by Scott Rhine
Max considered the news. “That’s rough, but getting fall-down drunk isn’t the answer.”
“Then maybe you’re not asking the right question.”
Face grim, Max said, “As long as you’re part of this partnership, we all follow the same rules. If you get drunk on this ship one more time, you’re out.”
“Then I’m sleeping on the yacht. Draven has plenty of alcohol he’s willing to share.”
****
Draven was alone in the bedchamber, dressed in a T-shirt emblazoned with Ulysses, a holo character popular decades ago. His bottom half was covered by silk sheets. A gauzy, purple scarf covered the lamp, suggesting that the talented Calmarie had visited recently. He paused part six of the adventure on his screen when he noticed Reuben hovering in the doorway. The series was an uber-masculine Bollywood retelling of the classic Greek myth where the hero was actually a Goat observer in disguise. Ulysses had access to advanced technology but only used it to stop interstellar pirates from harming the primitive Earthlings. The motif was repeated in the recent Hemingway series where the incognito main character tried to experience everything about Earth before world war destroyed it. Pointing at his shirt, the Black Ram said, “This was my one possession. It always brought me luck in school.” The walls were lined with entertainment cubes and model spaceships. The conniving, old lecher seemed almost innocent as he patted the space beside him. “Want to watch?”
“Sure.”
The ram and his successor watched in silence until the hero was shot in the shoulder with a blaster and Reuben flinched. “It doesn’t happen like that. The heat energy has to go somewhere. It continues cooking the flesh until—”
Draven turned off the violent holo. “Sorry. I didn’t think about your friend.” He pulled a bottle out of the headboard, one of twenty arranged by color, and poured amber fluid into an engraved, crystal tumbler. “Skoal.”
Reuben downed the alcohol in gratitude. Instead of shaking off a vile aftertaste, he was suffused with a warm glow. This was the good stuff.
“If you have to piss, use our private toilet, the brass-plated one. It analyzes everything about your health several times a day,” Draven bragged. “What kind of entertainment would you like instead? I have some wild parties on cube.”
“Not my thing.”
“Some instructional videos perhaps?” Draven opened a drawer under the bed. “I can show you how to maximize the pleasure for a ewe—strictly for profession purposes. The more she enjoys the experience, the more fertile she is, and the fewer times you need to perform your duties.”
“Maybe later when I’m alone with Blythe.”
Draven tucked a vial of green fluid into Reuben’s vest. “Before you do, take some of this. It’s not absolutely essential, but it helps you control the trip the first time.”
“Royal jelly?”
“The first dose. Once you’re inducted, you need to head to Mnamnabo as soon as possible for your other treatments and final instructions.”
“The Library of Xerxes?” asked Reuben.
Shuddering, Draven whispered, “Yes, the world of ghosts.” Desperate to change the subject, he fished a recording cube off the headboard. “I was going to wait until tomorrow to show you last month’s meetings with supplicants, but we could make it a drinking game. We take a shot every time a guest uses a buzz phrase like ‘mutually beneficial.’”
An interesting teaching style. “I don’t think I’d remember the important stuff about people if I got wasted.”
Draven waved to the bank of black cubes on the far wall. “That’s what the MI-23 databases are for. No one person can keep track of all those public figures.”
“How do you find the right one? Is there an index?”
“The chair in the corner is a high-speed interface to all the written knowledge of our race, a gift from the Magi. I scan the library for relevant information before I consult the mass-mind. That way I know who has how much debt and what vices to exploit. Although, most of the time, I can get what I need just by asking our people to do their patriotic duty.”
Reuben snatched the purple veil off the lamp. “Is that why Calmarie serves?”
“No. MI-23 pays her, but her heart’s in the right place … along with everything else. I’ve made her an offer to share my exile.”
“So am I training to be a whore or a politician?”
Draven drank directly from the bottle. “I requested you as my replacement.”
