Chapter Seven
“What are you doing here?” Zona did not seem frightened at all. Cory was relieved, for more reasons than one, that he did not have to cope with panic.
“I wasn’t tired after all,” he said, with a lightness he did not feel.
Zona did not smile. She had apparently been washing her hair—accounting for the delay in answering his knock, Cory thought. It was still damp, a glistening cap of black curls, and she was holding a towel in her hands. She wore the brief white tunic which seemed to be the universally popular in-dorm garment for female technicians of every age. On her it looked different, Cory thought. Because of her height the tunic seemed much shorter, exposing a sleeker length of shapely legs. The air in the small sleeproom was warm and dry—warmer, Cory was sure, than it should have been, certainly warmer than the temperature in his own dorm—and the light garment seemed to want to cling to her wherever it touched. For which he could hardly blame it.
“This is quite wrong, Technician Cory,” Zona said seriously. She was always so damned serious, he thought. At least, almost always. It was his vague suspicion regarding that “almost” that lay behind his impulse to come here.
“I know that. What rules does it break?”
The soft, full lips did not relax their tight line. “More than one, as you well know. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that these dorms are off limits to male techs.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“This isn’t funny, Technician Cory!” For the first time anger sparked in her eyes.
No, I guess it isn’t.” This was not what he had come for, he thought. This was not a joke or even a sexual adventure. But that must be what she thought—and what the Authority would conclude. “The Authority would throw the first rule at me. ‘Sexual relationships among mixed personnel will be restricted to specified minimum time and frequency, as recommended by the Authority,’ ” he quoted from memory.
Her cheeks flamed. Was there something other than anger in her reaction? Cory could not be sure. But her words were sharp, their meaning clear. “I’m sure we both know why you’re here without your spelling it out,” she said coldly. “And if that’s your way of socializing—”
“No, no, I didn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t really matter what you meant, does it? The Authority will not listen to your explanations—or mine, for that matter. You’ll get yourself in trouble if you’re found, and you’ll get me into trouble as well.”
“I don’t want that,” he said sincerely. “I only came because …” He could not explain his motives. They didn’t make sense to him, so how could he make anyone else understand—especially Zona? “I wanted to … to talk to you,” he finished lamely.
“Do you think the Authority will believe that for a minute?”
“No.”
She studied him in silence. Unexpectedly she seemed to relent. Her eyes, her manner, her mouth, her tone all softened. “Did I … do anything to make you think … that is, that you’d be welcome here … in my room?”
“I hoped I might be.”
“I’m sorry, Technician Cory. I didn’t intend to do that.”
“Call me Cory. Just Cory.”
“You misunderstood me … Cory. You must believe that. And go quickly, before anyone finds out. My roommate—”
“You have a roommate?” he asked foolishly. The evidence of two bunks, laden shelves and closets was all around him.
“Of course—everyone does. And she’ll be back soon.”
“I’m lucky she wasn’t here.”
“Yes … she knows who you are.”
“She does? But how could she?”
Zona looked away quickly. “How did you find me?” she asked.
Cory’s heart quickened. Had she spoken about him to her roommate? Surely she wouldn’t have done so unless she had a special interest … or did female technicians laugh and joke about male techs, as he and Owen used to needle each other, and speculate, about the girls they had for Mixed Exercise?
He said, “A woman helped me. Otherwise I’d never have found you. Then I don’t know what I would have done.”
Puzzled, for a brief moment Zona let curiosity show in her eyes. It was unlikely that a technician had ever burst unannounced into her room before—if one had ever been there at all—on an unauthorized visit. The experience could not help but excite even as it frightened or dismayed her. Then she became conscious of the way Cory was staring at her, his gaze drawn compulsively to those highly distracting curves and swellings where her tunic insisted on clinging. She stiffened. “I’m sure you would have survived, Technician Cory,” she said, her tone once more cold and remote. “And if you don’t leave at once, I’ll call the Authority.” She moved purposefully toward the control panel set into the wall beside the door.
“No, you’re wrong—”
“You’re in direct violation of the General Rules of Conduct. I thought you were nice. I was wrong.”
