Page 47 of Fall
Hall nodded slowly. “Well, you can staywith us until you get back on your feet. Both of you.”
Lenna appreciated the offer, but shecouldn’t imagine at the moment ever being who she used to be.
For a moment, she wished with an intensitythat overwhelmed her that she was still back in the cave.
“The crew?” Hall asked, out of the blue,evidently thinking of what Desh had just said.
“Kroo,” Lenna repeated. “It’s what thetribe of people we stayed with called themselves. They spoke a differentlanguage, so it’s not crew like in our…” She trailed off as an idea hit herwithout warning.
She thought about that ancient ship thathad evidently crashed on that planet several centuries ago.
That ship had a crew.
The Kroo.
She gasped, and her eyes flew to meetDesh’s. Maybe the word had lasted in their language—transformed by time andcontext—for that long.
“That would be crazy,” Desh murmured, evidentlythinking of the same thing. “For them to hold onto that word for so long, evenas every other remnant of civilization got burned away.”
Cain turned again in his seat to face themand said unexpectedly, “Civilization is only a myth.”
Hall, Lenna, and Desh all stared at him insurprise.
Cain shook his head and turned back to thecontrol panel, evidently having said all he wanted to say.
Hall nodded slowly, evidentlyunderstanding what his friend was saying. “He’s right. He and I saw it firsthand in that prison planet. Throw human beings into a situation where they haveto fight to survive, and every superficial piece of civilization will eventuallyget stripped away. That’s what you saw on that planet with that tribe, isn’tit?”
Lenna thought about the question, confusedand guilty and strangely lonely.
Hall and Cain were right. Human beingsmight always be left with their most fundamental selves if their survival wasat stake.
But the Kroo had proved to her that theirmost fundamental selves weren’t all bad, weren’t any different from anyone elseshe’d ever known.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, after a longpause. “I guess what’s left underneath is what matters, what makes us allhuman. Some of it’s good. Some of it’s bad.”
Cain looked back from the controls to meether eyes briefly, and she saw something there like recognition. “Yes,” hemuttered. “That’s right.”
***
It was late the following evening when Lenna finallywalked into the comfortable, airy home of Hall and his wife, Kyla. She was so exhaustedand out of it that she could barely focus enough to make conversation, so theyshowed her to her room right away, where she showered and went right to bed.
She slept well because her body urgentlyneeded to rest—not because she was settled or content.
She still felt sick and restless when shewoke up the next morning.
She wouldn’t have expected to feel thatway. She would have thought her time on the planet with the Kroo would have startedto feel like a harsh dream. It didn’t, though.
This world felt like the dream—the edgesall blurred and the colors too muted, nothing bright or solid or real.
She wondered what Rone was doing, if hewas okay, and then she cried for a minute, hiding her face in the pillow beforeshe made herself gain her composure and get up.
The synthetic fabric of the clothing Kylahad given her to wear felt strange against her skin—too light, not nearlysubstantial enough. And she couldn’t take more than a sip of the coffee Hallhanded her when she made her way to the kitchen.
It was too hot, too bitter. It burned downher throat.
When she put the mug down and asked forwater instead, Kyla handed her a glass with a sympathetic smile. Kyla waspretty in an understated way. Quiet. Giving off the sense that her inner lifewas far richer and deeper than anything she showed on the surface.
She wasn’t at all the kind of woman Lennahad imagined Hall might end up with, but the two matched in a very satisfyingway. Lenna had always thought so, although she never would have dreamed oftelling Hall.