Darwin's Sword: Savannah - Book Two

by C. P. McClennan

  Dorn laughed. “Musicals and serial killers. I did love Julie Andrews, though.”

  “The woman was hot,” John agreed, hoping some lighthearted levity would calm the tension around them.

  “She still is,” Evan said with a grin.

  III

  Aboard Darwin’s Sword

  March 17, 2018, twelve hours before Vacki Seventeen

  The door to her quarters muffled Savannah’s scream.

  If Zed had eyes, they would have rolled. “At it again,” he whispered. If Zed had a mouth, it would have smiled. This human mating ritual was confusing, but it gave off a taboo feel that Zed enjoyed while watching them.

  In deep space, cool as it may have seemed to the average grounded Earthling, there was not much else to watch. The streaking stars got boring after about ten Earth minutes.

  Taboo was another human concept Zed had difficulty understanding. Being that Emmi procreated asexually, Zed had never considered what it would be like to watch two beings mate. The enjoyment from watching took Zed’s incomprehension to another level. If Zed had gonads, they would have been warm.

  Tentacles slipped from his body and pushed a few buttons on the console to slow the vessel.

  At normal travel speeds, the time between Earth and Kettelgian Five would have been than three hours or less. After a few years hovering near Earth and picking up broadcasts, Zed found this estimate to be something akin to a pizza delivery time.

  The architects of this shuttle had allowed a certain female warrior to assist with the design meaning the vessel was slow but armed to the teeth. A secondary problem was no one had anticipated that traveling at faster-than-light speeds did tend to fuck up some species. Full velocity was not an option until they knew what it did to human biology.

  Upon first leaving Earth’s husk, there had been the discussion of full speed between Zed, Gerald, and Savannah. Being humans had a tendency to gamble, Gerald was all for it. Savannah and Zed vetoed the idea as it seemed important to make certain Gerald stayed alive and sane through the voyage.

  Thus, the trio had been traveling for more than a full Earth-month so far.

  Good thing the ship had adequate provisions.

  Savannah howled her pleasure again.

  Good thing the ship had comfortable beds.

  Although Zed appreciated Gerald’s need to name the ship, it was still difficult to think of it as anything other than “the ship”. Darwin’s Sword had a nice sound, but it was not easy for Zed to remember.

  The ship, Darwin’s Sword, shuddered as it slowed further and kicked into to recharge mode. All non-essential systems began to power down.

  Checking sensors, Zed confirmed that the solar panels had unfolded properly to collect energy from the light of a nearby star. This star was not as strong as the star that Earth rotated around had been, but it would do the job.

  Zed’s thoughts drifted back to the couple in the other room that was now copulating quietly. Gerald, the human, had become a friend and was very kind. When not fucking Savannah, Gerald would tell Zed tales of Earth and the Earthlings that once inhabited the planet. Tales of exploration beneath the ocean surfaces, through the skies and even to the Moon.

  On this last point, Zed would listen with bemusement. Being eviction of space-faring races was forbidden, these stories must have been myths that had grown from exaggerated facts.

  Another scream came through the door.

  After completion of eviction, they had landed for fuel. Savannah had filled the hold with enough food to last two months. In addition, there were many kegs and bottles of something she called alcohol.

  With little requirement for human food, Zed became fond of the alcohol. All three consumed vast quantities of it, usually before Gerald and Savannah would retire to quarters for their nightly frolic.

  The only other Earth relic she brought on was a chair with wheels for Gerald.

  In the brief time studying Earth, Zed had found one other piece of the human culture particularly likable, the music.

  When Zed picked them up, the one thing Gerald was carrying was a small portable music device. Within a day, Zed had jury-rigged it so the contents could be downloaded into the shuttle’s computer. Before leaving the planet, Zed was able to download most of the so-called professional music Earthlings had ever created.