“Why would you do that to another ram?”
“You’re my hero. I wanted a chance to talk to you, just like this.” Draven shook him by the shoulder. “You got to wander the galaxy longer than any of us. I saw the reports. You hunted Phib war criminals with Medusa!”
“He prefers to be called Max.”
“While MI-23 kept me safe from everything, you got to experience safaris on exotic worlds, gunfights with Bat bandits, space battles, grand theft, and wild sex with a Human woman you didn’t pay. You got to be Hemingway and Ulysses combined, Cousin. I wish my life had been half as interesting as yours.”
Bemused at the comparison, Reuben said, “You make it sound like my life is over now.”
“Every time I tap the mass-mind, I lose another piece of myself. One person isn’t meant to hold all that. Insanity doesn’t happen much anymore because of the advanced screening the schools perform, but nothing stops the neurological breakdown when sessions happen too close together.”
“You mean we lose years off our lives each time?”
Draven bit his lip. “Yes, but it’s a little more personal than that. I forget names. That’s why I call you cousin and the reminder cubes are so necessary.”
“You activated me because you’re a little absentminded?”
“On good days, I have a mental age of fourteen. On bad days, I stumble over my own feet or suffer from debilitating tremors.” Draven peeled back the sheet, revealing a diaper. “At night, I’m often incontinent. I begged MI-23 to replace me before I endanger what little dignity remains in the office.”
Reuben wanted to cry for the second time that night, this time for himself. “So this is my wake we’re attending.”
“No,” Draven said sincerely. “Mine. Yours is more like a wedding ceremony, joined in holy union with your people.”
“Till death do us part.”
“Now you’ve got it.”
****
While Fiona and Roz mastered all the yacht controls to the satisfaction of the old crew, the Magi ship remained dark and immobile for a couple days. Roz fretted constantly about the extra delay.
Reuben chatted with her in the yacht’s cockpit. “Big deal,” he said, slurring his words a little. “We had two extra weeks.”
“That was before we took the low road through Human space. Do you know it’ll take us five days to meet that transport, and the same amount of time to get back to the nexus?” Roz Ellison practiced preflight checks for her upcoming exam. “We’ll be too late for the Convocation if we take the safest commercial route through Hoosway and Yarbin.”
“So skip Yarbin. We can cheat on the last jump.”
“That gives us only two days of leeway.”
He knew his frequent requests for large favors had used up any goodwill from the Ellisons, the three true owners of the ship. Signing over all his wealth would be meaningless to them. He had to get Jeeves to the Sentience Committee in time. “Okay, hop directly from New Hawaii to Giragog.”
“That’s twelve parsecs. Too risky. Echo would have a cow.”
Reuben laughed at the image. “We’ll see if we can shave off a little in New Hawaii.”
Roz wrinkled her nose at his breath. “Ugh. Do rams always drink like this?”
“Only when we have headaches, can’t face what our people really think of us, or know something bad’s about to happen that our people are too much like sheep to stop.” Reuben considered for a moment. “So, pretty much every day.”
She coolly ignored him while she ch
ecked an out-of-range oxygen level.
“What’s that cover for in the corner?” Reuben pointed to a section of hull ceramic she had welded into place.
Roz whispered, “The ansible.” She had a Don’t Touch sign on the cover in three languages.
“It’s already mu-shielded and powered down.”
“I still feel like some predator is watching me.”
Reuben understood healthy paranoia. “I hear you, but Draven assures me it can’t communicate to the outside world unless someone physically turns the key.”
“Is he packing his belongings?”
“Everything of his stays with the ship. By law, the ram owns nothing except the clothes on his back. Only his handmaidens and guards have suitcases.” Those people bowed to Reuben in the hallways and wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.
Roz glared at him sternly. “I think any remaining liquor and illicit drugs should go with them as part of the payment for their tickets.”
