Read Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 Online

Authors: Gordon R Dickson,David W Wixon

Tags: #Science Fiction

Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (32 page)

in
their
starscapes,
beyond
the
presence
or
absence
of
those
worlds' own
stars.

But
there
were
differences
nonetheless.
He
was
able
to
pick
out, in
this
instance,
the
bright
light
that
was
Association's
sister
planet, Harmony,
as
well
as
another,
even
brighter
light
that
was—that
represented,
he
corrected
himself—Archangel,
the
great
gas
giant
that shared
Association's
system,
farther
out
from
the
star.

In
every
system
in
which
he
had
ever
watched
the
stars,
the
sky presented
information
that
told
just
which
system
it
was—and,
often,
evidences
of
the
human
presence
...
artificial
satellite,
spacecraft.
.
.
.
Only
when
he
watched
the
stars
from
a
starship
in
transit had
his
view
been
unobstructed,
clean
and
clear
and
pure.

Was
this
a
standard
starscape
entered
in
the
ship's
settings,
to
be seen
by
anyone
who
might
use
this
room—the
notion
came
to
him out
of
nowhere—or
had
this
view
been
specifically
set
for
his
eyes?

It
would
make
sense
for
a
ship
based
in
the
port
of
Association's capital
city
to
reproduce
the
night
sky
from
that
viewpoint,
but
it might
well
be
that
a
variety
of
skies—of
viewpoints—were
available
for
the
programming.

—Was someone programming his sky?

His
eyes
closed,
involuntarily,
and
he
sat
up
in
the
darkness
he had
created
with
his
eyelids.
His
hands
clawed
at
the
controls
in
the panel
next
to
the
bed,
but
he
was
fumbling,
unable
to
manipulate them
in
his
haste
and
with
his
lids
clenched
shut.
He
stood
up,
still self-blinded,
and
stumbled
to
the
small
bathroom,
throwing
himself into
the
shower
in
the
darkness,
not
bothering
to
take
off
the
shorts he
always
slept
in.

After
a
while,
the
feeling
of
sickness
passed;
until
at
last
he
was able
to
open
his
eyes
and
stop
the
water
beating
down
on
him.
It was
water
of
the
planet,
piped
on
board
from
the
port's
facilities, and
it
was
inadequate
to
its
task:
he
still
felt
soiled,
dirty.

Dried,
he
returned
to
his
bed
and
experimented
with
the
ceiling display.
He
had
never
paid
much
notice
to
the
ceiling
settings
during
his
previous
trips
in
this
ship,
perhaps
because
on
real
trips
he could
look
out
of
the
ship,
at
the
real
starscape
between
planetary systems,
whenever
he
wanted
...
he
was
only
interested
in
artificial skies
when
stuck
on
a
planetary
surface....

Besides,
he
usually
had
other
things
on
his
mind.

He
felt
better,
now,
to
learn
that
only
the
single
display
was
available.
He
lay
there
and
watched
it,
wondering
if
it
would
rotate
to imitate
Association's
movement,
as
the
displays
in
other
rooms
he had
slept
in
had
done.
In
time
he
drifted
into
a
light,
restless
sleep.

When
he
awoke
again,
he
could
feel
a
small,
lurking
presence
in his
head,
a
hint
of
a
headache
waiting
to
be
born.
It
made
him
uneasy;
headaches
were
often
precursors
of
his
blackouts—signals, his
medician
had
warned
him,
of
the
bad
effects
of
some
stressful situation.

To
take
his
mind
off
the
threat,
he
tried
to
force
it
into
consideration
of
the
problems
he
had
been
working
on
before
going
to sleep
...
and
he
began
to
realize
there
was
a
layer
of
irritation
underlying
his
self-concern.
Irritation
over
all
the
problems
obstructing
his
course,
irritation
that
his
own
mind
and
body
should
distract him
from
his
task—even
irritation
that
his
unconscious
mind
had not,
as
he
had
hoped,
solved
any
of
his
problems
while
he
slept.

Recognizing
his
lack
of
focus,
he
dipped
into
his
past
training, and
engaged
in
his
breathing
exercises;
he
had
been
introduced
to them
in
Dahno's
training
program,
and
his
workouts
with
Toni
had reinforced
that
training.
Within
a
short
time
he
had
turned
himself around:
the
irritation,
although
not
banished,
had
been
embraced, used
to
get
himself
up
and
moving.

There
was
no
food
service
in
the
ship,
so
Bleys
made
his
way
to
the kitchen
to
find
himself
something
to
eat.

Ashore,
he
mused,
moving
down
the
corridor.
He
wondered
how many
people,
these
days,
recognized
that
the
term
derived
from
the ancient
days
of
ocean
travel
on
Old
Earth.
Most
of
the
Younger Worlds
had
their
own
oceans,
but
still.
.
.
Nonetheless,
it
was
clear that
the
mother
planet's
influence
remained
even
in
the
language
of her
most
distant
children.

He
was
also
one
of
few,
he
reflected
as
he
entered
the
kitchen, who
knew
that
such
a
room
on
an
Old
Earth
ocean
vessel
had
often been
called
a
galley.
Why
had
that
term
not
been
taken
into
space, when
ashore
had?
It
seemed
haphazard,
almost
untidy,
that
some terms
had
emigrated
while
others
had
not
...
the
person
who
guided a
spaceship
was
not
called
a
pilot
anymore,
he
knew;
to
his
mind the
presently
used
term
for
that
functionary,
driver,
was
wildly
inappropriate.

He
put
that
train
of
thought
aside
to
examine
his
choices
in
foodstuffs;
and
decided
to
settle
for
making
himself
a
plate
of
toasted bread,
cold
chicken,
cheese
and
fruit.

In
a
way,
it
made
him
feel
more
cheerful
that
he
was
getting
his own
breakfast.
He
had
not
had
to
do
anything
like
that
for
a
long time—where
were
the
knives?
Ah!

As
his
involvement
with
the
Others'
movement
began
to
grow, back
when
he
and
Dahno
still
shared
an
apartment
in
Ecumeny,
he had
spent
more
and
more
of
his
time
working
with
others,
eating with
others
...
and
even
when
he
was
alone,
his
time
had
been
too precious
to
be
wasted
on
domestic
chores.

But
in
this
particular
time
and
place,
he
felt
good
about
fending for
himself,
as
if
somehow
he
was
contributing
to
solving
the
race's problems—and
at
that
moment
the
knife
he
had
been
laboriously pushing
through
a
hard
block
of
cheese
seemed
to
jump
in
his
hand as
the
resistance
of
the
dense
foodstuff
ended
abruptly;
and
the severed
end
of
cheese
skidded
off
the
plate
to
fall
to
the
floor.

And
that,
he
thought,
had
not
happened
to
him
since
sometime during
those
years
when
he
lived
with
Henry
and
his
sons
on
their farm.

"Oops,"
he
heard
Toni
say,
behind
him.
He
turned
to
look
at
her.

"There
you
are,"
he
said.
"I
thought
maybe
you
were
still
asleep in
some
other
room."

"What
were
you
thinking,
just
now?"
she
asked,
ignoring
his comment.
"You
had
such
a
distant
look."

"I
was
remembering
the
first
meal
I
ate
when
I
came
to
live
with Henry,"
he
said.
"Goat
cheese,
bread
and
a
stew
that
was
mostly vegetables,
with
a
little
bit
of
rabbit
meat."

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