by B. V. Larson
“Uh…” I said, absorbing that. “Why?”
“The world in question is highly warlike. The inhabitants are only impressed by forceful displays.”
“So? Why can’t we just drop a bomb on them? Make them submit.”
“We’re not trying to start a fresh war. We’re trying to get them to support us—as they did the Cephalopod’s. The squids were their last masters.”
Right then, I was beginning to get an inkling of what she was talking about. But I didn’t quite believe it. Not yet.
“Um… I take it they’re not impressed by marching around in formation? Our spiffy uniforms won’t do the trick?”
“No—and money doesn’t mean much to them, either. They’re only impressed by honorable combat.”
“Arena fighting? Combat scenarios? Like the fun you put us through yesterday?”
“That’s right.”
I turned back to the big map. “Show me this world. Where is it?”
She tapped on her wrist, and a single spark lit up on the left edge of the wall.
“Damn, that far out? That’s half-way to Rigel!”
“It’s about three hundred lightyears away,” she confirmed.
I whistled. “Months in warp. That sucks right there—unless…”
I craned my neck to look at her. “You weren’t thinking of shipping me out airmail, were you? Using a teleport suit?”
“No, we looked at that option, but it’s not feasible. It would take too many suits, and you will need supplies—no.”
Tapping on the target star, I got a name to come up.
“Epsilon Leporis,” I read. “An orange giant, K4 class. Huh… Leporis? Isn’t that the rabbit constellation?”
“Yes. The hare which is chased by Orion, the hunter.”
“What’s so special about this star?”
She shrugged. “We really don’t know. We haven’t been out there. We’re working from Cephalopod maps and using them as guides.”
“What kind of people am I going to meet out there?”
She squirmed as if uncomfortable. Normally, I enjoyed watching a pretty lady in a tight outfit squirming, but today I had a bad feeling about it.
“Come on, Galina,” I said. “You’re holding back something. Where’s the punchline?”
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she said. “She can answer more of your questions.”
She exited the office, and I frowned in her wake. Her mincing steps left me wondering what I’d gotten myself into today.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had that feeling, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
-13-
Waiting around in Turov’s office, I soon moved to her high-backed chair and lounged in it. As she took several long minutes more, I started going through her desk drawers.
Finding nothing of interest, I leaned back again and put my boots on her desk.
The next thing I knew lightly snoring, and my feet were rudely swept aside by a small, angry hand.
“Get off there!” Galina said. “Were you actually asleep?”
“What…? Oh no, sorry… Just thinking about all these—hey!”
I’d finally looked past Galina to the tall woman standing in her wake. She was lovely, but oddly proportioned. Her neck was a little too long, as were her limbs.
Right off, I knew what she was. Only Rogue-worlders looked like that, a people we called tech-smiths. They were human, but only barely. They’d been specially bred for their scientific skills. The Cephalopods had used them as slaves until recently.
But all that wasn’t what left my jaw hanging low. What I found hardest to believe was that I knew this woman.
“Floramel?” I asked in a hushed tone. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, James,” she said. “Did you miss me?”
“Every starry night,” I said, and we smiled at one another.
Galina rolled her eyes and looked slightly annoyed.
“I should have known,” she said, putting her fists on her hips. “Centurion McGill, this is Floramel, the scientific lead on this entire project. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, as you two have obviously met.”
Floramel and I approached each other. I wanted to give her a hug, but I didn’t want to freak her out. Her people took any kind of physical contact as a direct prelude to sex—either that, or as an attack.
Accordingly, I waited for her to reach for me. She did, after a moment’s hesitation. She reached up to my broad shoulders and gave them a purposeful squeeze with hands. I grinned, knowing what that meant.
“I think I’m going to be ill,” Turov said.
Floramel turned toward her when she said that. “Do you need to go to the infirmary, Imperator?”
“If I did, I would hate to see the state of my office when I returned. No, you two shall exit. Take him to your labs, Floramel.”
We turned away to exit, but Galina called after us. “Ah, Floramel?”
“Yes, Imperator?”
“You do know that James is a registered sexual predator, don’t you?”
“Ah now, that’s just plain rude, Galina.”
“Don’t call me that. Get out!”
We hastily left her office. I didn’t know what had gotten into Galina. She hadn’t made any kind of pass at me since I’d gotten to Central, but still, she was acting like I was her property. Sometimes I didn’t get women.
“James?” Floramel asked. “Was the imperator joking?”
“Yes,” I said. “She has an odd sense of humor.”
“I think she was jealous of me,” she said. “I’ve been studying human social behavior since my revival, and—”
“Floramel,” I said, stopping her in the corridor and smiling. “Let me just take a look at you. I’m so happy. You haven’t aged a day. Why didn’t you contact me? I had no idea you’d been revived.”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. She wasn’t a dumb lady. In fact, she was probably the smartest one I’d ever hooked up with.
