fully encompass Them. Those Minds are also waiting for Earth to change, to awaken from what They see as a long dream.” Etey’s brown eyes gazed past Lydee.

“Have you or Reiho spoken to Daiya?”

“She didn’t want us to. She felt that Earth had to be left alone to find its own way. I believe she was right, but I don’t think she’ll see much change in her lifetime. The Earthfolk have lived without change for thousands of years, and fear it. Daiya has never asked us to return.”

“I don’t know if Reiho could,” Lydee said. “I think he still fears it.”

“I know he does. Anyway, he would be helpless without the mindpowers Earthfolk have. And I cannot return because I have such powers.”

Lydee leaned forward. “But how can that be?”

“As some on Earth are born without them, some here are born with them. Homesmind must think such qualities are worth preserving, though I don’t know why — we lack the means of using such powers here.” Etey shook her head. “On Earth, I heard voices inside me over which I had no control and saw impossible things. I could not hide my thoughts. I would be in danger if I returned.”

Lydee was silent. She had only to remain on the Wanderer and live her life; surely that required little courage.

“I once thought —” Etey paused.

“What did you think?”

“That there might be another reason for your being among us, that Homesmind had a purpose for bringing you up, that you might in time be a bridge to Earth, in a way. But now I think we’ll forget Earth, as we did before.”