The downside was no insect would pollinate the two plants, so it had to be done by hand, on a one-to-one basis. Each plant was numbered, so meticulous records were kept. Sesha used a voice recorder to note the numbers as she moved through the rows. It was back-breaking labor, even standing up fully and at the end of every day Sesh went to a Manipulator for deep muscle therapy and bone resettling. But she got it done, then shipped out for the trip.
A two-year Travel-Sleep; they went very far this time and when she woke, Head had her shopping order.
“Remember your original client and her daughter?”
“That will never leave my head, Melena,” was her droll answer.
“Well, this is an order from her daughter, now a mother herself. Take a moment to look it over, but she has a Near-Teen now, ready to be shipped to school. The child wants something completely different than any other Being is wearing. Once you find it, it will be shipped back by Cargo-Warp.”
Sesha whistled. Cargo-Warp was so very fast that no Being, even in stasis, could survive it. It was also expensive. Almost the cost of an entire Shopping Trip! But then, this family was an Upper of the Uppers. Related to the Planetary God and Goddess, if one believed that. As long as the family had one male and one female offspring, the Planet’s blessing would continue. Beings just handed money to these Uppers as they passed by and no one, not even Off-Worlders, would think of harming them. So the shipping could be afforded.
“Is that why so many dreams were of fashions? Is it up-to-date?”
“Sure is… you’ve a head full of what’s in, what’s out and what she’s desiring. This has been planned for the last 3 years, believe it or not. There’s a vidlet for you in your parameters… you get a shuttle all for yourself, unless you want to split your profit with someone else.”
“Nah, I think better wandering all by myself, watching the crowds. Clothes?”
“Yes. The group of worlds here are still a bit iffy on nudity. Totally fine with alien species, in fact you’ll be one of the first Nestrams ever seen on Z’welba. Expect crowds, pics,”
“And more ways to make credits,” she grinned, and left.
In just two Alliance hours Sesha had a fan club following her around; it seriously wrecked her focus. So she made a deal. She’d spend one whole day with the group, go wherever, do all sorts of stuff and they could take all the pictures they want if they paid for everything. Several dropped out after that but the rest took her up on it. The crowds grew again and Sesha was wined, dined, funned and gifted lavishly. Most of which would be sold in Alliance shops later on.
Then Sesha was left alone except for long-distance viewing and more questions than someone shopping would normally receive. Two weeks of this she put up with, and then struck pay dirt.
It was well out of the Business Districts, small businesses that banded together in one shop and made a fine enough living through it. Sesha wound up at the work shop, actually… when she stepped into the cool interior, a woman looked up and merely smiled.
“The sales shop is on the East Bank,” she began.
“Honestly I couldn’t tell you if I’ve been there or not, but you are a tailor, correct?” Sesha pretended to ignore the subtle hint to leave. “I’m hoping you do styles for youth entering the Pre-Adult stage.”
“Here we call them the Irritations,” now the pale orange-skinned woman smiled. “And yes, I do. I have help as my sixteen children are designers.”
“Might I tap your knowledge and ideas, please? My name is,”
“Sesha, from Nestram. I know. You’re all over the Holo. You look tired, dear. Sit, if you wish.”
Thankful, Sesha sank into a comfortable bright red furry circle that sank with her weight. It was wonderfully cozy and she sighed.
“Now… tell me what this Being’s issue is.”
Sesha happily showed her all the fashions her client knew about, both those liked and not. After a few minutes the woman, Clee, raised her seven-fingered hand and stopped her.
“Let me call the children.” She spoke in her own tongue and Sesha damped the translator; apparently this was private. “And what can you eat here?”
“Everything except your seafoods. I prefer the fruits, but there’s several salads that are wonderful too.”
Nodding, she spoke into the intercom again. “Now just rest, dear. Would you tell me of your world for a bit?”
Happy to oblige, Sesha did until a crowd of children swarmed in, vocal, happy, bearing dishes of food, cups of something to drink and other things as asked. They all slammed to a stop, seeing the visitor with bluish skin who was shivering slightly.
