“You make it sound very tempting, Dr. Krieger.”
“Jock. Call me Jock.” A pause. “Look, I used to be with the RAND Corporation. I’m a mathematician; back when I graduated from Princeton, seventy percent of all math grads from major universities applied for jobs at RAND. That was where you got the money and resources to do pure research. In fact, the joke was that RAND actually stood for ‘Research And No Development’—it’s a think tank in the purest sense.”
“What does it stand for?”
“Just ‘Research and Development,’ supposedly. But the fact is its funding came from the U.S. Air Force, and it existed for a fundamentally unpleasant reason: to study nuclear conflict. I’m a game theorist; that’s my specialty, and that’s why I was there—doing simulations of nuclear brinksmanship.” He paused. “You ever see Dr. Strangelove?”
Mary nodded. “Years ago.”
“Old George C. Scott, he’s clutching a ‘BLAND’ corporation study there in the War Room. Freeze-frame it next time you’re watching the DVD. The study is labeled World Targets in Megadeaths. That’s about right for what we had to do. But the Cold War is over, Professor Vaughan, and now we’re looking at something incredibly positive.” He paused. “You know, despite its military roots, RAND did lots of far-out thinking. One of our studies was called Habitable Planets for Man, and it was all about the likelihood of finding earthlike planets elsewhere in the galaxy. Stephen Dole put that one together in 1964, just when I started at RAND. But, even then, back in the glory days of the space program, very few of us seriously thought we’d have access to another earthlike world in our lifetime. But if that portal reopens, we will. And we want contact to go as positively as possible. When the first Neanderthal embassy opens up—”
“A Neanderthal embassy!” exclaimed Mary.
“We’re thinking ahead, Professor Vaughan. That’s what Synergy is all about—not just the best of both worlds, but making something that’s more than the sum of its parts. It’s going to be wild. And we want you along for the ride.”
Chapter Five
Ponter and Daklar walked through the square, chatting. Lots of children were about, playing games, chasing each other, having fun.
“I’ve always wanted to ask a man,” said Daklar. “Do you miss your children when Two are separate?”
A little boy—a 148—ran right in front of them, catching a flying triangle. Ponter never regretted having two daughters, but sometimes he did wish he had a son, as well. “Of course,” he said. “I think about them constantly.”
“They’re such wonderful girls, Jasmel and Mega,” said Daklar.
“I thought you and Jasmel crossed spears while I was away,” said Ponter.
Daklar laughed ruefully. “Oh, yes, indeed. She spoke on behalf of Adikor at the dooslarm basadlarm, and I was the one accusing him. But I’m no fool, Ponter. Obviously I was wrong, and she was right.”
“So things are pleasant between the two of you now?”
“It’ll take some time,” said Daklar. “You know how Jasmel is. Stubborn as a stalactite—hanging on despite everything trying to pull her down.”
Ponter laughed. He did indeed know Jasmel—and, it seemed, Daklar knew her, too. “She can be difficult,” Ponter said.
“She’s just turned 225 months old,” said Daklar. “Of course she’s difficult. So was I, at her age.” She paused. “There’s a lot of pressure on young ladies, you know. She’s expected to take two mates before winter. I know Tryon is likely to become her man-mate, but she’s still searching for a woman-mate.”
“She’ll have no trouble,” said Ponter. “She’s quite a find.”
Daklar smiled. “That she is. She’s got all of Klast’s best qualities and…” She paused again, perhaps wondering if she were being too forward. “And all of yours, as well.”
But Ponter was pleased by the remark. “Thank you,” he said.
Daklar looked down. “When Klast died, Jasmel and Mega were very sad. Megameg was too young to really understand, but Jasmel…It’s hard for a girl, not having a mother.” She fell silent, and Ponter wondered if she was gathering for him to volunteer that Jasmel had had an excellent substitute. Ponter was beginning to think that was probably true, but he didn’t know what to say. “I’ve tried to be a good tabant, ” continued Daklar, “but it’s not the same as having their mother look after them.”
Again, Ponter wasn’t sure what the politic answer was. “No,” he said at last. “I imagine it’s not.”
“I know there was no way they could have gone to live with you and Adikor,” said Daklar. “Two girls, out at the Rim…”
“No,” agreed Ponter. “That would have been impossible.”
“Did you…” Daklar trailed off, looking again at the closely cropped grass covering the square. “Did you resent the fact that I ended up looking after them?”
Ponter shrugged a little. “You were Klast’s woman-mate. You were the logical one for her to name as tabant.”
Daklar tipped her head slightly. Her voice was soft. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
Ponter closed his eyes and exhaled. “No, it wasn’t. Yes, I suppose I resented it—forgive me for saying so. I mean, I am their father; their genetic relative. You…”
Daklar waited for him to go on, but when it became clear that he wasn’t inclined to, she finished his thought for him. “I wasn’t a blood relation,” she said. “They weren’t my children, and yet I ended up taking care of them.”
Ponter said nothing; there was no polite response.
“It’s all right,” said Daklar, touching Ponter’s arm for a beat. “It’s all right for you to feel that way. It’s natural.”
Several geese flew by overhead, and some thrushes that had been sitting on the grass took wing as the two of them drew nearer. “I love my children very much,” Ponter said.
“I love them, too,” said Daklar. “I know they’re not mine, but I’ve lived with them their whole lives, and, well, I love them as if they were.”
Ponter stopped walking and looked at Daklar. He’d never really delved into this type of relationship before; he’d always sort of assumed that another person’s children were a bit of a nuisance—certainly Adikor’s Dab was a mischievous sort. In a normal family, Daklar would have had children of her own. A daughter or a son of generation 148 would still be living with her mother and her mother’s woman-mate, and a daughter of generation 147 would also still be at home, although she’d be pairing off with a man-mate and a woman-mate of her own in the next several months.
“You look surprised,” said Daklar. “I do love Jasmel and Mega.”
“Well, I—I guess I never thought about it.”
Daklar smiled. “So you see, we have a lot in common. We both loved the same woman. And we both love the same children.”
Ponter and Daklar decided to start by watching a play performed in an outdoor amphitheater. Ponter had always liked live theater, and this was one of his favorites: Wamlar and Kolapa, a historical piece about a male hunter and a female gatherer. This kind of drama could only be performed when Two became One and both male and female actors could work together. The plot depended on all sorts of twists and turns that would be impossible in the modern Companion era: people going missing, others failing to communicate over distances, still others being unable to prove that they’d been at a specific place at a specific time, and conflicting accounts of events.
Ponter found his knee pressing against Daklar’s as they sat cross-legged side by side in the amphitheater.
It really was a good play.