The Sex Gates

by Darrell Bain;Jeanine Berry

  With the country so heavily divided by the recent social upheavals, the presidential election was thrown into the House that year. It took a number of votes before Denton Jones was finally elected.

  Jones was a strong supporter of the space program, since he believed in the theory that the gates had an alien origin. Over the protests of environmentalists, an Orion was launched. Construction on a second Orion was begun, and combined with the clippers rolling off the assembly lines, a manned presence in space began to seem like a permanent possibility. The government never really made clear the purpose of all the expenditures on the space program, but there were few complaints. Most people now believed that the gates came from an advanced alien technology, especially since the decline of the Church of the Gates helped convince people God wasn't responsible (though the Gaters remained a force in politics). The space program was promoted as a way to “catch up.” It didn't matter how many times scientists tried to explain how far beyond us the gate technology was, the populace refused to understand. They wanted us to do something to compete.

  The tabwebs didn't help; they were always coming out with “scientific” explanations of how we were learning to understand the gates, and how we would soon meet their creators out in space. It is always amazing when you learn all over again how ignorant the general public is about science, or even what “science” really consists of.

  After the trauma of our latest sex changes, an uneventful three years passed while our family grew closer together. We were happy and prosperous, and we all had interesting work to occupy our time. Rez and Donna earned advanced degrees in psychology and mathematics. Donna's thesis was beyond my poor abilities to understand, but Rez's was interesting—more speculation on the coming steep decline in the birth rate and the male sexual orientation which was causing it.

  I never asked him if he included me in his thesis that males in female bodies simply weren't going to have babies in any great numbers. If he had asked, I would have been honest: as a female, I had no great yearning to get pregnant. The only time the subject came up in a serious discussion between us, I offered to contribute an egg for a host mother; Rez refused without making a fuss about it.

  If this sounds like the world was settling down into a peaceful co-existence with the gates, it is only because the gates were mentioned less often in the news. They were still as controversial and as unexplainable as ever, and continued to be the proximate cause of enough wars, rebellions, and social unrest to make the last century seem like a child's Sunday school picnic. Nothing new was learned about them. There they sat, over a million of them, with no clue to their purpose or origin. They were certainly changing the world though, if that was the result that the source of the gates intended.

  The gates did stimulate a bonanza of new inventions and innovations, simply by upsetting conventional notions and turning thoughts and speculations into new areas. The new technology generated a slow financial upswing in the markets but left the Fourth Worlders little better off, or anyone else for that matter.

  Global warming continued and the Antarctic ice sheets were still melting. Much of the added revenue governments gained from increased employment went towards relocating seacoast residents. The North Houston militia began to drill regularly as more and more of Old Houston became uninhabitable. Many of the Fourth Worlders began rebuilding their shanties on the edges of our city, refusing to move north into the relocation camps. I can't say I blamed them much. The Midwest camps were beginning to get a bad reputation.

  I made sure we had plenty of arms and ammunition on hand, and we all got a lot of exercise fireproofing the old house and building and then prettifying revetments around it. I didn't like having so many Fourth Worlders nearby, and I didn't trust the Luddite philosophy of the Gaters among them.

  * * * *

  Really, the only thing which marred our happiness during those years was the fact that poor Russell was still working on his theory as tenaciously as a bulldog with his teeth locked in the throat of a larger opponent, hanging on but unable to bring him down. His working hypothesis had been reviewed again and again and never a flaw found; yet each time an apparatus was constructed to test the theory, it failed to work. It was driving him to distraction. Almost always, he came home haggard and had to be careful not to transfer his irritability to the rest of us. Donna took on the nurturing role in their relationship and usually managed to send him back to the lab refreshed and ready to work even harder.

  One afternoon, almost three-and-a-half years after he had said “six months, maybe,” he returned with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He greeted us with hugs and kisses, practically oozing confidence.

  Rez threw an arm over his shoulder. “If you don't have good news this time, you can't tell it from the way you're acting. Something must have worked right on that last contraption you built."

  He grinned. “Nope, it failed again like always."

  “What's all the joy about, then?” I rubbed my cheek against the three-days growth of whiskers he was wearing. He smelled of sweat and burnt coffee.

  “Because I know what's been causing the problem, now. Next time it will work, believe me."

  “What was it?” Rez looked unconvinced. His enthusiasm for the project had faded after so many failures, and nowadays he concentrated on his own research.

  Russell glanced around as if he expected a squad of ‘porters to materialize in the room with us. “I don't want to say anything else about it right now. I'll tell you once we've rewired everything and tested it again. I wanted to come home and tell you the good news, though, and spend a few days relaxing before starting over again."

  Donna kissed him. “So relax!"

  Russell focused on the rest of us for the first time. “Hey, you girls look great!"

