The Gentle Seduction (15 page)

"Thank you, Man Everwood." The chiefs eyes shone brightly again.

All the Rosans are bright,
Wandra thought,
but this Sor Lai Don Shee is something special, even among Rosans.

In fact, he and his descendants could be the key to turning the FTLcom problem into a trivial task. Sor Lai's bloodfeast memories were impossibly crisp; leaving him a perfect understanding of everything his four FTLcom engineering parents had understood.

That was exceptional enough—but then Sor Lai went beyond that. He also learned new things faster than anyone else, he asked the most insightful questions, and he brought new points of view to bear on every problem. In just a few weeks he could have resolved every remaining problem in the final design, Wandra was sure.

But he didn't have a few weeks, and when the second instruction session was over, Wandra didn't want to let him go; she wanted to keep teaching him, to pack as much of her mind into his as fast as she could. She hurried from the platform, worried she wouldn't catch him before he burst from the room in normal Rosan fashion.

But he was not hurrying off with his peers; rather, he was hurrying toward Wandra, and only swift Rosan reflexes kept them from colliding in mid-step.

Wandra gurgled with laughter. "Two minds with one thought," she said. "Would you like to continue our discussions?"

Sor Lai smiled as only a Rosan could smile, with the cheeks lifting gaily and petals fluttering as though in a breeze. "Very much, Man Furenz. I would appreciate it beyond your knowing."

She crossed her fingers at him. "My name is Wandra, Sor Lai. I hate formality."

She had to admit, she liked Sor Lai for more than merely his superior performance. She liked the naive optimism he'd shown early in the day, and she enjoyed watching that optimism develop by midnight age into a mature confidence. He knew that the eccentricities of the Universe could impede progress, or even reverse progress, but never, in the long run, stop progress.

They turned to the cavern passage. "Come with me," Wandra bubbled. "We'll go to my . . ." Wandra bit her lip; there was no word for "home" in Rosan. "We'll go to my place-of-work."

Sor Lai looked puzzled. "Isn't the lecture hall your place-of-work?"

She threw up her hands. "I have many places-of-work. This is a special one."

"I see. I think I understand. "

She took him by the arm. "I see a free speedcart up ahead. Race ya!"

Sor Lai won the race, of course, laughing all the way.

They survived Sor Lai's driving, somewhat to Wandra's surprise, and stopped before the small fountain at the entrance to Wandra's cavern. "Beautiful!" Sor Lai exclaimed. "How many people worked upon this? And what does it do?"

Wandra shook her head. "I built it myself; I'm a sometimes-sculptor. It's not very good, I'm afraid. And all it does is shoot water in the air, from the fairy's fingertips, and collect it again among the green rocks beneath her feet." She turned to flick the pump switch. A thin stream danced up, spiraled down again. Sor Lai bent to touch the smooth stone, amazed. "This is the work of many lifetimes. Joyous." He rose up. "What else do Men do in their immortality?"

Wandra stammered in horror.

"Do not answer. I'm sorry." He came and took her arm. "I must see the rest of your place-of-work." They entered Wandra's home together.

Sor Lai pointed at the walls. "The pictures. Of what are the pictures?" he demanded.

Wandra looked at the scenes of Karly for the first time in weeks. "Pictures of my—" again, there was no word for home— "birth world. I had our ship computer make these up specially—they appear through my infrared goggles to look the way the originals look in normal light—normal light, that is, for a Man. So you're seeing my planet as I see it, more or less."

"These are all pictures of the surface!"

Wandra nodded. "It is gentler on my world than on Khayyam." She looked at the dry-ice-capped mountain towering above the capital and chuckled. "Though not too gentle, I suppose."

Sor Lai looked at another scene, where the sun set over a pink, powdery beach. "Those aren't Men, are they? They're too small."

Wandra followed his pointing finger. "They are almost Men, Sor Lai. They are my children. Humans metamorphose slowly, gradually becoming more Manlike."

"Your children!" He scrutinized the picture. "They laugh with grace. Have you met them? You could have met them, couldn't you?"

Wandra laughed. "Yes, Sor Lai, I lived with them for a long time."

Sor Lai turned back to Wandra. "Do they know your memories well?"

