Darrell Bain

by The Y Factor (lit)

  He did, too, but in a rather limited fashion. I invited him to come to my room while Gene and I had coffee.

  "Please feel free to bring any food or drink you like with you, Fred,” I told our Crispy while Gene and I drew cups from the big coffeemaker the crew had set up.

  "Thanks hyou,” he said. “Please to corrects my proper English untils I learns it all.” The Crispies Jeri brought to us all had learned English from a couple of the Indian crew who spoke it and had provided texts to read.

  So we helped, and by the second day Fred was speaking very well indeed. They can make a wider variety of sounds and speak among themselves in both higher and lower frequencies than we can hear, and have practically eidetic memories when they bestir themselves. I learned that later, though. For the time being Fred wanted to talk, and by that I mean either Gene or I was speaking almost continually, answering his questions. I quickly figured out that they were almost all designed to help him learn the language. It was only several days later I learned the texts had all been derogatory toward any country other than India and in particular toward the United States. But then, once he was well-versed in English, he brought up other subjects of interest. You can't say I didn't invite it.

  "What else would you like to talk about?” I asked on the morning of the second day. We were still meeting in my room and that morning I was still on my first cup of coffee.

  "Sex and violence,” he said without missing a beat.

  * * * *

  I sputtered into my coffee. Gene thought it was hilarious, of course. But then, when he finished laughing and tried to explain to Fred why he had laughed, he became a little more serious.

  "Those are the two biggest forces driving human affairs, and you might say one is derived from the other,” he said.

  "Which one?” Fred asked.

  "Either. Our sex drives are what initiates violence, although it isn't always apparent."

  "Do you really think so, Gene?” I know I was frowning but I was also thinking furiously.

  "No, Cherry. It's not that cut and dried. However, there is a lot of truth in the statement. Our self-images are derived in large part from our unconscious sexual self-image. And when our self-images, which are tied into our history, upbringing, social environment, and so on are threatened, violence is often the answer. Not consciously, though. You do know the old adage about rationalism, don't you?"

  "'Man is not a rational animal; he is a rationalizing animal.’”

  "True, but it goes even deeper. Our brain works to pick out explanations and experiences that give us a shot of dopamine, which makes us feel good, and these are words or actions which agree with our previously formed concepts. It's self-reinforcing, too. Perhaps even addictive. How often do you hear of anyone who's changed their basic political or religious philosophy from an argument? Or hell, for that matter, even a friendly debate?"

  He had me there. I could tell him how many, right off. Exactly none.

  Fred followed our conversation with great interest but eventually he wanted to talk more about sex. Crispies had sex, naturally, but it wasn't anywhere close to the pleasure-inducing phenomenon that human sex is. For them it is much more tied up with basic reproduction. Whether natural or genetically induced, they don't know. They are very poor historians. Anyway, Fred was insatiably curious about sex, its techniques, its hows and whys and whens and everything else imaginable. He also told us that other Crispies were doing the same as he was, seeking information in order to decide whether or not to convert. I saw this in action by noticing other Crispies hanging out with our fellows like Fred was with us.

  Fortunately Jeri dropped by during one of the earliest discussions and contributed a key ingredient. Fred was asking, or rather trying to find out how to compare the pleasures of sex with anything he was familiar with. They did experience pleasure, he said, but apparently their emotions were not nearly as intense as ours.

  "I can give you one answer,” she said. “I converted to human and I would never go back. Sex is one of the reasons. I don't want to ever give it up, at least so long as it's with Kyle.” She said something else in Cresperian while getting the look on her face that told me she was also utilizing her perceptive sense. I assumed she was repeating the English in a more emphatic way in their own language. “And that goes for other experiences as well,” she said in English. “Many of them are also intensely pleasure-producing although not necessarily done for fun."

  "So human emotions are that ... strongly satisfying?"

  "It is impossible to explain how much, even in our own language, especially for sex. It simply has to be experienced to be believed. It would be good in and of itself, but when it is with a person you love and who loves you, there is nothing else in the world better."

  And that, naturally, brought the discussion around to love and what it was. All three of us took turns trying to explain, but I'm not certain we made much progress. Nevertheless, Fred the Crispy thought he would like to become human, at least for a while, in order to explore its nuances. We left it at that after cautioning him on how it should be approached should he decide in favor.

  I was certainly having an interesting time, even if I wasn't learning all that much xenobiology. Like the Crispies with sex, I couldn't understand their perceptive sense, but it was one of my favorite subjects of conversation with Fred, trying to get a handle on it.

  I guess all the nice talk was too good to last. The damned Indians spoiled it, but even before that, the Snappers began causing trouble again.

  * * * *

  Each night before going to bed and periodically during the day we went back to our rooms to catch up on the overall situation. The third night Gene and I were having a drink together in his room. It was something alcoholic the Crispies concocted for us by copying from a bit of contraband volunteered by the boatswain chief. It didn't taste exactly like whisky but it wasn't bad and it was alcoholic. I felt myself relaxing under its influence while we caught the latest summarized download from the com.

