Darrell Bain

by The Y Factor (lit)

"What did you tell him?” I asked when we resumed walking together. I was curious over what could have caused such a peculiar reaction.

  "I told him men who talk too much are usually compensating for a small dick."

  I practically choked while trying to keep from laughing. When I could speak, I asked, “Was he?"

  "Was he what?"

  "Small.” She had implied she could see beyond our coverings when telling me of how she had stopped the aging process in Kyle.

  "Small enough that I doubt he'll bother me again,” she said with a chuckle, “but I shouldn't have looked. Now I'll have to ask Gene to make sure our paths don't cross often. Damn. I never know how to handle those kinds of advances."

  "Who was he? Do you know?"

  "A new technician in the propulsion section. I think someone goofed when they recruited him but we can't throw the errors back because of security concerns."

  I could see the problem. What did they do with employees who became dissatisfied? They certainly couldn't be returned to the general population with what they knew. I decided not to ask. If you don't want to know the answer sometimes that's the best idea.

  * * * *

  Carol was waiting on us when we returned to the office. I hadn't seen her since the party and that was days ago. Neither had she been in her room the several times I'd checked. But here she was now, all smiles. We hugged briefly then she told us what she'd been doing.

  "Cherry, I'm really sorry but I'm not going to be working for you any longer. Gene informed me I was needed more in headquarters than here and after I spent a day or two observing operations there I had to agree with him.” She twisted her lips in a caricature of a smile and shook her head disparagingly. “They've been so devoted to recruiting scientists and putting them to work while maintaining the tightest security since the Manhattan Project that no one was paying much attention to organizational efficiency. After I pointed out a few obvious bottlenecks to the manager he took me straight in to see General Shelton and he grabbed me."

  "Wow. The girl moves in high circles already. Can I touch you?"

  General Shelton had the type of leadership quality that made him a presence everywhere, whether he was there in person or not. I had already learned a lot about the man from listening to others talk about him. So far I hadn't heard a single word of dissent concerning the way he ran the place, even when the rapid buildup of personnel caused the inevitable bumps and log jams in procurement, personnel and most importantly the R&D on the FTL ships. Problems were compounded by the fact that the ships were being built in separate spots and far away from the enclave.

  "Sure. Touch me now, because you probably won't be seeing much of me.” She laughed merrily. “I even had to move my quarters so I'd be close to the general. That's why you haven't seen me in my room."

  Things did move fast here, bottlenecks or not. I had been looking forward to having Carol with me but for the time being I probably wouldn't miss her—I probably wouldn't have time to miss her. Almost all of my work at first consisted of reading and studying the notes Jeri was going to leave behind for me and listening to her explain some of the more difficult parts. Except it was all difficult.

  Carol and I reminisced for a few minutes, then she said, “I've got to scoot. The general will have my hide if I'm late. Oh, guess what? Roy asked to see me when he gets back if we ever have any time off together!” She waved and was gone.

  I wished her luck. At first sight, Roy Jenkins had impressed me, too. However, it seemed that the man preferred blondes. Drat. I wondered idly what sort of women appealed to Ishmael. He was a hunk, no doubt about that; but a little too ... self-confident? Something.

  After she left I went back to my studies while Jeri worked on a contraption she thought might help humans tap into the quantum foam the way Crispies did. It couldn't ever be the same because Jeri and the other Crispies retained a core of their previous identity and genome that allowed them to use their perceptive powers even in a human body. Or as a human, I should say. Whatever.

  On an x-ray it would look like a very dense tumor about the size of an orange, nestled in the mid portion of their bodies back near the spine. It tapped into the spinal cord and thus the entire nervous system. Jeri was attempting to design an inorganic replica of the part of their organic core dealing with the perceptive sense that could be implanted into humans to give them at least some of the same powers.