He bowed. “Yes, ma’am.” He would obey her wishes because she alone could sway all the partners in a vote. The thought of facing the Library of Xerxes without his friends terrified him. The ghosts of history waited to swallow him. His shipmates might accompany him to Mnamnabo on the way to the Magi worlds if he regained her favor.
****
Only after Draven left did Reuben realize how freeing it had felt to have another ram around. He wasn’t likely to meet another until he tested his successor. People would never act the same around him again. Fiona was frigid but respectful. Daisy brought him daily news briefings and refused to meet his gaze. Blythe kept trying to cheer him up and incite his lust in the cafeteria, regardless of who was present. Reuben had to explain, “Sex is off the table until after Giragog.”
“How about on the floor?” Blythe joked.
Roz covered her face to hide her amusement.
“I need to finish reading a ton of Top Secret reports in my new bedroom,” Reuben said, leaving the table.
“Learn anything new?” Max caught him at the door.
Reuben blew out. “The Mnamnabonian government underestimates both the ruthlessness of the opposition and how bad our position is at the moment.”
“Depressing. Any details about the Giragog Convocation?”
“No. Draven never asked to attend. MI-23 in New Hawaii can dig up what we need.”
Max examined the bloodshot whites of his eyes. “Not drinking in secret, are you?”
“Nope. When the grief gets too deep, I watch movies. Draven left behind a marvelous collection. He studied to be a cinematographer. Any of you are welcome to watch with me when the door is open.” Directing his gaze at Blythe, he said, “And the door will remain open whenever a ewe is on the yacht with me.”
Oddly, whenever Blythe came for a movie, Menelaus followed her. He loved action films. She wanted to comfort Reuben, or at least get him to talk about the cause of his obvious distress.
By the time they all crawled back into stasis for the New Hawaii jump, Reuben was running the holo projector around the clock.
Chapter 22 – Equal Rights
Once all the partners left the safety of stasis in the New Hawaii system, Kesh called a planning meeting for the dining hall. Roz spoke first in hushed tones, glancing toward the kitchen. “Echo and I compromised on a plan to cut twenty-six days off the trip. We’ll jump through the Hoosway system, in one nexus and out the next without visiting the planet. We’ll need maximum fuel and a light load, but we can make it. New Hawaii will be our last stop before the Convocation.”
Kesh nodded. “No more cargo. That makes my job easier. Truth to tell, I wasn’t looking forward to haggling for fish or sugar in New Hawaii. We can unload our current cargo and barter for fuel over a period of two days. That way, we should shave another two days off our estimated time of arrival.”
“Awesome.” Roz high-foured the Saurian. “Max is taking me on a tour of his old base. Will we have time?”
Kesh nodded. “If everyone pitches in the first day, Menelaus and I can handle everything after that.”
Daisy raised both fists in the air. “Score! Beach party. I haven’t had a vacation day in ages.”
“Goats don’t exactly like swimming,” Reuben said, turning his face away from Daisy to avoid memories of Ivy on the beach.
“You can come with us on the tour,” Roz said cheerfully.
“I guess I could record the event to practice producing news feeds. In the slums, we can drop casual comments about the plight of the Bats on Niisham to support our cover story.”
“Wouldn’t the Goats like to see some of the plantations instead?” Max asked. “Some of them are the size of states, and they offer free samples. The community center’s neighborhood never really rebuilt after the liberation. I can’t imagine there’s much to see.”
Reuben laughed. “I got you into this mess, pal. I’ll be there to rescue you from your women if things turn ugly. Kesh, what are we doing with the excess credits from sales?”
“We’ll have our final profit distribution.”
“Great,” Reuben complained. “More for me to give away. Maybe I’ll find a worthy cause on our tour. If not, I’ll make the trust fund for Blythe and the kid bigger.”
Fiona paled, visibly hurt. With iron control, she said, “You’re not allowed to give your money to a consort, especially not one who’s dependent on you for anything that requires addition. You can’t circumvent the vow of poverty.”
