<h2><SPAN name="XII" id="XII"></SPAN>XII</h2>
<p>On Brion's desk when he came in, were two neat
piles of paper. As he sat down and reached for them
he was conscious of an arctic coldness in the air, a
frigid blast. It was coming from the air-conditioner
grill, which was now covered by welded steel bars.
The control unit was sealed shut. Someone was either
being very funny or very efficient. Either way, it
was cold. Brion kicked at the cover plate until it
buckled, then bent it aside. After a careful look into
the interior he disconnected one wire and shorted it
to another. He was rewarded by a number of sputtering
cracks and a quantity of smoke. The compressor
moaned and expired.</p>
<p>Faussel was standing in the door with more papers,
a shocked expression on his face. "What do you
have there?" Brion asked.</p>
<p>Faussel managed to straighten out his face and
brought the folders to the desk, arranging them on
the piles already there. "These are the progress reports
you asked for, from all units. Details to date,
conclusions, suggestions, et cetera."</p>
<p>"And the other pile?" Brion pointed.</p>
<p>"Offplanet correspondence, commissary invoices,
requisitions." He straightened the edges of the stack
while he answered. "Daily reports, hospital log...."
His voice died away and stopped as Brion carefully
pushed the stack off the edge of the desk into the
wastebasket.</p>
<p>"In other words, red tape," Brion said. "Well, it's all
filed."</p>
<p>One by one the progress reports followed the first
stack into the basket, until the desk was clear. Nothing.
It was just what he had expected. But there had
always been the off chance that one of the specialists<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span>
could come up with a new approach. They hadn't;
they were all too busy specializing.</p>
<p>Outside the sky was darkening. The front entrance
guard had been told to let in anyone who came
asking for the director. There was nothing else Brion
could do until the Nyjord rebels made contact. Irritation
bit at him. At least Lea was doing something
constructive; he could look in on her.</p>
<p>He opened the door to the lab with a feeling of
pleasant anticipation. It froze and shattered instantly.
Her microscope was hooded and she was gone.
<i>She's having dinner</i>, he thought, or—<i>she's in the hospital</i>.
The hospital was on the floor below, and he
went there first.</p>
<p>"Of course she's here!" Dr. Stine grumbled. "Where
else should a girl in her condition be? She was out of
bed long enough today. Tomorrow's the last day, and
if you want to get any more work out of her before
the deadline, you had better let her rest tonight.
Better let the whole staff rest. I've been handing out
tranquilizers like aspirin all day. They're falling
apart."</p>
<p>"The world's falling apart. How is Lea doing?"</p>
<p>"Considering her shape, she's fine. Go in and see
for yourself if you won't take my word for it. I have
other patients to look at."</p>
<p>"Are you that worried, Doctor?"</p>
<p>"Of course I am! I'm just as prone to the weakness
of the flesh as the rest of you. We're sitting on a
ticking bomb and I don't like it. I'll do my job as long
as it is necessary, but I'll also be damned glad to see
the ships land to pull us out. The only skin that I
really feel emotionally concerned about right now is
my own. And if you want to be let in on a public
secret—the rest of your staff feels the same way. So
don't look forward to too much efficiency."</p>
<p>"I never did," Brion said to the retreating back.</p>
<p>Lea's room was dark, illuminated only by the light
of Dis's moon slanting in through the window. Brion
let himself in and closed the door behind him. Walking
quietly, he went over to the bed. Lea was sleeping
soundly, her breathing gentle and regular. A<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span>
night's sleep now would do as much good as all the
medication.</p>
<p>He should have gone then; instead, he sat down in
the chair placed next to the head of the bed. The
guards knew where he was—he could wait here just
as well as any place else.</p>
<p>It was a stolen moment of peace on a world at the
brink of destruction. He was grateful for it. Everything
looked less harsh in the moonlight, and he
rubbed some of the tension from his eyes. Lea's face
was ironed smooth by the light, beautiful and young,
a direct contrast to everything else on this poisonous
world. Her hand was outside of the covers and he
took it in his own, obeying a sudden impulse. Looking
out of the window at the desert in the distance,
he let the peace wash over him, forcing himself to
forget for the moment that in one more day life
would be stripped from this planet.</p>
<p>Later, when he looked back at Lea he saw that her
eyes were open, though she hadn't moved. How long
had she been awake? He jerked his hand away from
hers, feeling suddenly guilty.</p>
<p>"Is the boss-man looking after the serfs, to see if
they're fit for the treadmills in the morning?" she
asked. It was the kind of remark she had used with
such frequency in the ship, though it didn't sound
quite as harsh now. And she was smiling. Yet it
reminded him too well of her superior attitude
towards rubes from the stellar sticks. Here he might
be the director, but on ancient Earth he would be
only one more gaping, lead-footed yokel.</p>
<p>"How do you feel?" he asked, realizing and hating
the triteness of the words, even as he said them.</p>
<p>"Terrible. I'll be dead by morning. Reach me a
piece of fruit from that bowl, will you? My mouth
tastes like an old boot heel. I wonder how fresh fruit
ever got here. Probably a gift to the working classes
from the smiling planetary murderers on Nyjord."</p>
<p>She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it.
