by Dave Gordon
She was wild, fearless, and strong. I idolized her. She was everything that had vanished from Earth ages ago. She was everything I craved and never thought I would see. I worshiped her as the center of my universe. She was a goddess descended from the heavens. A dream made flesh. We spoke and she said she would not forget it. Neither would I.
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Chapter 2
Time passes slowly aboard a ship. One shift melts into another. Space travel is endless hours of tedium interspersed with moments of shear terror. There are moments of terror, to be sure, but for the most part the shifts come and go unmarked. Very little happened to break the tedium of our journey to the Andromeda system. We had a couple of micro-punctures, small holes cause by tiny asteroids. They can be very bad sometimes but these were benign. One went right through the ship, one side to the other, without hitting anything but bulkheads. If a person gets hit by a small one, they might not even know it but be bleeding internally. They can, of course, raise holy hell with an engine.
Occasionally an alien ship might be detected far off in the distance. They are almost never within Communications range. The decision to communicate with them is not made lightly. You never know who you will run into. Evidently, everyone shares that sentiment because no one strikes up a conversation just to say, “Hello". Sometimes getting a call from an unknown ship can result in one of those moments of terror. Nothing of that sort occurred during the trip to Andromeda. The almost complete void between the two galaxies seemed to be just that.
I was in my quarters getting ready for bed when the doorbell rang. Of all the ways a person at the door might be announced, the designers of the ship had settled on a doorbell that chimed, “ding-dong". “Just a moment, please,” I called. I hopped into my sleep suit. Everyone was supposed to sleep in a fleet-issued sleep suit. The sleep suit supposedly offered some protection against cosmic rays if the shields should fail. I did not like sleeping in it. It did not fit very well since they assumed everyone was five foot eight inches tall, and had the same figure. It was gray, of course, and felt slightly itchy. It did not stretch at all since it was engineered to be of the utmost thickness for blocking high-energy particles. It felt like sleeping in a big asbestos oven mitt. Almost everyone preferred chancing death by irradiation to sleeping in the stupid thing. I kept it nearby in case I had to get up in the night. I smoothed my hair and opened the door. The beautifully powerful image of Lieutenant Zhia!tu greeted me. I staggered back a step, unable to collect my thoughts.
I have come to repay your kindness. Will you join me for dinner in my cabin during third shift at three bells?” she asked.
She stood patiently waiting for me to compose myself. Her face did not betray any disdain for my confused behavior. “Yes, I would love to, thank you,” I said, immediately regretted using the word ‘love'. Love is the subject of chronic misunderstandings between Earthlings and almost everybody else. The endless variations of emotions and speech concerning love are too unique to be understood well by off-worlders. I suppose it's also the leading cause of misunderstandings on Earth as well.
She said, “I will see you at three bells then.” She turned on her heel and disappeared around the corner.
I stood gaping in my doorway as people passed by. A few acknowledged me. I suddenly realized I was standing in the passageway in my nightclothes. Not exactly decorous behavior. I ducked back in and closed the door. Dinner with Lieutenant Zhia!tu. Now that should be interesting, I thought after regaining my wits.
I really did not know much about her home planet, Borial. It was a large planet that had 1.8 Earth's gravity. The size and ferocity of the carnivores on the planet were legendary. The Boriallans were a stern and proud people. Their serious nature was reportedly uniform across the planet. There was no such thing as a Boriallen joke although the Lieutenant seemed amused when she utterly defeated a Tuburk Fiest opponent. I knew there was a high degree of eye, hair, and skin color variation between individuals. The men were only slightly larger and tended to be darker. Lieutenant Zhia!tu's strength and agility seemed representative of the race. They were largely a race who stuck close to home. Lieutenant Zhia!tu was one of only eight Boriallans serving in the fleet. They had not populated any planets or moons despite having several good candidates nearby. Still, they had developed a mature space program. They defended their space vigorously. The appearance of a Boriallen cruiser was the best news one could receive during a space battle. That was usually enough to scare away attackers. Earth Fleet vessels also fled. The Borriallens preferred hand-to-hand combat to fire fights. They would board an enemy vessel at first opportunity. The battle did not last long after that. They would strip the enemy ship of any offensive or defensive armament and send the survivors back home to relate the experience to other would-be raiders. It was a great preventative measure. Other than that, I was in the dark. I still could not pronounce her name.
