Higher Ground (3 page)

“I’m sure your mother is loving having to dust them.”

“She gave me several of them, so she can’t complain. Is this it?”

“Yes.” They’d reached a spot Adam had found while up here studying the overgrown plants. Ideal for watching the stage far below and nicely dark. “Sit down,” he said. “You can dangle your legs over, see. Put one each side of that rail, and you can’t slip off.” Zach maneuvered cautiously into place, and Adam sat beside him. The floor of the catwalk was thick with branches, stems, tendrils, and leaves, softer to sit on than the metal walkway. Their legs swung out into empty space, far above the audience. People were coming onto the stage. The seats in front were almost full.

“This was a greenhouse in the old days, wasn’t it?” Zach asked.

“Yes. They grew all the fresh food in here.”

“It must have been very strange in those days, confined to the domes for years.”

Down below, a teacher announced the start of the recital, and a group of youngsters started playing a violin piece. Adam had always had enormous admiration for parents who encouraged their children to play the violin. They must be very patient people. But up here, the acoustics of the dome and the muffling effect of the plants made for a quite pleasant effect.

“Would you sign on to a dome colony like that?” Zach asked.

Adam shrugged. “Maybe. The atmosphere processing takes much less time than it did when this place was founded.” It had taken them a decade to make the air of Ethris breathable, but the same process would only take two years now. “But I’d miss the outside. Plants in here, sure, they’re great, just as interesting.” He caressed a leaf by his head, feeling the smooth, cool surface, and convinced himself as always he could feel the life in it. “But plants belong outside. So do I.”

“Yes.” Zach looked at him, eyes deep black and unreadable in the darkness. “Yes, you definitely do. In the sunshine.” He reached over and touched Adam’s shoulder with a tentative hand, letting his thumb slide under the short sleeve of his shirt. Goose bumps swept down Adam’s arm at the touch, and his stomach got a little agitated.

“You like the outdoors?” Adam asked.

“Yes.”

He probably did a lot of fieldwork, Adam supposed, and pictured him tapping away at rocks with a little hammer, dressed in nothing but hiking boots, tiny shorts, and a sun hat. Probably not accurate, but a delightful picture all the same.

“I do like to be able to come inside at the end of the day to a hot shower and a soft bed, though,” Zach said.

Adam laughed. “Oh yes, I see the appeal.” He saw the appeal of coming in to a hot shower and soft bed with Zach in both of them too. Zach’s hand was still on his arm, the thumb moving slowly back and forth. Adam decided it was time he did something about that. He leaned across toward Zach, who looked startled and delighted only for a moment, then closed his eyes as Adam’s lips touched his.

Adam kept the kiss quick and light. They couldn’t easily move closer together sitting as they were with legs wrapped around the railing uprights to keep them from slipping off. And the night was young. The musicians below were coming to the end of the first piece, and as the audience broke into applause, Adam pulled back, smiling at Zach. A brief kiss but worth applauding.

“Is talking about the dome too much like work talk?” Zach asked after a moment.

Adam shrugged. “No, I think that’s okay. We’re discussing the history of the place we live in.”

Were they, though? Zach’s question had been about the future, not the past. Would Adam sign on to an early stage colony? Be a founder? Many of the people who’d founded Arius still lived here. Some were buried here. Had given their lives to the place. Could Adam ever do the same?

“I sometimes wonder,” Adam said, “if you signed up for a contract like that, do you think it would be better to have someone beforehand—a partner, I mean—or would you pair up with someone during the time?”

“I’ve never thought of it,” Zach said. “There’s no guarantee you’d find someone to pair off with if you came alone.”

“True. But you might become a lot less fussy than you would be when there really are plenty more fish in the sea.”

“Lower standards?”

“I guess.” Adam rested his chin on his hands on the rail in front of him. “On the other hand, imagine if you came with someone and then broke up with them. All that time stuck with your ex!”

Zach chuckled. “Tricky, yes.” He rested his hands and chin the same way as Adam. Down below, a teenage girl with a flute took the stage. “Is it true what I’ve heard, that the Terraforming Authority encourages couples like us to sign up?”

“Couples like us?” Adam tried not to sound alarmed.

