Singularity's Ring by Paul Melko Read Free Book Online Page B

what I had learned from Mother Redd about the singleton.
    The chess game vanished from our thoughts as the others focused on me.
    He’s from the Community. He’s been in space.
    Why is he here?
    He missed the Exodus.
    He’s handsome.
    He’s been in space. On the Ring.
    We need to talk to him.
    We stepped on his tomato plant.
    We owe him another.

    Yes.
    Yes.
    Strom said, “We have some plants in the greenhouse. I can transplant one into a pot. As a gift.” Strom’s hobby was gardening.
    “Tomorrow?” I asked.
    The consensus was immediate. Yes.
     
    This time we knocked instead of skulked. The tomato plant we had squashed had been staked, giving it back its lost structure. There was no answer at the door.
    “Aircar’s still here.”
    The cottage was not so small that he couldn’t have heard us.
    “Maybe he’s taking a walk,” I said. Again we were out without Moira. She was better, but still sick.
    “Here, I think.” Strom indicated a spot at the end of the line of tomato plants. He had brought a small spade and began to dig a hole.
    I took out paper from my backpack and began to compose a note for Malcolm Leto’s door. I started five times, wadding up each after a few lines and stuffing the garbage back in my bag. Finally I settled on “Sorry for stepping on the tomato plant. We brought a new one to replace it.”
    There was a blast, and I turned in a crouch, dropping the note and pen. Fight or flight pheromones filled the air.
    Gunshot.
    There. The singleton. He’s armed.
    Posturing fire.
    I see him.
    Disarm.
    This last was Strom, who always took control of situations like this. He tossed the small shovel to Quant on his right. Quant threw the instrument with ease.
    Malcolm Leto stood under the cottonwoods, the pistol
pointed in the air. He had come out of the woods and fired the shot. The shovel slammed into his fingers and the pistol fell.
    “Son of a bitch!” he yelled, hopping and holding his fingers. “Goddamn cluster!”
    We approached. Strom faded into the background again and I took the lead.
    Leto watched us, looked once at the pistol but didn’t move to grab it.
    “Come back to wreck more of my tomato plants, did you?”
    I smiled. “No, Mr. Leto. We came to apologize, like good neighbors. Not to be shot at.”
    “How was I to know you weren’t thieves?” he said.
    “There are no thieves here. Not until you get to the Christian enclaves.”
    He rubbed his fingers, then smirked. “Yeah. I guess so. You bunch are dangerous.”
    Strom nudged me mentally, and I said, “We brought you a tomato plant to make amends for the one we squashed.”
    “You did? Well, now I’m sorry I startled you.” He looked from the cottage to me. “You mind if I pick up my gun? You’re not going to toss another shovel at me, are you?”
    “You’re not going to fire another shot, are you?” The words were more flip than was necessary for the last member of the Community, but he didn’t seem to mind.
    “Fair’s fair.” He picked up his pistol and walked through us toward the cottage. He didn’t understand how rude it was to walk through another human, but to him, we were all individual humans. He had no idea.
    When he saw the last tomato plant in the line, with the fresh dirt around it, he said, “Should have put it on the other end.”
    I felt exasperation course through us. There was no pleasing this man.

    “You know my name. So you know my story?” he asked.
    “No. We just know you’re from the Ring.”
    “Hmmm.” He looked at me. “I suppose the neighborly thing to do is to invite you in. Come on.”
    The cottage was a single room, with an adjoining bathroom and kitchenette. The lone couch served as Leto’s bed. A pillow and blanket were piled at one end.
    “Suddenly crowded in here,” Leto said. He put the pistol on the table, and sat on one of the two kitchen chairs. “There’s not enough room for all of you, but then there’s only one of you anyway, isn’t there.” He looked