Time Enough for Love

  “I’ll tell you how it worked, and you’ll see why I can’t do it twice. Once Ira handed her the gavel he moved out of the Palace-proper. But until we left I continued to live in the penthouse on top of the Palace—also proper; the Palace is my official residence. Because I was still there, Minerva was still hooked in. In consequence she was able to warn me when Arabelle’s busies grabbed Ira. I came out of a sound sleep and grabbed the gavel.”

  Lazarus frowned. “A planetwide executive computer is a menace, Justin. When it was Minerva with Ira giving orders, it worked fine. But see what I did with it and extrapolate what someone else might do with one. Arabelle, for instance. Uh—Teena, give Justin a sample of Arabelle’s voice.”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman. ‘Chief Archivist Foote, this is the Chairwoman Pro Tem. I have the honor to announce that I have been able to persuade our distinguished Ancestor, Lazarus Long, Permanent Chairman of the Howard Families, to assume for us the titular leadership of the Families during the regrettably short period remaining until he again embarks for a new world. Please give this announcement full distribution among your subordinates. I will continue to handle routine details but the Chairman wants you to feel free to consult him at any time. Speaking for the Trustees and for the Chairman, this is Arabelle Foote-Hedrick, Chairwoman Pro Tempore of the Howard Families.’ ”

  “Why, that’s exactly what she said to me.”

  “Yup. Minerva did a good job. She got just the right pomposity into the phrasing, as well as getting Arabelle’s voice down pat, even to that sniff she uses for punctuation.”

  “That wasn’t Arabelle? I had no slightest suspicion.”

  “Justin, when that message went to you—and one like it to everyone important enough to rate it—Arabelle was in the biggest, fanciest apartment in the Palace—and very annoyed that doors wouldn’t open and transport wouldn’t come and none of the communication arrangements would work—except when I wanted to talk to her. Shucks, I didn’t even let her have a cup of coffee until she got her feathers down and conceded that I was Chairman and running things.

  “After that we got along pretty well, even became somewhat chummy. I did everything for her but turn her loose. She took over the routine—I didn’t want to be bothered—which was safe as Minerva would have chopped her off if she got out of line and she knew it. She and I even appeared together on a newscast the morning I left, and Arabelle spoke her piece like a lady, and my public thanks to her were just as sincerely insincere.”

  Lazarus Long continued, “But now she has the executive computer and if I went back, I’d throw my hat in first. No, Justin, I was not asking about the Trustees on Secundus with any intention of calling a meeting; instead I was thinking that any twenty Trustees can call an emergency meeting and hoping that they would see it as you do—futile—and not try. She might grab them and ship them to Felicity. Or, if she has the nerve—I think she has—she might let them hold their meeting, then if it went against her, ship all the Trustees who show up off to Felicity. But I guarantee she won’t quit without a fight. I caught her with her pants down; she won’t be caught twice.”

  “Then it means a bloodbath.”

  “That may be the only way out. But you and I can’t help the situation. In all matters of government the correct answer is usually: Do nothing. This is such a time—a time to exercise creative inaction. Sit tight. Wait.”

  “Even when you know things are going wrong?”

  “Even when you know it, Justin. The itch to be a world saver should not be scratched; it rarely does any good and can drastically shorten your life. I see three major possibilities: Arabelle may be assassinated. The Trustees will then elect another Chairman Pro Tern, hopefully one with sense. Or she may last till the next ten-year meeting, whereupon the Trustees may exercise some sense. Or she may get smart, not expose herself to assassination while consolidating her power so strongly that it will take a revolution to get rid of her.

  “I regard the last as least likely, assassination as the most likely—and none of it our business here on Tertius. There are a billion people on Secundus; let them handle it. You and I have saved the Archives and that’s good; the Families maintain their continuity.

  “In a few years we’ll import equipment for you—or your successor—to set up the sort of computerized deal you have on Secundus. Athene can keep data in storage until we’re set up. Meanwhile I’ll let a message echo around the inhabited planets that the Archives are here, too. I’ll also announce that this is an alternate Families’ Seat where the Trustees are welcome to meet.”

