Beyond the Tomorrow Mountains Page 11

  * * *

  From then on the days were too busy for brooding over anything. The training dreams, unlike the edited one Stefred had devised as a test, had no element of nightmare; both Noren and Brek found them fascinating. Dreaming, they experienced not only zero gravity and the techniques of maneuvering in a spacesuit, but the specific process of dismantling starships—which, having been originally assembled in orbit, were designed to come apart. The starships were made not of metal, but of a semi-metal alloy that could not be reshaped by any means available on the planet. Had it been possible to melt them down, the material would have been used long before to make tools and machines. As it was, special tools were needed to separate the sections of airtight shell, and only a few had been kept, enough for two men to use at a time. That meant the job would be a slow one. Many trips would be required to get an entire starship down using a single small shuttle, and since only two men could work, only two would go on each flight. The fact that this also appeared to minimize the risk seemed of little comfort to Stefred.

  Noren did not see Stefred often; the Dream Machine was turned over to the young women who normally operated it, and the six prospective astronauts used it in rotation, day and night. In between, they scrutinized the Inner City’s towers closely, tried on the carefully preserved spacesuits, and—following the detailed instructions of the computers—checked out the shuttlecraft itself. It was stored in its original bay in a tower that had not been fully converted. The first ascent was to be made under cover of darkness so that the villagers would not observe it. After that, of course, all traffic would be on the other side of the Tomorrow Mountains.

  Ten days were allotted to preparation, the maximum number that could elapse, according to the computers’ projections, if the starship beacon was to function until all the work was finished. Lots were drawn whereby Scholars not held back by essential duties were designated for the first staff of the outpost; they too began to get ready. Until the tower was assembled, only a few would go; but more would follow, and with them, Inner City Technicians. That was necessary because some of the chosen Scholars were married to Technicians, and also because others, like Noren and Brek, were uncommitted. The secret of the outpost’s existence could not be kept from the Inner City Technicians, and once they saw people not known to be Scholars going there, they would want an equal chance for themselves.

  Everybody wanted to go beyond the mountains. Yet life in the settlement would be anything but easy. There would be backbreaking work with an absolute minimum of equipment, not only in construction, but in the raising of food. Aircars couldn’t be spared to transport food indefinitely; the Scholars would have to spend part of their time farming by the primitive Stone Age methods they’d been taught in the villages as children. Noren was not looking forward to that, though he considered the founding of a new city well worth it.

  Meanwhile, whatever free time he had he spent with Talyra. He had thought she would be lonely and frightened in the City, that she would seek not only his love, but his comfort; yet it didn’t work out that way. To his astonishment, Talyra did not seem to have any difficulty adjusting to her new situation. She liked it. When she was unhappy it was not for her own sake, but because he could not convince her that he himself was all right.

  Talyra had been given a job in the nursery, which horrified Noren when he first heard of it; it seemed unnecessarily cruel. Talyra didn’t agree. She informed him that this was the first assignment for all Technician women. They were supposed to be under no illusions as to what they would face if they married: the bearing of children they could not rear. Because Talyra had been trained to deliver babies, she worked mainly as a midwife; but she also took care of the babies as the other nursery attendants did, and she didn’t mind at all. “But Noren,” she declared, “I like babies! Why shouldn’t I enjoy the work?”

  “Doesn’t it bother you to see the mothers come in to nurse their children, loving them, yet knowing they’ll have to give them up when they’re old enough to be weaned?”

  “That is the High Law,” she answered soberly. “How else could it be? There is no room for families in the Inner City, and we who are privileged to serve here must accept it. It’s hard, but everyone knows that Wards of the City go only to homes where their new parents will love them, too.”

  Noren could understand that view in the Scholar women—who knew why the sacrifice was necessary—although in one way it was worse for them because they also knew that on the Six Worlds, where it had been possible to get milk from animals, babies whose mothers couldn’t keep them had been adopted at birth. It was more difficult for him to see why Talyra took it so calmly. Was she covering up on his account? he wondered. Or did she still trust the High Law blindly? She had remained as devout as ever, certainly; like most Technicians she attended the Inner City’s open-air Vespers daily. When he could, Noren went with her, telling himself that he did it to make her happy, yet knowing inside that it was to avoid accompanying Brek to Orison, which was held at the same hour.

  As a nurse, Talyra occasionally assisted in the medical research laboratory, a fact that appalled Noren still more until he realized that she was completely unaware of the true nature of what went on there. She did not know that the people she tended had volunteered to be made sick. Technicians, of course, were not permitted to do that, The volunteers were all Scholars. He himself had already been through it once, and it wouldn’t be the last time. Medical research was, after all, the only type that could be of benefit to the present generation of villagers, and it would be unthinkable to try things out on them. There were no animals with a biological resemblance to human beings, as there had been on the Six Worlds. Some diseases that had been conquered there were no longer curable, because of a lack of drugs and facilities; then too, there were still local ills for which no help existed. Noren had tried to exact a promise that if they ever found an antidote for the poison that had killed his mother, they would test it on him; but since the same one had also killed the First Scholar, his name was far down on the volunteer list.