I crawled into my bunk and tried to sleep but it was very difficult to relax. I kept seeing Lieutenant Zhia!tu's face filling my doorway. I kept playing her voice over and over in my head. A resonant, full voice. Unexpected from someone of her slight build. She always spoke softly but was heard very well. I got ready for my shift after sleeping fitfully for a few hours.
I was a little groggy but not in that bad of shape considering the lack of sleep. I decided a shower would help things. I headed for the bath. I passed the despised deck ten mess hall. I thought it was fitting the latrines should be located so close. One was in constant danger of becoming ill during meals. Becoming ill in the mess hall resulted in an official reprimand. I hurried past the dining hall to avoid the pungent aroma and turned the corner leading to the baths. The bath consisted of a large common room used by all sexes. The shower stalls lining both sides of the hall had two small rooms of dark gray carbon fiber. Carbon fiber is very strong and water resistant but very drab. I went to an open unit and disrobed. I put my clothes down on the fiber bench. I entered the shower unit and said, “Warm.” Saying ‘hot’ would have taken a layer of skin off as there were beings aboard that could tolerate very hot water. The indicator ran down the time remaining. I never figured out why the showers were timed. The water was recycled and we had almost limitless power. I finished just before the water shut off. I dried off, dressed, and walked back to my quarters. I had no idea what I could talk about that would not bore the Lieutenant to tears.
My shift went OK. Even though I had not slept well, I felt better than I usually did after drinking Scurm all night with Ensign Howard. Either Ensign Howard had devoted his entire personal items allotment to Scurm, or he had smuggled some aboard. We had been plundering his seemingly inexhaustible supply for over a year. Scurm is best described as only slightly better than nothing. Its only good quality is the intoxication it produces that immediately fades after consumption. One may be completely inebriated while holding a glass and completely sober after setting it down. It is certainly not drank for its flavor. The yellowish liquid is a little thicker than water and tastes as if it were made from crushed aspirin and vinegar. It is very powerful so a small glass of it will last a couple of hours. Drinking a large swallow of it produces no different effect than drinking a small sip. Transporting it is a delicate matter, as it was bottled in glass containers. Why they bottled it in glass was a mystery but if one questioned every odd thing aliens did, it would be a confusing existence.
I went to my cabin at the end of my shift. The deliberations over what to wear took some time. I wanted to dress in a conservative manner but my wardrobe was somewhat limited. I did not have many clothes since I did not go out much. That is an old and oft used space traveler's joke. In the end I chose a jumpsuit of cotton that was slightly bluish. I chose it because it was a little baggy. I did not think showing off my unimpressive physique was called for.
I sat on my bunk waiting for three bells.
I walked through to the lift as three bells neared. Officers occupied the outer deck
s. They were larger than crewperson berths. The amount of space available for berths was very much greater at the outer part of the ship.
I paced myself carefully. I wanted to arrive precisely on time. I stepped out from the lift taking a moment to appreciate the amenities of the outer decks. Carpet on the floor, art on the walls, I could have sworn the air was fresher. The walls were paneled with pastel fabric instead of bare gray metal as below. I listened to my own hushed footfalls in the quiet halls. I walked up to the door at three bells and raised my hand to knock. The door opened. Lieutenant Zhia!tu said, “Please come in". She did not acknowledge my raised fist salute so I dropped my hand.
“Thank you,” I said. The size of her quarters was impressive. It was a lot of space for such a little person. Officer's quarters were not really all that different from the quarters down below except they were larger and had ports. Having a view can really make a difference on a long trip. That's why the recreation room was lined with ports. Lieutenant Zhia!tu's quarters were more than adequate. She had an actual bed in a bedroom, and a sitting room, as well as her own commode. There were landscape images depicting the lush forests of Borial hung about the room. A fine rug graced the carpeted floor. A brilliantly polished weapon hung on the wall opposite the door. It looked something like a very broad scimitar that had a long handle. The end of the handle had a metal ball the size of a small cannon ball attached. The thought of a Boriallan warrior holding such a weapon sent chills down my back.
