Ron Merrill About 4,600 words

[540-54-5913]

"Come on, Jevi, you're so hopelessly out of date! Surely you will at least use a host-mother."

Jevi responded with the shy stubbornness that had so often exasperated her old roommate. "No, I think not. I want to do it myself."

Saron frowned, absently running a hand through her short black curls. "Did your stupid husband put you up to this? Honestly, Jevi, have you thought about what this will do to your career? Not to mention your position in society."

"It was my decision, not Harmol's. And it's really not that bad."

"Oh? Have you heard of morning sickness? And just imagine yourself getting all swollen and--"

"Vlamo women have babies without any trouble."

"You're not an ignorant cow of a Vlamo! You, Jevi daughter-of-Elmion, from one of the first families of the Socium, having a baby like a servant girl! Next I suppose you'll tell me you're going to nurse it yourself."

Jevi in fact had exactly that intention, but she decided not to mention it. She didn't like arguments. A change in subject seemed in order.

"A drink, perhaps? Nella! Bring us two peach freezers, out on the veranda."

She led her guest outside and they took seats with a magnificent view of the lake.

"Now," she continued, before Saron could start in again, "you were going to tell me about your latest find from the South R'gon dig."

"Yes!" said Saron with one of her sudden mood changes. "You know this is one of the best-preserved books ever recovered from a Second Civilization dig. It's amazing it survived at all--almost 6,000 years, and R'gon has a very wet climate, which is unfavorable for organic artifacts. But for some reason this item was left wrapped in old-time polymer, which protected it well. We've got five volumes complete, and parts of two others."

The servant came with their drinks. Jevi nodded to her and gave another order. "While you're at it, Nella, take a drink to Lannik out in the garden. It's hot today and he looks thirsty."

The distraction set Saron off again. "You're much too soft with your servants, Jevi. I suppose Lannik is that young hunk out there. Better watch that girl when she's around him or you'll have a Vlamo baby in the house. They breed like roaches, you know."

Jevi sighed to herself. "Nella's a respectable married girl, and she knows the rules. And Lannik's never caused trouble."

Saron eyed the young man's bare torso, gleaming with sweat in the sunlight. "Are you saving him for yourself? No, don't get angry, I'm just teasing you. Why don't you loan him to me?"

She sat back and sipped her drink. "Anyway, I haven't told you the best thing about this find. The book--get this--is a history of one of the major cultures of the First Civilization!"

She leaned forward. "And best of all, I have a copy for you!" She reached into her bag and brought out a reading unit.

Jevi took it eagerly and turned it on. She began paging through the text.

"This is amazing. Have you read it yet?"

"Who, me? You know my knowledge of N'lish is rudimentary. I could pick out enough to recognize what it was, that's all. You're the specialist on Second Civilization texts. I want to know what you make of it."

"I'll have to study it for months just to get a preliminary idea. I can see at once, though, that it's going to present some dating problems."

"Why?"

"Well, it's in N'lish of course, but this is the Middle Strata dialect. Normally you find that only in inscriptions from the N'lish Islands, or maybe the east coast of the Norm'riga continent, which the N'lish are believed to have colonized at about that time. What was this book doing clear out in R'gon?"

"It certainly seems to have been out of its expected stratigraphic position. I would date that dig as being several centuries later than N'lish Middle Strata. We found electronic components in the same layer that would put it in the Final Era."

Jevi answered absently as she continued paging through the document. "Of course we have to keep in mind that most of our chronology for the Second Civilization comes from the archeologists of the Third Civilization, and our record of their conclusions is far from complete."

"What about the content?" asked Saron. "Do you realize that this one document probably contains more information about the First Civilization than everything else we have, put together?"

"Well, it seems to cover at least ten centuries of the history of the 'Roman' culture, with a focus on what went wrong with it. It might conceivably be satirical instead of historical; the author's name translates as 'monkey.'"

"Isn't it awfully long to be a humorous piece?"

"Well, yes. But the Late Norm'rigans had a weird sense of humor, as you know. Anyway, assuming this really is a detailed history, it should give us a whole new insight as to why the First Civilization failed."

"You'll work on it with me, then?"

"Of course, Saron. I'll start making notes tonight--no, tomorrow, we have a dinner party tonight."

"Very well, then, we'll be partners again. But I don't want this stupid baby project of yours interfering with your work."

Jevi was preparing for the party when her husband came in. Dismissing Nella--Jevi preferred to dress herself anyway--she sat down in her underwear. Dispassionately she noted the slow crawl of Harmol's eyes over her body.

