Butler, Octavia - Dawn

Lilith rubbed her hand across the surface of the picture, then placed the picture flat against the wall. She began at one end of the wall and walked slowly toward the other, far away, keeping the face of the picture against the wall. She closed her eyes as she moved, remembering that it had been easier when she practiced this with Nikanj if she ignored her other senses as much as possible. All her attention should be focused on the hand that held the picture flat against the wall. Male and female Oankali did this with head tentacles.

Oankali did it with their sensory arms. Both did it from memory, without pictures impregnated with prints. Once they read someone's print or examined someone and took a print, they remembered it, could duplicate it. Lilith would never be able to read prints or duplicate them. That required Oankali organs of perception. Her children would have them, Kahguyaht had said.

She stopped now and then to rub one sweaty hand over the picture, renewing her own chemical signature.

More than halfway down the hail, she began to feel a response, a slight bulging of the surface against the picture, against her hand.

She stopped at once, not certain at first that she had felt anything at all. Then the bulge was unmistakable. She pressed against it lightly, maintaining the contact until the wall began to open beneath the picture. Then she drew back to let the wall disgorge its long, green plant. She went to a space at one end of the great room, opened a wall, and took out a jacket and a pair of pants. These people would probably welcome clothing as eagerly as she had.

The plant lay, writhing slowly, still surrounded by the foul odor that had followed it through the wall. She could not see well enough through its thick, fleshy body to know which end concealed Tate Marah's head, but that did not matter. She drew her hands along the length of the plant as though unzipping it, and it began to come apart.

There was no possibility this time of the plant trying to swallow her. She would be no more palatable to it now than Nikanj would.

Slowly, the face and body of Tate Marah became visible. Small breasts. Figure like that of a girl who had barely reached puberty. Pale, translucent skin and hair. Child's face. Yet Tate was twenty-seven.

She would not awaken until she was lifted completely clear of the suspended animation plant. Her body was wet and slippery, but not heavy. Sighing, Lilith lifted her clear.

2

"Get away from me!" Tate said the moment she opened her eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"Trying to get you dressed," Lilith said. "You can do it yourself now-if you're strong enough."

Tate was beginning to tremble, beginning to react to being awakened from suspended animation. it was surprising that she had been able to speak her few coherent words before succumbing to the reaction.

Tate made a tight, shuddering fetal knot of her body and lay moaning. She gasped several times, gulping air as she might have gulped water.

"Shit!" she whispered minutes later when the reaction began to wane. "Oh shit. It wasn't a dream, I see."

"Finish dressing," Lilith told her. "You knew it wasn't a dream."

Tate looked up at Lilith, then down at her own half naked body. Lilith had managed to get pants on her, but had only gotten one of her arms into the jacket. She had managed to work that arm free as she suffered through the reaction. She picked up the jacket, put it on, and in a moment, had discovered how to close it. Then she turned to watch silently as Lilith closed the plant, opened the wall nearest to it, and pushed the plant through. In seconds the only sign left of it was a rapidly drying spot on the floor.

"And in spite of all that," Lilith said, facing Tate, "I'm a prisoner just as you are."

"More like a trustee," Tate said quietly.

"More like. I have to Awaken at least thirty-nine more people before any of us are allowed out of this room. I chose to start with you."

"Why?" She was incredibly self-possessed--or seemed to be. She had only been Awakened twice before-average among people not chosen to parent a group-but she behaved almost as though nothing unusual were happening. That was a relief to Lilith, a vindication of her choice of Tate.

"Why did I begin with you?" Lilith said. "You seemed least likely to try to kill me, least likely to fall apart, and most likely to be able to help with the others as they Awaken."

Tate seemed to think about that. She fiddled with her jacket, re-examining the way the front panels adhered to one another, the way they pulled apart. She felt the material itself, frowning.

"Where the hell are we?" she asked.

"Some distance beyond the orbit of the moon."

Silence. Then finally, "What was that big green slug-thing you pushed into the wall?"

"A... a plant. Our captors-our rescuers-use them for keeping people in suspended animation. You were in the one you saw. I took you out of it."

"Suspended animation?"

"For over two hundred and fifty years. The Earth is just about ready to have us back now."

"We're going back!"

"Yes."

Tate looked around at the vast, empty room. "Back to what?"

"Tropical forest. Somewhere in the Amazon basin. There are no more Cities."

"No. I didn't think there would be." She drew a deep breath. "When are we fed?"

"I put some food in your room before I Awoke you. Come on."

Tate followed. "I'm hungry enough to eat even that plaster of Paris garbage they served me when I was Awake before."

"No more plaster. Fruit, nuts, a kind of stew, bread, something like cheese, coconut milk..."

"Meat? A steak?"

"You can't have everything."

Tate was too good to be true. Lilith worried for a moment that at some point she would break-begin to cry or be sick or scream or beat her head against the wall-lose that seemingly easy control. But whatever happened to her Lilith would try to help. Just these few minutes of apparent normality were worth a great deal of trouble. She was actually speaking with and being understood by another human being-after so long.

Tate dove into the food, eating until she was satisfied, not wasting time talking. She had not, Lilith thought, asked one very important question. Of course there was a great deal she had not asked, but one thing in particular made Lilith wonder.

"What's your name, by the' way?" Tate asked, finally resting from her eating. She sipped coconut milk tentatively, then drank it all.

"Lilith Iyapo."

"Lilith. Lil?"

"Lilith. I've never had a nickname. Never wanted one. Is there anything apart from your name that you'd like to be called?"

"No. Tate will do. Tate Marah. They told you my name, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. All those damn questions. They kept me Awake and in solitary for. . . it must have been two or three months. Did they tell you that? Or were you watching?"

"I was either asleep or in solitary myself, but yes, I knew about your confinement. It was three months in all. Mine was just over two years."

"It took them that long to make a trustee of you, did it?"

Lilith frowned, took a few nuts and ate them. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

For an instant, Tate looked uncomfortable, uncertain. The expression appeared and vanished so quickly that Lilith could have missed it through just a moment's inattention.

"Well, why should they keep you awake and alone for so long?" Tate demanded.

"I wouldn't talk to them at first. Then later when I began to talk, apparently a number of them were interested in me. They weren't trying to make a trustee of me at that point. They were trying to decide whether I was fit to be one. If I had had a vote, I'd still be asleep."

"Why wouldn't you talk to them? Were you military?"

"God, no. I just didn't like the idea of being locked up, questioned, and ordered around by I-didn't-know-who. And Tate, it's time you knew who-even though you've been careful not to ask."