by Scott Rhine
“I knew it was something like that.” Blythe blinked her long lashes and leaned closer to him. “Roz said you all work for a Bat children’s charity?”
“Yeah. We’re taking a petition to the Convocation to grant Niisham independence so they can get the help they need.”
“I think that’s sooo noble.”
He swallowed hard. “Are you wearing some sort of perfume?”
“Hmm. No, just the spices from dinner. I’m fixing lasagna with pepperoni the way you like it. Would you like to come into the kitchen for a peek?”
Reuben envisioned her on the island counter wearing only toasted cheese bread around her ears. “I have more work to do before we leave tonight, but you’ve certainly made my mouth water.”
She blushed as he fled the scene.
Menelaus had his door open and was leaning into the hall to eavesdrop. “Man, if you don’t tap that, I will. She’s begging for it. She’s even the same color as me. It’s fate.”
“Shut up. We practice with our new weapons tonight as soon as we shove off.”
Menelaus grinned. “Looking forward to the lesson. Since the old man left, once I beat you, I go straight to Max.”
“Dream on.”
****
Before the dinner dishes were cleared, Menelaus was already scrapping for a fight. Reuben prepared the milk bottle and dinner platter for Jeeves in the kitchen, but the Bat wouldn’t give it a rest. “Fine. I’ll take you down fast tonight. I have things to do.”
Max agreed to referee.
On the gazebo, Menelaus was stripped down to his trunks, grandstanding with the new practice sword. “This is a real man’s weapon. Are you adding any more girlie rules?”
Reuben smirked, turning on the power to his shock staff. “No head blows.”
They squared off. The moment the Bat committed himself, Reuben blocked. Electricity shot up through the hilt, causing Menelaus to curse loudly and drop his weapon.
“Point,” Max said, deadpan.
When Menelaus reached for his sword, Reuben blocked. Only the Bat’s amazing dexterity kept him from getting stung again. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s how a real fight goes,” Max replied. “If you want your weapon back, then you’ll have to get creative.”
Menelaus licked his lips. “Why don’t we make this interesting? You don’t want that prime piece of mutton, but I wouldn’t mind giving her a go.” He dodged again, grinning. “Her leg fur is so fine. In the dark, I could pretend she’s a Bat, as long as I gag her. If she baas too loudly, it’ll spoil the illusion. Hell, she’s so dumb, anything she says makes me want to put something in her mouth.”
Reuben roared and swung wild.
Menelaus ducked inside and kicked his knee. The joint bent backwards ever so slightly, and Reuben collapsed in pain. Menelaus scooped up his sword and brought it down to stop just shy of Reuben’s throat. “Two points for me. I win. I finally win!” He danced around the dais.
Reuben rolled around, holding his injured leg.
Max pushed the limb flat. “You’ve hyperextended the leg. It’s a centimeter longer than the other one now. We need to immobilize it and get you crutches. Menelaus, what the blue blazes were you thinking.”
Smiling, Menelaus said, “I did what you’ve been trying to teach me all along. I won with the mind first. It all makes sense now.”
“I’ve created a monster,” Reuben said between gritted teeth.
“Can I face off with you tonight, Max?” Menelaus begged.
“Shut up and fetch a couple antigrav panels. We need to carry him back to his room.”
Reuben wanted to hate the Bat, but Daisy was the first to respond to the broadcast for help. She leaned over him, whispering soothing words as they waited for the floater boards. He could squint and pretend it was Ivy. This was worth the injury.
As they carried him to his bedroom, she held his hand. Daisy fetched him pillows and helped him into pajamas before Max strapped the brace on. She promised to stay at his side for as long as he needed. Reuben didn’t swallow the painkillers because he didn’t want to cloud the moment.
After a couple hours of her reading aloud and caring for him, Reuben remembered his obligation to Jeeves. Abruptly, he announced, “Maybe you should send up Roz or Blythe.”
“Why?”
“Because all I can think of right now is having you in my bed. That’s not right for anyone. If you’re not going to leave, just put that pillow over my head and end it now. It’ll hurt less.”