"How was your visit with Saron today?" he asked.

"Very nice." She told him about Saron's discovery, keeping the account short, however; Harmol was bored by history.

"Did she talk you out of this idea of yours?" he asked, opening the real subject.

"No. I still want to go ahead," she said firmly.

He sat down on the bed, tapping his fingers on the white counterpane. "Well, I don't like it, but I guess our status is high enough to keep people from snickering openly. Since we went through formal marriage we'd have to do something about it anyway, but I thought we'd pay the tax penalty. Or at least--"

"No."

"All right. When?"

"About a week from tomorrow would be the best time," she said, lowering her eyes.

"Very well. At least it will be something new." He yawned.

Jevi would have preferred being the cook for her banquet to being the hostess. Not that she knew anything about cooking--her mother Elmion had kept her away from the kitchen and other menial areas with a hawk's eye--but she'd never developed a taste for gorging on exotic delicacies.

The one good thing about being hostess, though, was that she could order the servants to give her small portions. As a guest she would of course have been obligated to consume heaping plates to avoid insulting her host. For this reason she made excuses to avoid going out, as often as possible. Harmol, she noted, was already developing a paunch.

Harmol's good friend Elgon had arrived in his new uniform and was regaling the company with tales of his exploits at the Military Academy. Jevi didn't like the man, but she had to concede that he looked very elegant in the wide-sleeved scarlet silk jacket with white starched overmantle. Decorations glittered on his chest and shoulders. As a member of one of the top families--he could trace his ancestry back 600 years--Elgon had been promoted to Upper Commander immediately after graduation.

Conversation naturally turned to the situation in the West. Elgon was expert in his dismissal of the threat.

"The Vlamos have no laser weapons, no aircraft to speak of, and hardly any military organization. The whole problem is just a matter of disorganized banditry."

"Still," put in a woman, "they're crossing the border more often lately. It makes me nervous. We aren't that far from the border here."

"Don't worry," said Elgon. "We've got three octahects stationed on this sector of the border."

"Yes," said Jevi, "but two of them are made up of Vlamo immigrants, aren't they?"

"Sure, except for the officers. But they're perfectly reliable. And it's good policy; set a Vlamo to catch a Vlamo."

Jevi glanced at her timepiece, and nodded at Nella. The girl stepped into the kitchen, and a moment later the household servants came in with the first course. Because of the large party, both inner and outer servants had been drafted to the work. Lannik, she noted, served a bit awkwardly but got through his duties without mistake.

Though she was probably the most intelligent person present, Jevi took only a small part in the brilliant conversation. She had little interest in the minutia of politics and high society; her guests considered history dreary.

She was glad when the party was over, although Elgon stayed overnight. She watched him go up to Harmol's bedroom, distaste on her face. Suddenly she felt watched herself and turned. Lannik averted his eyes and went out to the kitchen.

Jevi turned from her desk as her queasiness increased and she felt a telltale flush spread over her face.

"Nella! The bowl, quickly."

Nella came in at once, her face properly expressionless. A few minutes later Nella took away the bowl to dump the remains of Jevi's breakfast, and Jevi walked down the hall to her bathroom to wash out her mouth. She wondered momentarily what the servant girl thought of her behavior. Of course, if Nella became pregnant, she and her husband could be immediately deported, under the terms of their work visa. Likely she resented Jevi. That was too bad; Jevi could have used some advice, and as a Vlamo, Nella must surely know a lot about the childbirth process, even though she'd never been through it herself. It would be nice, Jevi thought, just to have someone to talk to about it. She knew a couple of women in her circle who'd had children, but they'd used Vlamo host-mothers.

She went back to her study and sat down at her desk. A heavy autumn rain was pounding on the window. A good day for work, and it took her mind off her stomach.

Her preliminary notes on the ancient text were expanding rapidly. The author's opinions threw light not only on First Civilization history, but by implication on the attitudes held by his Second Civilization contemporaries. Jevi particularly wanted to clarify the role of religion in his thinking. Archeologists, in her opinion, had an unfortunate tendency to use religion as a catch-all explanation. Any artifact, building, or text that didn't have an obvious utilitarian purpose was automatically assumed to be of religious significance . . .

An hour later the rain was still pouring down. Jevi stood up, stretched, and walked across the house to the library. She wanted to consult Genron's Religions of the Second Civilization. To her surprise, the light was on in the library. Lannik looked up at her, startled.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I--"

She was more curious than angry. "What do you have there?"