  Kettelgians had artistic abilities, but nowhere near the ability or creativity of the humans. Kettelgian artistry was aimed more at science and innovation than it was at entertainment.

  Zed pressed play.

  Immediately the human voice of one Lawrence Gowan drifted over the shuttle speakers singing about a “Great Dirty World”.

  A few other buttons dimmed cabin lights and shut down more systems. One last button shifted the view screen at the front from starscape to the one in Savannah’s quarters.

  On the screen, Savannah’s back was to the cam. She was on all fours between the stumps that were once Gerald’s legs. Her head bobbed up and down as Zed watched her perform fellatio. Her body glistened with sweat from their activities.

  If Zed had a penis or a vagina, it was hard to decide which would be better, it would have swollen. Zed sighed.

  IV

  Gerald lay back with hands behind his head and elbow extended. A large sigh escaped from his sculpted chest as his eyes followed the naked brunette blowing him. “The El Paso Siren? Really? That was you?”

  Savannah laughed. “Yeah, it would seem that was the name they gave me.”

  Music came up in the cabin with the familiar voice of Lawrence Gowan.

  “He’s watching again,” Gerald said with a laugh. “Picked a good Canadian tune, too.”

  “Yeah, but don’t call him a ‘he’ as that seems to upset her,” Savannah said with a smile.

  Gerald laughed.

  Her eyes got close as she studied his penis. “What is it about your music and sex that turns that goon on?”

  “Good thing we’re exhibitionists.”

  “And Gowan was Scottish, not Canadian,” Savannah corrected.

  Gerald’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed you’d know that. He was born Scottish but cut his teeth in Toronto.”

  Rolling back from him, she grabbed at her pale breasts. “Your delusions of grand Canadian musicians aside, I have an important off-topic question. I mean, Bryan Adams and Anne Murray were great, but there are more important things to discuss.”

  “Such as?”

  “For starters, how do your women survive with big breasts? I mean, mine aren’t small…”

  “Yours are perfect,” Gerald interrupted.

  “…but I just imagine back issues with those monstrosities they have.”

  “So long as they can wrap around my cock, who the hell cares?”

  She looked down and laughed. “A month, and I’m the only female in sight. Of course, you see me as…”

  He raised a finger. “Don’t do that. You were the most beautiful creature I’d met before any of this happened."

  “But this isn’t my real body.”

  “I know, and I don’t care,” he whispered. “The body is hot as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but that’s just the shell.” He reached down to slap one of the breasts she squeezed.

  “It’s hard not to think that way when the only other living being with us is an androgynous creature that gets off simply on watching.”

  “Remember, I’m just an average dude physically. If this was an average human relationship…”

  Savannah cocked her head as she thought about what he was saying. “Human women were that vain?”

  “Humans were that vain. We put more value in good looking celebrities than we did in scientists.”

  “Ah, the Emmi were once like that.”

  “Speaking of off-topic, could you imagine Zed with a human body? Constant masturbation to rock music.”

  “At least he has good taste in music.”

  The tune changed to another familiar one as the guitar chords of Rush performing “The
Big Money” took over.

  The laugh that followed caused Savannah to roll further and stare at the ceiling. “Why do we have to have these semi-intellectual conversations while we’re fucking?”

  “You’d rather I play the dumb blonde?”

  “Fuck, no.” His eyes briefly widened in annoyance. “Don’t play the dumb anything.”

  Reaching over, she wrapped fingers of her right hand around his erection. “Oh, look what I found.”

  “Yeah, funny how you keep finding that.”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  He grinned and laughed. “Completely your fault. That’s what you get for my being sapiosexual.”

  Rolling back to him, she kissed the tip of his erection. “I know it’s hard, but I can take the blame.”

  “Do you remember when we met?”

  She shifted and lay on her belly between his legs. The right hand continued holding the erection while fingers of her left hand began tickling his balls. Her eyes locked on him. “Which time? The time I had two broken arms during a freak June snowstorm outside Winnipeg, or the time you were getting a blowjob from Sheila?”

