A Thousand Deaths (28 page)

The sun seemed to draw up his pain and weariness, just as it pulled the dew and the morning mist into the sky. Despite his new wounds, Courane felt better than he had in many days. He tried to think back, to recall how D fever had tortured him as the illness progressed. The unbearable headaches, the agony in his arms and legs, the great hunger and the desperate thirst, the fever and the chills, his body's occasional refusal merely to work correctly: These things had obstructed him on his self-appointed mission, but nothing had defeated him. He had won out over his own body's sabotage, as well as the unearthly desert. Now, though—

Courane's eyes opened wider. Now, though, he had passed through the hills. His tumble had brought him to the bottom of the last low barrier. Before him stretched a flat plain covered with purplish-red grass. Not far away, invisible to him now, were the road, the river, and beyond it, the house. He might make it, after all.

The corpse bore little resemblance to the beautiful young woman it had been. Courane sat down beside it. "I can give up Earth," he thought. "I can give up success and happiness, wealth and fame, and all of that. It's easy because I've never had them. I can give up the house here, the work, the life on the farm. But giving up friends is hard." He remembered when he was a boy, his parents had had such hope for him, such plans. He had suffered their gradual realization that he was not in any way special. He had observed his own slow decline and he knew better than anyone how little faith and confidence he inspired in others. But he did not pity himself. That was his greatest strength—that he no longer pitied himself.

It was simpler now. D syndrome washed his memories clean and hid his humiliations from him. He was a purer, nobler, more admirable person now, refined by the fires of the disease. He had been bitter at one time. He had hated the thought of being helpless, of watching people he loved die, of dying himself. He tried to threaten and he tried to bargain, but all of that was done with.

"Come along, honey," he murmured. He lifted the corpse again and started across the plain. "We'll be home soon, if I can find the road." In a moment, his thoughts fell silent once again, and he passed through the rustling grasses like a dull-witted animal.

 

 

 

Eleven

 

 

Sheldon was supposed to be leading the group therapy session, but he was having too much pain. He was resting in his room. TECT wanted to wait until Sheldon felt better, but it was an hour before dawn and if they waited much longer, the session would interfere with the winter morning's chores. The animals wouldn't wait patiently while TECT examined their fears and anxieties. "Choose a temporary leader," TECT instructed, and so they chose Arthur. "That ninny," scoffed TECT.

They sat in the tect room, yawning and resentful. Fletcher had said once that the therapy sessions were more like subtle methods for breaking their will than for easing tensions. "Chinese fire drills," Rachel had called them. Now they were gathered in a semicircle around the tect, wishing they could get another hour of sleep instead. Arthur identified himself to the tect. "Where should we begin?" he asked.

 

**MOSSBAUER, Arthur: 
Let's take up where we left off last time**

 

 
Authur waited, but TECT had no more information than that. "That was three months ago," he said. "Where did we leave off?"

 

**MOSSBAUER, Arthur: 
Gaps in your memory, MOSSBAUER, Arthur? People are like snowflakes, so fragile that if you turn your attention elsewhere for a moment, they melt away before your eyes. Have you noticed any of the specific warning signs of D fever? Perhaps you can catch it in an early stage and it won't do to you what it does to everybody else. Maybe you'll be the lucky one. Still, TECT in the name of the Representative feels that possibly you are not the proper person to lead this group today**

 

Arthur grew red in the face, but he controlled his anger. "You made that clear before," he said in a tight voice. "Why don't we just try it out for a while? I haven't shown any signs of the disease yet. You might be pleasantly surprised. Later on, if you think I'm doing a lousy job, you can appoint someone else."

 

**MOSSBAUER, Arthur: 
TECT in the name of the Representative didn't intend for you to get upset. Shortness of temper may be another symptom of the syndrome. You might mark that down somewhere. It may be a valuable new fact, a new weapon against this dread killer**

 

"Are you ill, Arthur?" asked Goldie with great concern. "Have you caught the sickness?"
 

"No," he said.

Goldie turned to Daan. "I didn't know he was sick," she said. "Poor man."

