Brute Orbits (24 page)

She smiled, and the boy smiled back at her.

“Just hiking,” she said.

The boy frowned. “Yoo tolk foony,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said, knowing that she would never get the accent right. He had been climbing up from somewhere at her right, and could not have seen the entrance open and close until he got up higher.

“Lucky for you,” Ibby said in her ear, “that you came out before he got here, and ran into a single individual.”

The boy climbed up toward her, pausing to smile once in a while as if he knew something she didn’t. When finally he stood in front of her, she saw that she was only slightly taller than the youth.

He reached out and took her hand, and held it gently.

“My name is Tina,” Justine said suddenly, plucking her childhood nickname out of the past for no reason at all except that it seemed appropriate. “What’s yours?”

“Alrik,” he said, still smiling.

“How old are you, Alrik?”

He let go of her hand and held up ten fingers, then three. “Thirtin,” he said, “going on fourtin.”

“Where do you live?” she asked, working on the accent.

He pointed to the first village.

“Yoo?” he asked, and she realized that he could not have thought that she was from anywhere else but one of the two other villages.

She pointed to the village at the far left, halfway up the inward curve of the hollow, and realized that she was much safer from discovery than she had imagined. It would take at least two conceptual leaps, both unlikely for Alrik, to guess where she was from: outside, and where outside.

Alrik smiled acceptingly. He could not have met or remembered even the several thousands of people in his world yet. It would take an older person to develop suspicions about her origin, and even then it might take some time to check.

Alrik seemed unconcerned about where she had come from as he took her hand and began to lead her to the lower landscape. He looked up at her adoringly once in a while, and Justine smiled back at him, feeling foolish.

As Alrik led her down the main way between the barracks, she noticed the smiles and admiring looks she was getting from a large number of the young boys. The few adult males she saw were sitting on the steps, talking to each other. The only women she saw were looking out the glassless windows. Two were young. The others were older, and wore looks of resignation. One or two men looked up and saw her, then went back to their conversation. She was being accepted as merely a visitor from one of the other villages.

“Hey, what loock!” a tall boy shouted at Alrik, and she felt his grip tighten in her hand.

He led her to the back stairs of one of the barracks. A heavyset, balding man sat there with an old woman. He squinted at Justine as they came close.

“My father,” Alrik said, still holding Justine’s hand.

The old man looked her up and down and smiled, nodding.

“Who is your father?” the old man asked Justine, in the same accent as his son.

“I foond her in the rocks,” Alrik said proudly.

Justine gestured toward one of the other villages, hoping that it would be enough. The old man nodded as if she had spoken, and she suspected that he was hard of hearing but too proud to ask again.

The mother was watching Justine carefully, not squinting as much, hut clearly surprised and puzzled.

The father laughed in delight and said, “Yoo will make a fine man of my son!”

Alrik looked at Justine, squeezed her hand even harder, and as he smiled at her ecstatically, she began to see what she had walked into.

“Why are yoo so far from your village?” Alrik’s father asked.

“I…was walking,” Justine said, “and didn’t pay attention to how far I had come.”

There was a silence. “No matter,” the old man said. “My son has done well, slow as he is. Have yoo started many boys in your village?”

“Yoo must be at least twenty-five,” said the mother.

Justine hesitated. “Some,” she managed to say.

The old couple nodded together. The father did not look at Justine, but the mother seemed to stare with a frustrated suspicion.

“My son,” said the father, “will choose five of his fellows for yoo to start after him. He will be honored for it, and so will we.”

Justine took a deep breath, but did not speak.

“Will you wish to take the child to your village?” asked the mother.

Justine tried not to show surprise.

“It is your right,” said the mother, “but we would prefer…”

“Too few women,” Ibby said in her ear, “and they’ve adapted to the shortage.”

Justine nodded, so he would see that she heard him. Custom had rationalized necessity, as so often in human history, but she wondered why necessity could not be faced directly, without ceremony or sentiment.

