66
Silence!
Marlene reveled in it - all the more so because she could break it if she wished. She stooped to pick up a pebble and tossed it against a rock. It made a small thunk, then fell to the ground and was still.
Having left the Dome with no more clothes than she would have worn on Rotor, she felt perfectly free.
She had walked straight away from the Dome toward the creek, without even watching to check the landmarks.
Her mother's last words had been a rather weak plea. 'Please, Marlene, remember you said you would stay in sight of the Dome.'
She had smiled briefly, but had paid no attention. She might stay in sight, but perhaps not. She did not intend to be hemmed in, regardless of what promises she had been forced to make to keep the peace. After all, she was carrying a wave-emitter. At any time, she could be located. She herself could use the receiving end of it to sense the direction of the Dome's emitter.
If she had an accident of some sort - if she fell or was somehow hurt - they could come get her.
If a meteor struck her - well, she'd be dead. There would be nothing anyone could do about that, even if she were in sight of the Dome. Even allowing for the disturbing thought of meteors, it was all so peaceful and wonderful on Erythro. On Rotor it was always noisy.
Wherever you went, the air quivered and shook and battered your tired ears with sound waves. It must be even worse on Earth, with its eight billion people, and trillions of animals, and its thunderstorms and wild surges of water from the sea and sky. She had once tried to listen to a recording entitled 'Noises of Earth,' had winced at it, and had quickly had enough.
But here on Erythro, there was a wonderful silence. Marlene came to the creek, and the water moved past her with a soft bubbly sound. She picked up a jagged pebble and tossed it into the water and there was a small splash. Sounds were not forbidden on Erythro; they were merely doled out as occasional adornments that served to make the surrounding silence more precious.
She stamped her foot on the soft clay at the creek's edge. She heard a small dull thump, and there was the vague impression of a footprint. She bent down, cupped some water in her hand, and tossed it over the soil in front of her. It moistened and darkened in spots, crimson showing against pink. She added more water and finally placed her right shoe on the dark spot pressing down. When she lifted her shoe, there was a deeper footprint there.
There were occasional rocks in the creek bed and she used them as stepping-stones to cross the water.
Marlene kept on, walking vigorously, swinging her arms, taking in deep breaths of air. She knew very well that the oxygen percentage was somewhat lower than it was on Rotor. If she ran, she would quickly grow tired, but she lacked the impulse to run. If she ran, she would use up her world more rapidly.
She wanted to look at everything!
She looked back and the mound of the Dome was visible, especially the bubble that housed the astronomical instruments. That irritated her. She wanted to be far enough away so that she could turn around and see the horizon as a perfect - if irregular - circle, with no intrusion of any sign of humanity (except herself) anywhere.
(Should she call the Dome? Should she tell her mother she would be out of sight for a little while? No, they would just argue. They could receive her carrier wave. They would be able to tell that she was alive, well, and moving around. If they called her, she decided, she would ignore them. Really! They must leave her to herself.)
Her eyes were adjusting to the pinkness of Nemesis and of the land around her in every direction. It was not merely pink; it was all in darks and lights, in purples and oranges, almost yellows in some places. In time, it would become a whole new palette of colors to her heightened senses, as variegated as Rotor, but more soothing.
What would happen if someday people settled on Erythro, introduced life, built cities? Would they spoil it? Or would they have learned from Earth and would they go about it in a different way, taking this new untouched world and making it into something close to their heart's desire?
Whose heart's desire?
That was the problem. Different people would have different ideas, and they would quarrel with each other and pursue irreconcilable ends. Would it be better to leave Erythro empty?
Would that be right when people might enjoy it so? Marlene knew well that she didn't want to leave it. It warmed her, being on this world. She didn't know quite why, but it felt more like home than Rotor ever had.
Was it some dim atavistic memory of Earth? Was there a feeling for a huge endless world in her genes; a longing that a small, artificial, turning city-in-space could not fulfill? How could that be? Earth was surely different from Erythro in every possible way but the similarity of size. And if Earth were in her genes, why wouldn't it be in the genes of every human being?
But there must be some explanation. Marlene shook her head as though to clear it and whirled around and around as if she were in the midst of endless space. Strange that Erythro didn't seem barren. On Rotor, you could see acres of grain and orchards of fruit trees, and a haze of green and amber, and the straight-line irregularity of human structures. Here on Erythro, however, you saw only the rolling ground, interspersed with rocks of all sizes, as though strewn carelessly by some giant hand - strange, brooding, silent shapes, with rivulets of water, here and there, flowing around and among them. And no life at all if you didn't count the myriads of tiny germlike cells that kept the atmosphere full of oxygen, thanks to the energy supply of Nemesis' red light.
