“We’ve been testing it for three years!” said Aisha, immediately falling into their familiar pattern of the last year. Her cheeks were red, contrasting with her white hair.
“On Verdant physiology!” said Rachel, her hands flying up to express her frustration. “On human computer models!”
“We’ve also used the brains of those who died in the last Perigee Year,” argued Aisha, her voice lowered. “The C15 works.”
For ten years they had been colleagues and friends. Rachel had come to see the older woman as a mentor. Until now.
“You know as well as I do that every generation born here has adapted further to the planet.” Now they were staring at each other, desperate to convince the other. “Your antidote might have worked thirty years ago, but we don’t know what it will do to our children
today
.”
“We have to do something! We can’t afford to keep losing them!”
In spite of their growing rift, Rachel felt for the older woman. Aisha had lost her father and her husband to the Cycle madness. She was determined not to lose the grandson who had just moved in with her. He had lived on the southern continent with his parents until they died in an accident earlier this year. Like Rachel’s daughter Eliane, he had apparently begun to show signs of the madness as the storms worsened and perigee approached.
Rachel wished that she had told her colleague that she had the Verdant gene, too. But it was too late now. Their relationship was tenuous enough as it was. If Aisha Bennatro learned that Rachel had the Verdant gene and hadn’t told her, she would assume that Rachel was ashamed.
And maybe she was.
She had lost her mother when she was 12, during the last Perigee Year. Mother had grown increasingly agitated, insisting that God called to her. Then she simply walked out of their shelter, carefully sealing the door behind her and barring it from the outside, leaving Rachel alone until her father came home after the storm. They never found her body.
What Rachel never told Father, or anyone, was that she had experienced the same call from what she had thought was God. She had fought to follow her mother out into the storm and only the barred door had prevented it. The call hadn’t been as strong in her, however. Certainly not as strong as the compulsion that drove Mother to her death.
She sighed and tried to think of something—anything—else. But it was hard when outside the speeding train, the wind caused the tall whippet trees to bow away and trail their blue, needle sharp tips like long, bony fingers.
The early colony had grown its own food in those first few decades, and so it had taken years to realize that well over half the small animals on Verdant disappeared after perigee. They found no carcasses, no evidence of mass die-outs. They just… disappeared. Their numbers started rising again as apogee approached.
That was a mystery for another scientist to solve. She needed to understand the Verdant gene, and how to turn it off.
A gust of wind buffeted the train, and she and the other passengers reached for the bars. At last the train entered the tube station at the University of Haida and came to a stop. Rachel hurried to the third floor library, where the locator told her she would find Eliane. The wind pushed her up the stairs, carrying the smell of the sea from half a mile away.
She found Eliane sitting on a bench by the window in the deserted library, staring out at the clouds scuttling by, her reader resting on the seat beside her.
“Eliane!” Why was she alone? Why hadn’t someone dragged her off to the shelter? A tide of anger rose in her as she realized that her daughter had been abandoned. No one wanted to be associated with the Verdant gene.
Eliane looked around, her sweet face framed by a cloud of dark, curly hair that fell unbridled to her shoulders. She broke into a welcoming smile. “Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?”
“Time to go,” said Rachel, bothered by the unfocused look in her daughter’s eyes. She gathered Eliane’s reader and her jacket. “The storm will be here soon.”
“There’s plenty of time, Mom, and the university’s got a shelter, you know.”
Eliane smiled that lopsided smile that always reminded Rachel of the girl’s father.
“They have a standard shelter,” said Rachel. She was trying to be calm, but Eliane’s resistance frightened her a little bit. “Ours is better.” She nodded toward the door.
The Verdant gene never manifested itself before puberty. Nor did it always make itself evident after puberty. Some people, like her mother, could appear safe until one day, with no apparent trigger, they began to behave erratically.
Like Eliane.
And then, at the height of the storms, when the moons were so close to each other they appeared almost to touch, the Verdant gene drove them out into the storm, as if compelled by an ancient god to obey.
“Are you leaving, Eliane?”
Startled, Rachel turned around. A boy had been sitting ten feet away, ostensibly reading from the screen of a carrel. He stood up now and came over to them, tall and very blond where Eliane was dark like her. Eliane was tall, too, much taller than Rachel. Every Verdant generation had been taller and leaner than the previous one. The children born today would grow to well past six feet, where the first colonists averaged five feet nine inches. It was a function of the lower gravity on Verdant, combined with the pull of Castor and Pollux. Not to mention the soil chemistry.
Rachel blinked at the boy, who smiled. “I’m Sam, a friend of Eliane’s.” He looked about eighteen, Eliane’s age.
“He’s in my biology class,” said Eliane, not taking her gaze off the window.
Sam stared at Eliane for a moment before turning to look at Rachel. On his face she could see the same concern she was feeling and she realized suddenly that he had stayed behind to make sure she was all right.
Rachel’s hand caught Eliane’s wrist, as if to tether her. She was trembling and her heart pounded in anxiety.
“Sam,” she said softly, “would you like to shelter with us?”
He glanced at Eliane then back at Rachel and nodded silently.
***
Rachel relaxed the moment the shelter door sealed behind them. She released Eliane’s hand and her daughter turned reproachful eyes on her. Next to her, Sam seemed to relax, too. He looked around at the brightly lit central room and nodded appreciatively.
“This is definitely better than the university shelter,” he said. He took a deep breath. Last night Rachel had baked in the shelter, and the odor of parmi cookies lingered. “And it smells better, too,” he added.
