Temporary Duty

by Ric Locke

  The other girl brushed by, pausing at the door. “I may want a turn later,” she warned.

  “Go gabble yourself,” Peet said, but both girls were grinning. “And get out. I’ll come and get you when we’re done.” The door clicked behind her as she left. Peet shoved a pile of clothing into a locker, forced the door shut and latched the handle, then began twitching bedclothes into position. “Haven’t you got any further than that?” she asked when she’d finished making the bed and turned. “Here, I’ll help you.”

  Peters had unclasped his buckle, but had been too bemused by the situation to go farther. Removing the belt deactivated the suit; only the wearer could do that without special precautions. Once deactivated it could be opened by anyone, which Peet proceded to demonstrate by tugging the “zipper” to open the top section. The two of them began pulling it down; when it got past his groin she squealed. “Wonderful!” she said. “But we can play later. Toss it on the other bed.”

  Peters freed his legs, tossed the suit as instructed, and turned to find Peet pulling the shift over her head. She lay on the bunk, spread her legs slightly, and grinned. “In case you weren’t quite sure, it goes right there,” she said, pointing.

  Peters managed with a minimum of fumbling. Nothing was seriously out of place, although he wasn’t experienced enough to make detailed comparisons. “Khhh,” she said, a long throaty exhalation as he entered. “Khhh, so good. Now move.”

  He moved. She quickly caught the rhythm, and they moved together. Her breath started coming in deep gasps, with low, back of the throat sounds like growls, Ghrrr, aaahh, ghrrr, in time with the strokes. Gasps and growls got longer and deeper, culminating in a long cry, throaty growl mixed with a higher tone, a sound like nothing in his experience, and she clasped him around the torso so strongly he was forced to be still, and kissed him again.

  He wasn’t spent, so after a few moments of embrace he began moving again. She caught the rhythm after a few strokes, loosened her grasp, and began breathing deeply again. It took longer this time, but now he knew what to look for, and when she reached her high point he released his own. This time when she hugged him he hugged back, and they lay there together for a little while.

  Then she kissed him again, bringing her tongue into play, and he responded. After only a little of that she pushed him away slightly and inhaled. “That’s really nice, but I can’t keep it up for too long,” she said. “I can’t breathe.”

  “I can’t either,” he admitted. “But I like it too.”

  “Let’s see how long we can keep it up.” They did that, establishing the maximum duration to the satisfaction of both parties.

  The third time took even longer, but seemed to work out just as well. After she had released her final clasp, he rolled to one side, lying on the bed, their bodies touching full length. “I have to rest a little,” he admitted.

  “Me too.” She smiled and pecked his lips. “But we can play.”

  They explored one another, beginning with faces. Her facial cleft was deep enough to admit his hawkbeak of a nose; now he knew she breathed through it, which he’d assumed but didn’t know. She found his nose fascinating and fingered it several times. Her eyes were much like a human’s, except that the iris looked more like concentric rings than radial rays; they were blue with a tinge of green, which he hadn’t noticed despite looking full into them as they kissed. His were gray, with a bluish cast. “Not many Grallt have that color eyes,” she said. “Humans either,” he explained.

  Her breasts were a little lower on her chest than a human’s, and just below her rib cage she had a pair of vestigial nipples with no swelling behind them. “Some girls have real titties there,” she said. “It’s considered really sexy.” The breasts were not remarkable—wrong, asshole, he thought wryly, but at least they weren’t too different, soft warm bags, nipples not especially prominent, surrounded by dark aureoles. Between them she had a strip of silky hair, the same near black as her head hair, thinning to surround a human-looking belly button, widening to form a pubic bush. A wider, thicker band of hair ran down her back, really a continuation of her head hair, ending in a point just above her waist.

  She examined his penis closely. “It’s bigger around, but a little shorter than normal,” she mused. Then she laughed. “You know what I mean! And don’t get all male on me about it. It’s enough, as I think you just found out.”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted.

  Her clitoris was bigger than a human’s and weakly erectile. “I bet you can—” shit! “—make water standing up,” he remarked.

  “Yes, I can piss standing up,” she supplied the word. “Can’t your females do that?”

  “I’ve heard that some can, or can learn, but it isn’t normal.”

  She stuck out her tongue; it came to two points, not prominently enough to be called “forked” but distinctly bifurcated at the end. “Pah. I can’t imagine.”

  Her labia continued to form a flexible stem as big as his little finger and about as long, then swelling to form testicles. “They have to be like that,” she said. “Animals fuck from behind, and if they were close like yours, they’d be in the way. But leave them alone. I’m ready again; how about you?”

  “I think so,” he said, and entered her again. It wasn’t quite as satisfying this time for some reason.

  Apparently she felt the same way, because when they were finished, she turned and sat up, legs hanging off the bed. “Khaa,” she breathed. “So nice.” Long pause. “But..”

  “But what?” Peters asked it softly, and writhed around, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, bodies touching. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, as softly as he had spoken. “But maybe I did.” She turned to face him, and reached up to touch his nose, bringing her fingers down to his lips.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged. “What’s wrong?”