“I…I mean, people like us,” Zach said quickly, his face flushing. “Men who are in a couple. Or women. Not that we’re… I mean same-sex couples rather than opposite-sex ones.”

Adam tried not to laugh at Zach’s babbling.
Foot in mouth there, boy
. “No, I see what you mean. That’s what I’ve heard too. It’s because they don’t want too many people having children at the very early stage of the colony. Children use resources but don’t contribute.” He glanced at the stage and the girl on it. “In a material sense anyway. An early stage colony can’t afford much of that.”

“Ah, yes, I see the logic,” Zach said, sounding very serious, like he was trying too hard to recover from his gaffe.

They fell silent as the music from below caught their attention, the notes of the flute seeming to dance and swirl through the foliage around them.

“She’s good,” Zach said quietly.

Adam just nodded, not taking his eyes from the stage below. The girl was maybe fifteen. She could be the granddaughter of an early stage colonist. There were already three generations of colonists here, even though it still counted as a young settlement.

“The length of time this all takes awes me sometimes,” Adam said. “Individuals play a part for a year or two or five or fifty, and then they’re gone, and the colony goes on, growing all the time. It’s like being a stalk of wheat in a field. Here for a while, then gone, but the field keeps on growing more wheat year after year.”

“The colony’s only been here forty years. That’s not so long.”

“No, that’s a long time. And just think of the Terraforming Authority, the power they have. Governments come and go, but the Authority just goes on and on.”

“Is that something that interests you?” Zach asked. “I know it’s a bit of a hot political issue back home.”

“Me?” Adam shook himself from his thoughtful mood and grinned at Zach. “I’m only interested in plants and partying. And geophysicists with strange pickup lines.”

“That’s a rather specific preference. I’m surprised you meet any of those at all.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I just did, only yesterday. He’s kind of odd but so cute.” Zach blushed furiously at Adam’s words, and Adam laughed until Zach shut him up with a kiss.

Unlike the last one, this kiss was only the start of a series, which lasted for an hour, for the rest of the concert. Adam felt the urgency in Zach, but he didn’t encourage it. Not tonight. Plenty of time later. Anyway, they might be out of sight up here but were still technically in public.

When the last of the music ended and the audience applauded for the final time, Adam moved back from Zach, who looked at him, lips swollen, hair tousled, and eyes rather hazy.

“Let’s get some supper,” Adam suggested. Zach blinked at him before his eyes cleared, like a man waking up. The glow of the lights, diffused and made green by the plants growing over them, gave him an eerie look, a supernatural cast to his skin, his eyes deep in shadow.

“We can, maybe, um, eat at my place,” Zach said, his voice hoarse.

Adam shook his head, knowing that wasn’t an invitation only to eat. “Not tonight. Let’s go sample the delights downstairs.” He pointed down at the Dome Bar below. They did decent light suppers. He didn’t let Zach’s disappointed look sway him. Dating, Zach, he thought. Dating. Anticipation. Maybe Zach rushed into things. If he did, Adam intended to teach him the pleasure of waiting long enough to work up an appetite.

* * * *

“So, I’ve heard you’re seeing that Dr. Benesh.”

Adam looked up, startled, from where he was running his scanner over a stalk of wheat. The farmer grinned at him from under her sun hat. Adam smiled back at her.

“Nothing travels faster than gossip, does it?”

“Not around here, no. Went to the concert in the dome with him last night?”

“I may have.” And then supper and talking until late in the bar before strolling under the stars, Adam walking Zach home to the A dome. They’d parted outside the dome with some lingering kisses, Adam resisting another invitation to go inside “
for coffee
.” But they had made a date for tonight.

He bent over the wheat again. It was doing well, the stalks sturdy and green, about halfway to ripening. “You’re taking good care of this crop, Eva.”

“It’s a good variety. And the weather’s helped. Could do with more rain, though.”

“There’s rain forecast for next week. Okay, I’m all done. I should get moving.” He had several more farms to visit.

“Oh, what’s the hurry? Come and have some coffee. And I’ve got a batch of cookies ready to come out of the oven.”

“And you want to hear more about me and Dr. Benesh.”

“That too. We old ladies have to have something to talk about.”