  Even after three years, I found myself looking around to see what girls he meant. When I realized he meant Donna and me, I laughed to myself. I was wearing shorts and a clingtight sleeveless blouse. When I looked down, I could see my nipples making little tents where the fabric clung to my breasts, outlining their twin forms so perfectly that the fabric might have been painted on. I went over and hugged his neck again, feeling the pleasant little sway and jiggle as I moved. My female body felt young and healthy and sexy, and I no longer worried about showing it off; in fact I had begun to enjoy it. I never had much use for a bra, though. The damn things felt like a straightjacket.

  As we settled down, I plopped myself next to Rez. He nuzzled my neck and began exploring my breasts as shamelessly as a cat in heat. I nipped at his ear to make him stop, at the same time whispering a promise for the night to come. My orientation and personal beliefs had certainly undergone a vast transformation since my change. He didn't object to my suggestion.

  “So what's new here?” As usual, Russell depended on us for news from the rest of the world.

  Donna was snuggled up next to him. “I heard the floods won't get much higher."

  “The next Orion is almost ready for launch,” I said, knowing he always wanted to hear about the space program.

  “A tinker toy. It will be obsolete before it gets into orbit, even if they complete it."

  “Your theory again?"

  “Not just mine. We've all worked on it."

  Russell was modest. I was sure that the original notion, whatever it turned out to be, had originated in his mind.

  “Whatever. That's what you meant, though?"

  “Yup. When it proves out this time, there may be no limit to the applications. The new computers Rez wants to see will be the least of what we'll be able to accomplish. I think the real theorists may get practical faster than light travel out of it.” He looked around the room with a devilish grin, enjoying the effects of his bombshell.

  I jumped to my feet. “Are you serious?” FTL was the dream of every boy and man and woman who had ever read a science fiction novel! “Yup, I think so. Too soon to be certain yet, but that's what I'm thinking."

  My imaginatio
n soared, picturing faraway planets, orbiting stars throughout the galaxy, strange alien creatures, and fantastic new discoveries, as if the possibility of faster than light travel wasn't already enough for one day. No wonder he was downplaying computer applications. Why, with FTL on the horizon, there could be fresh new land, new frontiers and a hope for every downtrodden Fourth Worlder on the planet. Once America was the brave new world where Europeans immigrated to escape starvation and famine and religious prosecution. Now the stars would be a vast new frontier!

  Donna threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him so hard that he couldn't speak again until she let him come up for breath.

  “Don't mention any of this to anyone. We don't want it getting out yet, and the tests still have to prove the theory. They will, though; they will."

  I couldn't understand how he could be so confident after so many failures, but there was no doubting his certainty. “So how much longer now?"

  He hugged Donna and beamed at all of us. “No more than two or three weeks, I would say. Stick close to home so you'll be here when I come back. We'll really celebrate then!"

  * * * *

  After Russell's revelation, I called Mary and asked her to cancel a contract I had signed to do a story over in Louisiana among the Cajuns, one area of the country where the gates had been accepted almost as quickly and enthusiastically as they had in France. She tore her hair and cussed like a sailor, but I was adamant. She could either assign it to someone else or I would drop it and pay the penalty. Muttering under her breath that this would give me a bad name, she said she would get someone else to do it and to forget about the penalty. I felt a mild regret; I had been looking forward to the trip and a chance to consort with the Cajun ladies, but there was no way I was going to chance not being home the next time Russell returned.

  We waited anxiously over the next two weeks, then with even more anxiety as more days passed. It was like counting down for a rocket launch where the seconds had become days before the next tick of the clock. When Russell finally did get back, it wasn't anything at all like the triumphant return we had been expecting.

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  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I came awake with someone shaking my shoulder.

  “What is it,” I muttered, glancing at the clock. It read three-thirty in the morning. I sat up in bed and told the lights to come on.

  Russell was standing by the bed, holding a carrying bag in one hand. His hair was singed and his face blackened with soot. But his eyes were what shocked me awake. They held the frightened look of a wild animal fleeing for its life with the hunters in hot pursuit. Behind his opened jean jacket I could see burned places on his shirt.

  “Russ, what happened?” I was stupefied.

  Behind me on the bed, Rez and Donna sat up, still half-asleep. I saw their eyes opened wide as they stared at the same apparition.

  “Get up, all of you. We may be in danger.” He turned away and began peeling off his jacket as he left the room. His shirt was in tatters.

  I jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and shirt and boots. At the first mention of danger, I had felt for my gun in the drawer of the caddy. I buckled it on while the others were getting dressed. We all hurried out into the great room.

  Russell was sitting on the lounger holding his head in his hands. He looked up as we entered. Tears were glimmering in his eyes.

  I switched the security system over to the highest setting. Now a stray mouse couldn't twitch its whiskers without setting off an alarm. That done, I put on coffee. Donna took one look at Russell and led him protesting into the bedroom, leaving the door open. We heard water running while we waited to hear what had happened.

  The coffee was ready when Donna and Russell came back in. He was dressed in fresh clothes. His hair was still glistening darkly from the shower, and a fresh bandage had been stuck on his neck over the worst burn. I took out a bottle of brandy, added a dollop to each cup with an extra one for Russell and handed it to him. He sipped at it, then swallowed, sucking in his breath as the hot beverage burned his tongue.