He showed her a reading unit.

"Fundamentals of Botany. So you know how to read?"

"Yes." He made no further excuses.

"Well, you certainly can't do any work outside today. So I won't object if you improve your time, although . . . Sit down, why don't you?"

She looked him over thoughtfully, and he returned her gaze. Any of her friends would have considered the man insolent, but she felt no anger.

"Are you married?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "There was a girl who was going to wait for me to come home with my savings, but she married someone else."

"So you stayed on here."

"That's right."

"Well," she said, then hesitated, trying to regain command of the situation, "your work has been very satisfactory. I found the garden quite pleasing last summer. So you have my permission to read here in your free time. However, as you know, my husband's study is next door. Please stay out of his way. But if you should get into trouble, refer him to me."

"You're very kind . . . Mistress."

She nodded and left, pleased with her calm handling of the awkward situation. It wasn't until she was back at her desk that she realized she had forgotten to take the book she had wanted.

The trees were almost bare now, and Jevi switched off the outside lights, letting darkness hide their naked branches. She turned back to the party and saw Saron beckon. Her friend looked her over critically as she approached.

"It doesn't show yet."

Jevi smiled. "It will soon. I'm over three months now. But it can be disguised with clothing for a while yet."

"It's not too late to change your mind."

"But I'm not changing my mind, just the subject. Have you read my latest comments on the book?"

"Yes. Your analysis of the religious controversies is fascinating. I think we should publish a preliminary communication."

"All right. Do you want to start drafting one?"

The debate by the fireplace grew louder, disrupting their discussion. Elgon was deploying his arguments in force.

"All this fuss over the new Immigration Law is sheer alarmism. At a time when we have such an acute labor shortage, it's just common sense to increase quotas."

"That's right," said Saron, joining the discussion. "It's been getting impossible to get servants. And they know it, too. One harsh word and they're off. You wouldn't believe what I've been going through trying to replace my cook."

"And it's not just servants," put in another woman. "My factory is having real trouble hiring. We're afraid the workers may even try to organize."

"But," said a man, "look at the problem we're already having with illegal immigrants. They're coming in and squatting on empty land."

"Isn't that better than letting farmland revert to forest?"

"Not if you're the owner!"

"But let's face it," said Elgon. "The illegals keep coming in anyway, no matter what we do. So it's better to legalize the process and keep it under control."

"But for how long?" asked Jevi. "This new law still doesn't satisfy the Vlamos' demands. And now they're threatening military action, isn't that so?"

"Let them threaten," said Elgon. "Their army is nothing but a semi-organized mob and they have no modern weapons. If they make a move, we'll crush them."

Jevi persisted. "Still, they outnumber us heavily, don't they? And we might have a problem with the immigrant octahects. Can we really rely on them to fire on their own countrymen? Why do we keep hearing these rumors of mutiny?"

"You're being silly," said Harmol angrily. "These are Vlamos we're talking about. They're one step above dumb animals, barely civilized. Everything they know, we taught them. Sure, the illegals are a problem and something must be done about them. But the visa process is strict, and we can rely on the ones we let in. And Elgon will tell you we're especially strict in qualifying those who apply for military service."

Jevi withdrew from the discussion, but she continued to sit and listen. There was a nagging familiarity to the debate.

"Another party?" said Saron.

They were sitting in Saron's spare and highly elegant living room. Through the wide windows Jevi could see the winter landscape. She sipped hot herbal tea gratefully.

"Well, it's something a little different this time," said Jevi. "A salon. The idea is to bring in a dozen of the most brilliant women in the city to discuss--"

"I know, it's the latest thing. I've been invited to a couple myself, if you'll forgive my immodesty."

"Harmol's very busy making the arrangements. So I thought it would be a good time to come over and see you."

"Honestly, Jevi, I never could understand why you married him. All he does is spend his mother's money on those endless parties of his. I hope you're not letting him spend yours. Men are so useless. Well, almost useless."

Jevi smiled. "How about Elgon? You've been seeing him, haven't you? Why don't you marry him?"

"At least Elgon does something to justify his existence. And he's a nice hunk. But marry him? What's in it for me? I have my career and I like my freedom. Next thing, you'll be wanting me to tie myself down with children."

She glanced with distaste at Jevi's distended belly. "And I still think it's silly for a woman of your talents to be wasting her valuable time that way."

"Well," said Jevi as lightly as she could, "the next generation has to come from somewhere."

"Let it come from the middle class, then. Or the lower."