“You’ve had sex with the imperator?” she asked me suddenly. “Is that even allowed?”
I made a choking sound. All my dodging, bullshit and small-talk had gotten me exactly nowhere.
“That’s a rude thing to ask about, Floramel,” I said. “You must know you’re not the only girl I’ve been with.”
“Hmm... I have an odd feeling about this situation. Are you in love with her?”
“No,” I said. “Most definitely not. In fact, I can assure you, I haven’t touched her since before you and I met.”
That was true, and I felt good telling her. There had been plenty of other women, of course, but I sensed now wasn’t a good time to bring that up.
“Good,” she said, and she started walking again. “I must apologize for my lack of professionalism. I felt I had to ask these questions after the imperator’s odd behavior.”
“I understand.”
“To answer your prior queries, I was revived about eight months ago. For nearly two months, I was a prisoner. At first, somewhat abusive debriefings became a daily routine for me.”
“I’m sorry about that. But you can understand why they wanted to make sure you weren’t an enemy spy of some kind, right? After all, you did rebel against Earth and the Empire.”
“Yes,” she said. “Only after I gave them a considerable list of technical information did I win some degree of freedom. I’m now allowed to roam several levels of Central unescorted.”
I frowned at that. “You mean you haven’t been outside Central since you got here? You haven’t really experienced Earth?”
“No.”
“That’s a damned shame. Hold up a second.”
We were standing in the elevator lobby now, and I used my tapper to call Turov. She took her time answering, and finally Winslade came online.
“What is it, McGill?”
“I want to talk to the imperator directly.”
“That’s not possible right now. She bounced the call to
me.”
“Well, bounce it right back again. I need permission to take Floramel out on the town.”
“What? Are you kidding me? You’re calling to arrange a date for yourself? This sort of behavior—”
“Winslade,” I said, “relay the request. I need to be at the top of my game on this mission. It’s critical to Earth.”
Grumbling, he put me on hold for a while.
When he came back on the line, he was laughing. “She said you can bang her blue if you want to.”
Stabbing at the buttons, I ended the call.
“What was that?” Floramel asked me. Fortunately, she’d wandered off to stare down the sloping sides of Central to the busy streets below.
“I think we’re good to go, girl,” I told her. “Let me show you around town.”
During the long elevator ride to street level, Floramel explained to me about the vital technical information her people had placed upon the data core. She’d given it to me before her world had been destroyed, and it had consisted of her people’s physical blueprints and mental engrams.
“In other words,” I said, “in order to learn your tech secrets, Earth had to revive you.”
“That’s right. I hope you aren’t upset by my ruse, James. Our technical achievements were on those data files—just not in the manner you assumed.”
I chuckled, and I shook my head. “Don’t worry, Floramel. I’m not upset. Not in the least. You did exactly what you had to in order to save yourselves. An acquaintance of mine has often suggested that we all need exactly that kind of lever to prevent being permed.”
“Really? Does he give this advice often?”
“Yes, actually, he does.”
“Hmm… sounds like Claver.”
I almost fell over when she said that name. We were going through a stern row of security hogs guarding the exit at the time, and a veteran looked at us with pitiless eyes.
“Did this off-worlder drug you, Centurion?” he asked in immediate suspicion.
“What? No. She shocked me—but not literally.”
Still frowning, he waved us on our way. We exited in a hurry.
“Claver?” I asked her at the massive doors. “Did you say Claver? How did you meet that particular rodent of a man again?”
The last I’d seen Claver, he’d been stealing secrets from Floramel and her tech-smiths. They’d been quite upset with him at the time.
“Rodent of a man…” she repeated. “That’s an insult cast upon his character, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Tell me how he’s related to this project.”
Floramel did, and I was grinding my teeth by the end of the tale. Somehow, Claver had edged his way back onto Earth and regained some level of status again at Central. I could hardly believe it.
“That weasel,” I said, muttering to myself.
“Will you mention a snake, next?” Floramel asked curiously. “Or perhaps a worm, or a—”
“Yes. He’s all of those and more. You should steer clear of him the best you can. I’ll see if I can get him kicked off the premises.”
“I doubt you’ll be successful,” she said. “He’s going with us to the frontier. He’s an important member of this expedition.”
“Is he now? I wonder why Turov didn’t mention that?”
“Perhaps she anticipated a negative reaction from you?”
I had to laugh. Floramel was getting smarter about human interaction, but she was still very literal, even after eight months of immersion therapy on Earth.
“One more big question,” I said. “What about the target world? What do you know about it? About its people?”
Floramel hesitated. “I know...” she began slowly, “I know it’s a secret. I know I’m not supposed to talk about it—not with anyone.”
I sighed, and I gave her hand a squeeze.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”
Taking her around the city, we visited a museum of art and technology, which she enjoyed very much. Next, we hit a nice restaurant and finally a bar. For me, things were finally going in the right direction.