Daisy chewed on her lip. “We aren’t trying to make you suffer.”
“You used her shampoo when you showered tonight.”
She made an ‘o’ shape with her mouth. “I’ll go.”
Ten minutes later, Blythe tapped on the door. “Can’t I come in?”
“Not like I’m in any shape to stop you.” The wave of sympathy her aura expressed made him feel like a heel.
Blythe placed a fresh ice pack on his knee. “I hear you were injured defending my honor.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Sorry I didn’t bring back your plate yet.”
“Someone else brought it to the kitchen for you,” Blythe said, uncertain. “She traded the old plate for the drink bulb and dinner platter you left out. What’s going on around here?”
“Did you meet our mascot, Jeeves?” How had the little one escaped the jungle? Probably the air ducts.
“I didn’t see the creature. She thanked me and asked where Oo-bin was.”
“That would be me. Wait. You could understand that baby talk and tell the gender?”
Blythe rolled her eyes. “I am a Dolittle.”
“Please, you can’t tell Daisy, Fifi, Menelaus, or anyone outside the ship. It’s a life-or-death secret. We’re taking her to the Convocation to classify her people as protosentient. The Saurians want to eat all of them.”
“How terrible!” Blythe said. “I’d do anything to help with that.”
“If you could sneak Jeeves food like I did, that would be wonderful. Roz or Max could answer any questions. You’re a godsend.”
She blushed again. “Is that all you need from me?”
Stop it. You’re killing me. Then he connected the dots. She might not be smart enough to be a vet, but she still had a talent. She certainly couldn’t contaminate Jeeves with any high-tech secrets. “Humans are already busy with the pandas. The elder races don’t want any more races. The mimics are afraid of Saurians. How would you feel about mentoring her species as a representative of our people?”
“Oh, yes!” She kissed him on the forehead, bubbling with celebration. “Our people have never mentored anyone before. Are you sure we’re ready?”
“I think you’re perfect for the job. Go tell Roz the news.”
The tawny, young ewe kissed him again, on the cheek.
After she rushed out, Reuben told the ship’s AI, “Minder, lights out and lock the door.” He couldn’t take any more temptation.
The three new women took turns caring for him, and the temptation was agonizing. If he yielded, Ivy would know everything, and he would be the gigolo Max had implied. Worse, Blythe would never look at him with that shine in her eyes again.
Fifi point-blank offered to relieve his discomfort in exchange for his test.
Reuben replied, “I’ve already promised to meet with the existing Black Ram after our next stop. Please, give me until after then before you ask again.”
She smiled. “All right, but if you ask me, I won’t say no.”
The whole evening she sat beside him, he felt like an alcoholic with an open bottle by his bed. Okay, he was an alcoholic. Now he felt like a fox put in charge of the hen house, and they all looked so tasty. Daisy and Blythe were both putting on weight by the day. Or perhaps his standards were lowering as his libido increased. He couldn’t allow himself to be with any of them in private.
Echo startled him when she appeared in his quarters. “I have not come to punish you but to witn
ess your state myself. Max will instruct the Bat to behave in a civilized manner.”
With a shock staff to Menelaus’s vocal cords if he talks trash about you. Although, letting Roz teach him the lesson might be scarier. “I can finish the electrical access panels once I’m off the pain medication. I should be good to work cargo at the next port. After the jump, Daisy will oversee my physical therapy.”
“Take time to heal properly. Do not reinjure yourself. Menelaus will assume the bulk of your unskilled responsibilities. When Fiona is flying, Roz may assist in the external tasks.”
Reuben chuckled. “So she’s on hull-scraping duty because you found out about the mimic?”
The tranquil face shifted into a frown. “What about the mimic?”