  She had no idea so far whether such a long shot would work or not and time was running out. She and Kyle would be leaving soon. In any case, Jeri said she doubted the non-organic gadget would ever allow humans to achieve a perceptive sense anywhere near as functional as the ones the Crispies had designed into their bodies untold ages ago, so far in their past they had forgotten how it happened. And simply duplicating their core and sticking it in a human wouldn't work because it also contained parts of their very personality that were so inextricably entangled that they couldn't be separated from it. Trying to would cause the whole thing to malfunction in unpredictable ways that would very probably kill the person if attempted.

  It's a good thing I had taken some extra courses in electronics. I could read an ultra fine circuit diagram in three dimensions if I had to, especially the parts dealing with quantum factors. When I first looked at the spaghetti tangle Jeri was playing with I almost quit. It was the most complicated maze I'd ever seen outside of a high-end physics research lab. If it turned out the way she hoped, she told me, it could be redesigned as a solid circuit interactive chip and mass produced, but first it had to be proven and she was a long way from that stage.

  After skimming over all her previous work and notes I backed up and started from the beginning again and went much slower. There was a whale of a lot of it and I kept running into a problem with some of her assumptions and equations dealing with the genetic transformation of Crispies to humans. I spent a solid month reviewing and studying and going back over it before admitting I needed more help from Jeri.

  At first I had thought the problem was that they were so far ahead of us technologically that I wasn't grasping it, but I think I've made it plain that I'm not a dummy myself. I finally decided that wasn't what was wrong. I hadn't seen Jeri lately but assumed she was getting ready for her trip. I rang her apartment but got no answer there either, so I went back to the drawing board.

  Two weeks later I was still bogged down and still hadn't seen Jeri despite repeated calls, all answered the same way: Jeri was “temporarily unavailable.” Nevertheless, I needed her help to sort out my problem before I went any further. In fact, I didn't want to talk to anyone else but Jeri because if I was wrong I'd look as stupid as one of Santa's elves showing up in July. But if I was right ... then we had other problems. Big ones.

  I sent word to headquarters that I needed to talk to Jeri whenever she could break loose and put an urgent tag to the request. Carol called me back.

  I brightened when I saw her face. I hadn't seen a lot of her, either. She had told me when I met her once for a hurried lunch that Roy had returned and she thought she was in love.

  "Hi girlfriend,” I said. “How goes it working for the general? And how's your marine?"

  "Torrid. Sorry I haven't had a chance to talk lately, but with the ship getting ready for launch I haven't had time to turn around and neither has General Shelton."

  "How about Jeri? Can I borrow her for a day?"

  "Problems?"

  "Big ones. Maybe."

  "Anything I can do?"

  "Sorry, Carol but I better talk to her first."

  I heard her sigh. “No can do. This isn't for publication, but she and Kyle are together in New Mexico, troubleshooting a problem with the FTL ship. The general won't allow any communication unless it directly involves the space ship and the timetable for launch."

  Now it was my turn to sigh. What to do? The problem didn't involve the ship, per se, but ... damn. I needed to think before I upset a bunch of apple carts.

  "Okay. Tell you what, would
you call me the instant Jeri's back in the enclave? I don't care what time it is, just call."

  "That much I can do if I can keep my head on straight. I told you Roy was back from training and such time as I've had to spare ... well, you know how that goes."

  Indeed I did, and only wished I'd met someone as compatible as Carol apparently was with the big marine. So far the men I'd run across were mostly married. The others, for one reason or another, were all lacking that certain something. I could always tell. If I felt a little tingle from my nipples I was willing to explore the possibility of a relationship. Otherwise, nothing doing. Call me picky, but I like to at least start with what appears to be a compatible man. Given my luck so far though, I was about ready to turn my romantic endeavors over to a matchmaker and be done with it. However, I doubted there was such a person around. Amoebas have it lucky. No males, no females, just split in two when they feel like reproducing.

  "Okay, I guess that'll have to do,” I told Carol. “Just be sure and call soon as she's back."

  "Will do. Hey, did you hear? They named the first ship!"

  "Oh yeah? What's it called?"