Wandra pondered that. "I suppose you could say they do, at least as Men go. They're more like me than their father, that's for sure. They'll be great mathematicians, someday, not housekeepers like my ex-husband." She shook her head.

Sor Lai turned slowly through the room. "And a love couch right here, in your place-of-work!"

Wandra blushed, though she wasn't sure why; she'd never thought of herself as the innocent type. "Not for a long time, my friend. I use it for, uh . . . You've noticed that Men tire faster than Rosans, haven't you? I rest there. We are unconscious for almost a third of our lives, resting."

"And still you get so many things done." Sor Lai's admiration continued.

By now Wandra's face was burning. "We do our best," she muttered. She turned to her kitchen. "Now, I have to eat something, or I'll die of starvation."

Sor Lai's admiration turned to amazement. "Eat! Like a larva?" he gasped.

"You bet," she agreed. "We don't store enough fat before adulthood to last for the rest of our lives, though sometimes it seems like my body's trying to."

At last Sor Lai was speechless. Wandra cooked, set the table, and started to eat. She talked mathematics continually, until she noticed the horror on Sor Lai's face. She felt uncomfortable. "Listen, do you want me to eat another time?"

"No, not at all," Sor Lai said. To Wandra, he seemed to be shuddering. "It's . . . intriguing."

She looked at him a while, then continued her meal.

"I remember my bloodfeast," he said, petals waving ecstatically. "It is a joy beyond imagining."

"I believe it," Wandra replied. "When we eat, though, it's nothing like that." She had heard of Rosans with keen memories of the bloodfeast ecstasy actually stealing someone's brainblood, to try to eat it—even though the adult Rosan's digestive tract is atrophied. And the ecstasy had to be strong indeed, to risk the consequences—for the stealing of another Rosan's brainblood was punishable by brainblood cremation.

They talked. Wandra finished her meal at last, and the two of them sat upon her bed, still talking. Suddenly Sor Lai clapped his hands and jumped to his feet. "You know, this hyperspace link with sound and video is all right, but the properties of the four-space beg you to generate three-dimensional pictures. Do you have a computer terminal here?"

Wandra was on her feet as well. "It begs you, huh? Well, it never begged me, but if you say so, here—" She marched to her desk and pulled out a keyboard. The wall in front of her lit up, and with quick keystrokes she logged into the Rosan central computer system.

Sor Lai crossed the room to join her. His fingers flew across the keys, and he spoke in machine-gun Rosan as the ideas developed and the machines to implement them took shape. Wandra could only stand and stare. "There," he proclaimed at last. "It's even better than I thought. When the FTLcom is ready, you won't even have to send a ship to deliver the construction plans to people on other planets. We'll be able to project and receive 3-D images all with one transceiver, without any equipment at the other end. Unless they throw a blast screen around your target location or some such thing."

Wandra continued to stare at him. "That's incredible."

He smiled broadly. "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Even more incredible than a Man who eats even after she becomes an adult."

His smile turned quiet. "No, not as incredible as that."

They hugged each other, artificial coolsuit petals touching honest, living, roselike petals.

For the first time, Wandra became aware of how much thinner Sor Lai was now than when they'd left for her home. She looked at her watch; six hours had passed—the equivalent, in Rosan terms, of almost ten years.

Wandra jerked away. "Sor Lai!" she almost screamed. "We have to get you back!"

"I guess we should, at that," he conceded.

They speeded through the cavenets, as fast as they'd gone before, yet it was too slow for Wandra's concern. She had used up an awesome part of Sor Lai's life, just bringing him home.

Wandra tried to counter her guilt with logic. After all, the time had been productive, hadn't it? And yes, it had been worth it, hadn't it? She hurt nevertheless.

They returned to the conference cavern, where Cal was lecturing. Sor Lai took his place among his fellows, but Wandra couldn't bear to leave. She listened to Cal's lecture absently, looking among the now dawning-aged nightspinners, seeing them for the first time, watching them grow old.

The lecture ended, and a break was taken—a break to work on the two prototypes nearing completion. Wandra hovered by Sor Lai's team. Work ended, and Wandra lectured, and work continued, until dawn.

