JCF: "When I originally sold A DEATH OF HONOR to Del Rey in 1986, I was trying to be coy and cagey. I knew another writer who had had the experience of sending off her 150,000 word novel to the publisher that had bought it, only to see it had been cut down to 85,000 words by the time she saw it in galleys -- at which time, of course, it was too late to do much of anything about it
"When HONOR sold, it had another title (AMENDMENT XXXI) and was 125,000 words long. I had always told myself that I would fight to keep the title no matter what. To me, I couldn't see it under any other title. And I was going to watch the manuscript with eagle eyes to see just what happened to it.
"So there I am, talking to Shelly Shapiro at Del Rey the day she bought my book. The first thing she asked me was 'How would you like your name to appear on the cover?' She must have been a pro by then, because I was putty in her hands. My eyes were glazed over with the thought of finally having sold a book.
"She also said, 'We may want to change the title. Some people here think it's too political.'
"I said, 'No problem. Let me know.'
"Then she said, 'We may also want to make some cuts.'
"I swallowed and said, 'All right.' At least they told me what was coming.
"A couple of days later, Shelly called me back. They wanted a new title, and they wanted the book cut by a quarter, down to the neighborhood of 100,000 words. And they wanted me to do it. 'Don't you want to do it?' I blurted. 'No,' she explained. 'It's your book. You're the best one to do the job.' So then I had to explain about my unfortunate acquaintance with the truncated book. 'No,' Shelly assured me, 'we don't work that way.'
"Since I was an old hand at editing myself and told her I'd have the book cut and to her in a month. She said 'No problem. Take your time.' The book wasn't on the list until April of 87, a good 13 months away.
"So I started cutting the book and thinking of new titles. I made a list of possible titles, all of which I hated. Then I sat down with my son and started gooshing Play Doh through my fingers and A DEATH OF HONOR just popped into my head.
"While I was making the cuts, I was running past them past my first editor, my wife. When she got to almost the end of the book, she deliberately stopped reading. 'You know what?' she said. 'The end of the book would work fine without the epilogue.' I looked the book over. And I realized, not for the first time, that my wife was right. So along with everything else, I chopped out the last 2,000 words.
"I called Shelly back a month to the day after she had told me to edit it and told her I was putting it in the mail.
"She said, 'WHAT? ALREADY?'
"I said, 'Yup. I just put on my BeBop DeLuxe albums and did it. But I only got it down to 105,000 words.'
"She said, 'That may be good enough.'
"As it turns out, she loved the way I had cut the book. And because I'd turned it around so fast, they moved it up on their list, from April to February of '87. And at least one of my SF peers singled out the ending, with the British expatriates singing to the departing ship, as absolutely haunting, one of his favorite book endings ever. I have my wife to thank for that.
"So why make the original ending available now? Probably to give readers another look at a novel to which history has been less than kind. When I was writing the book, I remember hearing scientists talk about an unusual disease that seemed prevalent among homosexuals. By the time HONOR had been in the mail for two years, AIDS had become a household word. When the book was at Del Rey, I picked up a copy of DISCOVER magazine and saw one of the first electron microscope photographs of the AIDS virus. To my horror, it looked just like the spore cases the bacteria in my book left behind.
At that point I almost pulled the book from circulation.
"Also, the whole Soviet Dominated Future thing kind of fell through. But I'm grateful. We have Ronald Reagan to thank for
that."
EPILOGUE
The doctor did not wait to treat Payne.
He put him high on the triage list, and within an hour he had put sixteen stitches in his head and confined him to bed for a concussion. His knuckles were only bruised, but his wrist was broken. It was twisted and set into a plastic cast.
While Payne was hospitalized, Trinina took it upon herself to locate Nathan's box. Making sure she was alone, she worked a screwdriver into the door, and with a few light taps from a hammer was able to set it into the bolt. She spent a few minutes working the screwdriver and jigging the door, and was delighted when it finally yielded.
She slipped in, closed the door, and clicked on a flashlight, directing its beam over the shelves and past giant crates. The floor was hard and cold through her shoes, and a damp, metallic smell filled her nose. The walls were moist with condensation and the sound of dripping water echoes through the room. At last she settled the light on USE NO HOOKS.