  “Technically, Winnipeg doesn’t count. You ran away, and I had no idea who you were.”

  Savannah sighed.

  “You’ve explained why since, of course.” His body relaxed. “And, again off-topic, I can’t help wonder where we’ll find Nigel and Sheila.”

  “If we find them,” Savannah said before wrapping her lips around his cock.

  “If we don’t, would I be the only human left?”

  Her mouth released him and her eyes softened on him. Savannah moved far enough up so she could stroke his cheek. “We’ll find them.”

  Running a hand through her hair, he gave a tight grin.

  “Now give me your cum. Don’t make me tie you up, again.”

  He chuckled. “Much as I love Rush tunes, they aren’t exactly good for erotic moments.”

  “I said shut the fuck up.”

  “As you wish,” he croaked mid-groan. The sensation of her mouth taking him in brought on that cum quickly.

  Savannah licked a stray drop from her lips and continued sucking.

  “Wait a second.” Gerald held up a hand. “You were the El Paso Siren?”

  Savannah dragged her lips up until his cock released from between them. “Yeah, that was me.”

  “Shit, I’m in love with a serial killer.”

  Savannah blushed, and even she realized this to be a first. “In love?”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Too sappy?”

  Her hand stroked his cock as she turned away to search for words. “I’m still getting used to this whole human thing. This concept of love is not something I was trained for.”

  “No, I can’t imagine they train you for that type of emotion when dealing with what you think are lower lifeforms.”

  “No, but that changed once I realized they had lied to me. Humans are still down the evolutionary chain a few rungs, but they were catching up fast.

  “So what else happened in El Paso?”

  “Nothing. I moved on, still looking for you.”

  “You knew where I was, though. Why were you in El Paso looking for me?”

  She laughed. “Silly man.” Her hand slapped his erection, and she followed it with a kiss to the tip. “I didn’t want to draw attention to where I was looking for you and where I was looking for Graven. I found places I could flash away to feed. El Paso was one of my more notorious stays.”

  “Not your most notorious?”

  She climbed on her knees and moved to straddle him. “Oh, you want to hear more then?”

  He nodded, but his eyes were locked between her legs watching as she aimed the reformed erection.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she whispered to him as she slid the erection into her.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I want to know about this man that says he loves me.”

  He smiled.

  Chapter Two

  April’s Fool

  I

  Regina, Saskatchewan

  April 8, 1977

  “Hello, Isaac,” Helen Moss said to the child cradled in her arms. Her eyes looked at the small apartment around them. “Isaac Gerald Moss, until we can get something bigger, this will be your home.”

  The baby gurgled back at her with a waving hand.

  She pushed a strand of brunette hair around her ear. “What do you want, little man?”

  Only eight days prior Helen’s arms had rested either side of a sizable belly and held a book. The book, “The Selfish Gene” by Richard Dawkins, was one she wanted to use as a textbook for her students in the first semester after maternity leave. It was not an easy read especially while Howard, her husband, was driving and singing along with Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop” on the car cassette player.

  This particular trip had two purposes. First was the usual visit to Howard’s family in Calgary as, with Helen expecting in late April, this would be the last time they could do the trip for some time. Then there was the new car that Howard paid cash for at the Lincoln dealer on McLeod Trail. A day later the white Lincoln Continental cruised eastbound on Highway One, heading back to Regina, carrying Howard, Helen, and Isaac Gerald Moss…the latter, of whom, seemed to be resting comfortably inside Helen’s womb. With both Helen and Howard having jobs in the science faculty at the University of Southern Saskatchewan, the car was easily afforded.

  Helen already loved the vehicle for its smoother ride. The out of tune crooning beside her suggested that her husband, the University of Southern Saskatchewan Dean of Science, had chosen this vehicle for the cassette player.