“No, please!” In desperation Cory reached for her, intending only to stop her. Mistaking his action, Zona seized his arm, dropped quickly into a wrestling position, and tried to flip him over her back. Instead of resisting, as he had done before in the gym, Cory negated the maneuver the only way he could: he fell into her. They stumbled backwards in an awkward embrace. Zona gave his arm a savage twist, but he could not have released himself from their entanglement if he had tried. Her legs struck the edge of her bunk. Off balance, clinging to each other like lovers, they fell onto the bed.
For an instant Zona struggled frantically. Out of necessity Cory was forced to hold onto her with all his strength. It was a matter of survival, he thought numbly. Zona was extraordinarily quick and strong. Then, abruptly, she was still.
They stared at each other, breathing heavily. Cory was lying awkwardly on top of her. Gradually he became aware that it was not only his exertions which made his heart continue to race, and his breath to come with difficulty. What’s more, he could feel the quickened tempo of Zona’s heartbeat.
“Uh—you must listen to me,” Cory said. “I thought you’d understand because you’re so much like him—like Owen. You were the only one I could think of. Promise me you’ll listen, that’s all. I’ll let you up if you’ll promise.”
She hesitated. Her blue eyes studied him, and it seemed to him, hopefully, that they were not altogether cold and hostile. “All right,” she said. “You have my arm bent back—it’s hurting.”
“Uh … my arm isn’t feeling so good either.” He essayed a smile. It was a feeble thing at best.
When he let her go, sliding away and climbing to his feet, Cory was acutely conscious of how warm and firm her body had been against his. She tried to tug her tunic down to cover more of her legs. Cory turned away to give her a chance to recover.
“You’ll listen?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. I said I would.”
When he faced her again, she was sitting up, once more composed, though it seemed to Cory that more than her usual coloring continued to stain her neck and her cheeks. Her gaze avoided his, and her lips were pressed tightly together.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Cory said. “That isn’t why I came here tonight at all. You have to believe that. It’s because of Owen. I had to talk to somebody. And you’re so much like him—I mean, you’re both such wonderful exercisers. He loved it all, and he was good at it, the same as you.”
“Owen?”
“You remember him—you must have seen us together. He won the Bar Award last year and the year before.”
“Oh, yes—the dark one?”
“That’s right.”
“He’s very good.”
Owen stared at her, his expression hardening as his smoldering anger flared. “Yes, he was. And that’s what makes it all so impossible to accept. He had this accident, and his arm ended up being short—one arm. But it didn’t bother him at all. He worked hard at exercising, and if they’d just given him time he’d have been as good as ever. But … he had to go before the Board of Instructors. Because of his arm—because one lousy arm was a little shorter than the other. What kind of sense does that make? Don’t you see? It’s crazy!”
“No I don’t … you’re jumping around too much, Tech Cory. What has happened to Owen?”
“He’s gone!”
“What do you mean? He—” Understanding came, a slight shock, from which she recovered quickly. “The Board of Instructors …”
“They ruled against him.”
“But he could appeal—ask for reconditioning.”
“He’s already had that.” Cory forced himself once more to face the hard finality of Owen’s fate. Voicing it seemed to make the fact more terrible, more irrevocably true. “He’s been removed. Do you know what that means?”
Cory had been prowling the small room restlessly as he talked. Now he stopped to confront Zona, throwing out his question like a challenge. She remained sitting on the edge of her bunk, staring up at him. The flush had faded from her cheeks. He thought her more beautiful than his dream images of her. He made himself resist concentrating on that soft mouth or the memory of her body pressed against his. It was not easy. He had never been alone with any girl in the privacy of her sleeproom, much less with a girl like this.
“It must mean that … he’s handicapped.”
“That’s the whole point!” Cory said hotly. “He wasn’t crippled—not really. He could still do everything better than I can. He could put both of us on the mat without half trying even now. Why should he be Reprocessed?”
“It’s the law,” Zona said. But she was shaken.
“Do you think it’s right? Clock on the wall, do you think that’s right?”
