Colonization: Down to Earth

by Harry Turtledove

  Sam Yeager and Jonathan Yeager both made the affirmative hand gesture. “Yes, I can see how you would want that,” the older Big Ugly said. “Let me ask it a different way, then—if you could have anything you wanted that you might actually get, what would it be?”

  That was harder. All of Kassquit’s material needs were met; only in the social sphere did she have problems. “I do not know,” she said at last. “I have plenty to eat; I have the Race’s communication network; what more in that regard could I desire?” She met question with question: “What would you choose, Sam Yeager? See how you like answering.”

  The Big Ugly yipped Tosevite laughter. “The easy answer is, ‘more money.’ Ask any Tosevite, and he will say that, or something like it. He might ask for a bigger house, or a fancier motorcar, or other such things, but it all means the same in the end. Unlike you, we mostly do not have enough to keep us happy.”

  Kassquit turned her head toward Jonathan Yeager. “And what of you?”

  “I do not know if this is possible or not,” the younger Tosevite answered, “but I hope I live long enough to be able to travel to Home, either on a ship of the Race or on a Tosevite starship.”

  “A Tosevite starship?” The very idea was a nightmare to Kassquit, as it was to every male and female of the Race. She didn’t know whether she ought to spell that out, so she contented herself with asking, “If that should prove impossible, what would you like?”

  Jonathan Yeager hesitated. Sam Yeager said something in their own language. Jonathan Yeager’s answer was short. Sam Yeager laughed again. He turned to Kassquit and returned to the language of the Race: “I told him that having a mate with whom he can be happy throughout his life is also important.”

  “You did not wish for that yourself,” Kassquit pointed out.

  “No, but then, I am lucky enough to have such a mate,” Sam Yeager answered. “Jonathan has a female friend who may become such a mate, but it is difficult to be sure about such things ahead of time.”

  “What are the criteria for judging whether a mate is good or not?” Kassquit asked. If she was questioning the Big Uglies, they couldn’t very well question her. She liked this better.

  Jonathan Yeager’s skin was more transparent than Kassquit’s. She could watch blood rise to his face. She’d felt the same thing in herself in moments of embarrassment, so that was probably what he was feeling, too. If Sam Yeager also felt it, he showed no sign. He answered, “That varies from individual to individual. A mate who makes one male or female happy would addle another in short order.”

  “How does one judge the possibility that one of these lifelong matings”—the notion struck Kassquit as very strange—“will be successful?”

  “Some of that involves the sexual desire each partner arouses in the other, and the sexual pleasure each gives the other,” Sam Yeager answered. “Those are often enough reason for the partners to come together, but they do not mean that the mating will be a long-term success. The male and the female also have to be friends, to see things in similar ways, and to forgive each other’s small failings. It is not easy to judge in advance whether this will happen.”

  She hadn’t expected such a thoughtful answer. She had only the Race’s view of Big Ugly sexuality—that it was constant and indiscriminate. It occurred to her that the Race might have as much trouble understanding Tosevites as the Big Uglies had understanding the Race. Though Ttomalss knew of her own sexual urges, she doubted he understood them. For that matter, she doubted she understood them herself, and wished she did.

  “What makes one Tosevite sexually attractive to another?” she asked.

  “Appearance,” Jonathan Yeager answered at once.

  “That is one thing, often the most important thing at first,” Sam Yeager said, “but character is also important, and perhaps more important in the long rum.” He paused, then added, “I think character may be more important at first to females judging males than to males judging females.”

  “Why?” Kassquit asked. Both wild Big Uglies shrugged. They saw each other do it, and both laughed. Kassquit noted the byplay without having any notion what might have caused it. And then she found a question the Tosevites were uniquely suited to answer, one that would have been utterly meaningless if not repellent to Ttomalss: “By your standards, am I sexually attractive?”

  Jonathan Yeager had never imagined being asked such a question by a naked woman who obviously didn’t know the answer. He looked to his father for help, only to discover his father looking back at him. He needed a couple of seconds to understand why. Then he realized his dad was a married man, and probably thought he wasn’t the one to be talking about whether a woman was sexy or not.