  "Why, those nasty little bastards!” Gene exclaimed when we heard that the Snapper ship, contrary to its previous actions, had begun preying on the Crispy freighters that plied the industrial lanes from the Jovian-type planet's moons and a thick asteroid belt where most of the Crispy manufactured goods were produced. “They're trying to create a damned blockade!"

  "Maybe it will help us,” I said.

  "How so?"

  "I hope it will give the Crispies a notion of how vile they are and impel them into producing some weapons we can use. Somehow I doubt the Snappers intend to let us leave this system peacefully, although I'd be willing to bet they let us go in the end."

  Gene opened his mouth, then closed it. “Why do you say that?"

  "Because I think they could have wiped our ship out had they wanted to. I believe they intend to scare us, then when we skedaddle for home, follow us."

  "How could they do that?"

  "How should I know? There must be some method though, if the Snapper ship here is the same one as before. Twice."

  "You may have something there. I guess getting weapons from the Crispies would depend on how long it takes them to get riled up about the Snappers attacking their freighters, huh?"

  "If they do. From what I understand a good many of those freighters are not manned."

  "Still..."

  "And the Crispies aren't violent. Maybe they would rather surrender than fight.” I didn't believe that, but I supposed it was possible.

  Gene looked properly skeptical.

  "Just thinking,” I said.

  "Me, too, but I've been wondering what the Indians are up to rather than the Snappers."

  I pointed to the com. He shut up, listened, and watched.

  The summary showed the Indian starship had left orbit and gone out to challenge the Snapper ship. It wasted a couple of missiles with no result and no reprisal, then a second recording showed them trying to get in close for a laser shot. Instead they were on the receiving
end of an energy beam. Curiously, it simply touched them for a moment and died but the Indian ship backed off in a hurry. The next recording showed the Indians returning to orbit and the Snapper ship again moving around but no longer attacking the freighters.

  "Looks to me like the Snappers pulled their shot,” Gene said. “And the Indians knew it and got the hell away."

  "Same here. I think they could have done more damage had they kept on."

  Listen to us, I thought. Analyzing tactics and strategy of one completely alien ship and another with humans aboard whose world view was almost as foreign.

  He sipped at his drink and frowned. “Maybe they're scared. They haven't tried to butt heads with our ship, either."

  "Maybe, but I don't think so.” I thought of the hand-to-hand fighting and how viciously the Snappers pressed ground attacks or stood and fought in defense.

  "No, I really don't think they're scared, either,” Gene said, “but ... maybe wanting to be sure they get back home with their information? Two different intelligent species discovered, with one of them practically defenseless?"

  "Could be they think there's three. The Indian ship doesn't really look much like ours for all that it's powered the same. I suspect it's because of the different national resources involved in the construction. I still favor the Snappers trailing us home, though. We have an interstellar ship here. The Crispies don't. Jeri said their few others are on exploration trips."

  He nodded. “Could be. Think we ought to pass our suspicions on to Jeri?"

  "Couldn't hurt. I'll send our thoughts over to her. Anything else before I do?"

  He rubbed his chin studiously. “Maybe. The Indian big shot is supposed to be a mighty warrior and a god. Is he on the ship or down here? And if he is here, what's his reaction?"

  "Maybe he's not quite so warrior-like as he thought he was after hearing what we told the Crispies about the Snappers."

  He laughed. “Could be."

  I punched up the com, had a brief conversation with Jeri, then turned back to Gene just in time for him to hold up my empty glass.

  "Another drink?"

  I nodded. We were in the middle of it when Jeri came visiting after listening to our suppositions.

  "Hi Jeri,” Gene said. “Care for some of this ersatz whisky we're drinking?"

  "I believe I will, thanks. And thanks to both of you for your speculations. I passed it all on up to Captain Becker. He believes, and I concur, that the Snappers intend to try following us home, just as they followed us here. I really, really wish we knew how they did it."

  And that made me remember an earlier thought, one I'd had briefly then lost in the press of our business with the Crispies.

  "Jeri, do we know for certain all three of our encounters with Snapper ships are from the same ship? And for that matter, how can we be sure the Snapper ship here is really that? A Snapper ship, I mean. We've certainly not seen any of its crew this time and we've never received any kind of communication from them on any of the encounters. Maybe the one here is yet another species?"

  She nodded as if she had been thinking the same thing. “For that matter, General Haley said he'd never had any ship-to-ship commerce with them. However, I'd say this ship here not being Snappers would be pushing coincidence to the breaking point, especially since it looks the same. On your other supposition ... well, we just don't know."

  "I've had another thought,” I said. I crossed my legs and drank more of my whisky. It wasn't really that bad, considering. When they were both watching me I continued. “Suppose the Snappers have a large empire. Could it be that the Crispies are just outside the edge of it and that we've stumbled into its boundaries in our previous encounters? We know both were apparently colony worlds."

  "Captain Becker has already considered that. I think you're right. At the least we've encountered the edge of their explorations. However, it doesn't solve the problem of whether they followed us or whether this is a different ship, does it?"

  "No,” I admitted. “So what do we do?"

