Beowulf's Children

He lived with awful, bloody dreams in which all of their efforts had meant nothing. In his sleeping mind, rapacious demons had rolled over the colony like a red tide, killing everything, everyone. The few dozen survivors stranded up in Geographic could hear the screams, and see the blood, but they couldn't come down. Couldn't ever come down. And stayed up there until they slowly ran out of food... and water... and air.

Waking, he would shrug away the dreams. He didn't want to know how narrowly sanity had been preserved. And when he thought about going back to the mainland, he wondered what would happen if another grendel ever touched him. He wondered if he could take it. If his sanity would hold.

He didn't ever want to find out.

"... Zack," Justin said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Zack?"

"Wants to kill it. And the eggs."

He felt an instantaneous, visceral flash of agreement, followed swiftly by the voice of reason. "As long as it's not dangerous that's not his decision to make," Cadma

Jessica looked sheepish. "Zack ordered a cover."

"Good."

She hesitated. "We didn't put it on, until the eel tried to escape.

Took three of us with poles to keep it in. Then we put up the cover."

"Not when Zack told you to?"

"No, sir."

"He had the authority to order that. Do you dispute it?"

"No, Dad, it just seemed-"

Cadma

"You did. You rebelled-"

"Exactly," Cadma

"So you ignored a valid order because it wasn't convenient. Do I have to say anything else?"

"No, sir. But he wanted to kill it, too! And we found it at the Bluff, not down here!"

"And at the Bluff you and your brother had every right to do what you thought right," Cadma

"It'll go to a vote," Jessica said. "Can we rely on you?"

"To approve keeping it alive? Yes." He thought for a moment. "That's not all that will go to a vote. The next question will be about the mainland, you know. We need that major expedition. Not just quick trips to initiate Grendel Scouts, a study expedition... "

"Yes," Justin said. "Joe Sikes thinks so too. Something's going wrong with the mining robots."

Something in Justin's tone made Cadma

"Don't know. Joe thinks it's Star Born. But it's not, it's another Avalon surprise."

Cadma

"Avalonian homing pigeons," Justin offered. Jessica looked pained. "And no grendels here to eat them. We're likely to be up to our clavicles in something."

"There haven't been for twenty years," Jessica offered.

"There weren't any eels for twenty years, either," Justin said.

Cadma

"We can plan it on the next Grendel Scout outing," Justin said.

"Safety-"

Justin gri

Cadma

"Or at least not against us," Jessica added swiftly.

Cadma

Cadma

And it's their world, not ours.

"Open mind," he said. "I'm already bound, right, Justin?"

Chapter 5

THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

God bless the King, I mean the Faith's Defender;

God bless-no harm in blessing-the Pretender;

But who Pretender is, or who is King,

God bless us all-that's quite another thing.

JOHN BYROM, to an officer in the Army

The debate was already in full swing as Cadma

The tables were tiered in amphitheater rows beneath the corrugated roof, grouped around a central stage. And on that stage a tall, stocky, golden young man stood at the podium, commanding their attention by his words and stance and very being. His voice was a master orator's. Every word from the thin, sensuous mouth cut as precisely as a razor. He was Cadma

The young man's cheeks were healthfully hollow, his every motion perfectly judged as he emphasized his major points. Almost every sentence was punctuated by a cheer from the Surf's Up contingent, come inland for the weekly debate.

Aaron Tragon. Star Born indeed.

Cadma

"-ladies in the audience will agree that the automatic tendency of most males is to assume a power structure which escalates from woman to man to God Almighty. This, at any rate, was the most frequent view of the nineteenth century-"

Cadma

"Hola."

"Hello, Dad."

Cadma

Mickey shrugged and looked at Mary A

Cadma

"Stevens is in trouble."

"Has Aaron reached the Refutatio yet?"

"Beyond that. He's in the Digressio, and I suspect that the Peroratio will be an ass-kicker."

"I like the subject-"

Even without electronic enhancement, Aaron Tragon's voice rose up to embrace them. "-Shelley's modem Prometheus intended to steal not the flames of a distant Olympus, but those of Woman. And how natural for men, reading ‘Frankenstein', to be deceived by her into believing that it spoke of a man's attempt to steal the divine privilege."

Aaron leaned forward over his podium, slamming his palm flat against the wood. "But her mother's blood ran in her! Mary Wollstonecraft, the first feminist, author of ‘The Rights of Woman', was smiling on her daughter. And when Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley wrote of a man's monstrous hubris, his ego, his attempt to stitch together from chunks of dead and decaying flesh an imitation of life, what she truly illustrated was Man's fear of Woman's creative power. His vulnerability to that fear birthed an attempt to do without her altogether."