"The dead mate is under the ground, dear Kwib, under the stone?"
"So I have heard. Light."
"And why are there dead plants, Love?"
"I do not know. Life."
"It is very strange. I do not understand. I—"
"Hey! What are you bugs doing out there?"
A light far greater than that of the moons had occurred atop a pole near the dwelling. The Earthman stood at the door, one of me long fire weapons in his hands. We turned toward him and advanced.
"We came to drink the heating beverage," Kwib said in trader talk. "We stopped first to see the place of the mate who is under the ground."
"I don't like anyone back here when I'm not around."
"We apologize. We did not know. You have the heating beverage?"
"Yes. Come on in."
The Earthman held the giant door open and stoodbeside it. We entered and followed the hulking form through to the front of the dwelling.
"You have the metal?"
"Yes," I said, taking a bar of it from my pouch and passing it over.
Two bowls of the beverage were prepared and I was given more than three smaller bits of the metal in return. I left them beside my bowl on the mat.
"I will buy the next one. Beloved," Kwib said.
I did not reply but drank of the sweet-and-sour liquid which moved like fire through my limbs. The Earthman poured another beverage and perched with it atop a wooden tower. The room smelled strongly though not unpleasantly of odors which I could not identify. Tiny fragments of wood were strewn upon the floor. The chamber was illuminated by a glowing jewel set high on the wall.
"You bugs hunting, or'd you just come up this way to get drunk?*' ..
"Neither," Kwib said. "We were married this morning."
"Oh," Trader Hawkins's eyes widened, then narrowed. "I have heard of your ceremony. Only two go forth, and one remains behind...."
"Yes."
"... And you have stopped here on your way, for a few drinks before continuing on?"
"Yes."
"I am more than a little interested in this. None of my people ever witnessed your nuptials."
"We know this."
"I would like to see the fulfillment of this part of the ceremony."
"No."
"No."
"It is forbidden?"
"No. It is simply that we consider it a private matter."
"Well, with all respect for your feelings, there are many people where I come from who would give a lot to see such a thing. Since you say it is not forbidden, but rather a matter of personal decision on your part, I wonder whether I might persuade you to let me film it?"
"No."
"No, it is private."
"But hear me out. First, let me refill those bowls, though.—No, I don't want any more metal. If—now,just supposing—you were to let me film it, I would stand to make considerable money. I could reward you with many gifts—anything you want from the post here—and all the heating beverage you care to drink, whenever you want it."
Kwib looked at me strangely.
"No," I said. "It is private and personal. I do not want you to capture it in your picture box."
I began to rise from my bowl.
"We had best be going."
"Sit down. Don't go. I apologize. I'd have been a fool not to ask, though. I did not take offense at your looking at my wife's grave, did I? Don't be so touchy."
"That is true, Beloved," Kwib said in our own tongue. "We may have done offense in viewing the mate's grave. Let us not take offense ourselves from this request now that we have answered it, and so do ourselves shame."
"Soundly said, Beloved," I replied, and I returned to my beating beverage. "This drink is good."
"Yes."
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Consider the ways of our dear Ruby Stone. How delicate he is!"
"Yes. And how graceful his movements ..."
"How proud I was when we bore him to the Home,"
"I, too. And the sky-dance was so fine... . You were right about the stone. It shone gloriously in the sunlight."
"And in the evening its pale fires will be soft and subtle."
"True. It will be good."
"Yes."
We finished our drinks and were preparing to depart when the Earthman refilled the bowls.
"On the house- A wedding present."
I looked at Kwib. Kwib looked at Trader Hawkins and then looked at me. We returned to the mats to sip the fine drinks.
"Thank you," I said.
"Yes, thank you," said Kwib.
When we had finished, we again rose to go. My movements were unsteady.
"Let me freshen your drinks."
"No, that would be too much. We must be on our way now.""Would you wish to spend the night here? You may."
"No. We may not sleep until it is over."
We headed toward the front door. The floor seemed to be moving beneath me, but I plodded across it and out onto the porch. The cool night air felt good after the closeness of the trading post. I stumbled on the stair. Kwib reached to assist me but quickly drew back.
"Sorry, Beloved."
"It is all right, Love."
"Good night to both of you—and good luck."
"Thank you."
"Good night."
We moved off through the hills, striking downward once again. After a time, I smelled fresh water and we "came to a Wood through which a stream flowed. The moons were falling out of the sky, and there was a heaviness of stars within it. The smaller moon seemed to double itself as I watched, and I realized that this must be something of the heating beverage's doing. When I turned away, I saw that Kwib had moved nearer and was regarding me closely.
"Let us rest here for a time," I said. "I choose that spot." I indicated a place beneath a small tree,
"And I will rest here," Kwib said, moving to a position across from me beside a large rock.
"I miss my Ruby Stone, Dear One," I said.
"As do I, Love."
"I wish to bear the eggs that he will tend. Love."
"As do I, Slim One."
"What was that noise?"
"I heard nothing."
I listened again, but there were no sounds.
"It is said that one who is larger—such as myself— can drink more of the heating beverage with less effect," Kwib said, after staring into the shadows for a long while and nodding suddenly.