An older male child, skin more of a pale salmon color put his things down. “You cold, lady?”
“Rrgth,” mother reproved, but he just grinned and turned on a side lamp, aiming it at Sesha. “That should help.” While it put out no real light, the warmth was wonderful!
“I’m sorry,” Clee shook her head, embarrassed, which showed by a frill of feathery hair rising along her neck and cheeks. “You’re a hot-climate species and while ours can take a wide range, I prefer it cool. Children, give our guest a plate, cup and while she eats, look over all this stuff.”
“My clients want something different than all that,” the liquid was warm and a bit salty. It tasted good and with the lamp and that, she began to warm up. Sesha and Clee watched for two standard hours as the children of groups of ages chattered, drew, argued, compared and drew again. Then they presented it.
“One of the things about being ‘different’ is to do it with the fashions being offered,” this female girl had a rainbow of feathers circling her neck, several of them dyed to create the effect. “Like the outfit I’m wearing.” She had a Slate Computer; a flat rectangle that was all monitor front but a touchpad to make the requests. She called up an image of a set of clothes and set it to hovering over the screen.
“This is from a foremost designer on our world. She gives away one of each creation; I won the lottery for this one. Asked her if I could change it, she said ‘it’s yours now, you can burn it if you want,’ so I brought it home and worked it over. Lights, Glim?” the smallest child scrambled up and a soft light turned on and slowly brightened until the child chirped at it, and it held steady. “See? I’m wearing it now, look what I’ve done to it.” She turned, showing as the hologram turned to view the original. “No one has anything like this.” She sat back down again. “Wish I could talk to your client.”
“Hm… give me a minute.” Sesha ran her fingers over her Wrist Gem and was patched to Melena. “Is there any way to set up an Intergalactic teenage angst call that won’t break the Client’s bank account?”
Head actually laughed at that; she rarely ever did anything like that to Sesha’s comments. “Give me an hour, a reason first.”
“I have a set of young designers here who want to pick T’ri’s brain about her desires. Might make this chore easier and accomplish it with some less cost if we have face-to-face.”
“All right. One Standard Hour then,”
Sesha and Clee sat through a fashion show/teaching session where the three genders showed how to take what was already there and convert, accessorize and blend into incredible works of wearable art. For someone who preferred nudity but for now was dressed simply in leg covers and tunic, belted to her waist, she was impressed. They even stood her up and revised her outfit easily, then parked her in front of a mirror.
“See? Unbutton and pin the tunic back so your sweet tummy shows,”
“Rrgth!” his mother yelled again.
“And tie back the excess material, fluttering it down in layers so it emphasizes your sweet bu --”
“Rrgth!” now the tone dropped, Clee started to get up.
“Geez, Mom, stop laying eggs! We quit that millions of years ago!”
“Mind your manners, young man, or you’ll be thinking laying eggs will be less painful than getting your hind feathers plucked!”
“Okay, okay, I was just pla
ying,” the boy was obviously entering his sexual prime. Mating would be good for him, helping settle him down but Sesha didn’t say so. Ideas here must be different, so she respected that.
“Now to your lower covers,” Bree smoothed her neck feathers as they’d ruffled while she laughed at her quint. “They’re a bit big,”
“I know… I hate that but didn’t have time for a refit.”
“No problem. Pull them up to comfort, good, now fold over the waistband… unbutton the catch so it parts. Now we clip these around and over your tunic tail.” They were old-fashioned finger clamps, with decorative chains linking them together. When on, they kept the waistband down and draped the chain in falls around her hips.
Sesha looked down as hands were rolling up the legs to just under her knee and smaller clamp/chains applied. A few more little touches and she was done, quite a different look than she’d come in with. When Melena called back, her words cut off momentarily.
“You changed?” it was almost disapproval.
“Living mannequin for their ideas. Did you do it?”
“Mother and child are standing by… activate Flow 7 and they’ll Holo right there.”