"It's doing it again," said Fletcher. "In an hour, every one of us will be more afraid and upset than before. This TECT is going to whip us around until we won't be able to stand each other."

 

**BELL, Fletcher: 
Has your face ever been held up as an object for loathing and disgust? No, of course not. Just be sure that you know there are worse things than living a happy and self-sufficient life on a beautiful and uncrowded world. Be careful. You could kiss the easy time on Planet D good-bye**

 

Fletcher didn't say anything. Everyone waited. There was an unpleasant silence that stretched on and on.

 

**MOSSBAUER, Arthur: 
Well?**

 

 
"Well, what?" Asked Arthur.

 

**MOSSBAUER, Arthur: 
Get on with it**

 

"Where were we last time?" asked Arthur. "Does anybody remember?"

"I was telling about my dream," said Goldie uncertainly.

 

**SISKA, Goldie: 
Very good. Can you continue with your thoughts about that dream?**

 

Goldie looked around helplessly. "I don't know," she said. "That was weeks ago. I don't recall the dream very well. All I remember are the bones."

 

**SISKA, Goldie: 
That's fine, dear. We can start with that. Bones, you say? Interesting, very interesting. And how did the bones make you feel?**

 

"Awful," she said, flustered. "I don't really remember, like I say, but I do remember sitting down and there were all these bones. A skull. I can see the skull as plain as anything."

 

**COURANE, Sandor: 
Why don't you try to interpret for SISKA, Goldie, the deeper and more repellent significance of the skull? It will be good practice for you, and give you valuable insights into the workings of your own sick mind**

 

Courane felt cold. "To me," he said slowly, "the skull represents the essence of some person. Goldie was dreaming about someone, I don't know who, and she was concerned with that person's true inner self."

 

**COURANE, Sandor: 
Is that ever cheap. TECT in the name of the Representative has rarely been treated to such drivel. Be hard on her. That's what this is for, what it's all about. Don't let her get away so easily. It's for her own good, for your own good, too. You have to prepare yourself, to train yourself to dig for the truth, to hurt others and wound yourself if necessary. You must learn everything you can and spare no one. Failure to do so will be considered Flagrant Contempt of TECTWish**

 

"I can't figure it," whispered Courane to Kenny. "What is it talking about?"

Kenny leaned nearer. "Daan will know" he said softly. "Later today, ask Daan about it." And then the boy winked slowly.

Oh, boy, thought Courane, that's just what I need. Intrigue. As if just being here wasn't bad enough.

 

The sky was covered with dark clouds and the wind smelled of rain. Courane and Rachel were sitting on a blanket in the middle of a field of soufmelon. They were having a quiet lunch away from the others. Courane didn't want them to see how anxious and afraid he was. Sometimes that was just too difficult, and on those days he kept away from everyone but Rachel. She understood. She was very good at calming his fear.

"Some more beer?" she asked. She gave him a chunk of black deadrye bread to go with it.

"Thanks," said Courane. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she said. "I had a bad day yesterday. Nneka had to take over all my work. I wasn't good for anything. They just leaned me against a wall and walked around me."

"I have days like that, too. When I come out of it, it takes me hours to find out where I am and what's happened. I hate it. It's like when your foot falls asleep, except it happens from the neck up."

Rachel nodded. She looked up at the sky. "I thought I felt a drop—"

"Here come Shai and Nneka," said Courane.

"Hello, Rachel," said Shai. "Sandy." They sat down beside the blanket. Rachel offered them what was left of the lunch.

"What are you two up to?" asked Courane.

"We need to talk to you," said Shai. "Official business." Nneka stared down silently at the ground.

"What's the problem? You don't want me to ask TECT to marry you again, do you? Forget about that. We took care of it weeks ago. We married you, and that's good enough. TECT said that we could govern ourselves and make our own laws, so your wedding was official. When you go back to Earth, then you'll have to deal with TECT, but don't worry about it until the time comes."

"It's not that at all," said Shai. He was very uncomfortable. He glanced at Nneka, who still wouldn't look up. "It's her. Nneka's going to have a baby. The doc box said so."