And Nemesis, like any red dwarf, would continue to pour out its careful supply of energy for a couple of hundred billion years, hoarding its energy and seeing to it that Erythro and its tiny prokaryotes were warm and comfortable through all that time. Long after Earth's Sun had died and other bright stars, born still later, had also died, Nemesis would shine on unchanged, and Erythro would roll about Megas unchanged, and the prokaryotes would live and die, also essentially unchanged.
Surely human beings would have no right to come to this unchanging world and change it. Yet if she were alone on Erythro, she would need food - and companionship.
She might return to the Dome now and then for supplies, or to refresh a need to see other people, but she could still spend most of her time alone with Erythro. But would not others follow? How could she prevent them? And with others, no matter how few, would not Eden inevitably be ruined? Wasn't it being ruined because she herself had entered Eden - only she?
'No!'. She shouted it. She shouted it loudly in a sudden eager experiment to see if she could make the alien atmosphere tremble and force it to carry words to her ears.
She heard her own voice, but in the flat terrain there were no echoes. Her shout was gone as soon as it sounded.
She whirled again. The Dome was just a thin shadow on the horizon. It could almost be ignored, but not quite. She wished it was not visible at all. She wanted nothing in view but herself and Erythro.
She heard the faint sigh of the wind, and knew it had picked up speed. It was not strong enough to feel, and the temperature hadn't dropped, nor was it unpleasant.
It was just a faint 'Ah-h-h-h.'
She imitated it cheerfully: 'Ah-h-h-h-h.'
Marlene stared up at the sky curiously. The weather forecasters had said it would be clear that day. Was it possible for storms to blow up suddenly and unpredictably on Erythro? Would the wind rise and become uncomfortable? Would clouds whip across the sky and rain begin to fall before she could get back to the Dome?
That was silly, as silly as the meteors. Of course it rained on Erythro, but right now there were only a few wispy pink clouds above. They moved lazily against the dark and unobstructed sky. There didn't seem to be any sign of a storm.
'Ah-h-h-h-h,' whispered the wind. 'Ah-h-h-h-h ay-y-y-y.'
It was a double sound, and Marlene frowned. What could be making that sound? Surely the wind could not make the sound by itself. It would have to pass some obstruction and whistle as it did so. But there was nothing of the sort within sight.
'Ah-h-h-h-h ay-y-y-y-y uh-h-h-h-h.'
It was a triple sound now, with the stress on the second sound.
Marlene looked around, wondering. She couldn't tell where it was coming from. To make the sound, something had to be vibrating, but she saw nothing, felt nothing.
Erythro looked empty and silent. It could make no sound.
'Ah-h-h-h ay-y-y-y uh-h-h-h.'
Again. Clearer than before. It was as though it were in her own head, and, at that thought, her heart seemed to contract and she shivered. She felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms; she didn't have to look.
Nothing could be wrong with her head. Nothing!
She was waiting to hear it again, and it came. Louder. Still clearer. Suddenly there was a ring of authority to it, as though it were practicing and growing better.
Practicing? Practicing what?
And unwillingly, entirely unwillingly, she thought: It's as though someone who can't sound consonants is trying to say my name.
As though that were a signal, or her thought had released another spasm of power, or had perhaps sharpened her imagination, she heard-
'Mah-h-h lay-y-y nuh-h-h.'
Automatically, without knowing she was doing it, she lifted her hands and covered her ears.
Marlene, she thought - soundlessly.
And then came the sound, mimicking, 'Mahr-lay-nuh.'
It came again, almost easily, almost naturally. 'Marlene.'
She shuddered, and recognized the voice. It was Aurinel, Aurinel of Rotor, whom she hadn't seen since the day on Rotor when she told him that the Earth would be destroyed. She had thought of him hardly at all since then - but always achingly, when she did.
Why was she hearing his voice where he was not - or hearing any voice where all was not?
'Marlene.'
And she gave up. It was the Erythro Plague that she had been so certain would not touch her.
She was running blindly, blindly, toward the Dome, not pausing to tell where it was.
She did not know that she was screaming.
67
They had brought her in. They had sensed her sudden approach, at a run. Two guards in E-suits and helmets had moved out at once and they had heard her screaming.
But the screaming had stopped before they had reached her. The running had slowed and stopped, too; and that was before she seemed aware of their approach.
When they reached her, she looked at them quietly and amazed them by asking, 'What's wrong?'
No-one had answered. A hand reached out for her elbow and she whipped away.
'Don't touch me,' she said. 'I'll go to the Dome, if that's what you want, but I can walk.'