"Did you ever think of going to Earth?"</p>
<p>Brion was startled. This was too close to his own
thoughts about planetary backgrounds. There<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span>
couldn't possibly be a connection though. "Never," he
told her. "Up until a few months ago I never even
considered leaving Anvhar. The Twenties are such a
big thing at home that it is hard to imagine that
anything else exists while you are still taking part in
them."</p>
<p>"Spare me the Twenties," she pleaded. "After listening
to you and Ihjel, I know far more about them
than I shall ever care to know. But what about
Anvhar itself? Do you have big city-states as Earth
does?"</p>
<p>"Nothing like that. For its size, it has a very small
population. No big cities at all. I guess the largest
centers of population are around the schools, packing
plants, things like that."</p>
<p>"Any exobiologists there?" Lea asked, with a woman's
eternal ability to make any general topic personal.</p>
<p>"At the universities, I suppose, though I wouldn't
know for sure. And you must realize that when I say
no big cities, I also mean no little cities. We aren't
organized that way at all. I imagine the basic physical
unit is the family and the circle of friends. Friends
get important quickly, since the family breaks up
when children are still relatively young. Something in
the genes, I suppose—we all enjoy being alone. I
suppose you might call it an inbred survival trait."</p>
<p>"Up to a point," she said, biting delicately into the
apple. "Carry that sort of thing too far and you end
up with no population at all. A certain amount of
proximity is necessary for that."</p>
<p>"Of course it is. And there must be some form of
recognized relationship or control—that or complete
promiscuity. On Anvhar the emphasis is on personal
responsibility, and that seems to take care of the
problem. If we didn't have an adult way of looking at
... things, our kind of life would be impossible. Individuals
are brought together either by accident or
design, and with this proximity must be some certainty
of relations...."</p>
<p>"You're losing me," Lea protested. "Either I'm still
foggy from the dope, or you are suddenly unable to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span>
speak a word of less than four syllables. You know—whenever
this happens with you, I get the distinct
impression that you are trying to cover up something.
For Occam's sake, be specific! Bring me together two
of these hypothetical individuals and tell me what
happens."</p>
<p>Brion took a deep breath. He was in over his head
and far from shore. "Well—take a bachelor like myself.
Since I like cross-country skiing I make my
home in this big house our family has, right at the
edge of the Broken Hills. In summer I looked after a
drumtum herd, but after slaughtering my time was
my own all winter. I did a lot of skiing, and used to
work for the Twenties. Sometimes I would go visiting.
Then again, people would drop in on me—houses are
few and far between on Anvhar. We don't even have
locks on our doors. You accept and give hospitality
without qualification. Whoever comes. Male ... female
... in groups or just traveling alone...."</p>
<p>"I get the drift. Life must be dull for a single girl
on your iceberg planet. She must surely have to stay
home a lot."</p>
<p>"Only if she wants to. Otherwise she can go wherever
she wishes and be welcomed as another individual.