"I have heard this, also. Are you choosing this place, Dear One?"
Kwib rose-
"I would be a fool not to, Beloved. May there always be peace between our spirits."
I remained where I was.
"Could it ever be otherwise, my Kwib?"I sought the two sticks at my belt, where the talons resembled hardroot rings.
"Truly you are the kindest, the finest ..." Kwib began.
... And then she lunged, her mandibles wide for the major cut.
I struck low on her thorax with one set of talons, rolling to the side as I did so. Recovering, I raked the other across the great facets of her eyes in which images of the moons and stars had glittered and danced. She whistled and drew back. I brought both sets of talons around and across and down, driving them with all of my strength behind the high chitin plate below her dear head. Her whistling grew more shrill and the talons were torn from my grasp as she fell back. The odor of body fluid came to me, and the odor of fear... .
I struck her with my full weight. I extended my mandibles and seized her head. She struggled for but a moment, then lay still.
"Be kind to our Ruby Stone," she told me. "He is so gentle, so fragile...."
"Always, Beloved," I told her, and then I completed the stroke.
I lay there atop her hard and supple form, covering her body with warm leptors.
"Farewell, Reaper of the Wood. Dear One ..." I said.
Finally, I rose and used my mandibles to cut through the hard corners of her armor. She was so soft in
side. I had to bear all of her back within me to our Ruby Stone. I began the Feast of Love.
It was full daylight when I had cleaned Kwib's armor to a slick, shining hardness and assembled it carefully, working with the toughest grass fibers. When I hung her on the tree she made gentle clicking noises in the passing air.
From somewhere, I heard another sound—steady, buzzing, unnatural. No! It could not be that the Earthman would have dared to follow us and use his capturing box—
I looked about. Was that a giant shadow retreating beyond the hill? My movements were sluggish. I could not pursue. I could not have certainty, knew that I could never have it. I had to have rest, now....
Heavily, slowly, I moved to a place near the rock andsettled there. I listened to the spirit voice of my darling, borne by the wind from her shell... .
...- Sleep, she was saying, sleep. 1 am with you, now and ever. Yours is the privilege and the pleasure. Love. May there always be peace between our spirits... .
... And sleep I must before I take feet to the trail. Ruby, Ruby Stone, my Ruby Stone, waiting with the color of fire on your brow, glorious in the sunlight, soft and subtle in the evening... . Your waiting is almost ended. It is only yours to wait, to stand and to witness our returning. But now we have finished the trial of love and are coming back to you.... I can see the Home, so clearly, where we placed you... . Soon you will bring your brightness near to us. We will give you eggs. We will feed you. Soon, soon ... The shadow is there again, but I cannot tell ... This part does not concern you. I bury the shame within me—if shame it should be—and I will never speak of it. ... Our beloved Kwib is still singing, on the tree and within me. The poem is peace; peace, troth, and the eternal return of the egg. What else can matter, my Dear One? What else can temper the flight or star the brow of solitude but the jeweled badge of our love. Ruby Stone?
Sleep, sings Kwib. Wait, sings Kwib. Soon, sings Kwib. Our parts in the great song-show of life, Love.
HALF JACK
One day, I saw a nice, slick, pretty, new magazine called Omni and was overcome by the desire to have a story m it, so I wrote this one and did.
He walked barefoot along the beach. Above-the city several of the brighter stars held for a few final moments against the wash of light from the east. He fingered a stone, then buried it in the direction from which the sun would come. He watched for a long while until it had vanished from sight. Eventually it would begin skipping. Before then, he had turned and was headed back, to the city, the apartment, the girl.Somewhere beyond the skyline a vehicle lifted, burning its way into the heavens. It took the remainder of the night with it as it faded. Walking on, he smelled the countryside as well as the ocean. It was a pleasant world, and this a pleasant city—spaceport as well as seaport— here in this backwater limb of the galaxy. A good place in which to rest and immerse the neglected portion of himself in the flow of humanity, the colors and sounds of the city, the constant tugging of gravity. But it had been three months now. He fingered the scar on his brow. He had let two offers pass him by to linger. There was another pending his consideration.
As he walked up Kami's street, he saw that her apartment was still dark. Good, she would not even have missed him, again. He pushed past the big front door, still not repaired since he had kicked it open the evening of the fire, two—no, three—nights ago. He used the stairsHe let himself in quietly.
He was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when he heard her stirring.
"Jack?"
"Yes. Good morning."
"Come back."
"All right."
He moved to the bedroom door and entered the room. She was lying there, smiling. She raised her arms slightly.
"I've thought of a wonderful way to begin the day."
He seated himself on the edge of the bed and embraced her. For a moment she was sleep-warm and sleep-soft against him, but only for a moment.
"You've got too much on," she said, unfastening his shirt.
He peeled it off and dropped it. He removed his trousers. Then he held her again.
"More," she said, tracing the long fine scar that ran down his forehead, alongside his nose, traversing his chin, his neck, the right side of his chest and abdomen, passing to one side of his groin, where it stopped.
