The Mantooth Part 47

Sylviana sighed deeply, again fighting off the urge to embrace him and pour out her heart. 'I'll try. Why, then?'

'She still has too much resentment against the west.'

She moved to stand beside him, her look intent. 'From what?'

.. 'A large number of j.a.panese, including her grandparents, died a slow and terrible death from the radiation left behind by the bombing of Hiros.h.i.+ma. And here, now, losing everything to a War in which her country played no part, but was decimated nonetheless, killing her husband. And to lose the baby the way she did---not even knowing she was pregnant, then coming out of suspension to immediate miscarriage, hormonal crash, and the end of the world as she knew it. . .sweet Savior. It would have killed almost anyone else. You HAVE to forgive her, Sylviana. It's not her fault.'

She pulled up another stool and sat beside him, silent and thoughtful.

Finally she said. 'It's not my fault, either.'

Stenmark sighed. 'She knows that, on an intellectual level. But to lose so much.' His expression became faraway, recalling perhaps some bitter pain of his own. 'So much suffering.'

Sylviana looked full into his face, deeply stirred by the physical and emotional closeness to this wise and n.o.ble man, who had seen and known so much of life. And in that moment she wanted nothing more in the world than to nestle against him, to feel him put his arm around her protectively, kiss her gently, and tell her it would be all right.

Kataya no longer mattered. This mattered. She wanted to give herself to him, as Kalus had to her rival. Even bear him a child..... And suddenly she knew that was it. His sorrow. Not a loving spouse perhaps, but a child lost. How much more terrible and bitter that sting, to lose one innocent, and with a lifetime ahead of him. Or her.

Tears welled in her eyes.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, both understanding.

'Yes. It would have been harder. But for you.'

And in that moment, to be so close, their sides lightly touching, was a blessed intimacy for which no words exist, and in which there is no stain. She leaned closer to examine his work, though if the page before him were blank she would still have done the same.

'What are you working on, Miles?' She was the only one among the company who called him by his first name, and then only in private.

Such was the respect they all held for him, who had sacrificed so much for their well-being. And she could not restrain herself from touching him lightly on the arm. He turned toward her gratefully, smiling, then turned back to his work, so deeply reluctant to complicate or even injure her young life.

'I'm trying to chart. . .the topographical changes that took place during the first two decades after.' There was no need to clarify ?after'. 'You see, so far as I know, I'm the only one who saw it. And the photographs can only tell you so much..... Do you want me to go on.' She nodded tearfully.

'I want to recreate the full magnitude of the aftershock, as vividly as possible. I try to do this through maps and computer enhancements, along with the written account, which I'm afraid I'll never finish.'

'Are you sure it's worth the heartbreak?' she asked sorrowfully. 'Why not just leave it in the past, and go on?'

'Because it's important,' he said, 'For the same reason it was important for the Germans to see the concentration camps after World War II, and to give an honest account of what happened to them as a people, that could ever allow such unspeakable atrocities. From my observations, it was because everything was dealt with abstractly, through dangerous philosophies and brilliantly sinister propaganda.

They were taught to rationalize the deaths of others as the only means of caring for themselves: in order for their families to live, all others must die. And blinded by their desire for this utopian world they never saw, until it was too late, the true horror and vicious sadism of the n.a.z.is.'

Sylviana wept silently, recalling images of the Holocaust, set against memories of German families she had known, so loving, nurturing, hard working. 'How horrible.'

'Yes. As it's been said many times, we must learn from the mistakes of history, or we're doomed to repeat them. We must all realize what we're capable of, when we close our hearts, and allow our minds to justify such brutal and inhuman acts. Or we DON'T learn, until it's too late.' He gave a bitter sigh. 'Until it comes to this.'

Needing perhaps some escape from the relentless intensity of these truths, her eyes took in the map before her: the northern Atlantic. The altered North American coast formed one boundary, the European the other. She studied the latter quietly, not wanting to look too closely at the plunder of her native America.

The European main did not at first look radically different, her eyes readily identifying Italy, though the ?boot' had been rounded off, and Spain, similarly worn so that the strait of Gibraltar was now broad enough to pa.s.s a small country through. But as her gaze continued toward France and the Netherlands..... Something was missing. NO. It couldn't be.

'Where are the British Isles?' The home of her deepest ancestors.

