18
So now, twelve years after the discovery that no technological civilization existed on Erythro, and twelve years during which no Settlements from Earth had suddenly appeared to ruin the new world that was gradually being constructed, Pitt could appreciate these rare moments of rest. And yet, even in these rare moments, doubts crept in. He wondered whether Rotor would not have been better off if he had clung to that original resolve of his - if they had not remained in orbit about Erythro, and if the Dome on Erythro had never been built.
He was leaning back in his soft chair, the restraining fields cushioning him, the aura of peace lulling him almost into sleep, when he heard the soft buzz that drew him back, reluctantly, into reality.
He opened his eyes (he had not realized they were closed) to look at the small viewpatch on the opposite wall. A touch of a contact magnified it into holovision.
It was Semyon Akorat, of course.
There he was with his bald bullethead. (Akorat shaved off the dark fringe that would otherwise show, feeling, quite rightly, that a few fugitive hairs would but make the desert in the center look the more pathetic, whereas a shapely skull, unmarred by interruption, could look almost stately.) There he was, also, with his worried eyes, which always looked worried even when there was no cause for worry.
Pitt found him unpleasant, not because of any failure in loyalty or efficiency (he could not be improved on, either way) but simply because of conditioned response. Akorat always announced an invasion of Pitt's privacy, an interruption of his thoughts, a necessity for doing what he would rather not do. In short, Akorat was in charge of Pitt's appointments and said who could see him and who could not.
Pitt frowned slightly. He could not recall that he had an appointment, but he often forgot and relied on Akorat not to.
'Who is it?' he said resignedly. 'No-one important, I hope.'
'No-one at all of any real significance,' said Akorat, 'but perhaps you had better see her.'
'Is she within earshot?'
'Commissioner,' said Akorat reproachfully, as though he were being accused of dereliction of duty. 'Of course not. She is on the other side of the screen.' He had an enormous precision of speech, which Pitt found soothing. There was never any question of mistaking his words.
Pitt said, 'She? I presume it Dr Insigna, then. Well, stick to my instructions. Not without an appointment. I've had enough of her for a while, Akorat. Enough of her for the last twelve years, in fact. Make up an excuse. Say I'm in meditation - no, she won't believe that - say-'
'Commissioner, it's not Dr Insigna. I would not have disturbed you if it were. It's - it's her daughter.'
'Her daughter?' For a moment, he fumbled over her name. 'You mean Marlene Fisher?'
'Yes. Naturally, I told her you were busy, and she said that I ought to be ashamed of myself for telling a lie, for my expression showed it was a lie, up and down, and that my voice was too tense to be telling the truth.' He recited this with baritone indignation. 'In any case, she won't leave. She insists you will see her if you know she is waiting. Would you see her, Commissioner? Those eyes of hers rattle me, frankly.'
'It seems to me I've heard of her eyes, too. Well, send her in, send her in, and I'll try to survive her eyes. Come to think of it, she has some explaining to do.'
She entered. (Remarkably self-possessed, Pitt thought, though properly demure and with no sign of defiance.)
She sat down, her hands loosely in her lap, and clearly waited for Pitt to speak first. He let her wait a little, while he considered her in a rather absent fashion. He had seen her occasionally when she was younger, but not for a while, now. She had not been a pretty child and she wasn't any prettier now. She had broad cheekbones, and a certain gracelessness about her, but she did have remarkable eyes, and shapely eyebrows and long eyelashes, too.
Pitt said, 'Well, Miss Fisher, I'm told you wanted to see me. May I ask why?'
Marlene looked up at him, her eyes cool, and seemed entirely at ease. She said, 'Commissioner Pitt, I think my mother must have told you that I told a friend of mine that the Earth was going to be destroyed.'
Pitt's eyebrows hunched down over his own rather ordinary eyes. He said, 'Yes, she did. And I hope she told you that you must not speak of such matters in so foolish a way again.'
'Yes, she did, Commissioner, but not speaking about it doesn't mean it isn't so; and calling it foolish doesn't make it so.'
'I am Commissioner of Rotor, Miss Fisher, and it is my function to concern myself with such matters, and therefore you must leave it entirely to me, whether it is so or not so, whether it is foolish or not foolish. How did you get the idea that the Earth was going to be destroyed? Is this something your mother told you?'
'Not directly, Commissioner.'
'But indirectly. Is that it?'
'She couldn't help that, Commissioner. Everyone speaks in all sorts of ways. There's the choice of words. There's intonation, expression, the flicker of eyes and eyelids, little tricks of clearing the throat. A hundred things. Do you know what I mean?'
'I know exactly what you mean. I watch for those things myself.'
'And you feel very proud of that, Commissioner. You feel you're very good at it and that that's one of the reasons you're Commissioner.'
Pitt looked startled. 'I didn't say that, young woman.'
'Not in words, Commissioner. You didn't have to.' Her eyes were fixed on his. There was no trace of a smile on her face, but her eyes seemed amused.
'Well then, Miss Fisher, is that what you came to tell me?'
'No, Commissioner. I came because my mother has found it difficult to see you recently. No, she didn't tell me so. I just gathered it. I thought you might see me, instead.'
'All right, you're here. Now what is it you came to tell me?'
'My mother is unhappy about the chance that Earth may be destroyed. My father's there, you know.'
