Chapter 42

"Well, that was pretty clear," said Plantz as the humans at the pavilion began sadly packing up their belongings. "Get your act together, and until you do go away and don't come back."

Meiersdottir nodded abstractedly. She'd been in a fog since they emerged from the nest to find not a single one of the aliens waiting, neither Joe nor Akakha nor anyone else. When they'd returned to the pavilion it was Igwanda who'd had to retrieve Meier from Zo and his wife, prepare the baby's lunch, etc. When he brought the boy to his mother she'd managed a response to his happy greeting but little else. Now he was again napping, and she'd retreated into her own thoughts once again.

On their walk back she'd abruptly asked her husband, "How? I mean, she said they'd all leave if they had to, but how? The mothers can't move."

He smiled crookedly at her. "We gave them that, too," he said. "Beasts of burden. If they dug out the nest entrances the mothers could make it out with help, most of them, and the eggs and the nestlings, and then could ride drawn carts. It is not the outdoors that deters the mothers, merely their immobility, and one of our 'gifts' was how to overcome that."

"But will they actually have to do that?" she continued. "Do you think SES will really honor their request to be left alone?"

"It is a bureaucracy, and who can predict what a bureaucracy will do? But with your strong recommendation I suspect they may be so inclined. These journeys are very costly, and it would be difficult to understand how they could justify the expense only to court rejection."

She nodded, and then shook her head miserably. Finally she looked back at him.

"It was that fucking Miller who triggered all this," she said in a harsh voice. "You know, there was a moment down there when she started talking about him that I actually found myself wishing you'd killed the bastard that day instead of just breaking his legs. Isn't that a hell of a thought for a pacifist?"

Igwanda shrugged. "He was no more than the catalyst, Amanda. The immediate precipitating factor. The problem she described was of the innate nature of our species, not a single individual. Perhaps the man himself may gloat that it was he alone who disrupted our relations with the Edenites, and may it comfort him during the long years in prison that await him. But you and I know that his role was no more than incidental. Her focus"—he meant Gaguga­khing—"was on all of us, he alone was of no consequence save perhaps the timing."

"I know." She fell back into her funk, where she remained as Cherney brought the lander down to shuttle up the first load of returnees while the others finished their packing.

There hadn't been much question about the need to leave; Gagugakhing had left little doubt about the aliens' eagerness to rid themselves of what they seemed now to regard as the human pestilence that had descended on them. There'd been general consternation as Igwanda and Meiersdottir returned to the pavilion, now deserted but for humans. An extended debate had immediately ensued, involving both those who happened to be presently planetside and those aboard the Gardener.

As usual there was a wide diversity of opinion. Some of the scientists, especially those who were in the midst of research projects, expressed a strong desire to stay on at least for a while. But with the aliens now shunning them there was no way most of them could go much further. And there slowly grew a strong sense of need to respect the Edenites' wishes; it was, after all, their world.

In the end, as before, there was no vote. A consensus gradually developed that, in light of what they'd all heard, it was indeed time to leave. And so, sadly, those on the planet began packing.

It took a relatively short time; with Igwanda's admonition about minimizing the number of human artifacts on the surface there was surprisingly little to take. Long before twilight Cher­ney shuttled the first load skyward. It appeared as though only one more trip would complete their exodus. As soon as she returned the remaining humans were ready to load the last of their possessions into the lander. It was a depressing end indeed to their journey.

By that time Meier was awake and obviously surprised by the turn of events. He kept badgering his mother about where all his now-familiar companions were. "Where Rory?" he asked. "Where Zo?" And, most poignantly of all, "Where Joe? Where 'Kakha?"

"We're going home," she told him. "Rory and Zo are back on the ship already." He soon absorbed that much but kept pestering about the two aliens. "We won't see Joe and 'Kakha any more," she finally said. "They've said goodbye." At that he began to threaten tears, but with practiced expertise she soon distracted him by laying out a couple of the native-made beds on which he could play.

"It's going to be kind of a squeeze," Cherney warned Igwanda as the remaining scientists began themselves boarding. There had been fifteen people left on the planet including Meier, and there was also the cargo to fit on the vessel. "A couple of somebodies are going to have to sit on somebody else's lap."

The colonel looked over at his dejected wife, who was supervising little Meier's play and at his insistence occasionally joining him in a half-hearted manner.

"Take the others, Susan," he said in an abrupt decision. "If you are willing to make another trip we can wait here, we three."

"You don't mind, Colonel?" asked the first officer, surprised.

Igwanda smiled. "It affords a certain symmetry to our sojourn on the planet," he told her. "Our true relationship with the Edenites began with Amanda and I alone here, and Meier was conceived here, was born here, and has spent nearly as much of his young life here as on Earth. No, we will not mind."

He walked over to explain to Meiersdottir, who merely nodded her acceptance. Waving at Cherney, he watched as the lander retracted its boarding ramp and slowly rose from the surface, then turned back to his wife.

"Well, my love, it ends as it began, with you and me," he said gently.

She tried to smile, but it quickly disintegrated. "Jesus, Carlos, I feel like such a failure. Such an utter, complete failure!"

"Do you forget so quickly what was your original objective with the Edenites?" he asked. "To transform, as I think you once told me, a sociopathic entity into a social being. When first we came it was a complete sociopath we met, one interested in us solely for what it might wrest from us by force. But it was a social being that confronted us this morning, one who spoke warmly of friendship at the same time it was bidding us a regretful farewell. You did not fail."

"We get ignominiously tossed off the planet and you can say that?" she demanded in a querulous tone.

He nodded vigorously. "I can. There was indeed a failure, but it was not yours, or not yours alone nor yours primarily. It is as a species that we failed, we humans. We were weighed in their balance and found wanting."

"What a terrible judgment on us," she said. "The only other intelligence we've ever discovered in the universe, and they just tell us go away, you aren't good enough."

"Even so, and even though I am among those being thus judged, I find it difficult to quarrel with that judgment at least for now. You are the sociologist, not I, do you disagree?"