  “It's gone, the lab is gone,” he said.

  “Gone? What do you mean?” Rez laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Blown up. Burned. The Gaters did it."

  “What! Why would they do something like that?” Ever since Messilinda deserted them, the Gaters had been dwindling in numbers, fading away to become another one of the seemingly endless small religious sects that dotted the American landscape, but the remaining believers were action-oriented, much like the old Right To Life activists before they were finally subdued.

  “I guess they didn't agree with our research. That's what has been going wrong the last few years. We had a ringer in the lab, and no one knew it. He's the one who's been writing the programs for the instrument tests, and he would always insert an error before we got ready for a run. We never suspected him until a few weeks ago.” Russell's voice shook as he spoke. He sounded as if his best friend had betrayed him—maybe he had. He spent most of his time at the lab. I supposed he was close to the people there.

  “You found him out then. That's why you were so fired up last time you were home?"

  “Yeah. I finally got smart and checked the program one night when I was there by myself. I found the error, but it was too late to stop the last test. Besides, I didn't know who else might have been in on it. This time I wrote a little program myself that would cancel the error and sneaked it in where he couldn't discover it. Our test run worked perfectly. Our theories are proved."

  That obviously wasn't the whole story. I waited to hear the rest.

  Russell went on, “We wanted to do another run or two with slightly altered parameters before writing up the results. I came back to the lab last night—this morning, I mean, after we had all gone out to eat. I was intending to go over everything again. I got there just as this same guy was sneaking out. I called him down, and he denied everything except being a Gater, so I let him go, thinking that would be the end of it. Oh, fuck it all, why didn't I check around? I might have found the bomb he set."

  “Do you mean to tell me that the Gaters blew up your whole lab?” I could hardly believe it.

  Russell buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He looked up at us, tears streaming down his face. “They did. The bomb went off as we were making another run this evening. Everyone was killed except me."

  “My God. You mean all your work is gone? Your whole team is dead?” Horror turned Rez's eyes into black marbles.

  Russell shook his head and dragged a hand across his tearstained cheek. “No, I did one thing right, anyway.” He tapped the suitcase by his side. “I had been constructing a prototype light computer. On a hunch, I took it and stuffed it in here, along with a set of notes on our work that I pulled from the files. I had gone to my office to get it because I wanted to have it ready to leave right after the run. They started a little earlier than I thought. I was entering the lab, down at the far end, when the explosion went off. It knocked me off my feet, but didn't really hurt me. When I got up and couldn't find anyone else breathing and heard the sirens, I grabbed my bag and left."

  “May that traitor be damned to hell.” It was an oath I truly meant, from the bottom of my soul. Suddenly I remembered the first thing Russell had said: “We may all be in danger."

  “Why did you say we might be in danger? Do they know you got away with all the notes?"

  “I don't know about that, but they will surely learn that I wasn't one of the casualties, and they are bound to think of the possibility, or at least decide to come after me in order to eliminate the last member of the team. We've held this whole thing pretty close to the vest and so far as I know, there isn't any similar research going on anywhere. I wouldn't even have come back here except that I doubt that my staying away would give you any protection. If I disappeared, they would come after you to try to find my whereabouts.” Pulling a kleenex from his pocket, he blew his
nose and wiped his eyes. Tearstains were still visible on his cheeks.

  His reasoning made sense. I picked up the phone and called Chief Wilson at home. His sleepy voice answered after several repeated beeps, without visual. I kept mine on so he could see that it was really me speaking. “Chief, would you trust me on an urgent matter, without asking a lot of questions?"

  “I guess so, Li. At least for the time being."

  “Good. Would you send a patrol car out to our place as soon as possible? With as many men as you can spare? Tell them that we may all be in danger, and that no one is to approach our house without our specific permission. I'll explain later, or it may already be on the news. You know Russell? He was the only one who escaped the explosion earlier today at North Houston University Laboratory."

  “Good God! No, I hadn't heard. I'll get the patrol on the way out immediately. Call me back in an hour or two if I haven't come out to check on you personally by then."

  “Thanks, chief.” I clicked off.

  A few minutes later the big screen sounded off and a blinking icon come on, telling me to check one of the long-distance infrared scanners. I put it on the screen. Two hundred yards away, at the point where our driveway turned onto the blacktop of the road, I saw several figures jump from a van and go to ground at the intersection, apparently to block any stray traffic coming that way. Their rifles glowed a faint red in the scanners, barely above ambient temperature. A dozen figures began running down the drive toward the house. I guess they thought the sound of a car might alert us prematurely to their presence. That was the only thing that saved us.

  Not again! My heart sank as memories of the battle I had once fought flashed through my mind. My hands began to shake, but there was no time to spare. No other icon was blinking, so that told me this was the only gang of intruders so far. My whole body was trembling, but I managed to spit out orders, thanking all the gods that I was a squad leader during the riots; it had prepared me, at least a little, for quick decisions.