Except the occasional quiet sort who did try to bomb some legislator's garage with garden chemicals. With moderate, even dangerous success.
He had official numbers left to call. There was one private number for someone who really ought to know what was going on, who at least could take the bus across town and find out for him — if he really, really wanted someone to do something reliably, and wanted to pay the price of such information.
He gave the operator the number. And waited through the relays. And the rings. Six of them.
" Hello?" Barb said, then; and his heart, unreliably informed that things were different, did a rise and crash.
"Hello, Barb. How are you doing? Congratulations."
"Bren, I'm so glad you called. I hope you're not mad at me,"
"No…" Maybe it wasn't the most flattering, most truthful thing he could say. "Paul's a nice fellow. I'm glad you're happy. Sorry I missed the wedding. Congratulations."
"Bren, I — really want to talk. I mean, I just couldn't, we never could talk."
"Yes, well, I know that. Nature of the job, Barb, I never made it out to be anything different than it is."
"Bren — Bren, it's not, I mean, Bren, I don't know, I'm not sure, I'm just not sure anymore."
"Well, it's kind of too late for that, isn't it?"
" I want us to get together, I mean, when you get back. Bren, I just need to think. There're so many things I have to deal with."
"There's no use in talking about it, Barb. There's no 'get back.' There's no dealing with it. The ship doesn't make it any different. It won't be. You made your decision." The bitterness was there, unwished, uncalled-for, and he bit it off, fast. "Which isn't why I called, Barb. I'm not getting anything from Mother. I wondered if you might possibly have been in contact with her."
There was a longer silence than he expected, one of
Barb's mannerisms when she wasn't happy. Then, pure Barb, blithe and light: " Oh, well, I called her a couple of days ago. She was fine."
"Could you get through?"
"Yes…"
"Toby said she was getting weird calls. I get a phone service recording. I hate to ask this. I know I'm imposing. But would you mind calling her tonight, and if you can't get her, would you just take the bus over and check on her?"
Another prolonged silence. " I suppose."
"Barb, level with me. I'm working blind from here. I can't get calls through. Is there any trouble?"
And a third of those small silences. Those silences he knew he was supposed to read, to react to, and then beg her to tell him what was the matter. And dammit, he'd just asked her. He let the silence go on and on, beginning to see it in a different light than he ever had, resenting it more by the second.
" What do you expect there is?" Barb said, then, sharply: phase two, the emotional attack. " You can do anything you want over there, you can go there where you don't have to have the people who confront you in the grocery store, or stand outside your apartment and ring up on the phones and leave you messages on the system because we're in the public directory and they can't get calls to you."
"Has that been happening?"
" Yes, it happens," Barb said. He could hear the anger, the accusatory tone. " It happens, it's always happened. And I'm scared, Bren, I'm really scared."
"It happens to me, Barb, it happens. I get my mail. I get phone calls when I'm home. What's different?"
"You're over there speaking to the legislature and talking to the ship, and we're here taking calls from people who blame us because we're the only people they can get to, and they're getting scary, Bren. There's this guy that calls me at work, and I changed my home number, but I can't change my work number. There are a lot of people who are real scared, and real mad, and they think you're going to betray them, Bren, they don't understand what you're doing."
"Betray them." God, how much did Mospheira know? "What's this, 'Betray them'?"
"The ship always favored the atevi, they always had this protect-the-planet argument when we wanted to land, and now they can deal with the atevi to get what they want and not even have to deal with us."
"That's crazy."
"That's what they're saying, Bren."
"Well, screw what they're saying. — Who's saying? What kind of nonsense is that?"
"It's people they interview on the news, it's Bruno Previn, it's —"
"Bruno Previn, for God's sake, what channel are you listening to?"
"He's on the regular news, now."
"He's a crackpot."
" They keep interviewing him. He has an opinion. Bruno Previn, Dorothy Durer-Dakan, S. Brandt-Topes—"
One had the idea. "Gaylord Hanks?"
"He's been on. He's demanding an investigation of why you were sent back when they threatened his daughter and why she's not back."
"Will you call him for me and tell him the family should have gotten a call from Deana today, and if not, still, don't worry. She's fine. I had lunch with her and she's stillhis daughter."
" Bren, I — don'tlike this."
"Have you talked to my mother?"
" Damn your mother! Bren, listen to me—"
"Have you talked to her, dammit."
"Not directly, no, but you can call the building manager. That's how I found out what's going on."
It was one route he hadn't thought of. "Have you got the building manager's number?"
"Just a second. — It's 1-6587-38-48."
He was writing with the phone stuffed between the cast and his cheek, and trying to make legible numbers. "Thanks, Barb."
"Yeah."
"Barb, I hope you're happy, I really do."
" Bren, I— still want to talk to you. I want to see you when you come back. I want— I don't know."
"I don't think so. I don't think so, Barb."
" I think I made a mistake. I think I made a terrible mistake."
"Barb — I'm not coming there. You understand? It's not going back to what we had. It can't. It's not your doing, it's not mine, it's nothing we can fix. The world's changed and Mospheira's changed. Just — that's the way it is."
" I don't think I love him."
"You should have thought of that beforehand. I can't help you. I can't beyour answer, Barb, I'm sorry. I don't know I can ever be your answer. I never promised to be."
"Dammit, Bren!"
"I know, Barb, I know, but I can't do any more than I've done. It's not my fault, it's not yours, it just is, that's all."
She didn't answer. He didn't find anything else to say. He finally added:
"Barb, I'm sorry. I wish it was better. I wish it could be. But it's not my damn responsibility, Barb. Ican't fix things for you, I never could. You knew that was the way it would be. And you marriedthe man, Barb, be fair to him."