The Caterpillars Question - txt

by Farmer, Phillip Jose

  Now there were tears on Tappy's face. "The Agents of the Imago— they were good to me," she said. "I never saw them, except for Candy just now, I only heard them and felt them, but they did so much for me. It was long ago, yet still—" Then her brow furrowed. "It was seven years ago. I remember! I was blind, and lame, but they helped me to see and walk without limping. Then you and I went to a nice planet, with a wonderful little house and garden, and oh, it's as if we just made love all the time! After the first two years, when you said I was too young. But I broke you down finally, when I was fifteen, and proved I was old enough. Then we just did it and did it, and it was always so perfect. I hardly remember anything else! But then, suddenly, we were back in the AI city in space, and I don't remember how that happened. And the egg— Jack, there was no egg before! I was stung by the honker, and it helped save us from the Gaol, but then the swelling faded away. Did another—"

  Now Jack appreciated the monstrous gaps they had left in her memory of those fictional seven years. No mention of the egg at all! How could they have forgotten to account for that? And the seeming return to the AI station— there should have been a rationale for that, too. They had thrust her unprepared into a situation both old and new. No wonder she was confused!

  He had to patch over it somehow. So he started talking, extemporaneously, hoping to satisfy her. Because her doubt could be the destruction of them all. He had to convince the Imago, too, if it had any sentience of its own. The fate of the galaxy might depend on that!

  "Tappy, you're right. There's been a lot of confusion. We did go to that garden planet, and it was great, and we thought it would last forever, but the Gaol had never given up searching for us. We were there to give the Imago time to mature, and to give you time to get to know me really well, so that when the Imago manifested, you and it would work with me for the good of the galaxy. The AI said that otherwise— the Imago is so powerful a force that great evil could come, if things were not right when it matured. So we weren't really doing what we thought. I mean, we weren't there just to have fun. We knew it would have to end when the Imago came."

  He paused to take a breath and to gauge her reaction. She was gazing raptly at him. He was giving her a perspective that helped to shape her scattered memories and impressions. And actually, he wasn't lying; he was just interpreting. Because the basic purpose was as he was saying. Only the time span differed— and in her mind, that time was all there.

  "So then the Imago did mature," he continued. "And at the same time, the egg— we had thought it was just a sting or something, but apparently it was a tiny egg, that was timed to grow and mature the same time the Imago did, so it could help— it grew big, and hatched, and the hatchling turned out to be a little chameleonlike creature that can greatly facilitate the effect of the Imago. The Imago is— is empathy. For every living thing, animal and plant. Every type of creature. And it really can save the galaxy, because a Gaol with empathy for others is a decent person. The way Garth is. You carry supreme empathy with you, Tappy."

  "Yes," she breathed, lying back on the bed and drawing him down with her. "I feel it, oh I feel it! Always a little, but now overwhelmingly." Her hands drew him in. "Tell me more about it, while you make love to me."

  Jack had hoped she would forget about that. But it didn't matter; he knew he was going to do it. She really was old enough now, not just because of her phantom seven years, but because the Imago made her more fully adult than any normal person could ever be.

  "But with the arrival of the Imago," he continued, stroking her body, touching her small breasts on either side of the bandage, through her nightie, "came also the Gaol. They had not been able to find us until then. But they zeroed in on the Imago, as if it had been only a few days. The AI had to fetch us, to try to keep us safe, in a hurry. We had to leave everything behind. Even your favorite teddy bear. I'm sorry about that. But the Gaol came to the AI station, too. Just as the Imago and the hatchling came. The Gaol took over the station. Malva manifested, looking exactly as she did seven years ago, and just as mean, and forced you into the coffin. I mean, the—"

  Tappy touched his lips with one hand. "Stop, Jack. You have caught up to the present. I'm relieved. I was afraid that something awfully wrong— that maybe it would turn out to be all a dream— that you didn't love me after all—"

  "Oh, Tappy, I do love you! Doubt all else, but don't doubt that!" That much he could say with sincerity now.

  "I don't doubt it," she murmured. "Now let's make love."

  "Yes." Relieved, and flush with his burgeoning emotion. Jack got off the bed and stripped his clothing. He had made the dream real for her and saved the situation. Whatever parts of it were lies, he could at least make this much true. He owed it to her— and he wanted to do it.

  He lay down beside her and touched her body again. And discovered that she had fallen asleep.

  Chapter 11

  "Now we must have a council of war," Jack said hours later, when he and Tappy were rested. "Let me be sure I have it straight: Candy has a great deal of specific knowledge about the Imago, but no real initiative; she acts on the directives of the Imago as relayed through its host or someone designated by the host. In this case, me."

  "This is true," Candy said.