  "How about USSS Zeng Wu?"

  "USS ... S?"

  "United States Space Ship."

  "Oh. Hmm. It fits, I guess.” I'd heard how both those men died while helping Jeri and Kyle escape from China in that experimental space ship, which incidentally helped us to design ours. “Thanks. Later."

  I killed the connection, then stood there in the little alcove I was calling an office where I did my searches, formulated algorithms and also carried out my preliminary design work on a computer before running experiments. Most of the time I had to run simulations for lack of equipment that hadn't arrived yet or hadn't been assembled—or more often hadn't even been designed.

  "Damn!” I said out loud, an idle oath directed at nothing and no one in particular.

  "Is there a difficulty?"

  I recognized the voice even before turning around. It was Ishmael, speaking in his pleasantly deep bass, purposely selected to sound commanding, I thought.

  "Hello, Ish. Yes, I have a problem, but it's not one that you can help with."

  "Are you certain? Since Jeri isn't here, perhaps I could be of assistance if it's anything related to Cresperian modalities."

  Huh? Modalities? Such big words he used. “Um, no, I don't think this is anything you can help me with, Ish. Thanks anyway."

  "All right then. Perhaps you're in need of some relaxation. Frequently getting away from a problem for a little while allows a person to see it in a new light."

  He could be right at that. At least rumor had him doing a lot of relaxing of the horizontal nature—but not sleeping, if you get the drift. I gazed at his movie star-handsome face and well toned body, just muscular enough to be attractive but not overdone. Maybe that was the problem I found with him. He appeared to have done everything in the book to make himself as perfect as possible. Not just good, perfect. On the other hand there was my research that indicated he might be ... the hell with it. I was tired of analyzing every item in the universe.

  "Maybe I do need to get away. Let's go have a drink. I've been here 12 hours today and haven't accomplished a thing."

  "Good."

  I swung by the front office slash lounge for my section to tell whoever was there that I was going, and found that Eugene and Margie Preconder had already left for the day, too. In fact, everyone had. I picked up my purse from my desk drawer and we headed back toward family quarters. There was a dayroom of sorts where you could get drinks and sit and talk or play computer or board games right near the quarters. However, I steered him toward my apartment and at the same time wondered why I was doing it.

  From the gossip Jeri and Carol had passed on to me before they both became so preoccupied, it wasn't at all unusual for him to visit single females in their rooms or vice versa. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but I wasn't looking for a casual fling. I just needed a little company, preferably male, and he was handy. So far as anyone knew he hadn't formed any permanent attachments so I wasn't twisting anyone else's panties by going with him.

  Oh hell, let's admit it. I was horny and had begun thinking about him in the sense of getting laid, although I certainly didn't intend to that day, especially when my research was indicating there might be problems. Besides, I wanted to get to know the newly minted man a little better before allowing anything like that to happen. If I did at all.

  After we were seated, I asked a leading question. “Ish, have you applied to go out on the next ship?"

  "No.” He shrugged disarmingly and smiled. “I have no desire to be cooped up in a space that small for months on end."

  "I take it the Crispy ship was very large then?"

  "Oh yes, a small city in essence. Exploration ventures were designed to be gone from the home planet for years, decades. There had to be room for all to continue studies in their specialties and room to interact without overly intruding into perceptive groups not your own."

  "Groups?"

  "One of our social—sociological I could say—methods of integrating memories into modular archives each of us could access. It was one of many methods used to keep individuals from becoming overloaded with data. Without possessing a perceptive sense it's rather hard to explain."

  "I should think so,” I mused, sipping at my whisky and water. “It must be wonderful."

  "It's as natural to us as breathing, so I can't judge it in that sense. I understand Jeri is attempting to devise an instrument to give humans at least a touch of the perceptive ability."

  "Yes, but she's not making much progress. How goes your work?"

  "I've about finished what the humans brought me here for, helping with the design of FTL ships. The model captured from the Chinese was all that was needed to complete it, or I should say Jeri's memory of it. The ship itself was destroyed and they came home in a reentry capsule."

