Macroscope

And there it stopped, absolutely unhuman.

Afra screamed. Ivo could see her mouth open, lips pulled back harshly over the even white teeth, tongue elevated. He saw her chest pumping again and again, and could almost hear her desperate, ghastly sounds. She screamed until the spittle became pink.

In the basin, the star-shaped thing struggled and heaved. It raised a tentacle as if searching for something, then dropped it loosely over the edge. The beam was off now, further evidence that this was the end. For a moment the creature convulsed, almost raising its body from the bottom; then it shuddered into relaxation and the five limbs uncurled.

Slowly it changed color, becoming gray. It was dead.

CHAPTER 7

Beatryx was weeding the garden: some shoots of wheat were coming up beside the tomato plants, and she was carefully extracting them without damage to either type of plant. The tediously preserved shoots would shortly be transplanted to the south forty — forty square feet of verdant field.

Ivo squatted down beside her but did not offer to help. This was her self-appointed task, and his unsolicited participation would constitute interference. Meaningful tasks were valuable. He noted that she had continued to shed weight; the round-faced matron was disconcertingly gone, replaced by the hollow-faced one. Material comfort did not automatically bring health and happiness, unfortunately.

“You know she’s taking it hard,” he said after a suitable delay.

“What can we do, Ivo? I hate to see it, but I just can’t think of any way to help.”

“As I make it, she’s having the reaction she suppressed when Brad lost out to the destroyer. She knew he was gone, then, but she refused to admit it. Now—”

“Now we have to take turns standing watch over her, treating her like a criminal. I don’t like it, Ivo.”

An understatement. Her whole body reflected her concern. Beatryx, physically, was in worse shape than Afra. “None of us do. But we don’t dare leave her alone.”

She lifted a blade of green and placed it tenderly in her basin of moist sand. “It’s terrible.”

“I wondered whether—” He paused, disturbed by the audacity of his idea. “Well, we are, as you say, already treating her like a criminal.”

“We have to do something,” she said.

“Maybe this is all wrong. That’s why I wanted to talk it over. I thought, well, if she feels guilty, we might give her a trial. Sort of bring out the evidence, one way or the other, and all take a look at it, and decide who was how guilty of what. Then it would be — decided.”

“Who would decide, Ivo? I couldn’t.”

“I don’t think I could, either. I’m not objective. But — you know him better than I do — I thought your husband might—”

“He’s fond of her, Ivo. He wouldn’t want to pass judgment on her.” There was no sign of jealousy in her ma

“He’d have to agree, of course. But if it seemed a real trial would clear the air — make things all right again—”

Beatryx stiffened. “Look, Ivo! Look!”

Alarmed, suspecting mayhem or calamity, he followed her gaze. There was nothing.

“On that tomato leaf!” she whispered, trembling with excitement.

He looked, relieved that it was nothing important. “Looks perfectly healthy to me. But you’ll have to spray—”

Then he brought up short. “A bug!”

“A bug!” she repeated.

“It must have been a worm in the tomato,” he said. “I thought everything was sterilized.”

“Maybe we’ll have lots of bugs,” she said, excited. “Triton bugs. And flies and spiders and worms. Maybe they’ll get in the house and we’ll have to put up screens!”

It had been so long since they had seen any creature apart from the four members of the party that this was a signal discovery. “We are not alone,” he said. “It’s a good omen.”

“Do you think it’s warm enough here for it?” she inquired anxiously. “Should I bring it some food? What do they eat?”

Ivo smiled. “Nature knows best. I’m sure it’s sitting on its supper right now. If we leave it alone it will probably raise a family soon. But I’ll photograph a bug-book for you from the macroscope, so you can identify it.”

“Oh thank you!” she said sincerely.

He left her kneeling beside the plant. If there were such things as omens, this was surely a sign that the nadir for the Triton party had passed.

“A trial.” Groton considered it. “There may be something in that. Certainly something needs to be done. That girl is very near the edge.” If Beatryx had changed because of the stress of recent months, Groton had not. He seemed to have the most stable personality among them.

“I got the idea from something I remembered. A bit on animal psychology. A dog had strayed or got lost somehow — I don’t know the details — but after a few days his master got him back. The master was very glad to have him safe, but the dog just moped around the house, hardly eating or resting. Finally the man asked a veterinarian about the problem. The man said to roll up a newspaper and give the animal a good swat on the rear.”

“That wasn’t very helpful.”

“It cured the dog. It seemed the dog expected to be punished for getting lost, and couldn’t revert to normal until that punishment was over. He was just waiting for it, brooding, knowing things weren’t right until it came. One token swat, and that dog almost tore the house apart for joy. The slate was clean again, you see.”

“You suggest that a swat on the rear will cure Afra?”

“I don’t know. It can’t bring Brad back, of course, but the guilt—” Groton sat down. “You know, you’re right about the guilt. It has no outlet — we don’t blame her, really. But a trial? Well, hard to say what would do the job of expunging guilt…”

“You would have to make the decision. On her guilt, I mean. Weigh the evidence, institute appropriate punishment—”

“Yes, I suppose I would.”

Ivo could appreciate Groton’s unease. They were all guilty, by their prior inaction, as much as Afra by her action. Who were they to pass judgment upon her?

Groton opened the roll-top desk he had built for his study and drew out a sheet of paper. It was a circular chart divided into twelve pie-sections, with a smaller circle in the center. There were symbols all around the edge and in several of the segments, together with assorted numbers. Below the large circle were several geometrical drawings identified by further symbols.

“This is her horoscope. Suppose I explain some of it to you, and you tell me whether this thing we contemplate is wise.”

Ivo doubted that this particular tack would help, but he was becoming accustomed to Groton’s method of getting at a problem. If the astrological chart helped him to make up his mind (as Beatryx had once hinted), more power to it. He also remembered the coincidental insight of his own horoscope, that had pointed to Schön rather than to himself. That had been unca

“Do you know what I mean by the houses, cardinal signs, alchemy of the elements, portmanteau analysis—”

“Say again, quarterspeed?”

Groton smiled. “Just testing. I didn’t want to insult you by oversimplifying. I’ll stick as much as I can to layman’s language — but I want you to understand that this is simplified, to the point where what I tell you is only approximately true.”

“Why can’t you just give me the summaries, as you did before?” Ivo did not want to say that a detailed technical lecture was something other than he had bargained for.