He chuckled. “So the Sectionary has become so expert in predicting human responses that they can now divine what I’m going to say?”
“They are studious, and the staff has not been idle.” Once again Kel’les indicated the two young, strong humans relaxing in the water. “However, it was decided, once again, not to force the issue.”
“Glad to hear it.” Ruslan considered the matter settled. But it was not.
“In their desire to accelerate the course of natural events, the Sectionary has decided that placing the youths in more familiar surroundings might induce—or even inspire—them to initiate the process of natural reproduction.”
That got Ruslan’s attention. “You don’t mean the Sectionary intends to send them back to Daribb?”
Kel’les was alarmed. “Nothing so foolish! If nothing else, the Vrizan are still there. But it was noted that there are numerous empty worlds on which the old human infrastructure is far better preserved than on Daribb. Seraboth, for example.”
“The Aura Malignance—” Ruslan began, only to have Kel’les atypically cut him off.
“Your homeworld has been thoroughly scrutinized. No sign of the great plague nor its virulent method of dispersal has ever been found on Seraboth. It died out when the last vulnerable hosts—the entire human population except yourself—expired. Seraboth is clean and has been so for some time. The surviving infrastructure there is far better preserved than on Daribb or comparable other worlds.” The intermet gestured toward the young humans frolicking in the tepid sea. “It would be a suitable place to reestablish your kind.” Small bright eyes met Ruslan’s. “You, of course, could opt to remain on Myssar, where your honorary citizenship will never expire.”
“It’s not my choice to say,” he finally replied. “Will it be their choice?”
“I am assured by Bac’cul that no coercion is being contemplated. The young humans will be offered the option. Whatever inducements the Sectionary can muster will of course be presented to them, though it is difficult for me to imagine what more can be offered. The same option will apply to you.”
He did not need to think about it. Having spent much of his adult life never expecting to set eyes on another living human, he was not about to let his two fellow survivors depart to pursue a future in which he would not participate. There was still sage advice to be passed on from an adult to youngsters, and as the only adult, he was bound to deliver it. If Cherpa and Pahksen decided to move to Seraboth, he would certainly go with them.
Despite all the decades he had spent living on Myssar and among its civilized, courteous people, the thought of leaving it permanently behind did not give him pause. It was a gentle world, and an accepting one, but it was not a civilization that had been developed of and for humans. A return to Seraboth, the world of his birth, would not constitute a hardship. He did not point out to the honestly concerned intermet that he, Ruslan, had never been offered the option to go back and live where the Myssari had found him.
Thoughts of home led him to another topic. One that had been seemingly set aside when the two young survivors had been discovered.
“Old Earth. What of my request? What of the search? For years now I’ve heard nothing. Has it all been forgotten? I’ve kept my part of the agreement to help in restoring the species; first by allowing my cells to be cloned and stored and subsequently by assisting in the growth and mental maturation of the two younger survivors.”
“It is not forgotten,” Kel’les told him. “I am assured that the work goes on.” His tone was apologetic and, insofar as Ruslan could tell, sincere. “Within the restrictions imposed by limited resources, true, but it goes on. You knew when you first made the bargain that the chances of locating the original human homeworld were limited.”
He dug one foot into the multicolored sand. Though something unseen tickled a toe, he did not withdraw his foot. Civilization on Myssar was so old and deeply established that those dangerous indigenous lifeforms that remained, no matter how large or small, survived only in carefully managed refuges. Nothing that dwelled in the sand, especially on a beach frequented by visiting city-dwellers, could harm him.
“After five years I’d say they were more than limited. I’d say they were nonexistent.”
“Ah.” Kel’les’s head rotated almost completely around before once more meeting the human’s gaze. “You have no confidence in our scientists.”
Ruslan shrugged. “I’m a realist. Always have been. It helps a lot.”
“Exactly the attitude necessary to aid the two young adult humans in their development.” The intermet rose, torso traveling in a straight line upward. “I will inform Cor’rin and the other members of the project of our conversation. They in turn will notify the Sectionary. May I also pass the word that should the youths opt to move to Seraboth you will go with them?”
Ruslan was no longer gazing at his minder or even at the two youngsters. His attention reached to the far horizon. What did it matter, after all, if he moved? Wasn’t one horizon much like another? A line dividing sky and sea, or sky and land. He lived at this end of the line of sight, wherever it might happen to terminate.
“Sure,” he replied. “There’s nothing holding me here.”
As incapable as the Myssari were of complex facial expression, he nonetheless suspected that he might have hurt the minder’s feelings. He offered no apology.
After all, on the day he had been removed from Seraboth, none had been tendered to him.
As the Myssari hoped, the change of setting did indeed stimulate excitement in Pahksen and Cherpa. Excitement at the prospect of returning to a once human-dominated world, excitement at encountering artifacts and relics closely linked to their own kind, excitement at the discovery of surviving human foods in gardens and on farms whose genetic lineage could be traced back to seeds that had originated on old Earth itself. Excitement, yes—but no spark.
Personality-wise, the two young humans remained as they had been on Myssar. Cherpa was ebullient, outgoing, energized by everything she saw and encountered, even if on occasion her verbalizations could turn addled. Pahksen was straightforward, determined, and suspicious of everything new but willing to learn. When certain hoped-for interpersonal developments did not occur, the members of the General Science Sectionary found themselves frustrated anew on an entirely different world.
Once again Ruslan had to persuade the Myssari senior scientists to be patient. Once again they restrained themselves. They would continue to hold off on compulsory artificial reproduction in the hopes that as the two young humans became more and more comfortable on the old-new world, they would be drawn closer together and Nature would take its course. The Sectionary would not, Kel’les repeatedly informed him, remain patient forever. As it turned out, the matter that never failed to focus everyone’s attention, Ruslan and Myssari alike, did indeed finally come to a head.
But not in the manner everyone expected.
No one could have failed to appreciate the natural beauty of the setting where Ruslan had chosen to live on Seraboth. Kel’les and the other Myssari were surprised when he informed them he did not want to return to the city where they had found him so very many years ago. Why should he go back there, he told them, when he had the best of the planet to choose from? No objection to his choice was raised by Pahksen or Cherpa, who after all knew nothing of his world. So it was that he’d had the Myssari restore a group of small but elaborate private homes located on a rocky peninsula that jutted out into one of Seraboth’s smaller seas. The views were spectacular and the climate salubrious. Cherpa was delighted with the location, while Pahksen gruntingly assented.