Cecelia Holland - Floating Worlds

She raised her head. “Yes, Akellar.”

“Look at that woman there.” Tanuojin pointed at Paula. “Do you know her?”

Paula met Cam’s blue eyes. Cam said, “Yes, she’s Paula Mendoza.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s an anarchist.” Cam’s voice was perfectly even. “She betrayed us. She’s corrupt. Perverse. I hate her. I wish I could kill her.”

“No,” Tanuojin said. “You’re wrong. She is a Styth. She’s black. She’s the Prima’s wife. Sometimes she’s bad but she follows the law.”

“I follow the law,” Cam said.

“Then tell me who she is.”

Cam’s wide eyes stared at Paula. “She is Styth. She is good. She’s black. She’s the Prima’s wife.”

Paula went around the couch. Taller by half a head, Cam turned to face her. Paula said, “You remember Dick Bunker, Cam. Don’t you? Who is he?”

Cam’s lips parted. She looked uncertainly at Tanuojin.

“He’s dead,” the Styth told her.

Cam said, monotone, “Richard Bunker is dead.”

Paula jabbed her chin at Tanoujin and Saba. “Who are they?”

Cam’s hands clasped together. “Do I have to talk to her?”

“Answer her, Dr. Savenia.”

“He is the Prima. You’re my friend. You know everything.”

“That’s right.”

“Who is he?” Paula said.

“My friend.”

“What’s his name?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Do you know his name?”

“He’s my friend.”

Paula stared at the pale womanly face above her. Cam would not look at her. Her hands hung at her sides.

“Would you like to go to Mars?” Tanuojin said.

“Yes.” Eagerly.

“You’ll have to do just as I say.”

“I will.”

“Good. You’re a good girl. Marus. Take her back.”

Marus took Cam Savenia out the door. Paula let out her breath in a sigh. Her hands were trembling.

Saba said, “She’ll have to do better than that.”

“Don’t worry.” Tanuojin paced away. “She’ll be right, before Newrose sees her. She’s come a long way. You didn’t see her at first.”

“It’s vicious,” Paula said. She sat down on the end of the couch.

“Why? She’s happy now. She doesn’t have to think, she doesn’t worry. She isn’t afraid. She’s on the right side, that’s all she cares about.”

“How long would she stay like that?” Saba said. “If you weren’t there?”

“I’ll always be there. In her mind.”

Paula scrubbed her palm over her face. “What mind does she have left?” She was glad David had gone.

“She never used it that much. She’s always done as she was told. That’s why it was so easy to—” Tanuojin’s eyes closed. “Re-educate.”

Saba paced around the room. “I don’t see that she’ll be much use.” He went down to the model. Her gaze followed him. Tanuojin didn’t frighten him. His hair was gray as iron; he looked tired.

“Besides,” Tanuojin said, to Paula. “She’s a woman. Her prime function is centered somewhere much lower than her mind.”

“She wasn’t much of a woman.”

“Because she’s not like you with that guillotine between your legs?”

Saba wheeled around. “Damn you, I’ve had enough of your filthy mouth. You’re dismissed.”

“Saba, I—”

“Get out of this room!”

Tanuojin’s long legs carried him fast out of the room. Paula let out her breath. Saba came slowly up the room from the model of the solar system.

“I’ve had the feeling you’ve been avoiding me,” she said.

He reached the couch and sat on it, his legs straight out before him. “Did you want my company?”

“No. Why did you tell David I’m crazy? Tell him you raped me. Maybe you can fit it into the lecture on honor.”

“You started that.”

She could not remember where she had bitten his face. The wound was gone without a scar, Tanuojin’s work, keeping him perfect. His sleeve half-hid the cuff on his wrist.

“Look, Paula,” he said, “you have to help me.”

“Help you,” she said, surprised. “To do what?”

“With this Newrose.”

“Oh? Shall I hold him while you hit him a few times?”

“Damn you, I’m asking you for help. Why do you have to fight me all the time?”

“Bah.”

“You don’t give a damn about me any more, but you could do this for Vida’s sake. You don’t want him to be killed, do you?”

“Why did you bring him, anyway? He’s too young to be here.”

“He wanted to come. When we found out you were still alive, he wanted to come rescue you.”

She was clenching her fists. She had to keep calm, to stay uninvolved, but talking to him made her angry. She loosened her hands on the edge of the shelf where she was perched. “How did you know I was alive?”

“Tanuojin had a dream about you.”

“And you trusted that. From so far away?”

Saba made a gesture with his hand. “What does time and distance mean to him? It was the watch before we fought Machou. He was ready for anything.”

She imagined the Chamber, boiling with voices, the scent of rage and blood, the excitement: not just a pit fight, but a fight for the Primit cuff. Saba watched her from the couch. He was too large for the furniture, too tall for the room. He belonged in his cold city, not here. But he was stuck here, in Tanuojin’s war that could go on forever. His shoulders looked as broad as the door. She had been crazy to fight him; he could have killed her with one hand.

“Do you like being Prima?” she said.

“I’m getting used to it.”

“I don’t understand what you want me to do.”

“Talk to Newrose for me. You’re the only person I trust who knows the Martians. I’ll support any reasonable settlement of the war.”

“Give me an earnest.”

“What?”

“How many anarchists are there up in those slave cars?” The pens of prisoners were in a high orbit over Luna.

“I don’t know. It should be easy to find out.”

“Let them go back to the Earth. Give them a dome.”

He straightened his mustaches. “I can’t.”

“One dome!”

“I can’t do that. Tanuojin is right, the Planet breeds revolutions.”

She slid off the shelf to her feet. “You don’t want my help very much.”

“I’ll separate them out. We’ll let them go to Mars and Venus.” Smoothly he said, “When you settle the war for me.”

Finally she said, “All right.”

“Come down to my trap for the high meal—we can talk over the small things.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll send Vida for you.” He went out.

Alvers Newrose was a short man with an egg-shaped, hairless head. He smelled of lavender. A small group of his aides followed him into the room where Saba was to meet him. From the far end of the room Paula watched the Martians arrange themselves around Newrose, and the Styth escort draw back to the walls. She went toward the man from the Council.

“Mr. Newrose?”

“I’m Alvers Newrose.”

“My name is Paula Mendoza.”

They had not known she was here. One of his aides made an undiplomatic gasp. Newrose’s watery pale eyes blinked. He held his hand out. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from some of your colleagues on the Committee.”

She let him pump her limp hand. Ketac announced the Prima, and Saba came in, alone. He took the big chair at the head of the room. Paula led Newrose up to him. Even sitting, Saba was taller than the Martian. She said, “Prima, this is Alvers Newrose, First Secretary of the Interplanetary Council.”

Saba looked him over at leisure. Proper and composed, Newrose did not speak. He would say nothing until Saba was formally introduced to him and he was certain he was talking to the right man. The Styth said to Paula, “Tell him as long as he’s in Luna he is under my protection.”