by Robin Cook
Richard managed to put a foot out in time to trip Michael. As he tried to get up, Richard threw himself on top of him. Then he grabbed the front of his tunic and punched him in the nose.
The sudden violence caused the party-goers to shrink back in alarm. A collective gasp was uttered as Michael’s nose began to bleed.
Michael bucked Richard off his body and got his legs under him. Richard tried to do the same, but Michael caught him on the side of the head with a blow that sent him sprawling back to the floor.
“Come on, you bastard,” Michael taunted. “Get up and fight.” Blood trickled down the front of his chin and dripped onto the floor. He swayed on his feet.
Richard got to his hands and knees. He looked up at Michael. “You’re a dead man,” he growled.
“Come on, you twerp!” Michael responded.
Richard pushed himself up to a standing position, but he, too, was unsteady on his feet.
Arak, who’d been at some distance from the divers when their melee started, pushed through the stunned and silent crowd. He stepped between the two drunken divers.
“Please,” he said. “Whatever is the problem we can resolve it.”
“Outta my way,” Richard spat. He shoved Arak to the side and launched a roundhouse blow to Michael’s head. Michael ducked but lost his balance in the process and fell to the floor. Richard lost his balance when the blow failed to connect.
“Worker clones, restrain the guests!” Arak yelled.
Richard and Michael both managed to get themselves upright and throw several more ineffectual punches before two large male worker clones intervened. Each grabbed a diver in a bear hug. Richard and Michael continued trying to hit each other until they were moved a body length apart. At that moment Perry pushed through the crowd.
“Have you idiots forgotten where you are?” Perry shouted. “For chrissake, no fighting! What’s the matter with you two?”
“He started it,” Richard said.
“He started it,” Michael said.
“No, he did.”
“No, it was him.”
Before Perry could respond to this juvenile tit-for-tat, the divers suddenly broke out laughing. Every time they tried to look at each other they laughed harder. Soon everyone but Perry and the worker clones were laughing as well. At Arak’s command the worker clones let go of the divers, who immediately exchanged high fives.
“What was the fighting about?” Arak asked Perry.
“Too much of your crystal,” Perry said.
“Perhaps we should switch them to a less potent drink,” Arak said.
“Either that or cut them off completely,” Perry said.
“But I don’t want to ruin the party,” Arak said. “Everyone is enjoying them immensely.”
“It’s your party,” Perry said.
Richard and Michael started back toward the platform.
“I tell you what,” Richard whispered to Michael. “We’ll make it fair. I’ll shoot you for the redhead.”
“Okay,” Michael said.
“You call,” Richard said. “Odds or evens.”
“Evens,” Michael said.
On the count of three, they both threw out a single finger. Michael smiled with satisfaction. “Justice!” he exclaimed.
“Crap!” Richard said.
“Now where the hell is she?” Michael questioned. The two divers scanned the crowd.
“There she is,” Richard said. He pointed. “And she’s still with the little squirt.”
“I’ll be back in a flash,” Michael said. He made a beeline for the woman whom he noticed was watching his approach with great interest.
“Hi, baby,” Michael said, avoiding making eye contact with the preteen beside her. “My name is Michael.”
“My name is Mura. Are you hurt?”
“Hell, no,” Michael said. “A little tap on the nose doesn’t hurt old Michael. No way.”
“We are not accustomed to seeing blood,” Mura said.
“Listen!” Michael said, “How would you like to come over and rub palms with me? We got our own little party going on over by the pool.”
“I’d love to touch palms with you,” Mura said. “But first, may I introduce Sart?”
“Yeah, hi, Sart,” Michael said offhandedly. “You’ve got a great looking mother here, but why don’t you go off and play with some friends.”
Both Mura and Sart giggled. Michael wasn’t amused.
“Pretty funny, huh?” he questioned irritably.
“Unexpected is a better word,” Mura managed.
Michael reached out and took Mura’s arm. “Come on, honey.” To the youngster he said, “See you later, Sart.”
With Mura in tow, Michael strutted with a few unplanned wobbles back to Richard and the rest of the group. Richard had singled out two women who were particularly demonstrative in their affection for him. He introduced them as Meeta and Palenque. One was blond and the other brunette, and both were incredibly voluptuous.
“Richie, meet Mura,” Michael said proudly.
Richard pretended not to notice the striking redhead. Instead he pointed over Michael’s shoulder and asked about the preteen. Michael looked behind and was irritated to see the boy had tagged along.
“Beat it, kid,” Michael snapped.
Mura ignored Michael and encouraged Sart to step forward. She introduced him to Richard.
“Hey, nice to meet you, Sart,” Richard said. “You, too, Mura. Why don’t you two take a load off and sit down?”
“We’d enjoy that,” Mura said.
“Indeed,” Sart added.
Michael rolled his eyes in frustrated irritation as Richard managed to preempt his triumph. For a moment he considered cold-cocking Richard on the spot.
“Hey, you, too, Mikey,” Richard goaded. “Come on, buddy, take a seat and relax! It’ll do you good. After all, we’re all one big, happy family.”
That comment brought giggles from all the Interterrans within earshot, only adding to Michael’s embarrassment. He swallowed his pride and sat down.