I suppose it is out of fashion in the rest of the
galaxy—and would probably raise a big laugh on
Earth—but a platonic, disinterested friendship between
man and woman is an accepted thing on
Anvhar."</p>
<p>"Sounds exceedingly dull. If you are all such cool
and distant friends, how do babies get made?"</p>
<p>Brion felt his ears reddening, not sure if he was
being teased or not. "The same damn way they get
made any place else! But it's not just a reflexive
process like a couple of rabbits that happen to meet
under the same bush. It's the woman's choice to
indicate if she is interested in marriage."</p>
<p>"Is marriage the only thing your women are interested
in?"</p>
<p>"Marriage or ... anything else. That's up to the
girl. We have a special problem on Anvhar—probably
the same thing occurs on every planet<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span>
where the human race has made a massive adaptation.
Not all unions are fertile and there is always a
large percentage of miscarriages. A large number of
births are conceived by artificial insemination. Which
is all right when you can't have babies normally. But
most women have an emotional bias towards having
their husband's children. And there is only one way
to find out if this is possible."</p>
<p>Lea's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that your
girls see if a man can father children <i>before</i> considering
marriage?"</p>
<p>"Of course. Otherwise Anvhar would have been
depopulated centuries ago. Therefore the woman
does the choosing. If she is interested in a man, she
says so. If she is not interested, the man would never
think of suggesting anything. It's a lot different from
other planets, but so is our planet Anvhar. It works
well for us, which is the only test that applies."</p>
<p>"Just about the opposite of Earth," Lea told him,
dropping the apple core into a dish and carefully
licking the tips of her fingers. "I guess you Anvharians
would describe Earth as a planetary hotbed of
sexuality. The reverse of your system, and going full
blast all the time. There are far too many people
there for comfort. Birth control came late and is still
being fought—if you can possibly imagine that.
There are just too many of the archaic religions still
around, as well as crackbrained ideas that have been
long entrenched in custom. The world's overcrowded.
Men, women, children, a boiling mob
wherever you look. And all of the physically mature
ones seem to be involved in the Great Game of Love.
The male is always the aggressor. Not physically—at
least not often—and women take the most outrageous
kinds of flattery for granted. At parties there are
always a couple of hot breaths of passion fanning
your neck. A girl has to keep her spike heels filed
sharp."</p>
<p>"She has to <i>what</i>?"</p>
<p>"A figure of speech, Brion. Meaning you fight back
all the time, if you don't want to be washed under by
the flood."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Sounds rather"—Brion weighed the word before
he said it, but could find none other suitable—"repellent."</p>
<p>"From your point of view, it would be. I'm afraid
we get so used to it that we even take it for granted.
Sociologically speaking...." She stopped and looked
at Brion's straight back and almost rigid posture. Her
eyes widened and her mouth opened in an unspoken
<i>oh</i> of sudden realization.</p>
<p>"I'm being a fool," she said. "You weren't speaking
generally at all! You had a very specific subject in
mind. Namely <i>me</i>!"</p>
<p>"Please, Lea, you must understand...."</p>
<p>"But I do!" She laughed. "All the time I thought
you were being a frigid and hard-hearted lump of
ice, you were really being very sweet. Just playing
the game in good old Anvharian style. Waiting for a
sign from me. We'd still be playing by different rules
if you hadn't had more sense than I, and finally
realized that somewhere along the line we must have
got our signals mixed. And I thought you were some
kind of frosty offworld celibate." She let her hand go
out and her fingers rustled through his hair. Something
she had been wanting to do for a long time.</p>
<p>"I had to," he said, trying to ignore the light touch
of her fingers. "Because I thought so much of you, I
couldn't have done anything to insult you. Such as
forcing my attentions on you. Until I began to worry
where the insult would lie, since I knew nothing
about your planet's mores."</p>
<p>"Well, you know now," she said very softly. "The
men aggress. Now that I understand, I think I like
your way better. But I'm still not sure of all the rules.
Do I explain that yes, Brion, I like you so very much?
You are more man, in one great big wide-shouldered
lump, than I have ever met before. It's not quite the
time or the place to discuss marriage, but I would
certainly like—"</p>
<p>His arms were around her, holding her to him. Her
hands clasped him and their lips sought each other's
in the darkness.</p>
<p>"Gently ..." she whispered. "I bruise easily...."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span></p>
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