“Give me a minute, Melena… it’ll be too small on my Gem. I want to use their Slates.” Looking up at the group, waiting excitedly, Sesha asked “do you have any more Slate Computers? They’re made to connect, right?”
“Yes…” Clee nodded. “They all do. But it’s forbidden and an alarm will sound at the Police Headquarters, resulting in instant shutdown of all power, then arrest.”
“Ah,” Sesha nodded and went back to her ongoing call. “Melena can you get permission?”
“Already talking to the Officials. You want how large a grid?”
“At least a 9 by 9. Full image holo’s both coming and going, as if truly able to interact. If this kid is going to get her wish, it’s here and now, Head. And being as T’ri’ Hyprenna is the 99,999th female offspring of the God and Goddess, well I should think they’ll give her anything she asks.”
“Now give me a few minutes, Sesha. Get the computers linked while cold. If approval is given all nine will warm on their own.” Melena’s visage blinked out and Sesha sat back while the children ran back to the main house for their computers.
“What’s the significance of the generational number?” Clee’s forehead wrinkled; the species didn’t have eyebrows but the forehead musculature had a language of its own.
“Phenjamians, most of them, believe that the first Beings on their planet were a God and Goddess. The first children of their own, one male, one female only, were genetically identical and each generation continued to be so as well. That made them the Children of the God and Goddess. They also created others like them, minus the Godliness and powers, of course. The planet has kept strict records of the family; predictions are when the 100,000th generation comes, they will be identical in all ways, have no medical problems at all like most beings of their race have, thus proving they are the reincarnations of the God and Goddess. When they reach their 12th year they will begin a sudden evolution, ascend to a position in the sky where the largest sun will energize them fully. They’ll have sex,” she grinned at Clee’s grimace, “and upon reaching orgasm, send out an energy that will evolve all Phen’s to the next level of existence. On that day, of course, all Off-Worlders will be off planet.”
“Of course,” the kids were arriving with their slates, which were stacked up and the somewhat cluttered room underwent a high-speed clean-and-stack to make room. Sesha put the nine units together and turned on only one. There she did some work after connecting it to her Gem.
“Ready, Melena, as soon as you – okay, you’re ready too. They’re on.” Sesha did a bit more work then looked at Glim. “C’mere, you cutie.” The smallest Z’wel in the family bounced into her arms and grinned. He hadn’t lost his baby beaklet yet; it would fall off about 6 years into his life and a scaly form of lips would be there. The babies knew not to bite or peck, so he rubbed his wide, flat beaklet against her cheek.
“You are too damn cute,” she rubbed back. “Would you jump onto the slates for me?”
“No,” face solemn, he shook his head, neck feathers ruffling. “Break ‘em, Momma pluck my hiney!”
“Nah,” Sesha held out her arms as a springboard. “Don’t think it will. That’s why I want you to do it. If you can jump down hard and it’s okay, then everyone can walk on it.”
The feathers still left on these Beings fluttered up and down, then the lad sprang high. He slammed down hard on two of the units, leaped up and thudded down again. Three more times and nothing happened, so Glim leaped back into Sesha’s arms.
“Still Flow 7, Mel?” Sesha keyed her Gem and when the answer was affirmative, brought it up and stepped on. “Hello,” she gave the Phenjamian name in their dialect. “You’ve gotten much bigger,” was all she could think to say.
“Happens when 50 years go by, Sesha, and you stay young in TravelSleep but I keep aging. I still have the outfit you put together. Hyprenna won’t wear it, of course, but then I don’t want her too. This was mine,” the grin was half wry, half embarrassment, “and it made me the pinnacle of the fashion world for two whole years.”
“Being direct descendant of the God and Goddess helps a little too. Anyway,” Sesha saw the 15 Z’wel’s all about to pee their pants in eagerness, “I have an unusual twist to your daughter’s angst. Put her in the Holo, good, hello Hy.”
“Mama said you would fix my problem,” the golden-skinned child was clearly not happy. “Right. I don’t want some unknown crap from another world, I wanna – hey… what’cha wearing?” Realizing Sesha looked quite fashionable in this wonderfully styled outfit started edging her out of her selfish mode.
