Her Smoke Rose Up Forever by Tiptree Jr. James

Author:Tiptree Jr., James [Tiptree Jr., James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Sci-Fi, Short Stories
ISBN: 9781473203259
Publisher: Orion
Published: 1990-01-09T02:00:00+00:00

A MOMENTARY TASTE OF BEING

. . . A momentary taste

Of Being from the Well amid the Waste—

—KHAYYÁM/FITZGERALD

IT FLOATS THERE visibly engorged, blue-green against the blackness. He stares: it swells, pulsing to a terrifying dim beat, slowly extrudes a great ghostly bulge which extends, solidifies . . . it is a planet-testicle pushing a monster penis toward the stars. Its blood-beat reverberates through weeping immensities; cold, cold. The parsecs-long phallus throbs, probes blindly under intolerable pressure from within; its tip is a huge cloudy glans lit by a spark: Centaur. In grief it bulges, lengthens, seeking release—stars toll unbearable crescendo. . . .

It is a minute or two before Dr. Aaron Kaye is sure that he is awake in his temporary bunk in Centaur’s quarantine ward. His own throat is sobbing reflexively, his eyes are weeping, not stars. Another of the damn dreams. Aaron lies still, blinking, willing the icy grief to let go of his mind.

It lets go. Aaron sits up still cold with meaningless bereavement. What the hell is it, what’s tearing at him? “Great Pan is dead,” he mutters stumbling to the narrow wash-stall. The lament that echoed round the world. . . . He sluices his head, wishing for his own quarters and Solange. He really should work on these anxiety symptoms. Later, no time now. “Physician, screw thyself,” he jeers at the undistinguished, worried face in the mirror.

Oh, Jesus—the time! He has overslept while they are doing god knows what to Lory. Why hasn’t Coby waked him? Because Lory is his sister, of course; Aaron should have foreseen that.

He hustles out into Isolation’s tiny corridor. At one end is a vitrex wall; beyond it his assistant Coby looks up, takes off his headset. Was he listening to music, or what? No matter. Aaron glances into Tighe’s cubicle. Tighe’s face is still lax, sedated; he has been in sleep-therapy since his episode a week ago. Aaron goes to the speaker grille in the vitrex, draws a cup of hot brew: The liquid falls sluggishly; Isolation is at three-fourths gee in the rotating ship.

“Where’s Dr. Kaye—my sister?”

“They’ve started the interrogation, boss. I thought you needed your sleep.” Coby’s doubtless meaning to be friendly, but his voice has too many sly habits.

“Oh, god.” Aaron starts to cycle the cup out, forces himself to drink it. He has a persistent feeling that Lory’s alien is now located down below his right heel.

“Doc.”

“What?”

“Bruce and Åhlstrom came in while you were asleep. They complain they saw Tighe running around loose this morning.”

Aaron frowns. “He hasn’t been out, has he?”

“No way. They each saw him separately. I talked them into seeing you, later.”

“Yeah. Right.” Aaron cycles his cup and heads back up the hall, past a door marked Interview. The next is Observation. He goes in to a dim closet with viewscreens on two walls. The screen in front of him is already activated two-way. It shows four men seated in a small room outside Isolation’s wall.

The gray-haired classic Anglo profile is Captain Yellaston, acknowledging Aaron’s presence with a neutral nod.

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