  Inner City customs were so unlike village ones that Noren marveled at Talyra’s quick adaptation to them. It was strange to see her dressed in City women’s trousers instead of the skirts she had always worn, but she found them comfortable, she told him. She was awed by the quality of garments cut with scissors and stitched with metal needles; villagers had only bone. Because there weren’t enough scissors and needles to go around, all City clothes were made by seamstresses, and Talyra declared that she hated sewing anyway. That surprised him, for she had never complained as he had about farm chores. He was also surprised to learn that she disliked cooking and thought the arrangement whereby even married couples lived in tiny rooms, taking all their meals in the refectory, was a fine system. Talyra was not one to rage against the world; she simply went ahead with what had to be done. Yet though she’d seemed satisfied in the village, she found the Inner City more truly satisfying—or would have, Noren saw, had it not been for his own evident turmoil.

  He hadn’t quite realized how hard it would be to conceal his problems if he and Talyra saw each other every day. And the problems had intensified. His feeble attempts to hide them did little good. Repeatedly he asserted that he had not been punished for his heresy, yet Talyra remained doubtful. Finally, after nearly a week of her desperate probing for reassurance, he said sharply. “Have you ever known me to lie? You broke our betrothal because I wouldn’t lie about being a heretic; you defended me before the Scholar Stefred on the grounds that I’d always been honest. Why should you think I’m lying now?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his, saying in a low voice. “Will you swear to me by the Mother Star that they have given you no punishment?”

  “Yes,” he maintained. “By the Mother Star, Talyra.” As he said it, he recalled the day long before when they had quarreled over his refusal to hold such an oath sacred, thinking that on that point at least, they no longer differed.

  To his amaze
ment, she burst into tears. “Then it’s as I feared,” she whispered. “You—you still don’t believe, Noren, I see it in your face. You’re still a heretic; that’s why you aren’t able to accept all they offer you.”

  Later, lying sleepless on his bunk, it occurred to Noren that Talyra’s keen intuition had again brought her very close to the truth; but at the time he was outraged. “Are you suggesting I lied at my recantation?” he demanded angrily.

  “No, you wouldn’t do that. You’d been forced to concede that the Scholars are wise; yet in your heart you have no faith.”

  “You’re not being reasonable,” he insisted. “Faith? What is that but to be content with ignorance? I know, Talyra! I know that the Mother Star exists, that it will someday appear as the Prophecy says—”

  “And that we need fear nothing as long as its spirit remains with us?”

  He turned away, knowing that although he could scarcely acknowledge such a belief, he was not free to deny it; and suddenly it came to him that perhaps the book of the Prophecy would not be “true in its entirety” even if the research succeeded. “So long as we believe in it, no force shall destroy us, though the heavens themselves be consumed. . . .” He had not lied. He had believed it; he had supposed that human survival was certain. The First Scholar had been certain! If he hadn’t been, he could never had done what he did, nor could he possibly have borne what he had to bear. Moreover, the feeling of certainty had been strong in the dreams. Had the First Scholar, a scientist who must surely have known that, himself been deluded?

  “You still can’t be happy,” Talyra said sorrowfully, “because you aren’t whole. Before, you were sure what you believed, so sure . . . and I used to think that once you saw how mistaken you were, that would fix everything. I—I’ve been stupid, Noren. Heresy isn’t a sin, it’s something you’re born with, and recanting can’t give you faith you just don’t have. The Scholars don’t punish; that’s not their way—you simply have to live with the consequences of what you are.”

  Noren did not try to talk about it again. Although more than once after that night Talyra sought statements from him to allay her fears, he found that his own fears led him invariably to anger. That was not her fault and he had only a few days left to be with her, so he stifled it, kissing her instead of speaking. And when they kissed he could not regret her entrance to the City, unlikely though it seemed that the barrier to their marriage would ever fall. He now felt that the revelation of his Scholar status must be postponed indefinitely; nothing short of concrete proof that the Prophecy’s promises were fulfillable would make him willing to assume the robe. How could he have imagined that his misgivings would lessen with time?

  Rooming with Brek did not help, for although Noren welcomed his friendship, shared problems couldn’t be pushed into the back of one’s mind as easily as those not constantly discussed. “This is good, what we’re doing now,” Brek declared. “To build a new city, one that will eventually be open to everybody—that’s fine, and rank won’t make much difference there. But as far as commitment to priesthood’s concerned, we’re just evading the issue. When our shift at the outpost is finished, we’ll have to come back . . . and probably the Transition Period can’t begin that soon.”

  That it might never begin was something Noren had not mentioned to Brek; he could not bring himself to mention it to anyone, for once he did, he’d feel compelled to take some stand. He did not know what stand to take. As a result, he shared little more openness with Brek than with Talyra, and to be less than frank had always been painful for him. Day by day the pressure built up until he found himself counting the hours until the shuttlecraft’s ascent. In space, at least, he would be free!