Crud. Drugs and secrets are not a good combination. “While you were in medical quarantine, the partners had one last meeting before we switched crews. Keeping Jeeves in stasis felt like the same sort of kidnapping that Saurians were guilty of. My friend Blythe Gentle is recovering from brain damage. We thought that her taking care of the mimic might help her rehabilitation without revealing any new information to Jeeves. If the arrangement works, we might recommend Goat Dolittles as researchers on Jeeves’s home planet.”
“Roz was behind this.”
“I helped,” he said, hoping to defuse a little of the Magi’s wrath.
“You are easily manipulated. I will have a word with my mates. Is there anything else I should know?”
“The CEO hinted that when we reach the Convocation, Menelaus may need to petition for independence for the prison colony, or Llewellyn Terraforming can’t help them. The Bat royals and the Church of the Void would never approve an expenditure of funds to aid traitors.”
Echo considered. “As a free-born citizen of the colony, Emissary Menelaus will make an excellent spokesman. We can help him gather evidence of sentient-rights violations from our records of the prison system. If he can present before we raise the mimic issue, the Saurian traders should back the claims. With enough examples of how innocents are being mistreated, the Turtles and Magi will support the prison’s secession from royal dominion.”
“That ought to be good for some fireworks,” Reuben said. “Maybe we should use this cause as our distraction for Jeeves to reach the committee on sentience. We could use the Bat resistance to this idea as an explanation for why the report of murders at Salizar B was falsified. That way we can avoid mentioning the subbasement drive in public.”
“Your suggestion is most considerate. I will discuss this with my mates as well. Good night.”
Chapter 18 – A Goat’s Burden
The new crew members weren’t as skilled as those they had left behind. Blythe could manage soup and sandwiches well enough, but cooking was not her strong point. She did, however, draw smiley faces on their pancakes with berries or chocolate chips. Whenever someone aboard other than Max felt hungry or thirsty, Blythe seemed to sense the need and appear with a snack or a treat. Her eagerness seemed to make up for the simplicity of the offering.
After changing the ship’s name to Solemnity, Roz pitched in at every opportunity to give the well-meaning cook advice. Near the end of the first leg of their journey to Shangri-La, the dinner casserole was actually edible. Reuben lingered to have a third helping. The four weeks of light duty had been his first vacation since college. The ladies had even tended the garden for him because kneeling would be painful. He was almost reluctant to see the trip end.
Alone with Reuben at the dining table, Fifi took the opportunity to criticize. “Blythe sensed you were going to sleep with me that night at the hotel and called to block us.”
“Blythe was afraid and rightfully so,” Reuben insisted.
“She’s not the innocent she pretends to be,” Fifi said. “She’s been with boys before. She even has tattoos.”
Always quick to listen in, Menelaus popped his head out of his room. “Really? Where?”
“Men!” Fifi growled. “I’m going. I have to fly the approach to Shangri-La Station while Roz attends the partners’ meeting.” She leaned over for a peck on the cheek.
Reuben feigned ignorance, heading for the lift. “Oh, yeah. I was supposed to present at that meeting, but I forgot to make slides.” Because he had been raised on Shangri-La, he had been asked to brief everyone on what to expect. For some reason Reuben felt offended. How could he sum up his home world in thirty minutes of stereotypes?
Though not late, Reuben was the last partner to arrive in the officers’ lounge. “I think Blythe might be a better person to provide color on the culture because her family owns a tourist business. I was sort of isolated at the orphanage.”
Max replied, “Tell us what to expect from an outsider’s point of view.”
“Right.” Wing it. “Shangri-La is a border world with a different model than most. Humans and Goats share the surface. Humans tend to favor the mountaintops with hot springs and alpine lakes, while Goats settle in the low areas where land is plentiful but the fog rarely lifts. Goats don’t sculpt new planets other than the landscaping, so we pay through sweat equity. We provide the hard labor for every resort, from laying the stones to carrying the suitcases and making the beds. We’re reliable, silent partners. I’ve never seen fewer than four Goats sleeping in the same home. Part of it is social, but sharing body heat is a real concern.”
Roz tried to smile. “Come on. The standard of living can’t be all that different.”
