Beowulf's Children

Chapter 15

THE VERDICT

I tell them that if they will occupy themselves with the study of mathematics, they will find in it the best remedy against the lusts of the flesh.

THOMAS MANN, The Magic Mountain

The clouds were gray, tinged with orange where Tau Ceti licked them from beneath, at the seventh dawn after Robor's return. A lone pterodon circled overhead, skawing mournfully to the misted cairn of Mucking Great Mountain. Its angular wings flapped somberly.

The early light had yet to transform the fertile fields and roads and buildings of Camelot into a community. It remained a sleeping thing, and but for the four hundred people gathered in the small graveyard, it would have seemed deserted.

The coffins were small. Not much was needed for bones. Mary A

She asked that Linda be buried up on the Bluff; but every member of the colony wanted to be present for the ceremony. A compromise was reached. The ceremony was performed in the colony graveyard. Joe and Linda would be buried up on the Bluff, side by side.

Sylvia held Cadzie, who was oddly quiet. The past week had been hard for him.

Cadma

Mary A

"There has been joy here, so far from Earth. There has been—" He faltered. The words wouldn't flow. "The joy of hard work, shared by friends and family. The joy of discovery, of a new land. The joy of love and birth and growth. There is a price for everything in this life, and we thought we had paid that price."

His vision clouded. "We were foolish enough to think that one generation can pay the way for the next. God has showed us that each must pay his own way through life. My daughter is gone. The man she loved, our friend and companion for twenty years, is gone." He looked out over the faces in the crowd. He knew each one of them. Had been present when many of them were born. This was their world...

Wasn't it?

"By a miracle, their baby, my grandchild, was saved. We have an obligation to keep that child—" Gently, softly, he took Cadzie from Sylvia's arms. "—this child safe. He belongs to all of us now. We have . ... The hurt was bubbling up now, faster and faster and he didn't seem to be able to get the barriers up in time to stop it. "We have to keep this world safe."

He held Cadzie to his chest, felt the life in that small bundle. Smelled the fresh baby smell, and heard the small heart beating, and knew how close, how terribly close death had come to this small thing that he loved so dearly. Suddenly the ground had struck his knees. How had that happened? Sylvia was prying Cadzie out of his arms. His forehead struck Linda's coffin, and all of the things that he had never said, had thought that there would be time to say, boiled out of him, scorched him with their scorn, and turned all of his carefully pla

And when, after a while, Sylvia and Justin helped him up, and the final words were spoken by Zack, Cadma

Aaron's den was crowded with bodies and talk, and warmed by a crackling thornwood fire. Chaka pressed his big palms against the northern window, feeling the vibration as big fat sparse drops shattered against it. Beyond the deserted beach, waves rolled and crashed as if attempting to wash all trace of Man and his words from Avalon.

A tiny human shape rode a sliver of wood and plastic atop a black wave. Idiot. Probably showing off for the kaffeeklatsch that had not invited him.

Chaka turned, for the thousandth time examining Aaron's living space, speculating on what it revealed about the Star born's de facto president. It was small, actually—smaller than many of the other Surf's Up dwellings. Not elaborate, or richly appointed.

But what it was, was precise, to a degree that made Chaka vaguely uncomfortable. Aaron had designed and built it himself. Every joint of wood dovetailed into every other joint with machined precision. The couches were built into the walls, chairs fitted to tables, windows slanted to give the illusion of more room and positioned to catch the maximum of natural light.

But there was something almost... what? Womblike? Aaron's lair was really a bachelor pad, without room for a cohabitant, no matter how often or intensely he might entertain overnight guests.

He knew, for instance, that no woman had ever slept on Aaron's narrow bed. It was too narrow for lovemaking—such intimate activity invariably took place on the living-room divan. Or the floor, or the shower, or standing up in a hammock. Aaron was nothing if not a sexual athlete. The bed was almost too narrow for sleep. Even unconscious, Aaron's discipline was Spartan.

A kitchen/dinette for meals, a living room for guests, a den for conspirators, a library for study, an exercise room for physical torture, and a bedroom for sleep, all fitted about one another like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, in perhaps two-thirds the space of the average dwelling. Odd.

Katya made coffee at the counter along one wall, using the elaborate samovar she had installed to keep a constant supply of hot water. She seemed to be giving the conversation only half of her attention. The rest of her mind was probably evaluating the relational dynamic between Jessica and Aaron. Jessica stood next to Aaron's chair, idly fondling his hair. Not that Katya was directly interested in Aaron—any fool could see that she was in love with Justin. But a Tragon-Weyland alliance would affect Avalonian history for the next three centuries.

The monitor next to Aaron's huge easy chair looked blank at first glance, and Chaka took a moment to study it. Pale brown, with a fine texture... faded ornate lettering... and then it leapt into focus.

It was the Scribeveldt, that northeastern region of the continent which had never been seen except through cameras aboard Geographic. Flat and featureless, endless pampas, with one river and few streams. Chaka watched cursor points draw tracks in speeded-up motion. They made pale graceful curves that crossed each other rarely, as if something immense was trying to write messages to Geographic.

Chaka cleared his throat and spoke to the computer screen. "Edgar, you on?"

He was looking at the top of Edgar's head. Eyes glanced up, fell again. "Yeah."

Trish Chance's fingers clamped on Chaka's forearm, and she swung him around into a gaudy, passionate kiss. Edgar looked up again, fighting a smile. "I'm here. I'm listening. Hi, Chaka. Hi, Trish. Enough already."

"Hi, Edgar," Trish sang sweetly.

"Edgar, it's official," Aaron said, and it was suddenly clear he was speaking to them all. "No expedition to the mainland. Not even for Grendel Scout graduations. Nothing until they understand what happened."

"That's a quote?" Chaka asked.

"Condensation. Accurate, though."

"They won't understand until we learn more," Chaka said. "And we won't learn until we've been there awhile."

Katya asked, "Chaka? What do you think happened?"

Chaka shook his head. "Avalon Weird. It's a locked-room mystery. I don't have any ideas. Neither does my father." He caught Aaron's change of expression, and met his eyes. Father.