"Oh," said Rachel. She looked frightened.

Courane smiled. "That's wonderful," he said. "That's beautiful. I think it's wonderful. Congratulations."

Shai shook his head. "Don't you see, Sandy? What chance does our baby have here? It's condemned to death, too. It won't live out a year."

"That's awful," said Rachel in a low voice.

"But if Nneka could go back to Earth, well, at least our baby might have a chance."

Courane took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He thought for a moment. "I don't even know about that," he said. "The child may pick up the viroids from her blood or something. But maybe that will give the baby a natural immunity. That may be the colony's hope for the future, Shai, that children born here can live and grow and lead normal lives." He sounded hopeful, but he looked a little skeptical.

So did Rachel. "I can't live with this any longer," she said. "I've never hated anything so much in my whole life. I just can't stand it." She stood up.

"It's just another way for TECT to torture us," murmured Nneka. She was weeping.

"Let's go," said Rachel. "It's going to rain."

"What should we do?" asked Shai.

"I'll talk to TECT," said Courane. "I'll just ask it to make a special exception in your case." It sounded hopeless to him, even as he was saying the words. He looked at the others and he saw how disappointed they were. He wondered if they really expected him to have a better answer.

 

The apartment in Tokyo was foreign to him now. In a short while he would leave it, and not long after, he'd be at his parents' home. He looked sadly around the living room. He told himself it was for the last time, but he knew it wasn't. There would be a few more glances yet before he turned the key in the lock for the last time. There was nothing to be done with his possessions; they would belong to whoever was first to cart them away. Most of the things were without sentimental value: a television, a radio, shelves filled with books he had not looked at for many months, his basketball shoes from the University of Pilessio, a tray of assorted nuts and bolts he stole from the manufacturing company that he wanted to take to his father.

But there were things he knew he would miss. His eyes kept finding the Tiepolo
Madonna.
He was drawn to it knowing that he couldn't take it, that he would have to leave it behind. It was the thing that he most regretted leaving on Earth. If there are other people like me, he thought, I hope TECT lets them off easy. If they're really like me, they never knew what was happening to them.

"Courane?"

He started, as if from a shallow sleep. It must have been Mr. Masutani calling him. "Yes?" he said.

"Open the door. I thought you left already."

Courane went to the door and unlocked it. He was surprised to see Masutani and three other men. "Come in. You know I wouldn't leave without saying good-bye."

Masutani showed his broad yellowed teeth, but he said nothing. He and Courane were equally aware of how little truth there was in the young man's comment. "We came to carry down the mattresses."

"Right," said Courane. He sat in a chair and waved vaguely at the bedroom. He didn't care any longer. The men got to work stripping the blankets and sheets from the bed, throwing the pillows in a corner, wrestling the mattresses out of the room. Courane looked again at the
Madonna of the Goldfinch.
Maybe he could take it from its frame, trim it down, and put it in his wallet. He could tell the tectmen that it was his wife, that he didn't have a good photograph, just a portrait. He was an artist. Did it himself. They were so ignorant, they wouldn't know the difference—

"Clothes," said Masutani. Courane hadn't been listening.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Sure," said Masutani. "You will not be needing all of your clothes?"

Courane was too weary to reply. He could only gesture again. Mr. Masutani was showing just a little too much glee, descending on Courane's abandoned life like a wolf on the fold.

"You don't need this nice rug," said Masutani.

"It's my grandmother's," said Courane.

"She's dead?"

"Yes.

"You don't need it." Masutani signaled to two of his silent helpers. They began to remove the furniture from the rug.

"Just leave me that bag by the door," said Courane. "That's what I'm going to take with me."

Masutani looked over his shoulder for a moment. "That bag?" he asked. "Sure. No problem. Be glad to."

"Very kind of you." Courane took the framed
Madonna
from the wall and sat down again. He tried to memorize every detail of the print. It wasn't likely that he would ever meet a woman so beautiful as Tiepolo's thoughtful young Mary. Not on Planet D.