  I picked up on the odd way he'd referred to us. “Ish, you said, ‘the humans,’ as if you're removed from them. But you're a human now, in case you haven't noticed."

  "Oh, yes I am,” he said and shrugged negligently. “I wouldn't go back to being a Crispy, but I still feel as if that's my species. Unlike Jeri, who seems to have gone further in identifying with humans than I have. Perhaps in time I'll feel differently."

  "Hmm. I haven't heard Jeri talk like that."

  "We're individuals, just as you are."

  "I guess so. Another drink?"

  "Not just now.” He slipped an arm around my shoulders.

  Oh, well. Test the waters, I thought. I tilted my head back and our lips touched. I have to admit he did it well. I could feel my body responding but I wasn't sure whether it was because of him or because it had been so long.

  Suddenly I found myself with my blouse unbuttoned. His hand was inside it and he was caressing my breasts. Curiously, I had no thoughts of anything leading up to that point. The last I remembered we were kissing—and still were—but I had no memory of anything in between.

  Suddenly I found myself with my blouse completely gone and he was moving his hand down toward my thighs while he was kissing me but curiously, I had no remembrance of how it had happened so fast.

  Jeri! I remembered her telling me how she had removed short-term memories a couple of times while she and Kyle were on the run. I twisted my body and broke from his embrace.

  "Get out!” I said forcefully, feeling my gorge rise. I grabbed for my blouse which he had discarded and held it in front of me.

  And suddenly I was alone again, wondering what had happened. Where was Ish? The last I remembered he was kissing me. And why was my blouse off?

  Jeri! I remembered her telling me how she had removed short-term memories of people a couple of times while she and Kyle were on the run. God damn him, he must have done it to me! The son of a bitch! No wonder his seductions had been so successful!

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN />
  Jeri had also told me she thought that if a person realized a short-term memory had been diffused, and if they concentrated hard enough soon enough, they could recover the memory, but that most people would never notice it. I wouldn't have if I hadn't talked to Jeri. I did my best, screwing up my face in concentration, probably making me look like I was in pain even while I felt sick at my stomach over what Ishmael had done. Must have done, damn him. And Jeri was right. Sure enough, a few minutes of intense thought and the whole sequence gradually began coming back; me saying “no” repeatedly, him wiping the memory and proceeding a bit further and doing it all over again.

  Damn him! I wasn't going to stand for this, Crispy or no Crispy. I didn't give a shit how important to our space flight efforts he might be. I wanted him drawn and quartered, but first someone needed to know the kind of shit he was pulling, right away. I couldn't think of a better person than the commander of the whole shebang, General Shelton.

  I called Carol at headquarters but she was already gone, which meant the general was, too. She wouldn't have left before him. Well, it could wait for morning, I thought. I had a couple more stiff drinks while I ran the scenario over and over again in my mind. It took me a long time to calm down but finally a bite to eat and a long shower did it. I had a hard time getting to sleep that night even though I locked my door for the first time since arriving at the Brider Enclave.

  While I was lying awake I began going over my research in my mind. What Ish had tried to do certainly helped confirm the problem I thought I'd discovered.

  * * * *

  "Let me get this straight. You're accusing Ishmael of using his perceptive powers on you by removing your short-term memory in an attempt to seduce you?"

  General Shelton's face was grim but troubled, as if he didn't want to believe me. I knew what his problem must be. Any Crispy was so highly valued for its knowledge that it would be hard to crack down on one. Some commanders probably wouldn't have but Shelton didn't strike me as that type.

  "That's not all, sir. My research is indicating that we may have problems with any Cresperian who converts to male rather than female. It has to do with the Y chromosome and will tend to make them unstable unless positive environmental influences are provided early and often, during and after the conversion process. And even then, the possibility will remain. That's if I'm right, of course. You can't make a call like that on the basis of one example like Ishmael."