Worlds Apart (3 page)

He waited. Phyllis stood straight, silent. He sighed. "Whoever does listen to me," he said, "may soon be glad he did. Think it over, Lieutenant. I'd like you with me."

Phyllis saluted again and left the room. Rapidly she tried to work out her course of action.

Worsley had said nothing, really. Dangerous as it might be to speak as he had, he had nevertheless been very careful to say nothing concrete, nothing but general disagreement on policy. It was no use reporting that. Technically one reported everything of that sort, but if one wanted to retain the rank and position one had, let alone rise, one always worked out very carefully what the probable effect would be.

Phyllis had risen by knowing what to report and what to keep to herself. She had risen high -- only a dozen women on the ship were so useful in one way or another, so indispensable, that their sex was forgiven them. That, of course, was why Worsley had spoken to her. She clearly had talent and efficiency for which he had a use.

He had hinted, too, that he would approach her on the same subject again. What was the subject? In particular she had no idea, but in general he must need her help for his own advancement, and he must think he could make her believe that in this there would be advancement for herself.

She decided slowly but quite definitely on her course of action. For the moment, at any rate, she could do nothing, since Worsley must have ensured that a challenge would only strengthen him and weaken the challenger.

But she wasn't going to follow Worsley. He wasn't a man to follow. He wasn't hard enough, ruthless enough. Most important, he didn't have the necessary experience of the politics of the Clades to be successful in any scheme of insurrection. That, almost certainly, was why he wanted her. She had that experience. She was only twenty-four, and to rank as she did at twenty-four she must have all the qualities Worsley needed and didn't have.

She went to the gymnasium and found it, as she hoped, deserted. The ship was at rest on the surface of Secundis, with less than half its full operational crew aboard.

Among the Clades sex was duty. It was not supposed to be enjoyed. Naturally in some ways the pretence was rather shallow. The essential part of the pretence, among the masculine, militaristic, 100 per cent efficient Clades, was that women were not to be elevated to the rank of partners in the act. What any woman thought, did, or said was unimportant, save only her function of producing male Clades.

Women who became officers like Lieutenant Fenham and Phyllis, were different, not in degree, but in kind, Since they were useful, intelligent, and responsible, they were not women. Obviously, however, they weren't men.

Their position was entirely anomalous. They were forced into it by an iron logic working on false premises. They must not have children, since they were officers and had to give orders, even to men. Creatures who bore children were an inferior form of life, females, and couldn't possibly give orders.

So Phyllis, who was an officer, a woman (practically inadmissible), and attractive (inadmissible) had to ensure that none of several ex hypothesi impossibilities happened. She must not permit any woman to think she was like her in any way. She must not allow any man, officer or otherwise, to regard her as he regarded Clade women. And she must not allow any man, officer or otherwise, to want her.

If there had been others in the gymnasium she would have had to remain fully clothed, for one thing. As it was, she stripped to trunks and shirt and began to go through an exercise routine.

She still wasn't satisfied about Worsley. The Clades had left a terrified, agonized, bleeding, dying world. She had been born four years out in space, at nearly the speed of light, but she had grown up in a hard, grim society. The laws of the community should have become milder and less militaristic; instead they became harder, more purposeful. The Clades had seen a world dying, and by God they weren't going to die.

Soon it wasn't by God -- Christianity went the way of most religions under totalitarianism. Survival became a business of toughness, single-mindedness, determination.

But it was determination about nothing in particular. It was toughness, not with an enemy but with one's friends -- so they soon ceased to be friends. It was single-mindedness about a way of life.

It was a fanatic drive towards unity. Acceptance of the same nebulous goals, the same reality, Submergence of individuality. /Unity is strength./

If the first ship from Earth had reached and colonized Mundis safely -- and the Clades knew no reason why it shouldn't have done -- the Mundans would have to learn and adopt the same way of life. It was unlikely that they would recognize at once the Clades' overwhelming superiority in strength and determination and all the other things that counted; but that could soon be clearly demonstrated. The Clades as a whole were looking forward to demonstrating it.