“Change is not something Goats aspire to. Most often, we find something we like and copy it. Our Shangri-La cities always fall in the shadow of Human developments. Until recently, our cities were lit by methane or biomass. The major ones switched over to LEDs and geothermal, but pig manure and Human garbage are still valuable commodities.” Kesh took notes on his computer pad, especially on facts that influenced cargo choices for Goat planets. “My people use every part of an animal but the squeal. It’s why the Saurians chose me to care for the mimics.”
Roz stammered, “I-I didn’t know you felt this way.”
Reuben shook his head. “I’m not complaining. This world treats us better than any other in the Union. You wanted to know what it was really like. How many Goats do you remember attending Anodyne University? Not bussing tables or mopping floors.”
Max and his wife glanced at each other. “Maybe one or two?”
“My people are more repairmen than engineers. The skills are passed down from father to son, so who needs to go to school? Most things have fabricator templates and print out complete. We haven’t built a new ship in over three centuries. Our starships are also smaller than yours because our stars are closer together.” Reuben considered that this may be why the Magi chose Earth, to isolate their unwanted cousins.
“What about weapons?” asked Daisy.
“Unless we’re being sent in as foot soldiers against the Phibs, we normally aren’t armed. Shepherds and people in remote areas might use rope-based weapons like garrotes, bolos, or nets. Young rams may literally butt heads over a girl, but usually, we only attack a threat to the herd as a whole.”
Roz asked, “Is medicine so miserable that Blythe had to go to Laurelin?”
“Medicine is different than the way Humans practice. For example, Blythe is a Gentle. She’s very attuned to the needs of others, as you’ve noticed. Gentles can locate lost children or hikers with a broken leg from kilometers away. They also know when something is off-kilter with someone. That person is then encouraged to visit a shaman with the Empathy talent. The shaman diagnoses the problem and eliminates the distress from the herd, whether the cause is body or spirit.”
“You don’t use actual hospitals?”
“Not often. Local wise women can set a fracture or sew stitches if someone does something stupid. We fly people with serious injuries to the big cities, but that’s rare. Almost every Goat from an area is medically compatible to any other. Transplants and transfusions are common and rarely need crossmatching. We eat everything, so Goats are no
toriously hard to poison. If a person gets a new disease, they try to beat it on their own so they can spread the antibodies to other villages as a public service … usually through intercourse.”
Daisy snorted. “Playing doctor and door-to-door salesman at the same time?”
“Let me offer you a free vaccination, young lady,” Roz joked.
“You’ll only feel a little prick.” Max couldn’t finish the sentence before he was snickering.
Even Echo joined in, appearing in her starlet hologram form. “Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.”
The shock of a Magi telling a dirty joke made Kesh roll off his ball chair. Daisy laughed until she cried.
Reuben tried to ignore them. “Sex is much more casual among Goats. A female can choose whether to have offspring by a given male. When that happens, it’s considered a benefit to the local herd, to gain some genetic trait for the pool. The guy doesn’t always stick around, and monogamy is rare. We don’t even have marriage contracts.”
After a long pause for the amusement to subside, Reuben asked, “Any serious questions?”
Echo said, “Your species needs so little to survive. Why are you all so poor?”
“The debt of my species is borne by every Goat worker. After we met the Humans, we wanted to be more like them. A certain political party proposed the idea of free retirement homes and a pension for every Goat above a certain age, plus a guarantee of so many hectares of land for every farmer. To keep up with your examples, we drained millennia of reserves. We had to sell our space stations to the Bankers. However, a third of our planets were not self-sufficient. They relied on each other too much. Without free space stations, those planets went into a downward spiral. Black Ram Xerxes took out loans as a stop gap. After he died, other short-sighted politicians repealed his policies, and the interest burden caused other worlds to collapse. Now our number-one export is menial laborers to other systems.”
Kesh stared. “They could have stabilized the Mnamnabonian economy with the war settlement, but then they expanded again too quickly. The herd is never going to climb out of that quicksand. The loan is coming due soon.”
