Beowulf's Children

For a few foolish moments she prayed that nothing would happen this time... then her stomach soured, and she knew there was no use in hoping. It had begun.

During the first grendel ceremony, she had vomited. Since then Aaron had incorporated acid neutralizers and buffering agents, and now the entire experience was, at least physically, much milder.

The psychoactive alkaloids were kicking in now. External sounds were fading. It was not that they weren't there, or that she had gone deaf, it was that her focus of attention was so tight now, so utterly complete that it was as if she was staring down a long, long tu

"We are the inheritors of this world. We own all of this, everything that we can see, everything that there is to own. We are the strong ones. The others call us Merry Pranksters. We do what we do to test our power. To ensure that we can control every aspect of this planet. And then we place a clown's face upon our deeds so that the old ones will feel no fear.

"But one day we may have to take other steps. And when we do we will have to act as one mind, as one body. As the inheritors of this world, with no barriers between intent and action. As one mind. As one body..."

She could hear his words, felt them slipping between those bright hot marbles. She was burning up, but sought refuge in the very fire that consumed her. Aaron's hands were on her. And then other hands. And then she was reaching, touching, tasting, consuming and allowing herself to be consumed in the fire raging within her, without her, and in the space between those bright, hot marbles in the sky.

Chapter 11

INVISIBLE DEATH

Death hath so many doors to let out life

JOHN FLETCHER, The Custom of the Country

The children and their guardians were not quite alone. Above them was Geographic. In geosynch over Camelot, Geographic maintained a web of satellites across the continent and around the planet, and kept careful track of weather and tidal conditions. Geographic, the largest movable object ever created by man, had carried its cargo of frozen human beings across ten light-years, expending a cubic kilometer of deuterium snowball along the way. The deuterium was exhausted now. Its sleeve was a shrunken silver balloon, the pressure inside barely higher than the vacuum around it.

Geographic could still be moved by smaller steering rockets, but until the deuterium was replaced-if it ever was-she would remain in eternal orbit around Avalon. She was their link to Earth, and the Earth Born insisted that all of their children be taken up. "This is your heritage. You call yourselves Star Born, now see the stars."

A few came back as often as they could. Some of the Second still dreamed of crossing the void between the stars. A few even spoke of returning to Earth. For the most part, though, the children of Earth were rare visitors. Geographic's corridors were empty, cold, and dark, with only a few flickering lights to give any sign that she had once been alive.

In the command center, the duplicate of the ground-based Cassandra system analyzed a planet's worth of data. She filtered it, and relayed down whatever seemed of interest.

Greg Arruda looked up from his novel as the comm light came on.

"Arruda here."

"Zack. How are things?"

"Jesus Christ, Zack, they're the way they were the last time you asked." He looked at the console. "The board's green. No large objects approaching the oasis. Children all accounted for at last head count. Wait one-"

"What?"

"No panic, Zack. Yellow light from one of the close-in satellites. There's a wind coming up. Northwest wind, about thirty knots through the pass."

"Rain? Rain means grendels!"

"Ah... indicators say dry. Way dry, suck the water right out your pores. Zack, for God's sake, you worry too much. Let the kids have some time to themselves. And get to bed! I'll call you if there's anything you need to know."

"Yeah. Greg, I know you think I'm a fussy old woman-hell, you were there, you remember grendels."

"No, they slipped my mind for a good twenty seconds there. Zack, get to sleep."

Linda woke as Cadzie shifted in his blanket to search for a nipple. Half-asleep she cooed to him, and peeled back her blouse. Drowsily suspended between dream and reality, she didn't really wake up until Cadzie was sated. The morning was still dark. Light would creep across the glade in another twenty minutes.

Joe was still asleep, his strong, broad back to her. The regular rise and fall of his breathing was absurdly comforting.

They made a good team. They worked together well, and they played together well. And love was... every bit as good. It felt whole, healing. She could easily imagine being with this man for the rest of her life. As soon as she could be away from Cadzie for a day or two, she was going to take Joe down the Miskatonic, in the wedding ritual as old as Camelot himself. All the way down to the ocean, there would be camping, and cuddling, and long, slow, warm lovemaking, and it would be... wondrous.

She wrapped the infant in a blue blanket, covering all but his nose. She opened the door of the dirigible, and stretched in the breeze. She felt utterly content.

Joe had come up silently behind her and was kissing the back of her neck. Dawn was coming in now, darkness already giving way to a warm, silvery glow. The air was no longer still. Ginger and Toffee, the twin golden retrievers, were still asleep, curled up next to each other near the dead fire. There were buzzing sounds and distant calls of pterodons, and even more distant hisses, calls of the monkey-things and the imitative calls of the big spider devil that hunted them.

She turned and kissed Joe. His morning breath was sour but not unpleasant. She handed Cadzie over, patted Joe on his rump, and went to wash and dress, girding her mind for the day's business.

By the time Linda climbed down from Robor, Joe was already roughhousing with Ginger, pretending to bite her throat, growling and barking at her. He gathered up Cadzie and gave Linda a minty kiss. The two of them crossed the glade, dogs nipping at their heels. She never noticed that all the creature sounds of Avalon had gone away.

The machinery within the corrugated refinery shack was burnt and twisted and scummed with pink fire foam. Linda placed her drowsy son just outside the shack, in the waxing sunlight. Ginger curled up next to Cadzie like a big cat. Dog warmth, and the heat of his blue thermal blanket, would keep the boy comfortable until Tau Ceti climbed a little higher.

Joe was still examining the equipment when she returned. He looked utterly disgusted. "Morning light doesn't improve it much, does it?"

"Not a bit. Let's go ahead and make the report." She touched her collar. "This is Linda Weyland, at station three. Who's on duty?"

A second or two of silence, and then they got their reply. "Edgar here. Hi Dad, Linda. Nobody else around yet. Ready to report?"

Joe sighed. "Frankly, I think that we should trash it and rebuild."

"Except that it might happen again," Edgar said.

"There's that. Edgar-"