  And so Jonathan had to figure out the answer for himself. After a moment, he realized only one answer was possible, regardless of what he really thought. “Yes,” he said, and added an emphatic cough. Anything else would have been a diplomatic disaster. By the speed with which his father added the Lizards’ affirmative hand gesture, he knew he’d done the right thing.

  Better still, he hadn’t been lying. He was used to girls who shaved their heads, even though his own girlfriend didn’t. And living in Gardena, which a lot of Japanese-Americans called home, had accustomed him to Oriental standards of beauty. Kassquit had a pretty face—it would have been prettier still, of course, had it shown more expression—and he could be in no possible doubt that she had a nice figure to go with it.

  To his astonishment, she folded herself into the posture of respect. “I thank you,” she said with an emphatic cough of her own. “You will understand that this is not a question I could possibly ask Ttomalss or any other male or female of the Race.” She corrected herself: “No, that is not true. I could ask, but without hope of obtaining a meaningful answer.”

  She certainly wouldn’t have been attractive to the Lizards, not when their everyday name for human being was Big Ugly. Jonathan tried to imagine what living among aliens would be like after you discovered the truth about your body and the delights it could bring. He tried, yes, but felt himself failing. The one thought that stuck in his mind was that he was damn glad it hadn’t happened to him.

  His father said, “There are times, superior female, when you must have been—must be—very lonely.”

  “Truth,” Kassquit said. What was she thinking? With her impassive features, Jonathan couldn’t tell. She went on, “I do not know if I myself realized how lonely I was until I first began communicating with you wild Tosevites. Who can say with certainty where the intersection between biology and culture lies? Even among the Race, it remains a subject for debate.”

  “It is among us Tosevites, too,” Jonathan said. Mickey and Donald, at least, wouldn’t grow up worrying about whether they were sexually interesting. Unless they turned out to be females who went into their mating season or males who met a female in her season, they wouldn’t worry about such things at all. Jonathan suspected being a Lizard was easier than being a human.

  But what if one of them’s a male and the other’s a female? That hadn’t occurred to him before. It would sure complicate things. Then he shrugged. Even if it was so, the Yeagers wouldn’t have to worry about it for a good many years yet. How old were Lizards when they hit puberty? He couldn’t remember. Have to look it up, he thought.

  Kassquit said, “I do not find Tosevite scientific research likely to be of much value.”

  Before Jonathan could respond indignantly to that, his father shrugged and said, “Well, in that case I do not suppose you have any reason to want anything to do with us at all. Shall we go, Jonathan?”

  Leaving was the last thing Jonathan wanted. But a glance at his father’s face warned him he’d better play along. “All right,” he said, and started to rise. He turned to Kassquit. “It was pleasant and interesting to talk with you again.”

  “No, do not go!” Kassquit’s face still showed nothing—it could show nothing—but alarm and grief filled her voice. “Please do not go. We had not yet c
ome close to finishing this discussion.”

  Jonathan looked down at the metal floor of the chamber so Kassquit couldn’t see him grin. Sure as hell, his old man knew how to bait a hook. And Kassquit had swallowed the bait, damned if she hadn’t.

  “Why should we stay, if you mock us?” Sam Yeager asked sternly. “You are proud, as the Race is proud, but it never occurs to the Race that we Big Uglies also have reason to be proud of what we have done.”

  “This is not something easy for a citizen of the Empire to grasp,” Kassquit said. “I meant no offense.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it came closer than Jonathan had expected.

  He had to hide another smile. Kassquit wasn’t apologizing because she hadn’t intended to offend; she was apologizing because she wanted to go on talking with the only other human beings she’d ever met. Jonathan knew he wasn’t the most socially conscious fellow around, but he had no trouble seeing that.