  After a pause she said, “At the most basic level, these.” She fingered her testicles where they lay on the edge of the bed and reached over. “Oh, I can’t get to yours,” she said, then sat quietly for a moment. “You know, you aren’t really a male, as I know it.”

  “Yes. And you’re not really a female, the way one of my people would be.”

  Peet nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” She sighed. “My sister and I play together occasionally, but that’s what it is, playing. This is, oh, I don’t know, maybe serious is the word.” Another sigh, and she turned to face him. “I’m not very pretty, you know.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t, would you? I’m too different.” She poked him in the ribs.

  “Oof! Don’t do that,” Peters admonished. Then he squeezed a little tighter. “Maybe we can look at it like this,” he began, and she turned to face him again. “Did you enjoy this, or not?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said.

  “Would you enjoy it if we did it again?”

  “Probably,” she admitted.

  “And you enjoy playing with your sister.” It wasn’t really a question, but when Peet nodded he went on, “So why don’t we just call it ‘playing’ and leave it at that?”

  “That would probably be the best way,” she said after a long pause. “But…”

  “Yes, but,” Peters said. “But what you really want is a real male, of your own species, to romp around the bed with and maybe make you swell up.” He put his hand on her stomach.

  Peet smiled a little. “A little lower, actually, but you’re right.” Deep breath. “Except I think it won’t happen. Like I said, I’m not very pretty.”

  “Well, if your males are anything like ours, I think you’re putting too much emphasis on that,” he said, and squeezed her shoulders again. “What a male wants is somebody to do that with,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bed, “and if he thinks you want to do it with him, that’s what’s attractive about a female.” He grinned. “Look at me.”

  “I’ve been looking at you,
” Peet said, and elbowed him again.

  “Oof. I told you not to do that,” Peters admonished. “What I mean is, there aren’t any females of my species available to me. You came along and invited me to play, and I have to tell you, if I introduced you to my friends back home, most of them would run screaming.”

  “But I had to drag you.”

  Peters smiled fully. “Yes, but I didn’t pull back very hard. The point is, I found you attractive because I thought you found me attractive.” He touched her cheek, a soft caress. “I’ll bet your males are about the same. Pick a few and try it.”

  “You mean I might have to try several before I find one with low enough taste?”

  “No, I mean practice makes perfect.”

  Peet chuckled, the first laugh she’d managed in a little while, and reached around his shoulders to return his hug. After a long pause she said in a different tone, “I’m all over sticky. I need a shower.”

  “Me, too,” Peters admitted.

  Long pause. Then: “But I really think I’d like to play a little more first. Do you think you’re up to it?”

  “Well, maybe.”

  Peet laughed out loud. “Yes, I see you are,” she observed, and swung around to lie on the bed again. “In case you weren’t quite sure, it goes right there,” she said, and pointed.

  “I had figured that out already,” Peters said.

  Neither of them felt any urgency this time; the session was longer, more relaxed, and somehow friendlier, with frequent pauses for one or another type of “play”. Afterwards they held one another quietly for a little while. Finally Peet pushed him away, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. “Time for that shower,” she said. “I’ll go first, that way I can clean it up a bit for you.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

  “I’ll try.” She headed for the shower, hips swinging, and Peters considered that she still looked really good from every aspect but face on, and he was used to that by now. He sat up and looked around. In this kind of situation he’d normally have a pair of skivvies to pull on, but he had no intention of donning the kathir suit in this condition, and it wouldn’t be—he had a hard time framing the concept, but finally came around to “polite.” It wouldn’t be polite to get fully dressed at this point.

  Peet wasn’t long in showering, emerging still nude, with wet hair. “Your turn,” she said, and gestured, and Peters picked up the kathir suit and went that way. The facilities were the same as in his own quarters, a little bigger maybe, and there was stuff around that he thought of as “feminine”: pretty bottles of colored goo and knicknacks. He showered quickly, then hesitated a moment before pulling the kathir suit on.

  It turned out to be a good choice. Peet was sitting at a desk chair, dressed in her own airsuit; she looked up as he emerged. She was smiling, which he thought was a good sign. “I’ve been thinking,” she said without preamble. “What are you going to tell your friends about the time we spent together?”

  “As little as possible,” Peters told her cheerfully. “It’s none of their business.”

  “What about your special friend, Todde isn’t it? Will you tell him more?”

  “Probably.” He thought a moment. “But it still won’t be much.”

  “Good.” She paused, looked him in the face. “And what will you say to me, if we meet again?”

  “I’ll say, ‘Hello, Peet.’” He smiled. “And if you smile at me, I’ll probably say, ‘Would you like to play?’”

  She thought about that. “And if I say no?”

  “It’s your choice, Peet.” He touched her cheek. “If I ask, it’s because I want to, but it’s always your choice.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. A pause, and she shook her head. “Do you know how to get back to your living quarters from here?” she asked in a fairly businesslike tone.

