“You don’t gotta,” Mary Sue said calmly. “He’s in back there, dressed out and smoked.”
“What he do?”
“Up in Islamorada. He told General most of the boys didn’ want Healer killed. So General killed him.”
“Was it true?” Jeff asked. “About the others?”
“Guess so. Most of ‘em run away.” She licked the blood on her lips. “Christ and Charlie. It just don’ make sense.”
7 
People weren’t as paranoid about infection as they used to be, but we still spent a week in isolation, watching the cucumbers and tomatoes grow. It only took two days to synthesize the new antigen, since the scientists knew what they were looking for, and a small drone carrying the medicine got to the children before we left isolation.
We watched it on flatscreen. The magnification wasn’t quite enough to make out individual people, but we could see there were still some children at the compound. They had evidently opened part of the razor wire; one person went out and retrieved the medicine. I hoped they had the sense to use it.
Some of the ones who attacked the farm, certainly the ones who mutilated Sara O’Brien, would also have been exposed. They would die, which bothered me not at all, but I was afraid they might first become carriers for this new version of the death. Our epidemiologists said it wouldn’t happen; the population was too spread out. If it did happen, we’d have to start over, sending another hundred million doses dirtside. If the Yorkers would stand for it—there was no end of grumbling about the original project, which had been by far the most expensive public health undertaking in the history of the Worlds.
I got my old job back with Start-up and put in a full week’s work while we were sequestered. The transition back to “normal” family life was a little more complicated.
It was partly my fault. I had gotten really sweet on Sam, shared troubles and so forth, and since the medics were kind enough to provide us a little privacy, individual tents, I took it upon myself to extend his sexual education into the realm of free fall. At least twice a day.
My emotions toward him should have been simple, but they weren’t. Sometimes he made me feel like a girl again. Sometimes I felt frankly maternal toward him. And all sorts of states in between.
It was obvious to the others what was going on. Most of them, I think, were amused, and most conventionally minded their own business, but some were quite scan-dalized. After all, we were “home,” even though hundreds of meters of hard vacuum separated me from my husbands’ bedrooms. Some, like Maria Mandell and Louise Dore (and Martin Thiele, I think) wanted a fling at that lean long body themselves, and resented the old hag pulling rank on them. That was part of Sam’s attraction, too. I hadn’t made anybody jealous, or shocked anybody, in years.
After the week was up, though, I had to face the problem of what I was going to do with him, and with myself. I was tempted to ask him to marry us, but I didn’t really know him well enough—and it would be too much like getting back at Daniel.
I remembered the term “shipboard romance” from old novels, and I suppose the smart thing would have been to treat it just like that, kiss him good-bye before we came through the airlock, and then walk away, back to my normal life. I couldn’t quite do it.
We had a small reunion party, necessarily cramped, up in John’s flat. Evelyn was shy and deferential. I didn’t think it was the right time to discuss Sam (perversely, I didn’t want to shock Evelyn). We talked about the New York adventure, and I caught up on Janus gossip.
They’ve started building S-2, Newhome, using Uchūden as a nucleus. They ‘ve moved the Japanese satellite to a position between New New and Deucalion. It’s a pretty thing, an old-fashioned doughnut design with a delicate landscape painted around the outside. It was undamaged during the war, but the people inside all relocated here. Theoretically it could support one hundred twenty people, but they’d have to be awfully fond of algae. In the prewar days it was periodically resupplied with “real” food, by the Japanese corporations that put it into orbit.
Eventually Uchūden will be the control center of Newhome, the top of a cylindrical column of rock. I’ll probably live there, on top. It’s a strange feeling to watch it, spinning slowly against the stars, knowing that in a couple of years we may move there and never come back.
I’m going to have some trouble from a group that calls itself God’s Armada, of all things. It’s mostly Devonites, with a few other evangelical types involved. They managed to access my roster and break it down according to religious belief. There are no fundamentalist Devonites among the seven thousand people I’ve chosen so far, and only a few hundred Reform Devonites. Only eighteen percent of the colonists profess religious belief, less than half the percentage that prevails in New New. The Armada served notice they’ll be taking me to court. I’ll try to look on it as an educational experience.
S-1 took off the day after our farm was attacked. If it had been a clear night, it would have looked like the brightest star in the sky. You can still see it now, a bright blue spark in Gemini. (I asked what S-2 will look like when it takes off. Oddly enough, it will be almost invisible. You wouldn’t want to be looking at the exhaust any-way—the gamma radiation would be strong enough to kill at a million kilometers’ distance. We’ll be launching straight “up,” out of the plane of the ecliptic, to get safely away from Earth and New New before we tip over and head for Epsilon.)
On the way back from Earth I’d had a depressed, resigned feeling about Janus. Now I was starting to look forward to it, catching the enthusiasm Dan and Evelyn projected. Even John seemed somewhat excited. With S-1 gone and Uchūden growing, the project was a reality.
About midnight Dan and Evy went back to Dan’s flat. I stayed with John and we made slow love. Afterwards, I broached the subject of Sam.
He was amused. “Butterflying at your age? Next it’ll be acne.”
“Be serious, John. It’s more complex than that.”
“Of course it is.” He drew me into the crook of his arm and with a finger traced aimless patterns in the perspiration on my chest. “Of course it is.”
“And it’s not just a reaction to Evy. I like her.”
He smiled. “That sounds defensive. The timing is suspicious.”
“All right, she was part of it at first. Not any more, I think.”
“When did you ask him? Right after—”
“I didn’t ask him. He asked me.”
“A boy of rare discrimination.”
“It was right after Evy joined us. He saw I was upset. But it went beyond therapy pretty quickly.” I explained to him as much as I understood.
He got up and poured us a glass of wine while I was talking. “All right, he’s clever and pretty and you went through a lot together. What do you want me to do? Give my blessing? You’ve got it.”
“I want not to hurt you. Have I?”
He sat cross-legged on the bed, a posture that accentuated his deformity. Normally I didn’t even see it any more. “No, you haven’t hurt me. When we were first together, remember, you were having three different men a day, with an eye out for new recruits. I wasn’t jealous then, and I haven’t changed.”
“But I have changed, is what you’re saying. I should act my age.”
“No, no.” He took a sip and offered me the glass. “I’m not saying that. Others will, though.”
“What I do with my plumbing is my own business.”
“A noble principle. You know it’s not true. You’re coming up for review in another month, and there are a couple of people on the Board who would jump at any chance to hold you back. A pity you couldn’t have kept it secret.”