  The space crew had been divided into teams by Stefred. Noren and Brek were paired, and when the lots were cast to decide who would make the first trip, they won. The computers monitored the starship’s orbit and set the time of departure at three hours past midnight. No announcement was to be made to the Technicians before the tower was assembled, since its source couldn’t be explained; they would later assume that it had been “called down from the sky,” as the Book of the Prophecy described. So when Noren bid Talyra goodbye he told her only that he’d been chosen for special service that would prevent him from seeing her for some time. The possibility that he might not return he refused even to consider. The perils of the undertaking seemed unreal beside his desire to escape to a place where there’d be no abstract problems.

  Talyra had no reason to suspect that he was leaving the Inner City, of course. “You look more cheerful than usual,” she observed. “I know I mustn’t ask about the things people do when they serve inside the Hall of Scholars, but if what you’ve been called to do makes you look this way, it must be good.” Her voice faltered briefly. “It—it must be worth another separation, even though we’ve just found each other—”

  “It’s good, darling,” he agreed quickly. “‘It can’t bring anything but good.” Then, because he knew it would please her, he sought words that fit the formal religion she cherished. “The Scholar Stefred does me honor in judging me qualified,” he added. “You must think of it as—as a journey, though the service to which I go is not like any journey in the world. I shall glimpse mysteries that few ever see, Talyra.”

  “Then I’ll say farewell as for a journey,” she told him, her face lighting with joy. “May the spirit of the Mother Star go with you!”

  “And may its blessings be spread through my service,” he replied gravely. He took her in his arms then, and they said less solemn things. Not till he’d left her did he realize that for a few minutes he had spoken sincerely and naturally in the language a priest would use.

  He’d been advised to get a few hours of sleep, but he could not imagine doing so. Instead he went on up to his lodging tower’s top level, where, in a small compartment that had been the observation deck of the starship, windows looked out on all sides. Each tower had such an area, used as a lounge and normally crowded; but at midnight he had it to himself. He sat gazing out at the stars, tingling with the thought that he would soon be seeing them from an identical compartment that floated free in space.

  A quiet voice broke in on his growing exhilaration. “Since you weren’t in your room, I thought I’d find you here,” Stefred said.

  Noren turned, startled. If Stefred had any last-minute instructions, why hadn’t he sent for him earlier? Often enough they’d talked informally at meals and in the recreation areas, but never before had the Chief Inquisitor sought him out in his own quarters.

  Stefred’s face was worn, almost harrowed, though in the dim light of the observation lounge it couldn’t be seen clearly. “You go to hazards of which you know nothing,” he said with evident distress. “I can’t explain them; yet you trust me, and I owe you honest warning.”

  “Look, you don’t need to say anything else,” protested Noren. “I’ve already been told how hazardous it is, and even if I hadn’t, the hazards are pretty obvious.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “I’ve risked my life before, Stefred,” Noren exclaimed impatiently. “At least I thought I was risking it, as we all did when we became heretics. Haven’t I proved that I’m not going to panic?”

  Stefred sat on the molded white seat that encircled the room, leaning against the window next to Noren; for a while neither of them spoke. This tower was not central like the Hall of Scholars, and nothing stood between it and the stars. None of the moons were up, not even Little Moon, so the silhouette of the Tomorrow Mountains wasn’t discernible. The world was empty, Noren thought suddenly . . . empty except for the City and the cluster of villages surrounding it. He had never pictured it that way, but from space he would see how empty it really was.

  “You’ve proved your courage,” Stefred said slowly. “You’ve shown more than one kind: the courage to risk death, to face unknown horrors, to stand up for what you believe against various sorts of opposition—I could list quite a few others. You know them. Bu
t there are kinds of courage you don’t know, Noren.” He paused, groping for words that he apparently could not find. “The demands of this job may be greater than they seem at first.”

  They could hardly, Noren felt, be greater than those of coping with the problems that had descended on him in the past two weeks, from which any diversion—even danger—would be a relief. “Must we keep on talking about it?” he burst out.

  “No,” said Stefred, sounding oddly apologetic. “You’ve made your decision, and I’ve made mine; I shouldn’t have come. As long as I’m here, though, I’ll say one thing more.” He faced Noren, declaring decisively, “In the past I’ve tested you sometimes, taught you a good deal, and I’ve never led you into anything beyond your ability to handle; you’ve learned to rely on that. You must not rely on it now. I believe you’ll come through this all right, yet it’s possible that you’ll meet experiences you’re unready for. If the going gets rough, you will need more than courage.”

  Puzzled, Noren asked, “What? Further knowledge?”

  “In a sense.”

  Hot anger flashed through Noren, overriding the apprehension that had begun to grow in him. “You’re deliberately withholding information that would help me? Stefred, you’ve no right—”

  “I’m withholding information,” Stefred admitted. “It would not help you; at this stage it would do the reverse. The kind of knowledge that will help is one you must gain for yourself. It exists, and you will have access to it—whatever else happens, Noren, don’t let yourself forget that.”

  * * *

  They had been through it so often in dreams that it seemed they were dreaming still: donning their spacesuits, settling into the padded seats of the shuttlecraft, strapping themselves down, and then the waiting. . . .