by Lindsay Peet
CHAPTER THREE
I sent Jedub and Lordano out to ‘gather information,’ which to them meant making the rounds of whatever drinking establishments Caliuga had and sampling the hospitality the locals would feel for members of the Inspector General’s party. I was fine with that, as my ambitions were not much different, but tended in a slightly different direction.
I’d learned that the young lovely with the come-hither walk was the mayor’s daughter Sirah. I’d arranged to meet the mayor again privately after lunch, but somehow I screwed up and he was absent when I got to his home, probably because I’d asked him to visit me. Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that, although father Erah was absent, daughter Sirah was available!
She was more than happy to show off her humble hometown to the bigwig visitor. First she remarked how very warm the day had gotten, and I had to agree; my impulse was to tear off every thread. Sirah politely excused herself to change into something cooler.
Surprisingly soon she emerged in a white linen-like jumpsuit, buttoned up chastely enough but promising much. I was pretty sure she was wearing nothing underneath, too – when they’re built like that they really shouldn’t, you know.
We visited the City Hall, the First Church of Caliuga and the churches of two schismatic sects, the auction house, the Planetary Union Trade Center, and some canning and milling operations, for Caliuga City had been founded by farmers. All this was in the nature of a tease, for Sirah’s plump rump and bold eyes were sending me signals that my body was receiving and amplifying. The girl knew what she was doing, and before I ended up mounting her in some janitor’s closet she led me on a nature detour to a copse of slender white-barked trees, which laid down the most delightful carpet of soft dry leaves, slightly fragrant when bruised, which they soon were. Sirah had scarce led me in before I was upon her, my lips upon her neck, her ear, all while my fingers unfastened and then pulled the jumper off her shoulders, then below her waist. Nothing there but Sirah, and hardly petite, either; after all that time in the desert, fleeing Basoolah, and then slogging along the night before, Sirah in the flesh was a vivid reminder of why I wanted to stay alive. She wasn’t shy about helping me undress -- did I mention that my being aide to the Inspector General seemed to be all the foreplay she needed? Somehow it happened that a ‘medal’ I’d contrived fell to the ground, and Sirah tried to pick it up, when I fairly leapt on her and into her, my dark brown fingers sinking deep into her lighter brown hips and buttocks.
And what a happy, slippery, tangled, and fragrant tumblefest we had there. After a bit of rest another of my suspicions was confirmed, when it turned out my Sirah was hardly inexpert in the ways of reviving a man. Once I was ready she climbed on top, and this time I was content to let her be in charge, doing all the work while I saved myself, and saved myself, and saved myself some more, until finally I was beyond saving and we collapsed together.
When I regained consciousness this lovely nubile bit was drowsing atop me, and I was half-thinking of going for the rubber match, but opted for restraint and decorum. After all, it wasn’t like either of us was leaving town soon, right? Sirah did not weigh much, and besides hers is the kind of soft and yielding weight that feels good on you as long as you can breathe, and I could so I lay there utterly at peace and without care. So secure did I feel then in our future on Caliuga, so confident was I of my ability to carry off this happenstance hoax and profit from it, that I was entirely in the moment, projecting it forward indefinitely, a long, glorious perfumed eye blink stretching on and on and on. I would spend the rest of my time on Caliuga trying to reclaim that rainbow-golden glow.
Then clouds passed overhead, it started to cool a little, and I saw goosebumps prickling Sirah’s lovely golden skin. So I roused her, we dressed clumsily as you will when so drained, giggling and stumbling and brushing leaves out of and off each other, and continued on with our tour. I worried that she might leak out something that would stain her jumpsuit, but realized there was nothing to be done about it, and besides it wasn’t really my problem.
Now that we were relaxed and had become close friends we could talk about things beside crop yields and processing capacity as we walked back to town.
“Sirah, my dear, it took the Empire some time to find your people again. How did you all ever manage to get so lost?
“Of course, this all happened way before I was born, but there are legends, or myths. Or history. Don’t know if you can rely on them or not, but it’s all we’ve got. Some of the clever folks hereabouts call them ‘mythteries.’” When I didn’t recoil she continued; Wanliet had toughened me against wordplay, and just then I was waay too relaxed to be put off by a mere play on words.
“Generations ago our people left a place called Caliuga, planning to settle on a new planet where we could live peaceful, simple lives, according to our own faith and our own laws. We were one transport ship of a convoy, or caravan, of many ships, but when we made our wormhole jump something went wrong, and we found ourselves near here, alone and lost.
“We had no idea where we were, or where the other Caliugans had gotten to, so we finally landed here and settled it and named the place Caliuga. As we were the only ones here, the town and the planet both became Caliuga.
“Over the generations since others have shown up here too, all in more or less the same way, a surprise. It seems that there’s a point in space where you end up when your wormhole jump goes wrong. The clever folks, the same ones who like the ‘mythtery’ thing, say we should change the planet’s name to ‘Default.’ But the ones who got here first named it Caliuga and it’s sticking, at least so far. The P. U. might want to change that, though. Come to think of it, the Emperor might have a say also.”
“I see, he might at that. And how many other parties have come to Caliuga? You see, the Emperor believes some that have come here are fugitives from his law.” It was a shot in the dark, but since we’d been fugitives it seemed a reasonable guess.
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. Take the PU bunch. They landed about sixty years ago, back when Grandma was still a girl, and brought the first weapons here. Up ‘til then, nobody had blasters, much less explosives.
“A few years go by and they show up at City Hall and tell us that we all need their protection, and their Planetary Union, and that they were going to make us safer and more secure. And we had to pay them taxes, or that’s what Daddy says.” Maybe she wasn’t that grown up after all.
“Did the Caliugans agree to all this? The protection, the security, all that? I mean, that’s what the Emperor’s for, isn’t it? And aren’t the Caliugans still loyal citijects?”
“The PU gave us a treaty to vote on, and when we said no they changed it to an ‘agreement,’ and said we were ‘partners’ now. Said it was ‘binding.’” By now she and I had ambled back to town, and I had to remove my hand from Sirah’s bum, which was a shame as they fitted together so nicely. I had to look quite official, and to her credit Sirah did alright too. Glad she wasn’t the sort to get mushy and demand we hold hands in public.
Don’t get me wrong, I love women, and cuddling and all that, but at the right time, in the right place, with the right woman. While Sirah was a great romp, my visions of a glorious hedonistic holiday didn’t all include her. In fact, as far as planning rendezvous and such, I didn’t expect we’d be spending time together after that night, and even that might be subject to change. My visions were such that I began wondering just how Sirah would react to including another young woman, yet to be met. Her next words brought me back to reality.
“We really didn’t get much voice in it all” she concluded, sadly.