The cabin had several large ports. The view was stunning, but not any more so than the Lieutenant. She was wearing a pantsuit of sheer Boriallan silk. The fabric changed hue in response to cues that I could not even guess at. Her eyes were pale lilac with flecks of amethyst. She gestured to a chair near the largest port.
“Will you join me for glass of fro!ton?” she asked. She made click deep in her throat as she said the word. Throat accents made Boriallen a difficult language to master. I could not even begin to get it right. On her lips it sounded perfectly natural. I would have sounded as if I choked had I tried it.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied. Her clothes were a swirling mist with hints of orange. Rust and ochre tones played across her legs as she poured a bit of the rich liquor into small glasses. She handed me the glass and our fingers touched. I'm sure my pulse rate increase was within her vision sensitivity.
I had determined earlier that my goal for this encounter should be to complete it without looking like an idiot. I said “Thank you,” and took a small sip from the delicate glass. A small rivulet of liquid fire ran down my throat, into my stomach, and threatened to continue on through to the floor. I took several small breaths until my self-control came back.
Lieutenant Zhia!tu took a drink apparently unfazed. She said, “How do you like it?”
“I like it very well,” I said, which was not a lie. “It is very bold.”
“Yes,” she answered. “I thought you might be interested in something of better quality than Scurm.” The slightest indication of a smile played across her face and her eyes turned purple.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, embarrassed that the Lieutenant knew about my drinking habits. I took another drink. I thought I was going to pass out. It was several seconds before I could compose myself. “That is some liquor you have on Borial,” I said. One more drink and whole ‘not look like an idiot’ plan was going to be in trouble.
Lieutenant Zhia!tu drained her glass and said, “It is a favorite among my people. We find that it is often not to the liking of others. Each bottle is seven hundred years old. On the Feast of the Reliant we open the cave containing the supply from seven hundred years ago. We remove the old bottles from the cave, replacing them with the bottles from this year's brewing. Each drop represents the blood of the Boriallans who have lived and died during those seven hundred years. So, when you feel the fire, think of them, my ancestors who have fought and died to keep this peace.”
Her eyes had changed to gold and her clothes were red. Even without the clues from her eyes, it was obvious she was filled with emotion. Although she was trying to keep her emotions hidden, she could not hide them from me. “You miss it but you cannot go back, why is that?” I asked. I hoped my impertinence would be forgiven.
Her eyes were a mixture of indigo and amethyst. She said, “Please excuse me. I do not wish to be rude, but that is a matter better left to another time. Let us eat.” She rose and motioned me to the small round table in the sitting area. She brought several bowls of food to the table as her mood lightened.
It was a simple meal. A salad, a small grain flavored with herbs, and of course the requisite protein cake. Everybody must consume at least one, but no more than two, protein cakes per day. I was glad to see the cake because otherwise I would have had to choke one down after this dinner. They were not entirely unpleasant to eat, but as they were designed to go with everything, they went with nothing very well.
As we were eating, Lieutenant Zhia!tu said, “When I spoke to you on the bridge you were very candid and frank. I appreciate your efforts. I would also like to thank you for the lavish compliments you paid to me, you were very kind.”
“Not at all,” I said. “The ship is full of people who admire you.” Lieutenant Zhia!tu was admired by many people but she was not necessarily liked by them all.
“Perhaps you might be able to help me with another small difficulty, Shipman Tular. I find some of my relationships aboard ship strained. I do not seem to be well equipped to understand human interactions. You have been very kind to me in small ways. I would be most grateful if you would be so kind as to tutor me in social skills.”
I could not believe what I had just heard. I was to take God's crowning achievement and turn her into something fit for human society? It was like Pygmalion in reverse. Instead of bringing a gutter snipe up, I was going to drag an angel down. I wanted to tell her that they were beneath her, that they should worship her as a god. Instead, I told her, “Any service I can render would be my pleasure.”
She rose and began clearing the table. “Then perhaps we can start now, would you mind?” she said somewhat hopefully.
“No,” I said even though it was not the evening I had imagined.