“The money is for the raising of an heir, if it happens to be female.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fiona argued. “The heir doesn’t exist yet. The moment it does, you’ll be the Black Ram and the money won’t be yours.”
Reuben stood so the chair would be between him and Fifi’s neck. “Have some compassion. She left everything to be with me.”
“She’s not the only one.” Fiona ran from the room.
Blythe stood in the doorway with a birthday cake bearing Reuben’s name. “You’re sweet to think of me, but I have everything I need when I’m with you.”
Max furrowed his brow. “Reuben’s birthday isn’t for another month and a half.”
“We missed it on the second month-long jump,” Roz stressed, nodding her head to the calendar on the wall. She had planted it to avoid explaining the ship’s speed to Blythe or Menelaus.
No one ever made me a cake before. “That was very considerate.”
“You didn’t eat the ascension celebration cake.”
Even if Reuben waited until Giragog, he would be the youngest ram in five centuries. “Sorry. I’ve been depressed.”
“We’ve noticed,” said Daisy.
Blythe put the cake on the table. “My mom always said that when you’re depressed, you should do something nice for someone else, and your mood will improve.”
Roz said, “You do that all the time.”
“Lately, yes.” Blythe’s smile faltered. “I have irreparable brain damage, and I find something every day that I can’t do anymore. Fiona’s right that I can’t add.”
Reuben hugged her. “I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t think of you. Come with us on the tour.” The contact felt wonderful, and her delight spread through the room like the fragrance of a mountain flower.
Max cleared his throat. “You owe Fiona an apology. I don’t think she’d hurt you in your sleep, but she might let something slip to the media. You wouldn’t be able to move on the next two planets because of the cloud of drones following you. She could make our mission difficult as well.”
“Do something nice for her because you need it to heal,” Blythe whispered.
“You’re an amazing woman,” Reuben said.
“Prove it by having two pieces of this cake when you come back.”
“Deal.” Reuben had eaten the cardboard attached to frozen pizzas before. How bad could the cake be?
He found Fifi in her room sulking. He used every ounce of charm he possessed, but she refused to come back to the part
y. “You’ve insulted me in public too many times.”
Reuben started to object but remembered lessons he’d learned from listening to the Ellisons argue. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but I’ve said nothing but positive things about you to others—your skill as a pilot and your incredible seductiveness. You were the one slinging insults about another member of our delegation. I can’t succeed without both of you. She’s my first line of medical defense, and … she brings you cupcakes.”
Fiona lowered her eyes. “I’ll apologize to her. I was just hurt and jealous.”
“Why? I haven’t done anything with her that I haven’t done with you. She wasn’t awake when we did the no-clothing thing. She didn’t even get the kisses.”
“You’re joking.”
“All I could give you for now is the mingling of auras and the thrill of the boost.” He explained about the pregnancy issues and his desire to remain uncrowned until after the mission ended. He even told her about the fate of Jeeves’s species hanging in the balance.
Touched, she mumbled, “I guess you couldn’t go further.”
“In front of outsiders, you’ll both be my two consorts. An offense to either of you will be an offense against our people.”
Fiona brightened. “So we’ll both be going on the tour?”
“Um … that was the intent when we arranged for three partners to guard the ship,” he fibbed.
“You promise that whatever she gets from you, I get too?”
He opened his mouth several times to weasel, but the request was a fair one. Without his promise, he would lose her. “Yes.”
Fiona threw herself around him, deliriously happy as she kissed Reuben. Her motion against him cause him to question the absolute nature of his moratorium on sex. When she came up for air, she flipped polarity with frightening speed. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll make you regret it.”
Voice cracking, he said, “No doubt in my mind.”
As they walked, hand in hand, back to the party, Reuben realized that the equal-treatment rule went both ways. He owed Blythe about twenty-five minutes of kissing. This promise might not be such a bad thing.