Eliane laughed harder than his witticism warranted and Rachel felt herself tensing again. It didn’t help that she could feel tendrils of longing threading through her. She had thought she was trembling in fear for her daughter, but now she wondered if the trembling was a manifestation of the Verdant gene reacting to the approaching perigee.
“My grandfather built it,” said Rachel. “He and Grandma lived in it while they finished the house above.” She pointed as she explained. “Three bedrooms and one restroom.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Kitchen.”
“Tunnels?”
She hesitated, reluctant to remind Eliane that there were other ways out of the shelter, but her daughter was staring off into space, seemingly oblivious to them. Besides, the tunnel doors were controlled by security panels that would only allow access with a password. Rachel had never given Eliane the password. Not after the Verdant gene manifested itself. Just as her mother hadn’t given her the password when she was a child. She pointed again, to the south and the west. “There and there,” she said softly.
He waited and finally she nodded. She had asked him here to help. She couldn’t trap him inside should anything happen to her. She leaned over and whispered the password to him.
“Don’t tell her,” she added, nodding to Eliane.
She could see that he wanted to ask more questions, but a glance at Eliane stopped him. It surprised Rachel to find a young person seemingly free of the growing prejudice against the Verdant gene. But then, she had seen the way he looked at her daughter. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising, after all.
“Have a seat,” she said with forced cheer, waving toward the triple-seat black nargil lounger in the middle of the room. “You’ll find controls for the vid screen in either arm of the lounger. Old-fashioned, I know, but it still works.” She was babbling, and by the look in his eyes, he knew it. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”
Sam nodded and put an arm around Eliane’s back, gently guiding her toward the lounger. As Rachel began to pull food out of the small pantry, the lights suddenly dimmed, then brightened. Sam looked at her.
“The shutters have gone down over the house,” she explained. “We’re now on battery power.” The main power for the house itself was the solar cells on the roof, which were now covered by the shutters. Now they would have to depend on the stored power in the batteries. There should be enough for two weeks of use.
He nodded and returned to fiddling with the vid offerings, and it suddenly occurred to Rachel that he was young, despite his maturity.
“Sam, is there anyone we should be calling?” she asked. “To let them know you’re with us?”
He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. A good-looking boy. Brave, too, to stay behind and look after Eliane.
“You’re right, Dr. Annalee. I should call home. My grandmother is expecting me but she won’t be upset. I often stay at the university shelter.”
“Still, she needs to know where you are,” said Rachel. She was a little upset. She had assumed he planned to shelter at the university. Now she was going to have to deal with an irate grandmother. She nodded to the vid screen. “You can access the grid from the control panel.”
He smiled and her stomach dropped as if she had just missed a step. It was a goofy smile, the kind of smile Eliane had been giving her lately. She glanced at her daughter but she was staring at Sam. Maybe that’s all it was. Kids got goofy when they liked each other.
The logo for the communication grid popped up on the screen. A moment later, it was replaced by a torso covered in a white lab coat. Then the person sat down and the head and shoulders filled the screen. Rachel stared, mouth open.
“Hi Grandma,” said Sam cheerfully.
Aisha Bennatro blinked at her grandson. “Hello, sweetheart. Where are you? Why aren’t you here yet?”
Then Rachel made a small sound in the back of her throat, and Aisha’s gaze lifted to meet hers in surprise.
***
Rachel transferred the call to her private screen in the tiny bedroom. Now she sat at her desk and stared at the image of Aisha Bennatro staring back at her.
“Why is my grandson with you?” demanded the older woman. “He should be here with me.”
Rachel tried to control her irritation. “He was at the university, with Eliane,” she said. “I invited him to come home with us because I thought he was sheltering at the university.”
Aisha’s mouth thinned and for the first time, she looked her seventy-two years. “He should be home,” she repeated.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” replied Rachel. In truth, she was irritated at herself more than at Aisha. It wasn’t the older woman’s fault. Rachel had assumed that Sam wasn’t affected by the Verdant gene, but now she knew that wasn’t true. Instead of having an ally to help her keep an eye on Eliane, she had two kids with Cycle madness to deal with.
“I’ll look after him,” she promised her old friend.
“It won’t be bad,” said Aisha. Her face was lit from both sides, which highlighted the deep wrinkles in her cheeks. “I…” She paused and looked away.
“What is it, Aisha?” asked Rachel.
Aisha Bennatro turned to face the screen once again. “I gave him the C15,” she said.
At first, Rachel didn’t understand what Aisha had said. Then the meaning sank in.
“By all that’s holy, Aisha,” she whispered. “What were you thinking?”
Misery filled Aisha’s eyes. “I almost lost him two nights ago, during the last storm. He’s bigger than me, and stronger. Tonight is perigee. I knew I couldn’t stop him if he wanted to leave. I can’t lose him, Rachel. I lost my father and my husband to this damned gene. I had to do something!”
***
After disconnecting, Rachel sat for a long moment, staring at the blank screen. Not only did she have a child in the throes of Cycle madness, the young man she had hoped would be able to help had taken an experimental drug and might suffer effects for which she was unprepared.
Worse, her whole body tingled as if she were near an electrical field. Of its own volition, her hand reached for the control panel once more, bringing up a view from the camera outside the house. Night was falling and the rounded dome of the roof, which was all that extruded from the ground, was littered with branches and twigs. And yet, the trees in the nearby park stood firm, having adapted to Verdant’s cycle by developing flexible trunks and branches that could detach easily, rather than be ripped from the trunk. Even the bushes and plants would survive, battered and bruised, but alive. As the Cycle edged away from perigee, they would proliferate, replenishing themselves. In fact, they would need to be kept at bay by retaining walls and aggressive pruning.