“Then perhaps you can enlighten me about human men. There are no Boriallan men aboard so if I am to have any companionship it is to be with humans. Yet, each time I form a bond, it is broken by some misdeed on my part that I am not aware of. What is the cause?”
I searched her memory. There had been several attempted ‘bondings', each one failing after a short time due to bruised egos on the men's part. Lieutenant Zhia!tu was an officer and so fraternized with officers. These were proud men who had gained their rank by exhibiting leadership qualities, strength, and determination. Having a girlfriend that could toss them around like a rag doll was not to their liking. I searched for some way to tell her these things that would not hurt her. Despite her placid exterior she was in pain and lonely.
I began, “You meet and speak mostly to officers. I believe you should consider that the very qualities which have led them to become officers are the same qualities that lead them to feel threatened by you. They are trained to lead, but you need no leader. They are strong, but you are far stronger. There is nothing they can do that you cannot do better. The problem is not that you are not well equipped for them but rather the opposite. My suggestion would be to perhaps look for a companion in the lower ranks. Somebody who can accept you as their superior in every way.”
She looked at me steadily but her clothes were changing color and her eyes were turning a deep red. She said, “I had hoped that was your analysis, it was mine also.” She walked slowly to my side and stooped to nuzzle my neck as I shivered. She nipped my ear as she lifted me from the chair like a doll. She carried me effortlessly across the cabin and laid me on her bed. I sank into thick furs that were rich with the smell of her. She began to undress. I was transfixed by her gaze. Her blazing eyes were swimming with liquid fire. She began
to vocalize a throaty snarl. It was a guttural, chilling sound. She sounded like a primordial huntress alive with the lust of the hunt. After she had disrobed she began pace back and forth beside the bed. Her body was sculpted muscle covered by taught, lustrous brown skin. Even her smallish breasts seemed somehow muscular. She was completely hairless accept for the wild flying cascade of brilliant hair that threatened to hide her face. She crouched as if readying herself. Suddenly she sprang to the ceiling, hung there somehow for a moment, and then dropped onto me. My last lucid memory is of having my clothes shredded from my body by a snarling demon with eyes of flame.
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Chapter 3
My relationship with Lieutenant Zhia!tu became stronger as the days passed. I began calling her by a shortened version of her first name, Tuya, after finally giving up on Boriallen throat accents. Her full first name, Tuya ‘al Ayan y h!dlay, translated more or less as “swift rain over plains of scented flowers". Calling her Tuya would have been an insult coming from anybody else, as Boriallens did not shorten names. She allowed it without protest. She accepted my limitations just as I accepted she had none. She liked it when I read poetry to her, especially the verses I wrote myself. They were invariably terrible but she liked them anyway. Sometime she would perform feats of speed and agility to amuse me. She learned Earth-style hand magic in almost no time. She performed magic tricks to make me laugh. I laughed a lot because I existed in a state of joy. Tuya would occasionally allow herself a short laugh. She considered laughing a great indulgence. She did it because she knew I liked it.
I would provoke her by issuing a challenging call when I felt brave. I could not imitate it well but it was close enough to get a rise out of her. Then we would engage in ritual combat which usually ended with her throwing me onto the bed, sometimes from across the room. She would bound to the bed snarling, baring her teeth in a fearsome display of primal intensity while pinning me firmly to the bed. I might say to her, “Oh, you are my nice little kitty cat. What a good kitty!” until the only thing she could think to do was attack me. I had a few more visits to the medical bay than before our liaison. The Medical Chief suggested that perhaps something less physical might be better. He had never seen my beautiful flaming goddess in her full glory. Her mighty feats in the Turburk ring were a simple diversion to her. The displays I thought so magnificent back then were a dim shadow of what she was capable. Her true form was awesomely explosive. Hair flying wildly, glowing red eyes, snarling and growling like a feral tigress gone berserk. That she did not seriously harm me was a testament to her abilities. She would throw me into the air and leap from wall to wall in a blur, all the while keeping me aloft. She pinned me to the ceiling on my back while somehow clinging there. She was astounding, terrifying, so utterly breathtaking that I would provoke her just to witness it. It was well worth a few scratches. Making up was even better.