  The computer said, “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Jones has asked if I know when you will be ready for lunch.”

  “Please tell him we will be there in a moment. No hurry on any of this, Justin; if you’re patient, problems tend to solve: themsetves—and patient is all one can be when it takes years. to pass a message around even among the more thickly settled planets. So wait a hundred years. One private message for you. You’re one of us now? A member of this family and a father to our kids?”

  “Yes. I want to be.”

  “You want it formal? All right, here’s a short one, binding —and later you can have any ritual you want. Justin, are you our brother? Till the stars grow old and our sun grows cold? Will you fight for us, lie for us, love us—and let us love you?”

  “I will!”

  “That does it; Athene has it on record—open record, Athene.”

  “Recorded, Lazarus. Welcome to the family, Justin!”

  “Thank you, Athene.”

  “The private message is thus, Justin. Tamara asked me to tell you—if you married us—that she is going to ask Ishtar to cancel her immunity to impregnation. She did not say that this was exclusively for you. On the contrary she told me that she hopes to have children by each of us as quickly as possible; then she would at last feel fully in the family. Nevertheless I am certain that her decision was triggered by your arrival . . so the rest of us will hang back and cheer while you plant the first one—our Tammy will like that.”

  My eyes suddenly filled with tears, but I kept my voice steady. “Lazarus, I don’t think that’s what Tamara wants. I think she just wants to be fully a member of the family—and so do I!”

  “Well . . perhaps so. In any case Ishtar keeps the genetic answers to herself. Maybe we’ll line up all the gals and see what a new rooster can do. End of restricted conference, Teena.”

  “Sure thing, Buddy Boy. And a hundred years from now you can line up all the men for me. Betcha I can whip ’em!”

  “You probably can, dear.”

  XVI

  Eros

  Minerva said, “Lazarus, will you walk with me? Outside?”

  “I will if you’ll smile.”

  She smiled briefly. “None of us feels much like smiling today. But I’ll try.”

  “Confound it, dear, you know I won’t be gone any time to speak of, by this framework. Just like the calibrating hop the twins and I made.”

  “Yes, dear. Shall we go?”

  He patted her little skirt. “Thought so. Where’s your gun?”

  “Must I wear it? When you are with me? I will wear it without fail . . while you are gone.”

  “Well—Bad precedent. All right.”

  They paused in the foyer. Minerva said, “Athene dear, please tell Tamara I’ll be back in time to help with dinner.”

  “Sure thing, Sis. Hold it—Tammy girl says she doesn’t need help, so don’t hurry.”

  “Thanks, Sister. And thank Tammy for me.” They left the house, started up a gentle hill. Presently she said, “Tomorrow.”

  “‘Tomorrow,’ ” Lazarus repeated, “but don’t make it sound like a dirge. I’ve told you all that, while this trip will be ten T-years elapsed time for me, it will be at most a few weeks for you at home—and even less for the twins. What is there to get solemn over?”

  Instead of answering, she said, “How long will I live?”

  “Eh? Minerva, what sort of question is that? Not t
oo long if you neglect ordinary precautions such as going armed and staying alert. If you mean your life expectancy—well, if the geneticists know what they are talking about, you have exactly the expectancy I was born with and it doesn’t matter that I’m a freak; I pass it on to you. But even if they are mistaken about that gene complex in the twelfth chromosome pair, there is no possible doubt that you are a Howard in every gene. So you’re good for a couple of centuries without trying. But with a willingness to undergo rejuve every time you reach menopause, I couldn’t guess how long you will last—they learn more about it every year. As long as you want to live, probably. How long is that?”

  “I don’t know, Lazarus.”

  “Then what’s eating you, dear? Sorry you gave up being a computer for vulnerable flesh-and-blood?”

  “Oh, no!”

  Then she added, “But sometimes it hurts.”

  “Yes. Sometimes it does.”

  “Lazarus . . if you are certain you are coming back . . why did you reorient Dora so that her affection is fixed on Lori and Lazi rather than on you?”