  “Not long after the colonization fleet arrived,” Kassquit said, “I was asked if I wanted a Tosevite male brought up from the surface of Tosev 3 as a means of obtaining sexual release. I said no at the time. The thought of a strange wild Big Ugly as a mate was too distressing to contemplate. But the two of you do not seem like such strangers to me now?”

  Jesus! Jonathan thought. I’ve just been propositioned! How am I supposed to say no, when I just told her I thought she was attractive?

  Part of him—one particular part of him—didn’t want to say no. If he said yes, of course, Karen would kill him. But Karen’s down there, and I’m up here in space. She wouldn’t have to know. I wouldn’t be unfaithful, not really. It’s research, that’s what it is.

  While those thoughts were going through his mind, his father said, “Superior female, you will have to forgive me. I do find you attractive, as I said, but I am not in a position to do anything about it. My permanent mate would be most unhappy if I were to mate with any female but her, and I do not wish to make her unhappy in any way.”

  Like any child, Jonathan had trouble imagining his parents making love with each other. When he tried to imagine his father making love with Kassquit, the picture in his mind did not want to form. And when he tried to imagine his father telling his mother he’d made love with Kassquit, that picture would not form at all. What he saw instead was the mushroom cloud from an explosive-metal bomb.

  Kassquit said, “I do not understand why such a mating would make her unhappy.”

  “Because we try to concentrate all our affection on our principal mate, and an outside mating implies a loss of that affection,” Jonathan’s father answered. “We have a word in our language that means something like affection, but it is a stronger term. We say love.” The last word, necessarily, was in English.

  “Love,” Kassquit echoed. To her, plainly, it was just a noise. Sure enough, she went on, “I do not understand. But I gather you are telling me this is a strong custom among American Tosevites.” Jonathan’s father made the affirmative hand gesture. Kassquit turned her attention back to Jonathan. “Do I gather that you, as yet, have no such permanent mating commitment?”

  “Uh, that is, uh, correct,” Jonathan said, and then wished he’d lied instead of telling the truth. A lie would have let him escape gracefully. The truth made things more complicated. He turned to his father and spoke in English: “What am I going to do, Dad?”

  “Good question.” His father sounded amused, which only made things worse. “If you want to be this particular kind of guinea pig, go ahead. If you don’t, you’ll figure out some way around it.”

  “What are the two of you talking about?” Kassquit asked sharply.

  “We are trying to decide what is proper here,” Jonathan answered, which was true enough. Picking his words with great care, he went on, “I do not have a permanent arrangement with a female, no, but I am seeing a female with whom I may have such an arrangement one day.”

  “What does this mean—you are seeing her?” Kassquit asked. “Is this a euphemism for mating with her?”

  Jonathan’s father had to translate euphemism for him. The question made Jonathan cough. It also made him wonder how to answer. He and Karen hadn’t actually gone to bed with each other, but they’d sure done everything else. He was damned if he’d try to explain petting and oral sex to Kassquit with his father listening. Instead, keeping it simple, he just said, “Yes.”

  And that made his dad’s eyebrows shoot up, too, as he’d known it would. Kassquit said, “If you do not have a permanent mating arrangement, you may mate with whomever you choose. Is this not a truth? Do you choose to mate with me, Jonathan Yeager?”

  That wasn’t a proposition; it was more like an ultimatum. Before Jonathan could answer, his father said, “Superior female, regardless of what my hatchling may decide, there should be no matings at this meeting.”

  “And why not?” Kassquit’s face didn’t show emotion, but her voice did. She sounded furious.

  “Why not?” Jonathan’s father echoed. “Because the purpose of mating—or a purpose of mating, anyhow—is reproduction. Do you want to take the chance of becoming gravid as a result of mating? How well equipped is the Race to handle that problem?”

  “Oh.” Kassquit bent into the posture of respect. “I had not thought of that.”

  “A lot of Tosevites do not think of it ahead of time.” Sam Yeager answered dryly. “This ends up making their lives more difficult than they would be otherwise—or more interesting, anyhow.” By his expression, he was looking a long way back into the past. Had they been somewhere else, Jonathan might have asked him about it. But not here, not now.

