“No you don’t. Inea, you came to me because I convinced you of my loyalties. I’m not so sure they’re so solid as I thought. Maybe-maybe I’m not human. Maybe you have been sleeping with an alien from outer space after all and not the boy next door you were about to marry. I just don’t know!”
Her mouth fell open.
The microwave bleeped. The painful silence held Titus rigid until the echo died away. Feeling as if his body would shatter, he forced himself to extract the pitcher of water, dump in half a packet of crystals and stack both plates of food in the microwave. Punching up a reheat, he said, “From now on, you’ll eat my rations so I don’t have to discard scarce food.” What does a microwave sound like to H’lim?
She still hadn’t breathed a word, and he felt as if her eyes were boring holes in his back. He fled into the bathroom to hunt for the supply of supplements he’d brought in case he needed stringers for blood. Connie had insisted. He had to ransack the medicine chest because he’d forgotten what they were disguised as. Some secret agent!
When he returned, Inea was clutching the pitcher to her breast, bent over it protectively. It took a moment for him to realize that she was crying. Eyes closed, wooden-faced, almost not breathing, she sat with tears dripping from her chin into the pitcher.
He felt more helpless than he ever had before in his life. Me and my big mouth.
He brought his glass over to the table and took the pitcher from her hands, pressing the bottle of pills into her palm as she raised streaming eyes to him. “These are for Mirelle, if you can get her to take them without anyone else knowing-not even Abbot. Especially not Abbot.”
She swallowed hard, blinking at the bottle dazedly.
“Ignore the label. It’s a supplement specially designed to replenish blood. Just vitamins, nothing like what H’lim’s been talking about.”
Unaccountably embarrassed by her silence, he poured blood into his glass and drank it down, praying for the microwave to bleep. He could taste her tears in the diluted blood and the acrid tang of her pain. Almost gagging, he poured another glass before it got cold.
Tear-choked, she rasped, “Why?” and shook the bottle.
Why? Because he couldn’t stand to see Inea suffer? Because he’d wanted Mirelle himself? Because he hated Abbot? Or because of the inexorable physical bond to his father that made him unable to stand to see Abbot starving?
He turned to inspect the microwave timer. “Because I trust you with my life, with the lives of all Earth’s luren. Because I’m confused. I don’t know whether H’lim is lying about everything or only some things. Because I don’t know whether I really ought to stop Abbot’s message. Will Earth’s luren be more likely to survive if Abbot’s message is sent, or not sent? Should we survive at all? It used to be such a simple issue! Now, I just don’t know. Only one thing is certain. Whether Earth’s luren live or die should be decided by Earth’s humans-victims and volunteers alike. Have we taken more than we’ve given Earth? Or have we given more than we’ve taken? Considering what we take and how we take it, does it even matter whether we pay our way or not?”
He faced her. “Inea, if anyone discovers what’s in that bottle and that you’re feeding it to Mirelle, they’ll find out why she needs it, which will expose Abbot’s use of her. Abbot’s right. Now that humans know about H’lim’s physiology, the smallest clue will reveal our existence.”
“Then why’s he still using her like that?”
“He has no other choice. He’s probably able to fake her tests so they can’t trace his Influence, but he couldn’t fake them for his whole string, so he’s leaning on her too hard. He probably thinks he can complete his mission before he’s discovered and before Mirelle collapses.”
She shook the bottle. “This would give him more time. It would help him. Titus, I don’t want to help him.”
The accusation that he did was etched in the air between hem. The microwave finally bleeped. Titus ignored it. “I don’t know whether I do or not.”
You’re copping out. You’re leaving it up to me.“
That stung. But it was true.
“Your mind isn’t working because you’ve been starving yourself, living on half rations to feed H’lim.” She shook the bottle. “If this would work for Mirelle, it would work for me, too. With some real blood in you, you could figure out which way was up. After all, you’re a brilliant astrophysicist. This isn’t such a difficult problem.”
“I’d rather write a whole new cosmogony. It’d be simpler to decide that stars are born under cabbage plants.”
She burst out laughing, a free, musical sound that delighted the ears. Titus hadn’t meant it as a joke, but all at once it seemed very funny.
Their voices harmonized, and he reveled in the purely physical sensation until silence wrapped them together. After a moment, Inea took the pitcher from the table and came to refill his glass. “I meant it. You’ll never beat Abbot when he’s fed and you’re half starved. Until Andre comes across with that orl blood, take some of mine. I haven’t given to the blood bank in weeks. I can afford it.”
“I can’t. It’s addictive.”
“You broke it when you left Abbot. You can do it again. Right now, you and I have to best Abbot or die trying. That’s what I know and that’s all I know.”
“It’s not enough. You heard H’lim. He intends to go home, no matter what. And I think he knows what damage he’ll be doing to us. He doesn’t care, though. That makes him not a whole lot better than Abbot. Which means that besting Abbot won’t help unless we also best World Sovereignties. Should we join the secessionists?”
“Titus! That’s treason! And we’re at war.”
He held the glass up between them. “Treason? What’s drinking human blood, then? Loyalty? Respect?”
“Do you hate yourself?”
“Sometimes. When I’m tempted.” He drained the glass.
Very quietly, she said, “You know, it really isn’t up to us alone to make a judgment like this. Who are we to decide the fates of species and worlds?”
“Who is anybody to make decisions that affect others?”
She frowned. “Are you drunk? Maudlin drunk?”
“Maybe a little.” He stared at the glass. A victim’s blood alcohol had never made him drunk. Now, the bitter dregs of Inea’s tears were affecting him. Like alcohol on an empty stomach. He set the glass aside. “The moment I suspected what Abbot would try next, I ran to stop him. And I don’t know why. If I was merely following orders, then I’m no better than the worst humanity has ever produced. I don’t feel good about myself for following orders blindly. I don’t feel good about myself for opposing my father and my son. What luren could? Inea, let me feel good at least for helping Mirelle in what way I can, and for trusting at least one person, loving one person. I think I need that more than blood. It may be a pathetic gesture in the face of the real problems, but it’s all I’ve got in me at the moment.”
She studied his face. “It’s physical, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“This business of opposing your father. There’s some kind of a real physical link between you that makes it impossible for you to fight him. It’s not just law or custom or emotion-it’s a profound physiological response.”
“I think I explained that long ago.”
“I didn’t understand you meant it literally. You’re like this now because a couple hours ago you threw yourself against him, and now you’re somehow depleted inside. Your central nervous system’s in shock and you can’t think. Your self-esteem and sense of identity have been almost extinguished. Abbot did that to you, didn’t he?”
“Don’t judge him too harshly. He could have killed me. Quite legally, too. Maybe exposure to H’lim is showing him that the Tourists’ attitudes aren’t so honorable after all. Inea, just a few weeks ago, Abbot would have killed me instantly for such defiance. All through this, he’s helped me out of tight spots. Maybe he’s changing.”