  “Is that all that’s troubling you? A routine precaution, that’s all. Why did Ira make a new will when we set up our family? Why do we all have wills emplaced in Teena? My sisters will own the ‘Dora’ presently no matter what; they already run it. If anything did happen to me—Do you remember something you said years ago? You told Ira that you would self-destroy rather than serve another master.”

  “Is it likely that I would fail to carry over such a memory? That day led to this, by inevitable concatenation. Lazarus, I left behind much of my memories . . but I traced and retraced in this Minerva every conversation that Minerva ever shared with you. Every word.”

  “Then you know why I won’t risk hurting a computer who thinks she’s a little girl . . and why I don’t dare risk an emotional malfunction in a piloting computer somewhere out between the stars—when my sisters’ lives depend on that computer. Minerva, I would have bonded Dora to Lori and Lazi just on Dora’s account; she needs to love and be loved. But if I had neglected to do it as a safety precaution for the twins—well, a man who refuses to take his own death into account in making plans is a fool. A self-centered fool who does not love anyone.”

  “You are not that, Lazarus, you have never been that.”

  “Oh, yes, I have! It took me endless years to learn.”

  Again she let time pass before she spoke. “Lazarus . . I have often wondered about Llita.”

  “ ‘About Llita’? Huh?”

  “And about her, even more than about Llita. Do I really look like her?”

  He stopped and stared at her. They were near the top of the hill now, out of sight of the house. “I don’t know. How can I know? A thousand years—Memories fade and blend. I think you look like her. Yes, you do.”

  “Is that why you can’t love me? Did I make a terrible mistake in wanting to look like her?”

  “But darling . . I do love you.”

  “You do? Lazarus, you have never shared this boon with me.” Suddenly she unwrapped the little skirt, dropped it on the grass. “Look at me, Lazarus. I am not she. For your sake I wish I could be she. But I am not . . and I made—I—I was a computer then and didn’t know any better. I did not mean to hurt you, I did not mean to raise ghosts in your mind! Can you forgive me this?”

  “Minerva! Stop, darling! There is nothing to forgive.”

  “Time is short, you are leaving. Can you truly forgive me? Will you put your child into me before you go?” Her eyes were welling tears, but she stared at him steadily. “I want your child, Lazarus. I will not ask twice . . but I could not let you leave without asking. In my ignorance I made myself look like her—because you loved her—but you could close your eyes!”

  “Beloved—”

  “Yes, Lazarus?”

  “Does Ira close his eyes? Refuse to see you?”

  “No.”

  “Does Justin? Or Galahad? If you can stand my homely face, I surely can stand your lovely one—and, with any luck, she’ll look more like you than me. Let’s go back to the house.”

  Her face lit up. “What’s wrong with this little stand of trees?”

  “Mmm. Yes. Now.”

  XVII

  Narcissus

  “Let’s run over it again, girls,” said Lazarus. “Both the time markers and the rendezvous landmarks. Dora, can you see the globe?”

  “I can if you’ll keep your hands out of the way, Ol’ Buddy Boy.”

  “Sorry, dear. Call me Lazarus; I’m not your brother.”

  “When Lazi and Lori made me their adopted sister, you got in free. Logical? Logical. Don’t fight it, Buddy; you like it.”

  “Okay, I like it, Sister Dora,” agreed Lazarus. “Now shut up and let me talk.”

  “Aye, aye, Commodore,” the pilot computer answered. “But I’ve got it all on tell-me-three-times. Not that I need those clumsy time markers—I’m calibrated, Buddy, calibrated.”

  “Dora, assume that something happens to that calibration.”

  “Can’t. One bank goes out of whack, I fall back on tell-metwice while I wipe that bank and restore it.”

  “So? You’ve been euphoric ever since the twins adopted you. I taught you to be a pessimist, Dora. A pilot who is not a pessimist isn’t worth a hoot.”

  “I’m sorry, Commodore. I’ll shut up.”

  “Speak up if you have anything to say. But not to disparage safety precautions. It’s my own precious skin I’m trying to protect, Dora, so please help me. I can think of a dozen ways your gizzards could be damaged, either by error or by natural catastrophe—and so can you but there is no point in worrying. But there is point in trying to anticipate what can be done about it.