"But, Saron, they follow our lead. In fact, they're more obsessed with status than we are. And they have their own careers to think of, you know."

For once it was Saron who changed the subject. "How is your summary coming along?"

Jevi looked again at her timepiece as she hurried out to her groundcar. She'd lost track of time talking to Saron, and if she was late home Harmol would be annoyed. Besides, she didn't like being on the streets after dark.

"Home, Lannik," she said as he opened the door for her. "And take the direct route."

"Through the Birch Sector, Mistress?"

"Yes. I'm running late." With a sigh she settled her thickening body into the seat cushions.

The sky was not yet dark, but it had started to snow again. The groundcar purred softly through the late afternoon silence. Jevi had often been struck by how quiet the streets were these days. Lannik turned the car across the bridge and they left Saron's upper-class neighborhood and rolled into the Birch Sector.

Jevi had been told that in her mother's time this area had been almost fully occupied. But by her childhood, the population had already dropped to the point where half the houses were vacant. She and Saron had strolled through it once when they were home from college; at that time it had been nearly empty. Now she saw, with some surprise, that it seemed to be filling up again.

"I didn't know that so many people were living here," she said to Lannik.

"Just in the last couple of years they've been moving in," he replied. "Squatters, mostly."

"These are Vlamos living here?"

"Yes--Mistress."

She saw children playing in the snow in a half-overgrown park. A small knot of women stood talking; they stared at the groundcar as it passed.

"Where are the men?" she asked Lannik.

"Working, mostly. Some are in the army."

She shivered. "Turn up the heat, please."

"Mmm, yes," said Harmol that evening. "There are some squatters actually moving into the city now. There's been some discussion of clearing them out, but it isn't considered urgent. The government wants to keep all our forces on the border right now to overawe the Vlamos. Once the current tension subsides, they'll probably detach some units to deal with the squatter problem."

"Lannik told me that some of the people in the Birch Section are families of men who are serving in the army."

"I suppose so. They're not supposed to marry, but the rules don't seem to be enforced very strictly." He frowned. "You seem to be taking a lot of interest in political and military matters lately."

"No," she said. "Not really. Just thinking about some historical parallels. Anyway, how is your plan for the salon coming?"

"Ah." He leaned back with a satisfied air. "Very well indeed. But it's a tricky proposition getting just the right mix of people, very challenging."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head. "No. What would a woman know about organizing a party? Just leave it to me."

"I'm sure it will be the success of the season," she said placidly.

As he bent over his guest list again, she studied her husband thoughtfully. Had she ever really loved him, even at the beginning? She'd been a naive idealist, projecting her own idea of him instead of understanding him and accepting him as he was. If their marriage was little more than a formality now, whose fault was it? Harmol had immense status as one of the most sophisticated esthetes in the Socium. He was the epitome of manhood, a prime catch, and she was the envy of half the women in her social class. If she was dissatisfied, she had no one to blame but herself.

The spring day was unusually warm, and Harmol and Jevi were eating lunch under the cherry blossoms in the garden. It should have been idyllic, but Jevi, who was now near term, had little appetite, and her extra weight made the outdoor chair feel unpleasantly hard.

She was toying with a dessert she really didn't want when Nella escorted Saron to their table.

"Saron! To what do we owe this pleasant surprise? Nella--"

"No, thanks, I can't stay." Saron said. "You've heard, I assume?"

"Heard what?"

Saron turned to Harmol. "You haven't told her?"

He frowned. "I didn't want to worry her over some rumors. It's probably just a drill."

"What's happening?" asked Jevi.

"Trouble on the border," said Saron. "Elgon was summoned back to his unit this morning, full emergency priority. The Vlamos are attacking."

"No need to panic," said Harmol.

"Well, panic or not, I'm leaving for the coast, and right away," said Saron firmly. "What about you?"

"We're staying here."

"Jevi?"

"Let's go upstairs."

Jevi trudged up the stairs and led her friend into her study. She lowered herself carefully into her chair.

"Jevi, you've got to believe me. Elgon says--"

"I believe you. I've been expecting this."

"You have? Then you'd better start packing, we should get moving as soon as possible. Let me--"

"Saron, I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I'm going to have a baby any day now. And for another, I don't think there's anywhere to run to. No, listen, you go ahead, and I wish you luck. I'm staying here. But I want you to do something for me."

Saron came over and put a hand on Jevi's shoulder. "Jevi, you stubborn little thing. You were always like that, quiet as a mouse and immovable as a boulder. I'm going to miss you." She sighed. "All right, what do you want me to do?"