He followed her back to the farmhouse and petted her dog while she made coffee and pulled the tray of cookies from the oven. They sat in the kitchen, warm from the oven, the door open for a breeze. Chickens scratched around outside. The dog gave Adam mournful looks to encourage him to feed it cookies.

“How long have you been here, Eva?”

“Twenty-three years coming up.”

“You came with your husband, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “But it wasn’t for him. He went back to Earth after five years.”

But she’d stayed. Chosen the colony over her husband. She’d worked this farm for years, dedicating herself both to growing food for the town and to working with the Institute to test new varieties. There were a dozen such farms, not to mention vineyards and orchards, around the town. Visiting them had quickly become the favorite part of Adam’s job. He loved hearing the history of the colony from the people who’d built it. Would some young whippersnapper one day be talking to old Dr. Gray about the contribution he’d made to the colony? Or would Adam go home after his contract ended?

Plenty of time to decide.

* * * *

As Adam studied the menu, Zach tapped his fork on the table, a scowl on his face. Adam frowned at him. Zach’s menu lay in front of him; he’d given it only a cursory glance. Maybe he already knew what he wanted.

“Are you hungry?” Adam asked.

“What?” Zach dragged his attention back from a long way off when Adam spoke.

“You seem impatient.”

“I didn’t get any lunch.” He still tapped the fork, the rhythm speeding up. Adam reached over and took it out of his hand, laid it back on the table. “Sorry. Can we order?”

“You okay?” Adam asked after the waiter had been and gone. “You’re on edge.”

“I’m sorry.” Zach ran his hands through his hair, making it look worse. He’d come right from work, Adam thought, clothes rumpled, a hint of beard shadow. For their date last night, Zach had clearly been home first to shower, shave, and put on fresh clothes. Not this time, and Adam should feel offended that Zach hadn’t made an effort for him, but instead he felt only concern.

“You worked late? Quarterlies?”

“Yes. Professor Phillips is starting to get on at me about them. But there’s this other thing… Just some personal work I’m not even supposed to be spending time on, but you know…” He gave a half smile, half grimace. “Sometimes something seems more urgent and important than the work they’re paying you for.”

“I hear that,” Adam said. “I could never get my professor to agree with me about spending department time on the cactus tournament.”

“The what?” Zach had picked up the fork again, but it froze in his hand.

“Just a tournament we have going in the lab as to who can make their cactus bloom first.”

“Don’t those things only bloom every few years?”

“It’s not a short tournament, I’ll admit.”

Zach sighed and rubbed his eyes. “If I could just get someone to check my results, I’d probably be able to drop it. I think I’ve made an error somewhere. I must have.”

Adam almost asked what this other project was about, but the waiter was heading their way.

“Here comes the food. Right, I’m invoking The Rule!”

“No work talk on a date. Right.” Zach gave a feeble smile. “You’re right. I need to forget all about it for a few hours.”

Adam did his best to make Zach forget. They ate, split a bottle of wine—a nice white made at a winery attached to a vineyard Adam had visited that afternoon, which made him smile. When the waiter started giving them meaningful looks as more customers came looking for tables, they split the check and took their leave.

It was dark out, and they strolled, Adam slipping his arm into Zach’s, until they found a bench to sit on in a quiet spot sheltered by some trees.

Zach wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist and pulled him close, kissed him. Desire surged in Adam, and Zach’s hand on his thigh made him want to give in to a suggestion he felt sure would come any moment. But he remembered what he’d decided—to date the hell out of Zach. No rushing into anything. Relish the anticipation. Bring it to a fever pitch.

Zach pulled away from the kiss and whispered into Adam’s ear, breath warm against his skin, stirring his hair. “Will you come back to my apartment?”

“Not tonight.” Adam tried to bring Zach’s mouth back to his, wanting the taste of those lips again. But Zach pulled away from him. There was just enough light to read the stricken look on Zach’s face.

“Adam, if you’re not interested in me that way, please let me know where I stand. Please don’t lead me on.”

Adam grabbed his hands, pulled him closer again.

“I was just getting closely acquainted with your tonsils, Benesh. Does it seem likely I’m not interested in you that way?”