Pitt felt a small spasm of anger. How could a purely personal matter be allowed to interfere with the welfare of Rotor and all that it might become in the future? This Insigna, for all her usefulness in having found Nemesis in the first place, had long been an albatross about his neck with her unfailing way of heading down every wrong path. And now, when he would see her no more, she sent her mad daughter.
He said, 'Are you under the impression that this destruction you speak of will happen tomorrow, or next year?'
'No, Commissioner, I know that it will happen in just a little bit less than five thousand years.'
'If that is the case, your father will be long gone by then, as will your mother, and I, and you. And when we're all gone, it will still be nearly five thousand years before destruction for Earth and possibly other planets of the Solar System - if that destruction happens at all, which it won't.'
'It's the idea of it, Commissioner, whenever it happens.'
'Your mother must have told you that long before the time comes, the people of the Solar System will be aware of - of whatever you think will happen, and will deal with it. Besides, how can we complain of planetary destruction? Every world faces it eventually. Even if there are no cosmic collisions, every star must pass through a red giant stage and destroy its planets. Just as all human beings will die someday, so will all planets. Planetary lifetimes are a little longer, but that's all. Do you understand all that, young lady?'
'Yes, I do,' said Marlene seriously. 'I have a good relationship with my computer.'
(I'll bet she does, thought Pitt, and then - too late - tried to wipe out the small sardonic smile that had twitched into existence on his face. She had probably used it to understand his attitude.)
He said with a note of finality, 'Then we come to the end of our conversation. The talk of destruction is foolish, and even if it weren't, it has nothing to do with you, and you must never speak of it again, or not only you, but your mother as well, will be in trouble.'
'We're not at the end of our conversation yet, Commissioner.'
Pitt felt himself losing patience, but he said, quite calmly, 'My dear Miss Fisher, when your Commissioner says it's the end, it is - regardless of what you think.'
He half-rose, but Marlene sat where she was. 'Because I want to offer you something you would dearly like to have.'
'What?'
'The good riddance of my mother.'
Pitt sank back into his chair, truly puzzled. 'What do you mean by that?'
'If you will listen to me, Commissioner, I will tell you. My mother can't live like this. She's concerned about Earth and the Solar System and - and she thinks about my father sometimes. She thinks that Nemesis may be the nemesis of the Solar System and since she gave it the name, she feels responsible. She's an emotional person, Commissioner.'
'Yes? You've noticed that, have you?'
'And she bothers you. She reminds you every once in a while about matters that she feels strongly about, and you don't want to hear about, and so you refuse to see her, and you wish she'd go away. You can send her away, Commissioner.'
'Indeed? We've got one other Settlement. Shall I send her to New Rotor?'
'No, Commissioner. Send her to Erythro.'
'Erythro? But why should I send her there? Just because I want to get rid of her?'
'That would be your reason. Yes, Commissioner. It would not be my reason, though. I want her on Erythro because she can't really work at the Observatory. The instruments always seem to be in use and she feels she's being watched all the time. She feels your annoyance. And besides, Rotor isn't a good base for delicate measurements. It turns too rapidly and too unevenly for good measurements.'
'You have it all at your fingertips. Did your mother explain this to you? No, you don't have to tell me. She didn't tell you directly, did she? Only indirectly.'
'Yes, Commissioner. And there's my computer.'
'The one you have friendly relations with?'
'Yes, Commissioner.'
'And so you think she will be able to work better on Erythro.'
'Yes, Commissioner. It will be a stabler base, and she might make the kind of measurements that will convince her that the Solar System will survive. Even if she finds out otherwise, it will take a long time for her to be sure of that and for that time, at least, you'll be rid of her.'
'I see that you want to be rid of her, too, is that it?'
'Not at all, Commissioner,' said Marlene with composure. 'I would go with her. You'd be rid of me, too, which would please you even more than being rid of her.'
'What makes you think I want to get rid of you, too?'
Marlene fixed her gaze on him, somber, unblinking. 'Now you do, Commissioner, since you now know that I have no trouble in interpreting your inner feelings.'
Suddenly, Pitt found himself desperately wanting to get rid of this monster. He said, 'Let me think about this,' and turned his head. He felt that he was being childish in looking away, but he did not want this horrible youngster to read his face like the open book it was.
It was, after all, the truth. He did now want to get rid of mother and daughter alike. Where the mother was concerned, he had indeed thought, on several occasions, of exiling her to Erythro. But since she would scarcely have wanted to go, there would have been a most unappetizing fuss and he had no stomach for that. Now, though, her daughter had given him a reason why she might indeed want to go to Erythro, and that, of course, changed things.
He said slowly, 'If your mother really wants this-'
'She really does, Commissioner. She hasn't mentioned it to me, and it may be she hasn't even thought of it yet, but she will want to go. I know that. Trust me.'
'Do I have a choice? And do you want to go?'
'Very much, Commissioner.'
'Then I will arrange for it at once. Does that satisfy you?'
'Yes, it does, Commissioner.'
'Then shall we now consider the interview at an end?'
Marlene rose and ducked her head in a graceless bow, presumably one that was intended to be respectful. 'Thank you, Commissioner.'
She turned and left, and it wasn't till she had been gone for several minutes that Pitt dared unclench the grip that had kept his face in place till it was aching,
He dared not have allowed her to deduce from anything he said or did or seemed, the final item that he, and only one other person, knew about Erythro.