by Yronwode
“I did no such thing,” the Dead Man told him with absolute conviction.
“Neg, it was definitely you in my dreams of blood. You told me to be K-Rock.
You told me to…”
“Whatever was in your head down there it wasn’t me,” the Dead Man insisted.
“Maybe it was a part of you that you don’t like to acknowledge. Maybe it was something else, but it definitely was not me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not,” the Dead Man said. “When you went to the planet, you took what you had in your mind only. I was on the ship the whole time. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” Pegasus broke orbit nine days after the landing party returned. Circumstances dictated our next destination. And I opened up a well-deserved ration of flaked pinkfish.
Pegasus – Main Bridge
At the Primary Telemetry Station, David Alkema showed Eliza Jane Change something he thought would make her happy.
“After reconstructing the Hewlander’s Navigation log, we found it took on some interesting cargo about 37 light years from here,” David Alkema indicated the entry, and Change read it.
“Tritium,” she said out loud, but not sounding impressed.
“90,000 liters,” Alkema confirmed. “There’s no guarantee the refining operation is still there. But if there used to be Tritium, there likely still is.” Change frowned and projected the coordinates onto a star-chart displayed as a hologram in the forward bridge. “These coordinates lead to a K-type Red Giant star system. That’s not a likely location to find tritium.”
“But it’s less than eight days in hyperspace,” Alkema said. “It’s worth checking out at least.”
“I agree,” Change agreed. “I will begin the calculations.” Pegasus – Alkema Family Quarters
As Pegasus, departed the system and began the acceleration to transition speed, Max Jordan lay down in his sleep unit. The mattress contoured itself to his body, and he prepared for another night of bliss.
He closed his eyes, and Caliph was with him. “Can we make love?” she asked.
“We’ve got the next four hours,” Jordan sighed in his dream. “Let’s make the most of it.”
In the dream she created, they were together on a huge, ancient four-poster bed in the middle of a field of marigolds. It was all so real, the tactile softness of the sheets, the scent of the marigolds, the kiss of the wind on his bare flesh. And her, she was the most real thing of all. In his dream, Caliph had taken on the form of the Midian newscaster, but with larger breasts. Max held her arms, felt the warmth her body generated, could smell her sweet womanly smells.
Then, in the midst of their love-making, he asked her, “Instead of this body, could I maybe see your real body.”
“I don’t have a ‘real body,’ she reminded him.
“I know, but if you did… if you could make yourself look like the way you think you’d look as a human…”
The newscaster form shimmered, transforming instantly into a creature of silvery-white luminous skin, with blue-white eyes and black hair tipped in glowing blue.
She kept the breasts.
“What do you think?”
“You’re beautiful,” he told her
“I love you, Max Jordan.”
“I love you, Caliph the Alien Artificial Intelligence.” And she leaned over and kissed him for a long time before they pulled apart. In his dream, Jordan smiled, “But keep that Midian newsreader around, just in case…”
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