  Six hours into the trip home the clean new-car interior was compromised by the third of their threesome. It seemed that Isaac Gerald Moss was not as comfortable in his mother’s womb as they had anticipated.

  Or, perhaps, he merely wanted out to dance with the Fleetwood Mac tunes.

  Helen’s water had broken as they entered visual distance of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. A twelve-hour labor followed until, at two in the morning, Isaac Gerald Moss was born.

  “Are you ready for some dinner, Isaac?”

  This adventure was now a week old, and he did not yet understand the words she said. If he could have voiced it, he would have often complained about how cold it was on the outside. It would be a minor complaint as the freedom to move around was worth so much more to him. As was the unvoiced joy he found in hearing music without the muffle-effect caused by the womb.

  The thought that one day Isaac Gerald Moss might be the last living human never crossed any of their thoughts.

  II

  April 1, 1987

  The three boys around the table clapped as Gerald blew out ten candles on the chocolate cake.

  “Well done, Gerald,” Helen said, clapping along with them as well.

  The apartment boom box carried the band Chicago performing a remade version of 25 or 6 to 4 with their new vocalist, Jason Scheff, replacing the well-known Peter Cetera version.

  Howard glanced around as he listened to the lyrics. Putting his lips close to Helen’s ear, he whispered, “This is a drug song. Are we sure it’s appropriate to…”

  “Howard, don’t spoil the party. It’s not like they’re noticing.”

  He rolled his eyes but followed with a nod. Of course, she was right.

  Thanks to Howard and Helen’s reputations, Gerald had enough trouble making friends. Putting up a fuss over the boy’s chosen music would only drive another spike into the fragile relationships he had with the three young boys around the table.

  At the University of Southern Saskatchewan, Howard had been the Dean of Science for twenty years. In 1971, he hired Helen La Joie to head a new prong of the science department, the Department of Evolutionary Studies. Due to a heavy Christian demographic in Canada, and eighty percent of U of SS students from Catholic families, this new department was not accepted easily.

  In 19
74, Howard married Helen La Joie, and this brought about renewed criticism, suspicion, and ridicule.

  Howard looked down at his son with pride. Even now, in 1987, society scorned the boy for sins it claimed Howard and Helen had been part of. Gerald, however, was becoming strong. Many of Gerald’s classmates were discouraged by their parents from having a friend from an openly atheist family. Already being something of an introvert made fitting in doubly difficult for the boy.

  Like his parents, Gerald was showing a strong interest in science. Unlike his parents, that interest was more focused on the stars above than the dirt below. The fall release of the fourth Star Trek Film, “The Voyage Home”, had captured the boy’s imagination and taken it skyward.

  Through these difficulties, Howard and Helen had begun calling him Gerald instead of his given first name, Isaac. With his interest in the stars, naming the boy after Isaac Asimov still seemed to be a perfect choice.

  Gerald looked up at Helen and Howard with a wide smile. “Can we cut it?”

  Howard shrugged. “But it’s such a perfect likeness of Ardy…um…Ardoo?”

  “Artoo, dad. It’s Artoo Detoo!”

  “Right, I’d forgotten. I’m not sure how one can be expected to keep track of all the droids in the universe.”

  The other boys laughed.

  Howard winked at Gerald. Both of them knew that Howard had not forgotten.

  “Guys,” Gerald grinned at around the table, “next year, Daddy says we’re going to Calgary for the Winter Games!”

  “Oh, so cool!” Owen smiled with envy at hearing this.

  “That’s awesome,” Tony agreed.

  “Lucky,” Carter chimed in.

  “I saw the hill where they’re going to do the ski jumping,” Tony broke back in. “Paskapoo is where my dad learned to ski.”

  “Dude,” Owen scolded, “why does anyone in Saskatchewan need to ski?”

  Gerald held up his hand and silenced the other boys. In a deep voice, he explained, “Welcome to evolution, my friends. We all need to learn it some time.”