"Come on."
"You didn't even know about it until a few nights ago."
She kissed him, brushing his cheeks with her lips.
"It really does something for me."
"For almost three months—"
"Take it off. Please."He sighed and gave a half-smile. He rose to bis feet.
"All right."
He reached up and put a hand to his long, black hair. He took hold of it- He raised his other hand and spread his fingers along his scalp at the hairline. He pushed his fingers toward the back of his head and the entire hairpiece came free with a soft, crackling sound. He dropped the hairpiece atop his shirt on the floor.
The right side of his head was completely bald; the left had a beginning growth of dark hair. The two areas were precisely divided by a continuation of the faint scar on his forehead.
He placed his fingertips together on the crown of his head, then drew his right hand to the side and down. His face opened vertically, splitting apart along the scar, padded synthetic flesh tearing free from electrostatic bonds. He drew it down over his right shoulder and biceps, rolling it as far as his wrist. He played with the flesh of his hand as with a tight glove, finally withdrawing the hand with a soft, sucking sound. He drew it away from his side, hip, and buttock, and separated it at his groin. Then, again seating himself on the edge of the bed, he rolled it down his leg, over the thigh, knee, calf, heel. He treated his foot as he, had his hand, pinching each toe free separately before pulling off the body glove. He shook it out and placed it with his clothing.
Standing, he turned toward Kathi, whose eyes had not left him during all this time. Again, the half-smile. The uncovered portions of his face and body were dark metal and plastic, precision-machined, with various openings and protuberances, some gleaming, some dusky.
"Halfjack," she said as he came to her. "Now I know what that man in the cafe meant when he called you that."
"He was lucky you were with me. There are places where that's an unfriendly term,"
"You're beautiful," she said.
"I once knew a girl whose body was almost entirely prosthetic. She wanted me to keep the glove on— at all times. It was the flesh and the semblance of flesh that she found attractive."
"What do you call that kind of operation?"
"Lateral hemicorporectomy."After a time she said, "Could you be repaired? Can you replace it some way?"
He laughed.
"Either way," he said. "My genes could be fractioned, and the proper replacement parts could be grown. I could be made whole with grafts of my own flesh. Or I could have much of the rest removed and replaced with bioroechanical analogues. But I need a stomach and balls and lungs, because I have to eat and screw and breathe to feel human."
She ran her hands down his back, one on metal, one on flesh.
"I don't understand," she said when they finally drew apart. "What sort of accident was it?"
"Accident? There was no accident," he said. "I paid a lot of money for this work, so that I could pilot a special sort of ship. I am a cyborg. I hook myself directly into each of the ship's systems,"
He rose from the bed, went to the closet, drew out a duffel bag, pulled down an armful of garments, and stuffed them into it. He crossed to the dresser, opened a drawer, and emptied its contents into the bag.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
He entered the bathroom, emerged with two fistfuls of personal items, and dropped them into the bag.
"Why?"
He rounded the bed, picked up his bodyglove and hairpiece, rolled them into a parcel, and put them inside the bag.
"It's not what you may think," he said then, "or even what I thought until just a few momen
ts ago."
She sat up.
"You think less of me," she said, "because I seem to like you more now that I know your secret. You think there's something pathological about it—"
"No," he said, pulling on his shirt, "that's not it at all. Yesterday I would have said so and used that for an excuse to storm out of here and leave you feeling bad, But I want to be honest with myself this time, and fair to you. That's not it."
He drew on his trousers.
"What then?" she asked.
"It's just the wanderlust, or whatever you call it. I'vestayed too long at the bottom of a gravity well. I'm restless. I've got to get going again. It's my nature, that's all. I realized this when I saw that I was looking to your feelings for an excuse to break us up and move on."
"You can wear the bodyglove. It's not that important. It's really you that I like."
"I believe you, I like you, too. Whether you believe me or not, your reactions to my better half don't matter. It's what I said, though. Nothing else. And now I've got this feeling I won't be much fun anymore. If you really like me, you'll let me go without a lot of fuss."
He finished dressing. She got out of the bed and faced him.
"If that's the way it has to be," she said. "Okay."
"I'd better just go, then. Now."
"Yes."
He turned and walked out of the room, left the apartment, used the stairs again, and departed from the building. Some passersby gave him more than a casual look, cyborg pilots not being all that common in this sector- This did not bother him. His step lightened. He stopped in a paybooth and called the shipping company to tell them that be would haul the load they had in orbit: the sooner it was connected with the vessel, the better, he said.
Loading, the controller told him, would begin shortly and he could ship up that same afternoon from the local field. Jack said that he would be there and then broke the connection. He gave the world half a smile as he put the sea to his back and swung on through the city, westward.
Blue-and-pink world below him, black sky above, the stars a snapshot snowfall all about, he bade the shuttle pilot goodbye and keyed his airlock. Entering the Morgana, he sighed and set about stowing his gear. His cargo was already in place and the ground computers had transferred course information to the ship's brain. He hung his clothing in a locker and placed bis body glove and hairpiece in compartments.
The Last Defender Of Camelot Page 33