  “Take a case in which you are working perfectly but the twins can’t use you. By schedule, after you drop me, you all go back to base-time framework and to New Rome and the twins inquire for Delay Mail at the Archives. Who knows?—there may be some waiting there right now.”

  “Brother,” put in Lorelei, “ ‘now’ doesn’t mean anything. We’ve been in irrelevant phase ever since we lifted off.”

  “Don’t quibble, dear. The ‘now’ I mean is 2072 Diaspora, or 4291 Gregorian, your adulthood year. If it is.”

  “Laz, did you hear that?”

  “You asked for it, Lor. Pipe down and let Brother talk.”

  “The trouble is with the words themselves, Lorelei. You gals —you three gals—might spend part of the reach to Earth in inventing new language and appropriate syntax for space-time travel. But this imaginary case—You ground on Secundus, go to the Archives, and ask if any Delay Mail has been unsealed that has your name on it. Or Justin’s, or Ira’s. Or even addressed to me, as Lazarus Long, or as Woodrow Wilson Smith. I may try several ways, as I’ll be attempting it from a ‘now’ some centuries before Delay Mail became a routine way to preserve papers.

  “So you pick up whatever there is and go back to the ‘Dora’ —and find her lock sealed and a sheriff guarding it. Confiscated.”

  “What!”

  “Dora, please don’t yell in my ear. This is a hypothetical case.”

  “That sheriff had better be able to shoot straight,” Lapis Lazuli said grimly.

  Her brother answered, “Lazi, you’ve heard me say nine thousand and nineteen times that we do not carry weapons to give us Dutch courage. If a gun makes you feel three meters tall and invulnerable, you had better go unarmed and let your sister do any shooting that’s necessary. Now tell me why you don’t shoot at the sheriff.”

  “Yes!” said Dora. “I want to be rescued!”

  “Quiet, Dora. Laz?”

  “Uh . . we don’t shoot cops. Ever.”

  “Not quite. We don’t shoot cops if there is any way to avoid it. Safer to kiss a rattlesnake. In two thousand years and some I’ve always found a way to avoid it—although I did shoot kind o’ close to one once, to divert his attention. Unique circumstances. But in this hypothetical case shooting one cop is worse than
useless; the Chairman Pro Tern has confiscated your ship.”

  “Help,” Dora whispered.

  “Why, Madam Barstow would never do anything that nasty!”

  “I didn’t say it was Susan Barstow. But Arabelle, had she lasted, would have enjoyed pulling that sort of stunt on the Longs. Let’s say Susan has dropped dead and the new CPT is as bad as Arabelle. No ship and no assets—what do you do? Remember, I’m depending on you—or I’m stuck back in the Dark Ages. What do you do?”

  “ ‘When in danger or doubt . . Run in circles, scream and shout,’ ” recited Dora.

  “Oh, stop it, Dora,” said Lapis Lazuli. “We don’t panic, that’s certain. We have ten years in which to figure out a—Hey! Wait a moment; I’m using the wrong framework. We could take a hundred years if necessary. Or longer.”

  “A hundred years is plenty,” said Lorelei. “In less time than that we can steal another ship.”

  “Thank big,” advised Lazarus. “Steal the Pleiades. Far better not to steal anything, Lor.”

  “You stole a starship once.”

  “Because there was no time to do anything else. But with plenty of time at your disposal, it’s better to be reasonably honest—not break rules you can get caught breaking. Money is the universal weapon; to acquire it merely takes time and ingenuity, and sometimes work. Raise enough money and you might be able to buy the ‘Dora’ back. If that’s impossible, with much less money you could get to Tertius, where Ira and the family could find some way to lay hands on a starship. Then you could program it with the stuff Dora left in Athene —and come get me.”

  “Isn’t anybody going to come rescue me?”

  “Dora dear, this hasn’t happened, and it’s extremely unlikely to happen. But if it did and the twins weren’t able to rescue you—say that your new owner has you halfway across the Galaxy—”