She scrambled to the crate, knocked, and softly called for Nathan. There was no reply. She knocked harder. Nothing. She shivered, and panic took over. She dropped the light and began fumbling with the slats. When they wouldn't yield she tore, and in a matter of minutes was lifting off the lid with trembling hands.
The box was empty.
Trinina cried out.
Then there was light, blaring in from the violated doorway, coming in so intense that she could feel its heat.
"So this is how you show your gratitude."
She turned to the source of light and sound, but could see nothing over the glare.
"I was right to put the crate down here." The voice was familiar. When the small, broad shouldered figure stepped into the light, she recognized him. He was the worker who had ordered the crate into the hold. "It's no place for a little boy, though."
"What have you done with him?" Trinina cried.
The man's features suddenly became soft. He smiled. "Sorry about the fright. I wasn't sure if you were a burglar or a mother."
"Where's Nathan?" Trinina demanded.
"Safe in the captain's cabin. He'll remain there until we're out of the 250 mile jurisdiction zone. Your government has been known to waylay our ships and send search parties aboard to look for hardened criminals such as you." He looked at the expression on her face. "Yes, I do believe you fit into that category. Your behavior toward your government has been most heinous. Would that others had your courage."
"You're not turning us over?"
"No, I think not. A lot of other captains would, but not ours. Most seem to think that the plastic your government laughingly calls money is worth the trouble that they take. They're as greedy as the parents who sell their kids so they can go out dancing. It's all so convenient, isn't it? Dance and get pregnant and do it all over again. Let the point remain that on this ship, we feel that America's loss is Australia's gain. You've shown courage to get this far. I think you'll be a welcome addition."
Trinina sighed in relief. "Thank you."
"Now as a direct consequence of your actions, you and your male friend are invited to a dinner with the captain in his cabin on a mutually convenient evening. Get in touch with the hostess when you're ready and make the arrangements."
"You're very kind."
"He's a bright little boy. I'm sure he'll like our country, no matter where you choose to live. If you'll excuse me, now..."
"Wait," Trinina blurted. "How did you know we were smuggling a child?"
"You learn to recognize the certain desperate look that mothers get, but in your case there was a dead giveaway. You can cover up the logo of Mother America, but you can't hide the shape of the suitcase."
Their reunion with Nathan was tearful and happy, and the boy laughingly recounted all of the harrowing details of the Federals pounding on the crate and getting hoisted up in the air by the crane. The occasion of passing from the American jurisdictional boundary was an amazing time, for a dozen children appeared out of the woodwork, including a month-old girl who was carried on board in a duffel bag by her resourceful mother.
With the money they had taken from Smith, Trinina bought new clothes for them all and a few souvenirs for Nathan. Payne bought six pens and a fat notebook and began writing down all he could remember about Kelce's bacterial strain and the way it worked. They had a meeting with the ship's doctor and decided to test everyone on board late in the journey, with any infected to be isolated in steerage. Port authorities would be contacted and arrangements would be made for all incoming ships to quarantine American immigrants for a period of one month.
While jotting the notes onto the slick white pages, Payne's mind would wander and he would think about the friend he had left at the Plus Fours minutes before the Federals went storming in. The memories would attack without notice, making him solemn and morose. Trinina would try to comfort him, but to no avail. He would have long, tearful fits over how he had condemned Bailey to an uncertain fate. He may have been exiled or tortured to death like Myra, but at least it would be all over for him. Payne's private hell would be to forever wonder about his fate.
It rode him until the notes stopped coming and depression set in. It led to a fight with Trinina that, mercifully enough, happened while Nathan was out playing. He angrily snapped that she had no concept of what He was going through and she replied that she did, because every night the government had kept Nathan, she had cried herself to sleep. He condemned her because she had gotten Nathan back and threw the cabin door open, intending to go out and get drunk. Standing at the door, looking embarrassed, was a steward.
"I'm sorry," He said. "This isn't a good time for you..."
"No," Payne said, ashamed. "What did you need?"
The steward held out a sealed envelope. "This came into the radio room today. Aerogramme from the United States. Bounced off satellite."
Payne signed for it and thanked him, sending him his way.
"What's wrong?" Trinina asked.
"Aerogramme."
"Who from?"
Payne tore the envelope open and smiled.