“Listen, Mikey,” Richard continued. “My little blond bombshell, Meeta, just told me something interesting. Everybody loves to swim in Interterra.”
“No kidding,” Michael said, lightening up. “Did you mention that we were professionals?”
“Of course,” Richard said. “But I’m not convinced they quite got what I was talking about. Seems that the idea of work is not something they can relate to.”
“If you swim for work, does that mean you like to swim?” Meeta asked.
“Sure we like to swim,” Michael said.
“Well, why don’t we all take a dip?” Meeta suggested.
“Why not,” Mura agreed. “You people need to cool down.”
“I think it is a wonderful idea,” Sart said.
Richard looked at the inviting aquamarine pool. “Are you talking about swimming right now?” he asked.
“What time could be better?” Palenque said. “We’re all so warm and sweaty.”
“But our clothes,” Richard said. “We’ll be sopping.”
“We don’t wear clothes when we swim,” Meeta said.
Richard looked at Michael. “This place just keeps getting better and better,” he said.
“Well?” Meeta questioned. “What do the professional swimmers say?”
Richard swallowed. He was afraid to say anything lest he wake up.
“I say we go for it,” Michael cried.
“Wonderful!” Meeta said. She leaped to her feet and helped Palenque to hers. Sart got up and gave Mura a hand. In the blink of an eye the Interterrans unabashedly threw off their tunics and stepped out of their shorts. In their naked nubile splendor, they all dove cleanly into the water and swam out toward the center of the pool with strong, practiced strokes.
Richard and Michael were momentarily too stunned to follow. Instead they glanced around at the people in the immediate vicinity. To their added surprise, no one had taken much not
ice other than Perry. Then Richard and Michael’s eyes met.
“What the hell are we waiting for?” Richard asked as he smiled drunkenly.
In a rush, the two divers clumsily struggled to get out of their clothes. At the same time, they made a dash for the pool. Michael had trouble with his shorts and ended up tripping. Richard was more successful and was soon racing toward the shallow area at the center of the pool.
On his arrival Richard was literally set upon by Meeta and Palenque who playfully and repeatedly dunked him. Richard took the harassment from the naked beauties gleefully but was soon out of breath. By the time Michael arrived and engaged in similar activities with Mura, since Sart and Palenque had swum to the far end of the pool, Richard was content to languish in a place where he and Meeta could sit with their heads above the surface.
“Richard, Richard, Richard,” Meeta cried happily as she repeatedly pressed her palm against his and stroked his head. “You are the most primitively attractive visitor we’ve ever had in Saranta. Maybe in all of Interterra for at least several thousand years.”
“I thought only my mother appreciated me,” Richard said jokingly.
“You knew your mother?” Meeta questioned. “How quaint.”
“Of course I knew my mother,” Richard said. “Don’t you know yours?”
“No,” Meeta said with a laugh. “No one in Interterra knows his mother. But let’s not get into that. Instead, why don’t you take me to your room?”
“Now there’s an idea,” Richard said. “But what about your friend Palenque? What will we say to her?”
“Anything you like,” Meeta said unconcernedly. “But it’s easiest to just ask her. I’m sure she’ll want to come. And Karena. I know she wants to come, too.”
Richard tried to act nonchalant, but he was afraid his surprise at this unexpected good fortune was all too apparent. At the same time with this auspicious turn of events, he wished he hadn’t drunk quite so much.
It was a boisterous group that set out from the pavilion to the dining hall. Suzanne, Perry, and the divers were singing old Beatles songs at the top of their lungs to the delight of their companions who, surprisingly, knew the words. Suzanne was walking with Garona, Perry with Luna, Richard with Meeta, Palenque, and Karena, and Michael with Mura and Sart.
Although Suzanne and Perry had resisted drinking very much, what they had drunk had gone to their heads. They were not nearly as drunk as Richard and Michael, but both recognized they were tipsy. They were also enjoying themselves immensely.
Arak had bid them farewell as the gala wound down and promised to meet with them in the morning. He had wished them a pleasant rest and had thanked them for coming to the celebration.
“Hey,” Richard called out when they’d finished a rendition of “Come Together.” “Don’t you guys know any songs of your own?”
“Of course,” Meeta said. Immediately the Interterrans burst into song, and although the words were in English, the beat was as irregular as the music at the gala had been.
“Cut!” Richard cried out. “That sounds too weird. Let’s go back to the Beatles.”
“Richard, let’s be fair,” Suzanne said.
“It’s all right,” Meeta said. “We’d rather sing your songs.”
“Michael? What the hell are you doing with the glasses?” Richard asked when he saw that his partner was carrying several empty goblets.
“I asked Arak,” Michael said. “He told me I could take them. They’re gold. I bet I have enough money here for a down payment on a new pickup truck.”
Richard leaned over and snatched one of the goblets.
“Hey, gimme that back,” Michael demanded.
Richard laughed. “Go out for a pass. I’ll hit you long!”
Michael handed the rest of the goblets to Mura. Then he staggered ahead for the pass. Richard tossed the goblet like a football, and it spiraled into Michael’s hands. Everyone clapped. Michael took a bow, lost his balance, and fell. Everyone giggled and clapped harder.
