Chapter 12

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.

Faussel was standing in the door with more papers, a shocked expression on his face. “What do you have there?” Brion asked.

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.”

“And the other pile?” Brion pointed.

“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.

“In other words, red tape,” Brion said. “Well, it’s all filed.”

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 could come up with a new approach. They hadn’t; they were all too busy specializing.

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.

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. She’s having dinner, he thought, or--she’s in the hospital. The hospital was on the floor below, and he went there first.

“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.”

“The world’s falling apart. How is Lea doing?”

“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.”

“Are you that worried, Doctor?”

“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.”

“I never did,” Brion said to the retreating back.

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 night’s sleep now would do as much good as all the medication.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

“How do you feel?” he asked, realizing and hating the triteness of the words, even as he said them.

“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.”

She took the apple Brion gave her and bit into it. “Did you ever think of going to Earth?”

Brion was startled. This was too close to his own thoughts about planetary backgrounds. There 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.”

“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?”

“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.”

“Any exobiologists there?” Lea asked, with a woman’s eternal ability to make any general topic personal.

“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.”