Between the Strokes of Night

Elissa remained silent. She knew Peron. He had to be allowed the time to work his way into a subject, without pressure and with minimal coaxing. That was the way that he had first managed to speak to her of their own relationship, and the way that she had finally learned of his continued doubts over leaving his family to take part in Planetfest.

The last of the light vanished, leaving them sitting side by side on the soft earth next to the aircar. Stars were appearing, one by one, twinkling brightly in the crisp night air.

“We’ve had a great time here,” Peron went on at last, “but for the past two days I’ve had trouble getting a thought out of my head. Remember the colony of mouse-monkeys, the black ones with the fat tails?”

Elissa squeezed his hand without speaking.

“You asked me how the head of the colony could control the others so easily,” he continued. “He didn’t seem to fight them, or bully them, or try to dominate them at all. But they climbed the trees, and brought him food, and groomed him, and he didn’t even have to move to live in comfort. Well, for some reason that reminded me of something my father said to me when I was only ten years old. He asked me, who controlled Pentecost? He said that was the third most important question to answer in a society, and the most important ones were, how did they control, and why did they control? If you knew all three, masters, mechanisms, and motives, you were in a position to make changes.”

“Did he ever tell you the answers?”

“He never knew them. He spent his life looking. The answers were not on Pentecost — we know now that the true controllers of Pentecost are the Immortals, with the cooperation of a nervous planetary government. They control through superior knowledge, and they use the planet — so they say — as a source of new Immortals. Those ideas were beyond my father’s imaginings. But he was right about the important questions.”

Elissa stirred at his side. She was lightly dressed, and the air was cold on her bare arms, but she was reluctant to suggest a move.

“I finally tried to ask the important questions myself,” said Peron at last. “Not about Pentecost — about the Immortals themselves. They have a well-developed society. But who runs it? How, and most of all why? At first I thought we had the answer to the first question: the Immortals were run from The Ship. As soon as I was in S-space, I found that wasn’t true. Then I thought we would have the answer at Sector Headquarters. But we learned that was false — headquarters is nothing but an administrative center with a switching station and cargo pickup point for travelling starships. So what next? We decided control had to be back at Sol, and we came here. But we have no more answers. Who runs the show in the Sol system? Not Jan de Vries, I’ll bet my life on it. He’s a good follower, but he’s not a leader. And even if we find out who, that still leaves how and why.” “So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Look harder, I suppose. Elissa, we’ve been on Earth for nearly five days now. How do you feel?”

“Physically? I feel absolutely wonderful. Don’t you?”

“I do. Do you know why?”

“I’ve wondered. I think maybe part of the reason is our ancestry. We come from millions of years of adaptation to Earth as the natural environment — gravity, air pressure, sunlight. We ought to feel good here.”

“I know all that. But Elissa, I think there’s another reason. I think everything is relative, and we had spent over a month in S-space before we came here. I’ll tell you my theory, and it’s one that makes me uncomfortable. I think that S-space isn’t right for humans, in ways that we haven’t been told.” “Even though we will live many times as long there? I don’t just mean long in S-time, I mean live subjectively longer. Doesn’t that suggest S-space is good for our bodies?”

Peron sighed. Elissa didn’t know it, but she was presenting arguments to him that he had wrestled with for days, and found no satisfactory answers. “It looks that way. It seems so logical: we live longer there, so it must be good for us. But I don’t believe it. Think of the way you feel. S-space didn’t give you the same sense of vitality. Think of our love-making. Wasn’t it wonderful on Pentecost, and hasn’t it been even better in the last few days on Earth?”

Elissa reached out and ran her fingers gently up Peron’s thigh. “You know the answer to that without asking. Be careful now, or you’ll give me ideas.” He placed his hand gently over hers, but his voice remained thoughtful and unhappy. “So you agree, some things just don’t feel right in S-space. We’ve known that, deep inside, but I assumed it was all part of the adjustment process. Now I feel just as sure that’s not the case. And everybody who has lived in S-space for any length of time must know it, too.”

Peron rose slowly to his feet. Elissa followed suit, and they both stood there for a few moments, shivering in the seaward night wind sweeping off the snowy eastern peaks.