Wandra fought the tears gathering in her eyes. The curled, green-tinged petals spread inexorably across Sor Lai's body. He smiled at her sadly. "You should leave me now," he whispered. "It's time for me to go, to let my children remember."

"No, let us not waste a minute of life," Wandra choked.

The laughter in his eyes calmed. "I am tired," he said. He settled to the ground. "I'm sorry."

Wandra knelt beside him.

The air turned sweet with honeysuckle, and the flowing blood mingled with a woman's tears.

Sorrel peeked around the corner, into the interior of Wandra's home. "Anybody home?" he asked, watching her lie upon her bed.

She turned to him, tired and distraught. "Hi," she smiled wanly. "I'm sorry I haven't made it in yet. The students are probably better off without me, anyway."

Sorrel slipped in, moved to sit on the edge of her bed. "Are you sick? Did you finally find a bacterium on this planet that knows what to do with our proteins?"

She shook her head.

He nodded. "I understand there was an exceptional student during nightspin."

She nodded.

"I also hear . . . you were rather fond of him."

She rolled away. "God, yes. He was kind, he was beautiful, he was . . ."

"He was all good things. I know. It seems to be a common trait among the Rosans." He rolled her gently over to face him.

"Why do they have to die so soon?" she yelled at him. "Why can't they live like we do, and laugh and love and talk with their children and . . ." She was crying.

Sorrel raised her by her shoulders, held her close. "They can't live like we do because Nature didn't design them to live like we do. Because at the time of their evolving, death at dawn was certain. Why would Nature spend such an effort, giving long life to one doomed to die anyway?"

Wandra started rocking, bringing her legs up into a foetal position. Sorrel stroked her hair. "You remember that krat we saw a while ago, outside the conference hall?"

She nodded.

"I saw it again yesterday."

She looked up. "What? The same one?"

Sorrel shrugged. "It had the same ragged scar on its side."

Wandra's mouth hung open, forming the obvious question.

"The krats have been luckier than the Rosans. When the Rosans moved into the caverns, they found a place free of evolutionary pressures, where they could prosper without menace. But when the krats came, they found the Rosans already here, determined to keep their caves and destroy the invaders. Thus the krats still had evolutionary pressures. Only the strong survived. Nature discovered that longevity would be useful for krats; and the krats earned longer lives through generations of bloodletting.

"But Nature doesn't choose for long life among Rosans, because there is no need—and only need causes Nature to care. Nature doesn't care whether the Rosans survive with grace or joy—Nature only cares that they survive, one way or another. The Rosans can never develop longevity, because they are too good at surviving without it." Sorrel was surprised at the bitterness creeping into his voice. "The characteristics that make them so wonderful and worth saving are the same characteristics that damn them to mere instants of time for all eternity."

"It's not fair," Wandra wailed.

"Fairness and justice have nothing to do with it." Sorrel continued, and this time the bitterness was undeniable. The vision of his children dying on a radiation-burned planet burned his mind. "Nature knows nothing of justice. Only Men think of justice; it is a concept we invented and it exists only when we can create it."

They were both quiet for a long time; finally Wandra spoke. "Isn't there something we can do? Intravenous feeding or something?"

Sorrel shook his head. "That's done under special conditions, but the basic lifetime of the Rosan is built into the cells. Even with plenty of nutrients, the cells just stop metabolizing. It's as if they knew they were supposed to die."

"What about slowing down their metabolisms?"

Sorrel looked her in the eye. "If you could extend your life by a tenth, but to do it you had to cut your ability to live each moment of that life in half, would you do it?"

Wandra sobbed. Sorrel stroked her hair again. "I wish I could say something more soothing." His voice turned gentle again.

Wandra's arms tightened around Sorrel's chest. "Would you . . . stay with me? Till tomorrow?"

Sorrel drew a ragged breath; suddenly, he felt like the old man he sometimes knew himself to be. "I would," he said softly, "if I really believed that, in your heart, you wanted me to." He kissed her on the forehead, disengaged slowly. "I'll see you in a few hours. If you have trouble sleeping, call me." He looked down at her a last time. "Dream well," he whispered as he left.

Kir Bay played with his FTLcom medallion as he spoke. "Well, at least we still have plenty of time left. It'll be hours before the Bloodbond election. It's a shame, though, that the Supremi candidate is certain to win."