“These are just ordinary clothes, Hy. Fixed to look different. These,” Sesha waved and all 16 of the children crowded on gingerly, “are some incredible designers. I’m going to leave you to talk to them. This is Bree and Rrgth. They fixed my clothes for me, they’ll help you too. Mama, go to Zone 9, we’ll chat in private off my Gem.”
Sesha sat down by Clee and the three adults began talking…
The dream faded as some pain interfered, voices speaking a foreign language came softly to her ears and then Sesha remembered where she really was and going through.
“Eh?” it really was a species-wide wordless exclamation and alerted the women to her waking.
“Easy, Sesha,” voices were soothing. “We are rubbing thy back,”
Must be a Monitor within earshot, Shni informed her. They switch back and forth between language styles when men are near.
The gown was fastened back up and more hands slid under, gently rolling. Sesha gasped and let out some noises of distress, then relaxed as they propped her on an incline, face up. Sesha opened slightly pain-filled eyes to the woman nearest her.
“There thou art. Eat time,” there was a smile and she laid her hand on her breast. “Rr-ooth, Ruth,” and smiled more when Sesha repeated it. “Eat,” she said again, putting fingers to her mouth and making chew and swallow motions. Again Sesha repeated it and was rewarded with a smile. Sitting, Ruth slowly spooned some kind of warm, mushy grain glop into her mouth. It was sweetened, but still a bit bitter, making her grimace. “Cans’t the Lakin have a bit more sugar? This be sour still.” Beulah reached over and dropped a spoonful in, also adding some strawberries.
Shni? What do you think?
Eat just one bit and wait a minute while comp analyzes.
A minute later he said yes, so Sesha ate three or four more bites, then shook her head when offered more. She really was full!
Next came a time of learning the language. Body parts, furniture, motions, facial expressions.
Better be a slow learner, Sesh. Jumpy too. Slow to recover but figure out some surprises to keep them wondering.
You don’t make things easy, Shni.
Me? Me? If I remember correctly, you wanted to do this!
The days soon fell in
to easy routines. They fed her every two hours, which was far out of the normal routine, Sesha knew. There was one problem, hard to solve at first.
Sesha woke from a nap, lying on her side and began to speak her ‘language.’ Florence bent over, her hand smoothing back a bit of hair, gently mopping the bit of drool that had slipped out.
“Child, I do not know what’s wrong,” holding out her hands, she made gestures. “Show me,” moving her hands around her own body. Understanding, Sesha moved her hand to her groin, pressing her legs together too. “Ah, you need to move waters,” her smile was sympathetic. “Just wee, child… there is a mat to catch it.” Florence moved her gown and patted the cloth covered mosses but Sesha shook her head with a small sob, fingers pressing tighter.
“Delia, run for a bucket, Deborah hurry downstairs and get the seat, it’s loose like all of ours. Run, ladies!”
Sesha cried out in real pain as Florence eased her to a sitting position and in that time, the women raced back with their items, a Monitor hot on their heels roaring in anger at their unseemly comportment, but Deborah slammed the door in his face and sat against it.
“The lass be wishing a privy,” Florence yelled. “Shalt not enter!” She lifted Sesha onto the plank with a hole in it and Delia helped support her. Sobbing with relief, Sesha peed, then fell over onto Florence’s shoulder. As the older woman lifted carefully, Delia cleaned her carefully and the two women lifted her back to bed as Deborah had risen and put the bolsters back on. Her back would need tending after this.
Delia lifted off the plank and lifted the bucket, meaning to take it downstairs to rinse, so she opened the door. A sudden sharp barking made her scream in terror; she backpedaled, dropped the bucket which spilled as Monitor Thaddeus rushed in behind a huge black and brown dog, deep-chested with strong jaws. Sesha’s head jerked up, startled, her eyes fastening right onto the animal’s. It snarled low in its throat, scruff rising.
Weathering Storms Page 17