  "And Garth has a great deal of knowledge about the Gaol and their empire, and about the mechanics and organization of their space vessels. But his newfound empathy for other living things has played havoc with his concentration, and in any event he was not a decision-maker, he was a technician deemed to be expendable. So he, too, lacks initiative."

  The Gaol whistled. "That is correct," Candy said.

  "But we do all want to serve the interests of the Imago to the best of our abilities," Jack said. "So since I seem to be the one with initiative, and Tappy trusts me, is it agreed that I serve as temporary leader of this group?"

  Garth whistled. "What is a leader?"

  "A creature who acts as the originator of the actions taken by the group. As the guide for others to follow. The one with initiative."

  There was no response. So Jack prompted it. "Garth?"

  "Agreed," the Gaol whistled.

  "Candy?"

  "Agreed."

  "Tappy?"

  "I love you."

  Jack smiled. He was still slightly startled to hear Tappy talking. She was quite pretty now, with her face clear and her hair nicely done; Candy was taking excellent care of the host of the Imago. And, for whatever reason, Tappy did look older; her breasts showed more clearly under her sweater (where had Candy found a sweater for her?) and there was an aura of maturity about her. She had the attitude of adult confidence. "Apart from that."

  "Yes, agreed, of course." She glanced sidelong at him. "Now will you initiate a kiss for me?"

  "You aren't going to try to seduce me again, and fall asleep before we get there?"

  She shook her head, smiling. "No, Jack."

  He leaned over and kissed her. That had really worked out well, last night. (He chose to call a period of sleep night, regardless of the clock. The clock hardly mattered now.) He had not denied Tappy, she had denied him, and he still wasn't guilty of another statutory rape. But he knew that he would not luck out that way again, and wasn't sure he wanted to. They were far from Earth now, and no one else cared about the detail of age. Certainly the conversion of the galaxy was more important than the precise timing of an act of love between two creatures. Still, his Earthly inhibitions remained. So he loved and desired Tappy, and yet also felt guilty for those feelings, irrational as that might be.

  "At least, not right now," Tappy added, crossing her legs so that her thighs showed under her skirt. (Skirt? Candy must have a clothing generator similar to the food generator!) Her legs, too, seemed to have added flesh. If she intended to incite his interest, she was succeeding. She must have had considerable experience in this, and learned exactly how to push his buttons— in her seven years of fantasy. Maybe her empathy, because of the wakening of the Imago, enable
d her to understand his desire in a way she otherwise would not have.

  Had it really been only three or four days— or had it been seven years, and the brevity of the time span was his fantasy? He looked at Candy, who was now quite demurely clothed, her former sex appeal damped down. She would know— but could he trust her answer? If this were another dream, she would respond in the manner required by the dream, which might have no relation to the truth.

  Jack shook himself. There was no profit in such speculation. He still had to assume that this was reality, and make it work. As reality, this presented a considerable challenge.

  "All right. So here we are in isolation, the only free folk in this stellar system, with a Gaol empire ship standing guard five light-hours away to blast any intruder into oblivion. What happens if we try to make this ship leave this system, Garth?"

  "Nothing," the Gaol whistled. "It is incapable of interstellar travel."

  "Then suppose we make it travel toward the Gaol ship?" Then, when the Gaol did not answer, he added: "When I look directly at you, when speaking, as I am doing now, this has the same effect as naming you."

  "It would take this ship several Earth years to traverse that distance— and when it did, the Gaol ship would simply move away across the system in one hop."

  "So we can neither escape this system nor approach the Gaol ship," Jack concluded. "How, then, can we accomplish our purpose?" He looked at Garth, who had no answer, so he looked at Candy.

  "We can bring the Gaol to us," Candy said. "They will come if the host of the Imago requires attention."

  "Say, you are capable of original thought after all!" Jack exclaimed.

  "No, only of assessing prospects in a given situation, when required to do so," she clarified. "The AI have become proficient at avoiding the attention of the Gaol, and therefore know what draws that attention."

  "Still, I'm glad we brought you along. You are good for Tappy, and perhaps good for the mission."

  "This is my purpose in existence," she reminded him.

  It was no use trying to compliment the emotionless AI! "So what is the best way to bring the Gaol ship to us?" he asked. "By 'best' I mean to take into consideration brevity of time, concealment of our motive, and our chances of converting its personnel to empathy."

  "I am unable to assess these values with competence."

  Jack looked at Garth. "Are you?"

  "Yes. It would not be wise to try to bring the full ship here, as it would apply stasis to this craft and investigate it in detail from a secure distance. Any living creature who boards this ship, or who approaches closer to it than one light-hour, will be destroyed after completing its business."

  "You have a point," Jack agreed. "The big ship is not going to let us near it. But how about a small ship— or a robot ship? Could we take over that, and use it, without the big ship knowing?"

  "I could accomplish this," Garth agreed.