Jevi turned to her desk. "Here. This is my summary and commentary on the book. It's not quite finished, but close enough. Take this with you. It's hard copy, and I bought top quality sheets to print it on.

"Saron, you're an archeologist. You're an expert on what lasts and what doesn't last over time, right? I want you to take this, package it the best you can, and put it in a safe place."

Saron took the stack of manuscript. "You are a pessimist, aren't you?"

"No," said Jevi. "I'm an historian. Read it; you'll understand."

"All right. I'll do the best I can. Sure you won't come with me?"

"I'm sure. Take care of yourself, Saron."

After seeing Saron off, Jevi returned to the garden. Harmol was pacing nervously. She sat down and sipped her peach freezer. She gazed westward out over the lake; sometimes you could see the mountains in the distance, but today was too hazy.

Her attempts to converse with Harmol fell flat; he seemed very absent, probably worrying about Elgon. After a while she returned to her study. She toyed with her work for an hour, but she was curiously reluctant to return to the ancient book. And what was the point, anyway?

She pushed herself to her feet and made for the library. Only when she found it dark and empty did she realize that she didn't really want a book to read; she'd hoped Lannik would be there. She went to the west-facing windows and looked out. The mountains were still invisible, but a dark smudge on the horizon caught her eye. Smoke, she decided after a while. A burning town. She stood watching it until the rays of the setting sun obscured it.

She slept badly and awoke early the next morning. Her window revealed an overcast sky, still not quite full light. Giving up on further sleep, she struggled to her feet and began to dress herself. Suddenly there was a sound of pounding from below. As she slipped on her shoes, listening, it abruptly stopped. There were voices downstairs.

Harmol, still in his dressing gown, appeared at his bedroom door just as she entered the hall. They both stared at Elgon, who was striding up the stairs as Nella followed with ineffectual protests.

"It's all right, Nella. Elgon, what--"

Elgon ignored her and made for Harmol. His uniform was smeared with dirt--but not, she noted, with blood.

"Harmol, you've got to help me. Let me have some clothes; they're shooting everyone in uniform. And we've got to get out of here."

Harmol was dragged back into his bedroom. Jevi followed the two men.

"Here, this will fit you," said Harmol. "And I've got a gun." He pulled a heavy hand-laser out of a drawer.

Elgon was tearing off his uniform jacket. "Better not. They're also killing anyone carrying a weapon."

Harmol hastily threw the weapon on the bed. "What happened?"

Elgon's face twisted. "We couldn't help it. They came in hordes, unbelievable numbers. And both the 36th and the 44th mutinied and killed their officers and hit us from the flanks. First thing I knew, it was every man for himself. I stole a command car and made it almost to the city, but then traffic was jammed by a roadblock. After that--"

"What do we do?" whispered Harmol.

"Run for it. Try to make the coast." Elgon pulled on a civilian shirt.

Harmol pressed the bell, then whirled to his closet. He squirmed into some clothes and began packing. Neither man paid any attention to Jevi. From outside, she heard the distant pops of primitive explosive-propellant weapons.

Lannik appeared at the door. Harmol glanced over his shoulder and said impatiently, "It's about time. Get the groundcar ready at once. We'll--"

Elgon stopped him again. "No. The local Vlamos are setting up roadblocks. We'll have to go on foot. First south, get around the bend in the river to avoid the bridges. Then turn east."

For the first time, Harmol looked at Jevi. "Get packed at once. Just what you can carry."

"Harmol," Elgon warned. "She'll slow us down."

Harmol hesitated, looking at Jevi's swollen body, then suddenly turned and slammed his bag shut. "Let's go."

Lannik stepped into the room, getting out of the way as the two men pushed through the door. Jevi heard the clatter of their feet on the stairs.

Lannik stepped over to the bed and picked up the hand-laser. He checked the charge. His eyes flicked over the room, then came to rest on Jevi.

"A wealthy house like this will be looted as soon as the city falls," he said.

Jevi nodded. "What about Nella and her husband? And the other servants?"

"They'll be leaving soon. They are no longer your responsibility."

"And what will you do with me?"

"That's just as you please. The groundcar is ready if you want it."

Jevi shook her head.

"In that case," he said, "I have a small deserted house picked out, over in the Birch Section. A bit tumbled down, but it can be repaired. Also, I know a good midwife."

Without hesitation, she put her hand in his. Together they walked out into the clouded dawn.