And she had walked quietly back with them. She was quite self-possessed.
68
Eugenia Insigna, lips dry and pale, was trying not to seem distraught. 'What happened out there, Marlene?'
Marlene said, her dark eyes wide and unfathomable, 'Nothing. Nothing at all.'
'Don't say that. You were running and screaming.'
'I may have been for a little while, but just for a little while. You see, it was quiet, so quiet, that after a while I felt as though I must be deaf. Just silence, you know. So I stamped my feet and ran just to hear the noise, and I screamed-'
'Just to hear the noise of it?' asked Insigna, frowning.
'Yes, Mother.'
'Do you expect me to believe that, Marlene? Because I don't. We picked up the screams and those were not the screams of making noise. Those were screams of terror. Something had frightened you.'
'I told you. The silence. The possibility of deafness.' Insigna turned to D'Aubisson. 'Isn't it possible, Doctor, that if you don't hear anything, anything at all, and if you're used to hearing things all the time, then your ears might just imagine they're hearing something so they can feel useful?'
D'Aubisson forced a thin smile. 'That's a colorful way of putting it, but it is true that sensory deprivation can produce hallucinations.'
'That disturbed me, I suppose. But after I heard my own voice and my own footsteps, I quieted down. Ask the two guards who came to get me. I was perfectly calm when they arrived, and I followed them into the Dome with no trouble. Ask them, Uncle Siever.'
Genarr nodded. 'They've told me this. And we watched it happen, besides. Very well, then. That's it.'
'That's not it at all,' said Insigna, her face still white - from fright or anger or both. 'She's not going out any more. The experiment is finished.'
'No, Mother,' said Marlene, outraged. D'Aubisson raised her voice, as though to forestall any angry clash of wills between mother and daughter. She said, 'The experiment is not finished, Dr Insigna. Whether she goes out again or not is beside the point. We still have to deal with the consequences of what has happened.'
'What do you mean?' demanded Insigna.
'I mean, it's all very well to talk about imagining voices because the ear is not accustomed to silence, but surely another possible reason for imagined voices is the onset of a certain mental instability.'
Insigna looked stricken.
Marlene said loudly, 'Do you mean the Erythro Plague?'
'I don't mean that particularly, Marlene,' said D'Aubisson. 'We don't have any evidence; only a possibility. So we need another brain scan. It's for your own good.'
'No,' said Marlene.
'Don't say no,' said D'Aubisson. 'It's a must. We have no choice. It's something we'll have to do.'
Marlene looked at D'Aubisson out of her dark and brooding eyes. She said, 'You're hoping I have the Plague. You want me to have the Plague.'
D'Aubisson stiffened, and her voice cracked. 'That's ridiculous. How dare you say such a thing?'
But it was Genarr, now, who was staring at D'Aubisson. He said, 'Ranay, we've discussed this little point about Marlene, and if she says you want her to have the Plague, you must have given yourself away in some way. That is, if Marlene is serious and isn't just saying it out of fright or anger.'
'I'm serious,' said Marlene. 'She was just bubbling with hopeful excitement.'
'Well, Ranay,' said Genarr a little more coldly. 'Are you?'
'I see what the girl means,' said D'Aubisson, frowning. 'I have not studied a fresh case of advanced Plague in years. And in the days when I did, when the Dome was primitive and had just been established, I had had virtually no appropriate devices with which to study it. Professionally, I would greatly welcome a chance to make a thorough study of a case of the Plague with modern techniques and instrumentation, to find out, perhaps, the true cause, the true cure, the true prevention. It's a reason for excitement, yes. It is a professional excitement that this young woman, unable to read minds, and without experience in such things, interprets as simple joy. It isn't simple.'
'It may not be simple,' said Marlene, 'but it's malevolent. I'm not mistaken in that.'
'You are mistaken. The brain scan must and will take place.'
'It will not,' said Marlene, practically shouting. 'You'll have to force me or sedate me, and then it won't be valid.'
Insigna said, her voice shaking, 'I don't want anything done against her will.'
'This is something that goes beyond what she wills or does not will-' began D'Aubisson, and then staggered back with her hand to her abdomen.
Genarr said automatically, 'What's the matter?'
Then, without waiting for an answer, leaving it to Insigna to lead D'Aubisson to the nearest sofa and to persuade her to lie down, he turned to Marlene and said hurriedly, 'Marlene, agree to the test.'
'I don't want to. She'll say I have the Plague.'
'She won't. I guarantee that. Not unless you really do.'
'I don't.'
'I'm sure you don't, and the brain scan will prove it. Trust me, Marlene. Please.'
