Chapter 23

Meiersdottir slept fitfully but long in her cabin that night. The trip down to the planet, and especially her excursion into the Edenite nest and the effort she'd put into her presentation to Gagugakhing, had tired her severely; at her age the whole thing had been exhausting. Even so she kept waking, brooding, and then dozing back off.

As a result it was nearly noon by the ship's clock when she at last bestirred herself from bed. She showered and dressed and wandered down to the ship's canteen for coffee and breakfast—of which she could eat almost nothing, so severe was her depression.

It didn't help that she had no company. Indeed, she'd likely have none for so long as the Ark remained in Eden orbit. Yuan had been drafted to pilot the second shuttle, after a crash on-board course in its operation. Cromartie and O'Bannion, both considered too irreplaceable to risk them leaving the mothership, were busy helping with the transfers from the incoming shuttles to the great Edenform bays, while the others were equally hard at work on the surface.

They'd none of them have much rest for the duration. The intensified time pressure resulting from their very late arrival meant as close to round-the-clock work as they could manage. Heisinger had cautioned all of them not to overtire themselves; "a tired worker is a sloppy work­er, and we need efficiency," she'd said. But much of such rest as they got would have to be in catnaps and foreshortened nights, as they pressed to complete the job in the small time allotted.

Indeed, without the Edenites' help the workload would have been overwhelming. Meiersdottir had counted on that when she'd established the initial plan, and even more so when it had been revised, but she'd been going then on the premise that the aliens themselves would be coming along. Their generosity in offering the help even though none of them would be boarding was something for which she was grateful, though it saddened her beyond measure.

For a long while she simply sat alone, wallowing in her depression. But finally she remembered that there was one other on board who also sat alone idly, and thought to bestir herself to pay yet another visit to MacPherson. He'll be wondering what's happened, I'm sure no-one's told him, she thought. Well, at least somebody will be pleased.

MacPherson responded instantly to her knock. That was as it had become customary. But the rest was not at all customary; instead of leaving the key outside and relying on someone else to let her out—Igwanda had suggested Cromartie—she simply opened the door and went in. She didn't even close it behind her.

"Ye arre welcome, Missus, back frrom yer visi' t'Eden," he said pleasantly. Then he noticed the unusual manner of her entry. "Bu' wha's this, leavin' th' doorr open?" he asked ironically. "Arre ye no' afrraid I migh' o'erpowerr ye an' rrush oo' t'do mischief?"

"Oh, shut up, Angus, and pour me a drink," she said in a weary tone. "Make it a bit more than usual, I could use a stiff one today."

His face took on a look of concern. He said not a word but rose and did as she'd asked, pouring a considerably larger one for her than he did for himself. He handed hers to her and then sat back down, regarding her for a moment. When she simply took a strong swill of her whiskey and said nothing further, he finally spoke again.

"I gatherr i' did no' go as ye'd hope'," he said gently.

"No." She looked directly at him. "You can put your fears to rest, Angus, they're not coming."

"Sae tha' is why ye see no nee' t'lock th' doorr again."

She shrugged. "Sure. There's nothing for you to do to keep them here, they've decided themselves to stay until the end. All of them."

"I am verra sorry, Missus," he said sincerely.

"'Sorry?'" she repeated in surprise. "I thought you'd be ecstatically pleased. It's what you wanted, isn't it, to keep them away from Earth?"

"Aye," he told her. "A' leas' i' is wha' I though' I wan'ed. In th' noo I am nae so surre as I was, afterr all tha' ye've tol' me. Bu' i' is no' forr me tha' I am sorry, 'tis forr you. I' is a thing ye've worrked forr lang an' harrd, o'ercomin' many obstacles—inclu'in' th' ain I mesel' se' be­forre ye—an' then t'be disappoin'ed rrigh' at th' verra en', 'tis a harrd thing."

"Yes, it is," she said miserably, taking another sip.

A faint clang could be heard from the corridor; another shuttle-load coming in, she thought idly.

"Then why is i' tha' I been hearrin' sae many soun's o' loadin' this las' day an' half?" he asked.

"They told us to take all we can of the other Eden life, plants and birds and fish and animals," she said. "They're even helping us do it. We're setting up for that."

"Sae ye'll ha'e a grrea' Eden zoological parrk when we returrn." She nodded without enthusiasm. "Bu' th' zookeeperrs, they'll no' gae?"

"No."

"Why?"

"The same reason they asked us to leave after our last visit," she told him. "They don't want anything further to do with us, with humans. They've had their fill of us, they're afraid they can't be themselves if they have to live in our world. And I don't know, maybe in some way they're right, as they see it. Maybe in time we'd rub off on each other, they'd become more and more like us and we might even become a little more like them, which I don't think would be a bad thing entirely, but anyway they're afraid of that. So they prefer to stay here."