The anguish in his cry brought her to her feet. She put a hand gently on his arm. That gesture of sympathy was matched by the compassion in her eyes, a concern which had not been there before. But under his demanding scrutiny her gaze shifted after a moment. Glancing past him toward the door, as if she had heard something, Zona murmured, “I wish …”
“What?”
She shook her head. Her eyes searched his face again. “You can’t quarrel with the Authority, Tech Cory. You must know that.”
“What if the Authority is wrong?”
“Perhaps it only looks wrong from where you are. But the Authority wouldn’t do anything to Owen that wasn’t necessary—that wasn’t required by law. Authority acts for the good of us all.”
He listened to these familiar words in silence—platitudes he had heard and accepted without question all his life—and realized for the first time how empty and hollow they sounded. Nothing was so certain that it shouldn’t be questioned—and a truth could become a lie if it were used in the wrong way, to defend or sanction wrong. Even—and in spite of everything that had happened the thought was still able to bring a chill—even the Personnel Specifications. And if they could be questioned, why not everything? Why not even the General Rules of Conduct?
“Cory, what are you thinking?”
He was aware that she had used the familiar form of his name, but even that could not divert his angry grief. “I’m thinking that there’s no reason for Owen to die. No reason at all that makes any real sense. And any law that says he must is a false law.”
“Cory, don’t say such things!” Zona’s anxiety seemed undeniably genuine, but inexplicably she glanced past him again, as if afraid that his blasphemy might have been overheard.
“It isn’t what I say that’s terrible. It’s what they’ve done to Owen. Don’t you see that?”
Impulsively Cory seized her by the shoulders, as if he meant to shake her into admitting the truth of his words, the justification for his rebellion and his misery. Startled, he realized that she was trembling. She really was afraid.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled. “It wasn’t fair to ask you to understand.”
“Oh, Cory …”
Her full lips quivered. Tears sprang suddenly into her eyes. Without thought of what he was doing, but as if the action were the most natural in the world, Cory pulled her closer, his hands still on her shoulders. Later he would remember with surprise that she did not seem to resist him in that moment. She did not pull against his touch or struggle. And her lips, when he kissed her, were not stiff and elosed and unyielding, but as soft as they appeared, as alive and warm as he had dreamed.
He did not hear the door open behind him. His first warning came when Zona drew away, gently disengaging herself from his embrace. For an instant her eyes held his, and he thought he read uncertainty and wonder there which he had not seen before. Then she looked past him and her eyes widened.
Two black-uniformed Authority Figures blocked the doorway. As Cory swung around one of the AF’s stepped into the room. They were both females, but they gave an impression almost totally sexless. Their faces seemed carved of metal, their hardness perhaps exaggerated by the aura of mystery and fear which surrounded the black uniforms.
“Technician Cory, you are under custody,” one AF said.
“You knew,” Cory accused Zona. “You called them. How did you do it?”
Her gaze flicked guiltily toward her bunk. Cory did not need her words to tell him that there was an auxiliary control panel there, probably built into the wall, invisible from where he stood. When had she given the signal? There had been one brief moment when he rose from the bunk and turned away while she regained her composure. His smile was bitter. She had regained it quickly enough. And her sympathy, her apparent responsiveness and warmth had all been an act, calculated to keep him under control until the Authorities came.
“You will go with us,” the black-clad figure said. In the doorway her partner waited, relaxed but watchful.
Cory nodded. He started out of the room, avoiding Citizen Zona’s eyes. The first Authority Figure stepped aside to let him pass.
Zona’s voice pursued him, troubled and anxious. “Technician Cory—I had to do it. You know that.”
He stopped in the doorway. “Did you?”
Her voice faltered. “It … it’s the rule.”
He looked back at her then, at her shamefaced defensiveness and apparently real worry—but he could not believe what he saw, could he?—and at the remarkable long-legged body under the thin tunic, which he knew he would not be able to forget no matter what she had done. “Ask Owen about the rules,” he said harshly.
Then a black-gloved hand was on his back, pressing hard, shoving him forward, and the door hissed shut between them.