For Love and Glory

VII

Rain drummed on the dome and made the outside view a shadowiness in sluicing silver.

Recovered from shock and, in part, exhaustion, the four sat trying to assess that which had come over them. “I should have guessed,” said Lissa contritely. “The canyon, the scoured soil along it.”

Hebo shook his head. “No,” he growled. “The blame’s mine. You and Karl weren’t prepared, you were doing entirely different studies, you wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t been diverted to us, and then we kept your minds too full of other things.” He grimaced. “Including my gross behavior. Can you believe I haven’t been in the habit of acting that way?”

“It’s all right, Torben,” she murmured.

“Nor was Dzesi at fault,” he plodded on. “She’s a drylander. Her people had no experience. But me, I’m from Earth. That was long ago, but still, I’ve stood on Severn side, I knew about the Bay of Fundy —and I forgot.”

He sighed. “It should’ve been plain to see from space. An estuary opening on a channel that leads to the ocean. A funnel; the exact conditions for a tidal bore. And the tide on Jonna is huge. And now it also had a storm at sea to push it higher.

“I could at least have stayed longer in orbit, observing. But no, I was in too much of a hurry to get us down and started, before your outfit noticed us and our nice little monopoly on the information evaporated.

“I was stupid.”

She found she hated seeing such a big, adventurous man humbled. Seemingly Dzesi did too, for the Rikhan said low, “I could have held us back. I have fared enough in space to realize that every new world is a snarefield of surprises. But I was likewise impatient.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Karl added. “You would soon have perished if you were incompetent. Instead, you have coped for century after century.”

“I will see to it that you get proper payment for the work you’ve done,” Lissa told the man and his partner. “Without you, the artifact might never have been found.”

Hebo smiled lopsidedly. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you both, for everything.

“But this has driven the truth home to me. I’ve grown too old.”

“No!” Lissa exclaimed. “You aren’t due for a rejuvenation. Are you?”

“It isn’t that.” She saw and heard how determination gathered itself. “Maybe you’ve never met a case before. You must have read or heard something about it, but it’s not the sort of thing anybody likes to dwell on. My foolishness was to keep shoving it aside. Later, I always told myself, later, someday, there’s no need yet. As the condition crept up on me, ignoring it got easier and easier.

“The problem is memories.”

“Oh, yes.” A chill passed within her. “Yes, I see.”

“I do not,” said Dzesi in quick irritation.

You probably wouldn’t know, thought Lissa. I daresay every member of your species expects to die a violent death. Or hopes to.

Hebo looked grim. To spare him, Lissa explained: “Rejuvenation makes the brain youthful again, of course, like every other part of the body. But it doesn’t erase memories. It refreshes them. Well, the brain’s data-storage capacity is finite. Worse, the correlations increase geometrically. In the end, it’s overwhelmed.”

“Surely, in humans, as in my kind, selective erasure is feasible,” Karl said, as if offering comfort.

“Oh, yes.” Lissa turned back toward Hebo. “I’m not familiar with the details, Torben, but I do know we have excellent clinics of every sort on Asborg. At least one of them must be equipped for the service.”

He eased a bit, smiled wryly. “Editing. Thanks, but I think I’d rather get the job done on Earth, if I can.”

Surprise jarred her. “Earth?”

“I’ll have to choose and decide, you understand. Earth is where my oldest memories come from. And some of my dearest.”

He looked away from her, outward into the rain and the distance.