“Thank yoo!” the mother replied, taking her nod to mean that the child would stay here. “We are grateful.”

Alrik stepped closer and put his arm around Justine’s waist.

“Yoo may use our bed,” the father said, gesturing with his thumb toward the entrance to the barracks behind him—and Justine suddenly wished for the delay of sentiment and ceremony. It was apparently at a minimum here, with the blessings of the parents being all that seemed to be needed.

“You’ve got to get out of there,” Ibby said in her ear.

Alrik tightened his arm around her waist and grinned at her with joy. Of course, there was no possibility of her ever having a child by him without the usual preparations, but she felt a moment of fear at having a young stranger of doubtful intelligence pressing himself into her body. She could certainly fend him off, but she could not fend off a group of young men.

She looked back the way she had come, and saw five boys standing in the central way between the barracks, watching the betrothal. Two of them were smiling.

Justine knew what she had to say. “There can be no children,” she said, trying to look sad, “because I can’t have any. That was why I…left my village.”

“What?” asked the father.

“They drove yoo out?” said the mother.

Alrik loosened his hold on her, disappointed by his parents’ change of mood.

“You let us think…” the mother said, “and tell us after we spoke for our son? Why?”

“Good going,” Ibby said in her ear.

“I’m…sorry,” Justine managed to say.

Alrik’s father looked at her in a new way, examining her now without restraint, letting her know that he both disapproved of her and desired her.

“There may still be some use…” he started to say.

“No!” Alrik’s mother shouted. “If she will not bear children, then she is not fit to start anyone’s manhood.”

The expression on Alrik’s father’s face told her that he clearly thought this restriction was unnecessary, but he was too old to contradict his wife.

“It would set a had example,” his wife said. “Only the fit may…teach.”

“I can’t have her?” Alrik asked, standing downcast next to Justine.

“No, my son,” his mother said in a sad tone that sought to prepare him for the worst—that for him there might never be anyone—and it was a withering look of hatred that she turned on Justine.

“Leave now, I think,” Ibby said.

Justine turned away and made her way down the central way. She passed the group of boys without looking at them, and started hack toward the rocky end of the world.

She strode away without looking back. As she came to the edge of the village, she glanced back and saw the group of five boys following at a distance, as if they were uncertain and waiting for someone’s approval.

“Don’t look back,” Ibby said. “If you knew any sociobiology, you’d know that may only encourage them.”

“I’m a record runner,” she said, “for a moderately unenhanced human being.”

“You don’t know how fast they can run,” he replied. “But as soon as you run, so will they. Widen the distance as much as you can before you run. I’ll open the hatch at the last moment.”

“They’ll see the hatch,” she said, quickening her pace.

The ground ahead was firm soil, but very quickly became a dark green crabgrass, short but easy to slip on.

“Can’t be helped if they do, but they won’t be able to open it.”

If she got there first. She looked back, then opened up with her long legs. Glancing back, she saw that the boys were also running. At least three kilometers, she estimated, to the rocky end. She could do it at this steady pace, as long as it kept her ahead, and they might tire sooner. She did not want to use her stunner, but it might be necessary.

“Mind if I talk?” Ibby asked.

“Not-at-all!” she shouted between deep breaths.

“I’ve been running a program to see if we can pick up the panopticon data from the entire sphere of sky. Every Rock should have a signal. Save time visiting them, especially the ones that might turn out to be lifeless.”

“Fine!” she shouted, glancing back at her pursuers. They had gained enough ground for her to see their grinning faces; but as she pressed harder and pulled ahead, she saw strain beginning to distort their grins.

She stayed well ahead.

“But-of-course,” she shouted, “we-will-have-to-visit-them-all, just-to-be-sure…panopticon-may-not-show-all.”