A powerful, well-trained fighting unit must have something on which to test itself . . .

Phyllis fell into the rhythm of the exercises. They had been designed long ago to strengthen the internal muscles for the day when young bodies which had never known gravity would have to bear the killing pull of Secundis.

The plan had been made early, and like most Clade plans was inflexible. It became not the best way to act, but the only way to act.

Someone came in. Phyllis looked round -- it was Lieutenant Mathers. She continued with the exercise, but instead of going he hesitated and then came in.

It wasn't all Phyllis's respousibllity, of course, that she should attract no sexual interest. It was also the responsibility of every Clade male to have no sexual interest in any female officer. She pulled on her slacks and continued exercising. She had done all that was expected of her.

Yet Mathers' eyes still strayed to her.

She made two mental notes, coldly. 'Worslsy, disloyal but probably careful. Mathers, potential sex criminal.' And being what she was, trained as she was, she began to explore possibilities of turning the two judgments to her own advantage.

4

At first glance it looked quite a wild party. The phonograph in one corner was blaring a hot number recorded on Earth nearly fifty years earlier, and there were occasional high squeals of laughter. Toni had just finished singing a fast blues. Various couples lay around in various abandoned attitudes. There was no drink, of course, but nobody missed it. The young Mundans knew about liquor but had never tasted it.

Closer inspection would have shown, however, that everyone was pretending hard that the party was much hotter than it really was, for no reason except that young people always did.

"I can't, Rog," Dick was saying uncomfortably. He was squatting on the floor, thinner and bonier than Rog. "Old Bentley made it pretty clear to me I'd better not go any further. Some of the other old boys would have had me before the Council for saying what I did."

Rog looked down his long nose. "Suppose you go before the Council?" he said. "Aren't there a few of us on it?"

Dick knew that by "us" he meant the native Mundans, the children of the founder colonists. "Nearly half the Council now," he admitted. "But you know some of them will vote with the old folk. I'm not taking the chance, Rog."

Rog left that alone. He had a way of assuming that his will would he done. If it was obvious that it wouldn't, he seemed to lose interest, as if he hadn't been too sure that whatever it was had been a good idea anyway.

"Fred. Alice. Come here," he said. Fred was huge, angular, lazy-looking. He didn't look too clever and wasn't. Alice was a small, sharp girl. Even her party dress couldn't make her look pretty. Perhaps, however, her vivacity was worth more than prettiness. Rog thought so. So did Fred.

They squatted on the floor beside him. Most of the young Mundans had grown up while their elders were too busy building houses and planting crops to make chairs. There were chairs now, but not all the youngsters used them.

"You two going to get married?" he asked bluntly.

There was no surprise. It was an old subject Fred looked uncomfortable, but Alice, frank and completely unself-conscious, shook her head. She was Jim Bentley's daughter. She might disagree with his way of looking at life, but there was a lot of Jim Bentley in her.

"You know it can't be marriage. Rog," she said. "It's either living together in secret, or leaving Lemon and going out into the plains somewhere to he hermits. We're not doing either." She cast a challenging glance at Fred and then back at Rog. "/I/ say so."

"You agree you should be kept apart like this?"

The founder colonists had wanted to breed as strongly as possible. Lionel Smith, the bidogist, had split them up and laid down rules. Alphas could marry anybody except Epsilons. Betas, Gammas, and Deltas, anyone outside their own group except Epsilons, Epsilons only within their own group. Epsilons, of course, were the men and women who were barren. The divisions only concerned marriage; it was of no importance to anyone, outside marriage, to what group anyone belonged.

Mundan marriage was almost, but not quite, free love. There was no contraception. Any man could marry any woman who agreed to marry him, outside two classes of prohibition. They were married when they said they were married. There was never any doubt about the matter, for whenever the first rumor arose, everyone asked: "Is it true?"

Couples broke it up, too, whenever they wanted to break it up. That freedom was practically forced on the community by the insistence that people should marry as early as possible, One could hardly make a man marry at seventeen and tie him to it for life.