“We have pets that play that game,” Mura said.
“I saw some pets when we were flying in,” Suzanne said. “They looked like composite creatures.”
“They are,” Mura said.
“Do you have sports games down here?” Richard asked.
Michael came back and collected the rest of his goblets.
“No, we don’t have sports,” Meeta said. “Unless you mean mind games, things like that.”
“Hell, no!” Richard said. “I mean like hockey or football.”
“No,” Meeta said. “We don’t have physical competition.”
“Why not?” Richard asked.
“It’s not necessary,” Meeta said. “And it is unhealthy.”
Richard glanced at Michael. “No wonder the men are all such wimps,” he said. Michael nodded.
“How about ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,’ ” Suzanne suggested. “It seems so apropos.”
A few moments later, still singing the refrain, the group stumbled into the dining hall. It was dark, but the Interterrans somehow brought up the illumination. Perry was about to ask how it was done when he noticed Donald. The former naval officer had been sitting silently in the dark. His face was as grim as it had been when they’d left for the celebration.
“My gosh,” Richard said. “Mr. Straight Arrow is right where we left him.”
Michael proudly deposited his cache of golden goblets on the table with fanfare.
Richard lurched over to a position across the table from Donald. He dragged the three women with him like trophies. “Well, Admiral Fuller,” he said in a mocking tone while comically saluting. “I guess you can tell by our present company and booty that you really missed out.”
“I’m sure I did,” Donald said sarcastically.
“You can’t imagine how great it was, smart ass,” Richard said.
“You’re drunk, sailor,” Donald said scornfully. “Luckily, some of us have enough self-control to keep our wits about us.”
“Yeah, well, let me tell you what’s wrong with you,” Richard said, pointing a wavering finger at Donald’s face. “You still think you are in the goddamned Navy. Well, let me tell you something. You ain’t.”
“You’re not only stupid,” Donald hissed. “You’re disgusting.”
Something snapped in Richard’s brain. He shoved the women away and launched himself across the marble table, catching Donald by surprise. Despite his inebriation, he was able to straddle the man and land a few ineffectual punches on the side of his head.
Donald responded by enveloping Richard in a bear hug. Locked in a violent embrace, both men rolled off the chaise Donald had been sitting on. Neither man could do much damage to the other, but pummeled each other with short punches nonetheless. They did succeed in crashing into the table which caused Michael’s goblet collection to fall to the floor with a great clatter.
The Interterrans shrank back in dismay, while Suzanne and Perry intervened. It wasn’t easy, but they finally managed to separate the two men. This time it was Richard’s turn to have a bloody nose.
“You bastard,” Richard sputtered as he touched his nose and looked at the blood.
“You’re lucky your friends are here,” Donald told him. “I might have killed you.”
“That’s enough,” Perry said. “No more baiting and no more fighting. This is ridiculous. You’re both acting like children.”
“Idiot!” Donald added. He shook off Perry’s restraining arms and straightened his satin tunic.
“Jerk!” Richard retorted. He moved away from Suzanne and turned to his three women friends. “Come on, girls!” he said. “Let’s go to my room, where I won’t have to look at this guy’s ugly mug.”
Richard took a few unsteady steps toward the women, but they shrank back. Then, without another word, they fled out the open end of the room into the night. Richard hurried after them but stopped at the edge of the lawn. The women were already halfway back to the pavilion.
“I think it’s time you went to bed,” Suzanne called after him. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”
Richard turned back into the room, disappointed and angry. He slammed his open palm down on the tabletop hard enough to make everyone in the room jump. “Shit!” he shouted to no one in particular.
As Perry pushed open the door of his cottage with a trembling hand he did his best to hide and let Luna enter before him. It had been a long time since he’d been alone with a woman like this. He had no idea whether his anxiety was from marital guilt or from recognizing Luna’s inappropriate youth. On top of that he was tipsy with drink, but even more intoxicating than the crystal was the fact that an absolutely gorgeous young woman found him attractive.
As Perry struggled to conceal his nervousness he was sensitive enough to notice that Luna was agitated herself.
“Can I get you something?” Perry asked. “I’m supposed to have food and drink available.” He watched as the girl went over to the pool and bent down to test its temperature.
“No, thank you,” Luna said. She began to wander aimlessly around the room.
“You seem upset,” Perry said. For lack of anything better to do, he went over and sat on the bed.
“I am,” Luna admitted. “I’ve never seen a person act the way Richard did.”
“He’s not our best ambassador,” Perry said.
“Are there many people like him where you are from?” Luna asked.
“Unfortunately, his type is not uncommon,” Perry said. “Usually there’s a history of abuse that gets handed down from generation to generation.”
Luna shook her head. “Where does the stimulus for the abuse come from?”
Perry scratched the top of his head. He’d not meant to get into a sociological discussion nor did he feel capable at the moment. At the same time he felt he had to say something. Luna was looking at him intently. “Well, let’s see,” he said. “I haven’t really thought about this too much, but there’s a lot of discontentment in our society from heightened expectation and a sense of entitlement. Few people are ever really satisfied.”