A last, disbelieving hope. 'Or haven't you drawn them yet?'

'They're gone,' he said somberly, 'Along with all of Scandinavia, my home..... A huge rift opened between them and the mainland, here, and swallowed them like Atlantis. I watched it happen, day by day, year by year. And Sweden. It was one of the saddest experiences of my life. To watch the destruction of that beautiful land, from which my ancestors set out in many-oared galleys, practically rowing themselves, when the winds weren't favorable, all the way to northern Canada, centuries before Columbus. When I think of the courage and determination that must have taken, to brave the storms and chilling waters. All lost, the chain of humanity broken forever, ending with me, in the grim twilight of a futile existence.'

He forgot his own emotions as he found the young girl collapsed upon his chest, sobbing like a frightened child. After a moment's hesitation, in which he saw that restraint would be tantamount to cruelty, he put his arm around her and brought her close, kissed her forehead and said gently. 'Don't cry, little Sylvie (the name he had heard her father use those many years before). It's over now.'

'But it's not over,' she said wretchedly. 'It's not.

And if you only knew what I was going to do. You'd hate me.

You'd never speak to me again. It's too awful..... And I don't WANT to. I don't want to.'

He waited for her to become quieter. 'The only thing I couldn't forgive, and that I don't understand, is why you keep punis.h.i.+ng yourself. The way you've withdrawn, and won't let anyone close to you. Especially Kalus.' He knew from the hurt look she gave him that he had struck upon the heart of her unhappiness. 'Or is it him you're trying to punish?'

'You don't understand,' she said weakly. And she would have told him, and perhaps have found in his wisdom a way to let go, and renounce the evil thing that she proposed. But at that moment she heard a voice outside the open door.

'I thought I saw her go into the library,' answered McIntyre to an unknown questioner. She stiffened, quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. Kataya knocked lightly, then entered.

'h.e.l.lo, Commander. Am I disturbing you? I'd hoped to speak with Sylviana.' There was no animosity in her voice. If anything, it was softened and conciliatory. 'Would it be all right?'

Though the question had been directed to Stenmark, Sylviana felt the intrusion keenly, as if she had received yet another slight from this woman, who continued to encroach upon her most intimate acquaintances.

'Anything you have to say to me,' she replied without turning, 'You can say in front of the Commander.'

Stenmark began to rise diffidently, but she took his arm and would not let him, unsure herself if she wanted his strength to lean upon, or simply did not wish to grant anything so personal to the woman who had hurt her so badly.

'Really, Sylviana, maybe I should go.' But the childlike anguish he saw in the honest look she gave him, made him turn instead with a sigh.

'Please come in,' he said.

'Are you sure, Sylviana? It's very personal.'

'You heard my answer,' she said coldly, still not turning.

'Speak to me here, or not at all.'

'All right. The Commander will have to be informed in any case.'

Kataya took a deep breath, trying with all her self-discipline not to sound too triumphant.

'The tests were positive. I'm going to have a child. By Kalus.

I wanted to explain that it changes nothing between you, and that I feel no hostility---'

But Sylviana broke her off, whirling in a frenzy. 'You sorry Asian Wh.o.r.e! Sleeping with him behind my back, and humiliating me again and again!'

'No,' said Kataya calmly, firmly. 'There was only the one time, which never would have happened..... But it did happen, for which I'll always be grateful. I just wanted to tell you that I bear you no grudge, and would never try to steal him from you.'

Sylviana stood in shocked silence. And though her face and whole bearing were hostile and inconsolable, Kataya realized they might never speak again. Better to say it all now, and have done.

'Taking him away from you was never my motive. And though I am deeply fond of him..... Can't you see how much he loves you?

Pa.s.sIONATELY, single-heartedly. Don't you know how much that's worth? I've only experienced it once in my life, and I would give all the world to have that back..... My gentle husband, so unlike the hard, cruel men among whom he was raised.'

'Get out!' screamed Sylviana, 'Before I tear your eyes out!

You MONSTER. You wh.o.r.e.' And she fell to weeping.

Kataya swallowed hard, then left to control her own emotions. Rising, Stenmark spoke for her, perhaps for all the company.

'Sylviana. SYLVIE. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I think you have to.'

The young woman fell back upon the stool, sobbing. Touched with pity though he was, the aging Commander knew he could not comfort her until he had made her see the truth.