Marlene looked from Genarr to D'Aubisson and back again. 'And I can go back out on Erythro again?'
'Of course. As often as you wish. If you're normal - and you're sure you're normal, aren't you?'
'Sure as anything.'
'Then the brain scan will prove it.'
'Yes, but she'll say I can't go out again.'
'Your mother?'
'And the doctor.'
'No, they won't dare stop you. Now, just say you'll allow the brain scan.'
'All right. She can have it.'
Ranay D'Aubisson struggled to her feet.
69
D'Aubisson studied the computerized analysis of the brain scan carefully while Siever Genarr watched.
'A curious scan,' muttered D'Aubisson.
'We knew that to begin with,' said Genarr. 'She's a strange young woman. The point is there's no change?'
'None,' said D'Aubisson.
'You sound disappointed.'
'Don't start that again, Commander. There's a certain professional disappointment. I would like to study the condition.'
'How do you feel?'
'I just told you-'
'I mean, physically. That was a strange collapse you had yesterday.'
'It wasn't a collapse. It was nervous tension. I'm not often accused of wanting someone to be seriously ill - and of having it apparently believed.'
'What happened? An attack of indigestion?'
'Could be. Abdominal pains, in any case. And dizziness.'
'Does that often happen to you, Ranay?'
'No, it doesn't,' she said sharply, 'Neither am I accused of unprofessional behavior often.'
'Just an excitable young woman. Why did you take it so seriously?'
'Do you mind if we change the subject? She does not have any signs of brain scan change. If she was normal before, then she is still normal.'
'In that case, is it your professional opinion that she may continue to explore Erythro?'
'Since she has not been affected, apparently, I have no grounds on which to forbid her.'
'Are you willing to go beyond that and send her out?'
D'Aubisson's attitude grew hostile. 'You know that I've been to see Commissioner Pitt.' It did not sound like a question.
'Yes, I know,' said Genarr quietly.
'He has asked me to head a new project designed to study the Erythro Plague, and there will be a generous appropriation toward that study.'
'I think that is a good idea and that you are a thoroughly good choice to head the study.'
'Thank you. However, he did not appoint me Commander in your place. Therefore, it is up to you, Commander, to decide whether Marlene Fisher can be allowed to go out on Erythro. I will confine myself to giving her a brain scan if signs of abnormality show up.'
'I intend to give Marlene permission to explore Erythro freely whenever she wishes. May I have your concurrence in that?'
'Since you have my medical opinion that she does not have the Plague, I will make no attempt to stop you, but the order to do so will have to be yours alone. If anything must be put into writing, you will have to sign it yourself.'
'But you won't try to stop me.'
'I have no reason to.'
70
Dinner was over and soft music played in the background. Siever Genarr, who had carefully talked of other things to an uneasy Eugenia Insigna, finally said, 'The words are the words of Ranay D'Aubisson, but the force behind them is that of Janus Pitt.'
Insigna's look of uneasiness deepened. 'Do you really think that?'
'Yes, I do - and you should. You knew Janus better than I do, I think. It's too bad. Ranay is a competent doctor, has a profound mind, and is a good person, but she's ambitious - as we all are, one way or another - and she can therefore be corrupted. She really wants to go down in history as the one who defeated the Erythro Plague.'
'And she would be willing to risk Marlene to do it?'
'Not willing in the sense that she wants to, or is eager to, but willing in the sense of - well, if there's no other way.'
'But there must be other ways. To send Marlene into danger, as an experimental device, is monstrous.'
'Not from her standpoint, and certainly not from Pitt's. One mind is well lost if it rescues a world and makes it a fit human habitation for millions. It's a hardhearted way of looking at it, but future generations might make a heroine out of Ranay for being hardhearted, and agree with her that one mind was well lost, or a thousand - if that's what it would take.'
'Yes, if it's not their minds.'
'Of course. All through history, human beings have been ready to make sacrifices at the expense of other people. Certainly, Pitt would. Or don't you agree?'
'About Pitt. Yes, I do,' said Insigna energetically. 'To think that I worked with him all those years.'
'Then you know that he would view this in a very moralistic sense. "The greatest good for the greatest number," he would say. Ranay admits that she talked to him on her recent visit to Rotor, and I'm as positive that that's what he said to her, in one form of words or another, as that I am sitting in this chair.'
'And what would he say,' said Insigna bitterly, 'if Marlene were exposed - and destroyed - and the Plague remained untouched? What would he say if my daughter's life were uselessly reduced to vacuity? And what would Dr D'Aubisson say?'
'The doctor would feel unhappy. I'm sure of that.'