DEAR P&T&N, (it began)
GREETINGS FROM AMERIKA. HOPE YOU ARE ALIVE, WELL, ONBOARD. BIG EXCITEMENT AFTER U LEFT, BLUES HIT APT, TOOK LANDLORD FOR ???S. FOUND KAROL, WITH HER NOW. MISS YOU ALL WANT TO FOLLOW IF BOATS STILL RUNNING. HAVE A GOOD LIFE.
BAILEY
Payne read it and wept. Trinina smiled guiltily. She knew exactly what the message had said. She had written it herself. Sometimes, she reminded herself, you did what you had to do in order to survive.
Payne was back at work on his notes the next day
* * *
He was checking his notes and tapping a pen on his cast when Trinina came in from her morning run.
"Where's Nathan?" she asked, peeling the grey jacket over her head.
"I sent him down for a new notebook. This one's about full."
"Everything worked out for the testing?"
"That's been done for quite a while. I've been writing what I can remember about Lol Winthrop's cholesterol killer. I think I've got the problem licked."
"Seriously?"
"I think a modification to the learning gene might do it. I won't know for certain until I get back into a lab to try it."
Trinina kicked the rest of the running suit off and wrapped herself in a towel. "What are we going to do once we settle down?"
"Work for Biotech Sydney. If they'll have us. If not, I'm sure someone else would take us without a second thought."
"I'm talking about
us."
"I think we should stay together. For Nathan's sake."
"So do I."
"Good. And I think we should do something to make the bond stronger."
Trinina turned red. "You're talking marriage."
"Why not? A new life in a new country..."
"I'd have to think about it." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "When would we do it?"
"Whenever. We could wait until we got to Sydney, but I'm very fond of the captain and he's got the authority to do it. It would give us a better start once we've arrived."
She smiled. "Maybe he'll keep Nathan for a day or two."
"I was thinking the same thing." Payne set his notebook and pen aside and went to her. They embraced and kissed until there were tiny footfalls and a clicking at the door.
"MUSH!" a small voice proclaimed.
They broke the embrace and looked down at him, laughing.
"You two are always doing that stuff!" Nathan declared, plopping a new notebook and three ChocoRation bars on the desk.
"Yes," said Payne, "and we're going to be doing it a lot more."
Nathan shrugged. "What a waste of time."
They laughed and looked into each other's eyes. There was a distinct message from Trinina.
You need to tell him.Yes, Payne flashed back.
"Nathan," she said. "When I was running on the deck, I heard that the whales are running near the ship. You should go see them."
Payne slipped on a jacket. "Come on, sport. Let's go have a look."
Nathan wrapped his hand around two of Payne's fingers and they left, climbing the stairs until light caught them by surprise. The sun was a tiny flare of yellow that had burned the clouds from the sky. At the horizon, the canvas blue sky met cold grey water. A stiff northerly breeze caught them and they huddled inside their coats.
From where they were, they could hear the whales singing.
They hurried to the starboard bow and watched in awe. There were scores of whales in the water, bobbing in and out, cutting the sea with their massive tails and pushing geysers of water into the air with their spouts.
There was so much He needed to tell Nathan right now, but the words left him as He stood on the deck and watched. He had seen whales in one of Bailey's videos, but they hadn't captured the creatures' majesty. He stood, captivated, along with dozens of other passengers. Nobody made a sound.
Then he and Nathan sat, arms wrapped around a rail. The boy didn't move a muscle. He sat with his mouth hanging open. Payne's eyes clouded with tears.
Finally Nathan said, "What's that sound they're making, Payne?"
"They're singing."
"Why are they singing?"
"They're happy, I guess."
"Happy about what?"
"Happy because they're alive. Happy because they're free."
He looked back out at the sea, and after several minutes of listening, the boy spoke again.
"Trinina says you're going to buy me a composition board when we get to Australia."
Payne scowled. "I was thinking about it. Why did you want to know?"
"Because I like these whales," said Nathan, "and I like their singing. I think I want to program some music about them."
"You do?"
"Yeah. And I want to make it happy like they are."
"Will you let me hear it when you're done?"
Nathan looked at him and smiled. "You want to hear the music I make?"
"Yes," said Payne. "I'd like that very much."