After the bar, we had no trouble locating a hotel room.
Now, one might think I was taking advantage of the girl, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Upon our first meeting earlier today, she’d squeezed my shoulders. For a Rogue Worlder, that signaled she was ready to go to bed.
Like I said, she was a very direct person.
Long legs. That’s what I remembered best from that night. Those long legs had a way of wrapping a man up in them, and not letting go.
It’d been over a month since I’d been with a woman, so I had plenty of stamina. Eventually it gave out, however, and we slept together.
In was the middle of the night, I woke up and found myself breathing hard.
Floramel was gone. I stumbled across the room, and I found her staring at herself in the bathroom mirror.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in a voice that was husky with sleep.
“I don’t feel like myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I still look like a tech-smith, but I’m becoming too much like one of you—a pure human.”
I yawned and eyed the toilet wistfully. I’d had more than my share of beer tonight, and I was feeling the urge.
“Well, um, could you—”
“I want to apologize, James,” she said seriously.
“Uh… for what?”
“I can’t maintain this fiction any longer. I must tell you what you’re going to face out there at Epsilon Leporis.”
She was so serious, I felt my mind growing worried and waking up. I hated that feeling in the middle of the night.
“How long have you been sitting up, anyway?” I asked.
She ignored the question.
“You brought me home with you, to Earth,” she said. “You… I would still be dead if it wasn’t for you. I was permed.”
She was staring at the mirror again, buck-naked and looking great. But at that moment, all I could do was cast wistful glances at the toilet.
“Girl, I totally understand what you’re going through,” I told her.
“You do?”
“I’ve been through it more times than I can count. Death, revival, thinking about what was and what might have been. It’s a grim modern reality we all have to deal with.”
“Yes…” she said. Suddenly, she stepped past me and went back to bed.
With a sense of great relief, I used the toilet thoroughly.
Coming back out and snapping off the light, I slipped into bed with her, under a single cool sheet.
She was so still and so quiet, I wondered if she’d gone to sleep again. But she hadn’t.
“They are known as the ninth tentacle,” she said.
“Uh… what?”
“That’s what the Cephalopods call them—their ninth appendage.”
“Hmm… who are we talking about, exactly?”
“Some of them march in squares of nine. Others are very tall and thin, and they stink like animals. Still another type is so huge, such slobbering idiots, they can barely be trained not to consume the enemy soldiers they strike down.”
I felt a chill go through me.
“Littermates?” I asked. “Trackers? Giants?”
She levered herself up suddenly, making the sheet whisper and rasp.
“I’m sorry, James. I wish I wasn’t the one who had to tell you this.”
“Let me put this together… You’re saying this planet, a world circling Epsilon Leporis, is the home world of the genetically altered soldiers the squids used to fight against Earth?”
“Not just Earth. They’ve bred and cloned millions—billions. The world is a red hell with an orange sky. They know nothing of civility—at least not the baser types you’ve met with.”
“How do you know so much about them?” I asked.
“I—we created them—for the Cephalopods. At least, we created
the means to mass produce them from their prototypes.”
“How in God’s name did you do that?”
“It’s complex biology. Vats… artificial wombs… Tech not unlike the revival machines you know so well. That’s why I feel a terrible guilt tonight. I’ve never felt such a sensation before.”
“Are you worried about me, heading out there to deal with them, or about all humanity for twisting up your own genetic cousins?”
The second I asked that, I felt a pang of my own. I’d driven a knife into her in the middle of her confession. But it was hard not to be bitter. I’d seen millions of people die, right here on Earth, when these clones of hers had invaded our green lands to the north.
“I’m worried about all of us,” she said. “I feel bad for all our crimes, those that have already impacted humanity, and those yet to bear fruit…”
My mind fogged over, thinking about what gruesome technological terrors her people may have invented that I didn’t even know about yet. I found myself unable to take in the full scope of it.
Quietly, Floramel stood up and began putting her clothes on in the dark.
I watched her for a few seconds, unsure how I should respond. We’d just had a great time in bed—but could that really erase all the sins this woman had just owned up to?
“Floramel, wait,” I said at last, getting up and touching her arms with my hands.
“You… you don’t reject me?”
“That depends,” I said, “what would the squids have done to you and your people if you’d refused to comply with their orders?”
She shrugged. “Tortured and killed our leaders until the rest complied—or until we were all dead.”
“Did anyone die that way?”
She nodded. “My parents, among others. Both of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I barely remember as I was a child. That was their solution you see, to remove the oldest of us and work purely with younger, genetically altered generations.”
I touched her again, and now my hands were gentle. I gave her a hug, and she returned it. I couldn’t recall having gotten an honest hug from her before.
She let her clothes fall away from her again, leaving us in a bare embrace. We spent the next hour of the night nuzzling, screwing, and generally comforting one another.