  “Yes, that’s no problem,” Peters told her. “We’ve been exploring a lot. I know my way around pretty well.”

  “That’s good.” Peet stood, took his arm, and began walking slowly toward the door. “Thank you, Peters,” she said softly.

  “And that’s one more thing,” Peters told her as he worked the latch. “I think we’re good friends by now, at least I hope so, and that means you should call me John.” He kissed her, on the cheek rather than the lips, just a peck. “Goodbye for now, Peet.”

  “Goodbye for now, John,” she said. Then she smiled and closed the door.

  Peters shook his head. Apparently the Grallt practice of brief goodbyes held here, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zenth was visible out the aft door. “It don’t look a whole lot different,” Peters observed.

  “Different from what?”

  “Different from home. Earth,” Peters explained. “Or Keelisika, either. Just sort of blue and white.”

  Todd considered. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted. “But, well, water’s blue and clouds are white, right? I don’t think that’s gonna change between different planets.”

  Two dli were pulled up where their entrances were convenient to the EM quarters hatch, and the freight hauler sat between them and another convenient for the officers. A chain of sailors was passing seabags down the line toward the freight ship, Mannix and another First Class checking name tags as the bags were presented.

  Peters and Todd took seats in the aft section and sat while the others filed aboard. Gell pushed his way forward, leading the contingent of Chiefs toward the VIP section, and shortly after that the hatch swung shut and seated itself with a muted thud. Then the view out the ports began gyrating, the dli shot out the bow of Llapaaloapalla and into space, and the sailors settled in for the ride, some sitting quietly, others pointing out the ports and commenting.

  Several of the more intrepid ones got up and went up and down the aisle, chatting with friends and generally skylarking. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Todd remarked, watching as Everett stood over one of his cronies, laughing about something and slapping the other on the back of the head.

  “Let it be,” Peters advised. “We ain’t in charge of this evolution.”

  Shortly after that they felt the odd sensation they’d noticed when Gell was letting them operate the controls. Probably Gell was letting one of the sailors drive; the dli accelerated in odd directions, and the sensations drove the skylarkers back to their seats in a general clicking of seat belts.

  Atmosphere duly arrived in a roar of orange and yellow flame. “Nice ride,” somebody commented appreciatively when that was over and they were plunging toward a brightly sunlit cloud bank. The rest murmured agreement. There was a sky now rather than stars, dark blue, lightening as they descended. Next was broken clouds, first gray mist, then sunlit blue in flashes. Below that layer the dli stabilized at relatively low altitude, flying over a high-summer sea with puffy cumulus clouds overhead.

  “Landfall coming up,” somebody remarked, and there was a general leaning toward the ports. The landscape was predominately blue, with an occasional tinge of green and a few yellows and reds for bright contrast. Houses, or at least structures, were scattered higgledy-piggledy over the rolling hillsides among linear features that were probably fences and ditches, with blue and green trees that looked a bit like pines.

  The dli passed over a straight row of tall trees and came to a halt in midair, then sank slowly onto a field of close-cropped blue—sod? Sailors started to get up and reclaim small personal items from the overhead lockers. The hatch opened with a whirr and thud, and the men nearest the entry started to move out.

  “Peters, front and center!” somebody shouted. “You, too, Todd. Make way, there.” Peters began pushing down the aisle, Todd following. He should have expected this and sat closer to the hatch.

  Tollison stood on the wingwalk, grinning. “Your services are needed,” he said, and gestured toward the tail.

  The waiting group was composed of short people(?) with round heads, broad faces,
and pointed ears, like munchkins; the one at the head of the delegation wore a bright-colored red-and-yellow outfit and a green hat. “Pleasant greetings,” he(?) said as Peters clambered down the steps. “Do you speak the Trade?”

  “A little,” Peters admitted with a nod.

  There was unmistakable relief in the small fellow’s change of posture. “Excellent! Welcome to Star Bay Resort. I am Cacoladorivarogantsava—” the name went on for several more syllables. “But you should address me as Ca. May I know your name?”

  “Thank you for your welcome, Ca. I am Peters, and this is my associate, Todd. We stand ready to assist you in whatever procedure may be appropriate.”

  “Oh, most excellent indeed!” the munchkin exclaimed in his high-pitched voice. “Not only a speaker of Trade, but a cultured one as well! I’m sure we shall get along famously.” He gestured at the other individuals waiting. “My staff and I are prepared to serve you in any way reasonable.”

  “Most excellent indeed,” Peters agreed gravely, and nodded. “How may we best cooperate? Few of us speak the Trade.”

  Ca eyed the sailors beginning to descend from the aft steps. “This is not an unfamiliar situation,” he declared. “I suggest this: Each of your people should claim his equipment, and you should divide into pairs. Staff members will assist with the equipment and direct each pair to the desk, where one should sign the register. After that they should proceed to the rooms, with the staff directing them. Is this reasonable?”

  “Eminently reasonable. Please wait a moment while I explain the procedure.” Ca bowed, one hand on his gaudy belt buckle, the other stiffly down, and Peters turned to the others.