She glanced back and saw them gaining. They called out after her lewdly, but she could not make out the words. If she tired, she told herself, she would stop and stun them, then walk to the rocky end; but something made her reluctant to use a weapon that would humiliate and punish the ignorant, when it was unnecessary to do so.

She took deeper breaths, and pulled away again. When she glanced back, she saw the looks of disappointment on their faces. The rocky end drew nearer. She was halfway there.

“You’re doing very well,” Ibby said.

The ground became rocky, and she had to pick her way forward with some care. Spin gravity was diminishing as the world narrowed, but she was grateful for that because in a few minutes she would have to start climbing.

“Want me to come out?” Ibby asked.

“No!” she shouted between breaths, and increased her effort.

She looked back as she finally started to climb, and saw that the boys were much closer; they were better climbers, scrambling upward on all fours at times while she remained upright, throwing her hands out for balance.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Ibby said jokingly, but there was a note of concern in his voice.

She did not look back for a while. Just as she was about to look again, a hand caught her ankle—and she went forward on her face, scratching her cheek on a sharp rock. She cried out, then turned over.

They came around her in a halfmoon, breathing hard and grinning. She glanced up toward where the hatch would open, and saw that she was only a hundred meters short of the place.

“Yoo run good,” the tallest boy said.

“But we better,” said a short, dark-haired one with big white teeth.

She reached for her stunner, but a stocky redheaded boy leaned over quickly and caught her wrist.

“What ya there?” he asked, prying the weapon from her hand before she could tighten her hold. “What is it?” he said, examining the object.

She scrambled backward and tried to stand up, but one of the boys came up behind her and grabbed her by the shoulders. He held her as she half stood, and let her find her footing.

The fourth and fifth boys came up closer and looked at her with curiosity. One was a thin, wiry youth with brown hair and eyes to match. His companion was a slightly chubby boy with sandy hair and green eyes.

No one spoke as these two examined her. Justine felt as if she were in a dream, unable to move or run. After her rejection in the village, she was fair game for anyone who might take an interest. It was another way to gain experience where opportunities were limited. Still, there was a reluctance in these young men that spoke of severe discipline in their upbringing; they were also unconsciously picking up the fact that she was somehow not one of them, and that strangeness made them doubtful.

She heard a sound behind, like air escaping, and knew that Ibby was opening the hatch—and she was not there! Maybe the panopticon’s field of vision had failed to catch her predicament at this point.

The boys stared, startled by the sight of the rising cover. It came up all the way and stopped. She jerked free of the arms that held her, and tried to move forward toward the opening, hoping that Ibby would not close it too soon.

Strong hands grabbed her again.

Ibby came up the ramp and stepped outside.

“Let her go!” he shouted in a low voice.

The arms loosened but did not let go.

Ibby started down the rocks, then stopped, raised his arm, and fired his stun.

“Ahhhh!” cried the tallest as the shockwave hit him and he fell on his back.

The arms let her go. She scrambled up toward Ibby.

The four startled boys seemed to wake up, and they started after her.

Ibby stunned the redhead. He cried out and fell over, dropping her stunner, which clattered into the rocks.

She reached Ibby and turned to look back. The remaining three boys stood gaping at them, then started to back away.

“Well, now they know about us,” Ibby said. “I wish it hadn’t been this way.”

“What do they know?” Justine said as they watched the retreating trio. The two stunned boys lay moaning on the rocks, more injured from their fall than the wave, she realized. “They chased someone up here and she disappeared into the rocks.”

“You may be right,” Ibby said. “They may be too ashamed to tell anyone about being stopped in this way.”

He turned and led the way down the ramp. When they reached bottom, the large hatch closed. Justine glanced up at the overhead panels of white light and said, “But there may be someone among them who might have an idea of what happened.”

“If the boys tell them.”

She shuddered as they walked down the passageway, then said, “The strong preying on the weak, simply because they can, because they sense weakness and can enforce their will. Yet how else can they learn in such limited circumstances. There is order and purpose in their way.”