  “What is the solution, then?” Kassquit asked. “It cannot be not mating. That, by what I am given to understand, is not the Tosevite way.”

  “The usual American solution is a thin rubber sheath worn on the male’s reproductive organ,” Sam Yeager said. Jonathan admired his dispassionate tone. It came easier in the language of the Race, but even so . . . His father went on, “This permits mating but keeps sperm and egg from meeting.”

  “Ingenious,” Kassquit said. “Sanitary. Do you have any of these sheaths with you?”

  “No,” Jonathan said. “We did not expect the issue of mating to arise.”

  “Very well,” Kassquit made the affirmative gesture. “Next time you visit, do bring some. Or I can arrange for a supply to be brought up from some of the territory the Race rules. Is it agreed?”

  She sounded as brisk as if she were arranging a business deal. Maybe that was what she thought she was doing. She had no idea what being human meant—and she wanted to start learning in the most intimate way possible. That made sense of a sort, but only of a sort: Jonathan kept wondering if he wanted to be her teacher.

  “Is it agreed?” she repeated.

  Jonathan looked at Sam Yeager. His father’s face said nothing at all. Jonathan knew it was up to him, no one else. Well, no one from the starship was likely to tell Karen, which was more than he could say about most Earthly situations. Ever so slightly, he nodded. “It is agreed,” Sam Yeager said, and Jonathan couldn’t tell for the life of him whether or not his dad thought he was doing the right thing.

  “Tosevite sheaths for mating without the risk of reproduction,” Ttomalss said bemusedly, one eye turret on the recording of the meeting between Kassquit and the two wild Big Uglies, the other on Kassquit herself.

  “Yes, superior sir,” Kassquit said. “I can certainly understand how becoming gravid as the result of a mating would be undesirable. These sheaths reduce the risk of such a mischance.”

  “Are you sure you are not being precipitate in this?” Ttomalss had trouble getting used to the idea of Kassquit grabbing at things with her own fingerclaws.

  “Yes, superior sir. I am sure I would like to make the experiment, at any rate,” Kassquit told him. “Remember, some time ago you offered me a wild Tosevite for such purposes. I declined then, but no longer wish to decline.”

  “I . . . see.” What Ttomalss mostly saw was occas
ion to worry. He knew how strongly the mating urge and the urge to form families affected the Big Uglies. Would Kassquit become addicted to that gratification, as so many males and females of the Race had to ginger?

  “Everything will be all right,” Kassquit reassured him.

  “How can you know that in advance of the event?” Ttomalss demanded. “The answer is, you cannot. You have committed yourself to this course of action without adequate forethought.” And if that wasn’t a Tosevite thing to do, what was? Ttomalss did not tax Kassquit with it, though, for fear of prompting an indignant denial—another typical Tosevite response.

  “I have not,” she said. “I have been considering this, pondering it, since you made your offer to me some time ago. Indeed, I have been pondering it longer than that—ever since I discovered some of the physiological responses of my own body. This is something evolution has adapted me to do.”

  She was likely to be right in that. She was almost certain to be right in that, in fact. Even so, Ttomalss said, “Suppose I forbid it? I have the authority to do so, as you must know.”

  “On what grounds would you do such a thing?” Kassquit demanded angrily. “And you do not have the authority.”

  “I must assuredly do.” Ttomalss hadn’t intended to get angry in return, but found he couldn’t help himself. “And my authority is based on my continuing wardship of you.”

  “I see.” Kassquit leaned forward and glared at him. “So all your talk about my being a citizen of the Empire was nothing but talk? Is that what you are telling me now, superior sir?” She made the title one of reproach. “So much for any hope of equality, I see.”

  “Calm yourself!” Ttomalss exclaimed, though he was feeling anything but calm himself. Dealing with Big Uglies had that effect on him, though he hadn’t thought of Kassquit as a Big Ugly in such matters for quite a while. “I am trying to see what is best for you. This of course is for your own long-term good.”