  She smoothed her hand down the seam of her jeans from where she was sitting on the bed. “That's going to be up to Captain Becker and I don't think he can make a decision yet. You see, tomorrow some of the Crispy elders who were involved in setting up this little spaceport and these reception buildings want us and the Indians to see if we can come to some kind of agreement that we can both live with. We're to meet in the morning in the central dome. I personally have my doubts about this but if we don't try, our position will become rather shaky. Somehow, though, we have to try to make them believe in the threat of the Snappers and at the same time understand the dangers of converting to human form too fast like the Indians have done. The faction interested in exploring will be observing, as will many who think Crispies would do better sticking close to home and having nothing to do with any of us. Some friends of the Crispy who became Kalki and some of my friends will also be there. Captain Becker has instructed me to play it by ear and do the best I can for humanity and the United States."

  Uh-oh, I thought; I've got a baaaad feeling about this.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  After Jeri left, Gene and I decided to have another drink.

  "I suppose Jeri has told everyone else, or will be doing so,” Gene said as he mixed them.

  "I should hope so,” I responded absentmindedly. I was already running various scenarios through my mind, trying to think of some way to influence the impending event.

  "Relax, Cherry. There's not much we can do until the wingding tomorrow happens. In the meantime let's try to relax."

  I took a deep breath and then another and let them out slowly. He was right. I knew that, but still ... oh the hell with it, I told myself. Do like he says. Relax.

  So I did. I leaned back on the little couch we were sitting on and willed my muscles to loosen up. By the time we had talked a bit more and had some more of that flavored ethanol, I began feeling the tension leaving my body.

  "You're better now, I think,” Gene said.

  "Uh-huh. When you can't do anything about a situation, there's no point in beating your brains out. If there's anything either of us can do, it will be tomorrow. I guess I've been trying to shoulder the world's burdens. Stupid of me, huh?"

  "No. It's one of the things I like about you."

  "Really?"

  "Yup. Really.” He grinned.

  I caught the twinkle in his eyes and sat my drink on the end table.

  Gene is much smarter than most people give him credit for. He caught the signal immediately and slid his arm around my shoulder then gave a very gentle little tug.

  I came willingly and tilted my head back so he could kiss me. He was very good at it. And I was as ready as I had been for a long while, what I had said earlier to him notwithstanding. I fumbled for the little bulb on the side of the table and pressed it. The lights dimmed but didn't go out.

  "That's as close to candlelight as we're going to get,” he said.

  "Umm. Shut up and kiss me again."

  A few minutes later we were undressed and on the bed. I was so helplessly aroused that I momentarily forgot how strong I was. Maybe his well-built body caused me to think subconsciously that he was the same. Whatever. He let out a little yelp.

  "Sorry,” I murmured and pulled him over me.

  He was good at that, too.

  Very good.

  * * * *

  Fortunately, some of the changes Sira had made in my body tempered the effects of alcohol. I woke up at three o'clock and was momentarily disoriented. Then it all came back to me.

  Mai, you are a bad girl, I thought as I sat up, intending to tiptoe on out and get back to my own room.

  "No need to rush. It's early.” Gene's voice was husky with sleep. Or perhaps desire.

  A very bad girl, I thought as I lay back down. But hell, why not? I liked Gene. I had no idea if it would go beyond that, but for the moment I didn't care. I was light years
from home and his presence was comforting. I was very relaxed and a little while later even more so.

  I made it to my room in time for a quick shower before breakfast.

  * * * *

  The central dome was larger than the ones on each side of it. Had the Crispies planned it that way? No, they hadn't even known we were coming. Or had they? Maybe one of the Indians let slip that other Crispies had survived the breakup of their ship and might possibly be on the way. Whatever, there was plenty of room and plenty of seating in the auditorium-style dome. Each row of seats was higher than the one in front and the seats circled three-quarters of the perimeter against the wall. The central area took most of the space but it was just a floor, no stage or anything like that.

  Gene had tapped on my door by prearrangement. I felt just a wee bit awkward with him at first and noticed he wasn't quite as sure of himself as he had been the night before. It passed as we walked together to the dome. There were already plenty of people there from both sides, although it looked as if the Indians outnumbered us. Well, we knew that already.

  I spotted Jeri down in the center of the huge room where the floor was bare of seats. I nudged Gene.

  "Uh-huh. That's Kyle with her, too. I wonder what his position in this affair is?"

  "I suspect Jeri just wants him close for whatever we're going to accomplish, if anything.” I broke off and stared. “Oh, shit! Would you look at that!"

  A bizarre giant of a man entered from the Indian side passage and proceeded toward the center space where Jeri and Kyle were waiting. He must have been nearly eight feet tall. He was dressed in white cloth that covered his groin and thighs. I'd seen it worn somewhere before. It's called a lungi, I think. I also think he chose it so that it would show off his massive chest and superb musculature. He was barefooted. His hair was shoulder length and black. His face resembled the classic Indian features but he had a strong chin and glittering black eyes that roamed constantly as he strode confidently toward Jeri and Kyle. I felt his gaze on me for a moment and felt a surge of adrenalin. Fight or flight? Clearly that was what my body was preparing for. I told it to be quiet and his gaze passed on to others. He stopped about 20 feet from where Jeri and Kyle stood waiting.