Hence there was interim marriage. A man who couldn't find the right girl and a girl who couldn't find the right man would come to an agreement and marry, since the community frowned on their staying single; but only on the understanding that if the man ever did find the right girl, or vice versa, the marriage was dissolved. Legally there was no difference between an interim marriage and any other. Such couples, however, behaved differently toward each other -- often better than the other kind. And it went a long way toward keeping friendly relations in Lemon if rushed, doubtful marriages were always on that easy basis from the start.

But Alice and Fred were in one of the two classes of prohibition. They were both Betas. Now that Smith was gone, no one really knew how much it mattered that his rules be followed. But the motto of the colony might have been: 'Take no chances.'

No one was going to agree to let Fred and Alice marry -- none of the older people, anyway.

"What are you afraid of, Alice?" asked Rog.

"Dying of anything but old age," said Alice promptly.

"You won't, ~ said Rog, He could almost feel Dick's gaze on the back of his head. It would be a puzzled gaze. Two defeats, and Rog was not only taking them, but apparently looking for more. Dick's thought must be on those lines. Something would have to be done about Dick before the evening was out. Rog looked about him casually as he went on talking to Alice and Fred.

"You'll have half the Council behind you," he said.

His eyes rested for a moment on Toni, then passed on to June.

Rog had no more than heard of psychology, but he knew people. From what be had seen of June earlier in the evening, and from a study of her now, he knew exactly what she was feeling. She was miserable. Things hadn't gone as they were supposed to go at all. Everyone had exclaimed about her new dress, and no doubt noted what they were supposed to note, but that was all. Instead of being the center of attraction, as she had both hoped and feared she would be, she was noticed for a moment, and then forgotten, as usual. Abner Carliss wasn't there, so she didn't even have a chance to reject his attentions, or decide, after all, not to reject them.

"Look, Rog," said Alice frankly, "you can pull some people around with strings, but not me. I'm not a pawn in your chess game."

"No," Rog agreed. "You're my queen."

He spoke so matter-of-factly, still looking past her, that he both compelled belief and knocked the confidence out of Alice.

"Surely it's obvious?" he said. "Among the girls, you're the one who counts, Alice. We know it and the old folk know it, You're not the prettiest, or the cleverest, or the strongest, or the bravest. You're just the one who matters most. The one who's consulted, You're the Jessie Bendall of this generation. They can't afford to do anything to you."

Alice was silent for a long time.

June was pretty, and she must have brains. Rog had never thought of her before, and he suspected that neither had anyone else except Abner. She was just Dick's kid sister. Even Abner probably hada't thought of her as a girl to marry. Now that she had stepped into the spotlight, she would be noticed by more and more people until she began to be included in the register of cute chicks headed by Toni, Helen Hulton, and Bertha Doran (n�Mitchell). But so far, Rog suspected, only he had noticed her.

She was rather small, and very slim. The word for June, everything about her, was dainty. Though she was sleek and firmly muscled, she gave the impression of fragility. She had one compelling attribute of real beauty. In looking at her one didn't look at any part of her, even her face; she was a surprisingly alluring whole, and it seemed silly to take notice of her arms or her waist or her legs. One looked at Toni's legs. June one noticed only as a girl.

No, as a woman.

Alice was saying: "I wish I knew whether we should follow you to the death, Rog, or bury you alive."

Rog sighed. "We've talked about the Constitution for hours at a time, day in, day out, since we were old enough to have ideas of our own. It's wrong, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so. But it isn't bad -- it isn't evil Just silly and shortsighted. Mistaken, not criminal. Sincere, though wrong."

"But wrong, nevertheless?"

"Yes."

"Then let's change it."

"By refusing to obey it?"

"By making a challenge, forcing a division, and winning it."

Things were clicking into place smoothly. The fact that he had only just noticed June as a woman was of no importance. He had to marry; he wanted to make quite sure of Dick; June must have some sense, being Lionel Smith's daughter and Dick's sister; and if he were married it would be easier to persuade Toni to play her part in the plan.