  "And because it's a robot ship, with no living creatures aboard to be corrupted, they may not even check it," Jack continued. "Now, Candy— what can you do to make them worry about the security of the Imago host, without alarming them enough to take precautions we couldn't circumvent?"

  "A minor equipment failure— perhaps a malfunctioning sensor, suggesting that there is no problem, but the sensor is giving a false indication. A robot ship would routinely but promptly replace the sensor. The Gaol leave little to chance."

  "Garth, can you cause a sensor to malfunction? Do you know which one is minor enough to generate no real alarm?"

  "Yes. Yes."

  "And is there room on such a robot repair ship for the four of us?"

  "No."

  Jack's heart sank. "For three? Two?"

  "No. No."

  "One?" Jack asked despairingly. Their plan was coming apart already.

  "No."

  "Not even one? Then how can we use the robot ship?"

  "We can remove its robot and substitute one of us."

  Oh. "And then that one can convert the Gaol battlewagon, single-handed, and return here to rescue the others," Jack said.

  "Yes."

  He would have to watch that irony; these creatures tended to take him literally. "Which one? Tappy?"

  "Yes. Only the Imago can convert the ship, and she is the host. She must take the facilitator, because she will not be able to maintain close contact with any personnel for the requisite time."

  "But Tappy knows nothing of a Gaol ship," Jack protested. "She would get lost or caught immediately."

  "My empathy indicates that your argument is specious," Garth whistled. "You do not desire to risk the host, because of your special feeling for her."

  Right on target! But Jack realized that if this was the only way out, and they didn't try it, their alternative would be to float here forever in space, leaving the Imago as effectively isolated as the Gaol intended. Maybe they could set up another dream realm and have it a lifetime of love on a garden planet, but that wouldn't do the galaxy any good.

  "The host must be confined in the life-support container when the robot comes," Candy said. "Otherwise the robot will know as it approaches and uses its detail scanners that something serious is wrong, and will withdraw and send an alarm before making physical contact."

  "Then Tappy can't be the one to go," Jack said, feeling mixed frustration and relief.

  "She must be confined until the robot boards, then unconfined after it has been incapacitated," Garth whistled.

  Jack saw that it had to be. He could not let his personal feeling for Tappy, which was romantic, interfere with the mission of the Imago. It was that mission which had brought them to this realm of super-science. He had been close to Tappy from the time he first met her, and the ambience of the Imago had been working on him all this time; he had to do what was best for it.

  They worked on Tappy for the next several hours, drilling her on the interior of the Gaol guard ship, which it seemed was similar to the one in which they had first encountered Malva. Garth clarified that the robot would dock at a special port, where it would be cleaned in vacuum, so she would have to wear a space suit. But because that area did not have life sensors, she would be ignored by the machines, and could make her way inside. There she would have to remove the suit, but retain a face mask, because the ship was pressured with Gaol atmosphere that she couldn't breathe.

  "But you are breathing our air!" Jack protested.

  "I am not. I am wearing a transmutation filter." Garth unfolded an arm to tap himself at his base, between the wheels. Jack had assumed that this was part of the creature's transmission, since the axles for the wheels projected from it, but realized that he had been anthropomorphizing. Men did not breathe from their bases, but it seemed that the Gaol did. And of course they did not use the same kind of air; they were alien creatures. Maybe the honkers could share air with the human beings; that was why both species lived on the honker planet. But that must be a rarity of compatibility. He just hadn't thought about it before.

  What about Malva, then? She hadn't worn a mask. But she hadn't been in the company of any Gaol, either; she probably had her own sealed atmospheric chamber. He really had taken too much for granted.

  He returned to the present situation. Once Tappy was aboard the big ship, she would have to make her way to the Nexus Gaol, or what Jack called the captain. She would use the facilitator to corrupt that individual, and then he would help her corrupt the rest of the ship. Jack didn't argue about the term "corrupt"; he knew that Garth did not mean any affront.

  But how could Tappy ever accomplish such a thing? The odds were against her. There were so many things that could go wrong!

  "What are the odds?" he demanded grimly. Then he had to explain to them what he meant.

  Candy and Garth held a dialogue, and came to agreement. "The odds of the host's success in this endeavor are approximately one in three. But if she fails, the odds are nine to one that the host will be dead, and the Imago will be free. That, too, is success. So t
he endeavor, taken as a whole, is worthwhile."

  "Great," Jack said, sick at heart.

  "If I am to leave you, perhaps forever," Tappy said, "I want to make love with you one last time."

  "Of course," Jack said numbly.

  But when they went to the bed, the specter of her death loomed so large in his mind that he was impotent. It was as if he were sending her into it, and somehow it seemed that if he renounced this part of it, she would not suffer the other part. "I'm sorry, Tappy," he said.

  "I know. I feel your guilt and sorrow. Just hold me."

  That much he could do.