'Because she wouldn't gain the credit for the cure?'
'Of course, but she would also feel unhappy about Marlene - and, I dare say, guilty. She's not a monster. As for Pitt-'
'He is a monster.'
'I wouldn't even say that, but he has tunnel vision. He sees only his plan for the future of Rotor. If anything goes wrong, from our standpoint, he will undoubtedly tell himself that Marlene would, in any case, have interfered with his plans, and he will consider all to have happened for the good of Rotor. It will not hang heavily on his conscience.'
Insigna shook her head slightly. 'I wish we were making a mistake, that Pitt and D'Aubisson were not guilty of such things.'
'I, too, wish that, but I am willing to trust Marlene and her body language insights. She said that Ranay was happy at the possibility that she would have a chance to study the Plague. I accept Marlene's judgement in this.'
'D'Aubisson said she was happy for professional reasons,' Insigna said. 'Actually, I can believe that, in a way. After all, I'm a scientist, too.'
'Of course you are,' said Genarr, his homely face crinkling into a smile. 'You were willing to leave the Solar System and go on an untried trip across the light-years to gain astronomical knowledge, even though you knew it might mean the death of every person on Rotor.'
'A very small chance, it seemed to me.'
'Small enough to risk your one-year-old child. You might have left her with your stay-at-home husband and made sure of her safety, even though it would have meant you would never see her again. Instead, you risked her life, not even for the greater good of Rotor, but for the greater good of yourself.'
Insigna said, 'Stop it, Siever. That's so cruel.'
'I'm just trying to show you that almost everything can be looked at from two opposing sets of views, given sufficient ingenuity. Yes, D'Aubisson calls it professional pleasure at being able to study the disease, but Marlene said the doctor was being malevolent, and again I trust Marlene's choice of words.'
'Then I suppose,' said Insigna, the corners of her mouth curving downward, 'that she is anxious to have Marlene go out on Erythro again.'
'I suspect she does, but she is cautious enough to insist that I give the order and even suggests I put it in writing. She wants to make sure that it is I, not she, who gets the blame if something goes wrong. She's beginning to think like Pitt. Our friend Janus is contagious.'
'In that case, Siever, you mustn't send Marlene out. Why play into Pitt's hands?'
'On the contrary, Eugenia. It's not simple at all. We must send her out.'
'What?'
'There's no choice, Eugenia. And no danger to her. You see, I now believe you were right when you suggested there was some permeating life-form on the planet that could exert some sort of power over us. You pointed out that I was deleteriously affected, and you were, and the guard was, and always when Marlene was in any way opposed. And I just saw precisely that happen to Ranay. When Ranay tried to force a brain scan on Marlene, she doubled up. When I persuaded Marlene to accept the brain scan, Ranay immediately improved.'
'Well, there you are, then, Siever. If there's a malevolent life-form on the planet-'
'Now, wait, Eugenia. I didn't say it was malevolent. Even if this life-form, whatever it might be, caused the Plague as you suggested it did, that stopped. You said it was because we seemed to be content to remain in the Dome, but if the life-form were truly malevolent, it would have wiped us out and it would not have settled for what seems to me to have been a civilized compromise.'
'I don't think it's safe to try to consider the actions of a totally alien life-form and deduce from that its emotions or intentions. What it thinks might well be totally beyond our understanding.'
'I agree, Eugenia, but it's not harming Marlene. Everything it has done has served to protect Marlene, to shield her from interference.'
'If that's so,' said Insigna, 'then why was she frightened, why did she begin to run to the Dome, screaming? Not for one moment do I believe her tale that the silence made her nervous and she was just trying to make some noise to break that silence.'
'That is hard to believe. The point is, though, that the panic subsided quickly. By the time her would-be-rescuers reached her, she seemed perfectly normal. I would guess that something the life-form had done had frightened Marlene - I would imagine it was as unlikely to understand our emotions, as we are to understand its - but, seeing what it had done, it proceeded to soothe her quickly. That would explain what happened and would demonstrate, once again, the humane nature of the life-form.'
Insigna was frowning. 'The trouble with you, Siever, is that you have this terrible compulsion to think good of everyone - and everything. I can't trust your interpretation.'
'Trust or not, you will find we can in no way oppose Marlene. Whatever she wants to do, she will do, and the opposition will be left behind, gasping in pain or flat-out unconscious.'
Insigna said, 'But what is this life-form?'
'I don't know, Eugenia.'
'And what frightens me more than anything, now, is: What does it want with Marlene?'
Genarr shook his head. 'I don't know, Eugenia.'
And they stared at each other helplessly.