He took my hand in his. Even with all three of my fingers spread wide, it wasn’t as big as his gloved palm. “I’m not a scientist, but it doesn’t mean that what I do isn’t important. In my opinion, having children is a bit like that. It’s important, but it’s not the only thing.”
I stared at him. “That goes against our mission.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Our mission is survival. We all saw how hard you worked with Mother Flor when everyone got sick; especially with the children. And whether you can have kids or not doesn’t make you any less one of us. All children are a gift, Ettie. We can’t afford to lose any of you.”
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “But you are part of Dominion. We’re not complete without you. Whatever the Tok are, they aren’t us, and they never will be.
He was right, too. I loved the idea of Vox and the Tok, but Dominion was my home. The only home I’d ever known. My future was here. To think differently was pure fantasy. Time to put away those childish thoughts.
14
“How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night”
—William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
From the instructional archives of the grounded SS Dominion
Etta. I am ’ere, Etta. Where are you?
Vox’s voice in my mind woke me from a sweat-soaked dream in the middle of the night. I hadn’t been sleeping well. The angry, lumpy skin of my lower abdomen had become enflamed; swollen so tight that I thought it would burst. I’d put off telling Mother Flor or anyone for weeks, thinking it was just the sign I was about to start my period. Now I wasn’t so sure, but couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
I sat bolt upright in my bunk, my hand cradling my stomach. I answered, Stay there, Vox! I’m coming!
I threw a robe over my nightgown and slipped outside, a blanket from my bed wrapped around my shoulders to keep off the night chill.
Hesperidee’s trio of moons shone brightly between banks of scudding clouds, casting flickering shadows across the courtyard. Vox’s cocoon was hidden among the cliffs bordering the lichen fields. In daylight, it was an easy run, even for the youngest children, but I couldn’t even consider such a thing in the dark. Night was no time to be outside the walls of Dominion; all the planet’s major predators were nocturnal.
I raced to the hoverport.
Minutes later, I was airborne in the two-seater, flying low and as slow as I dared over the stony plains toward the cliffs, as I could not see beyond the lights. I caught glimpses of an armored hunting worm and three large, adult lapids scuttling away from the lights, their venom-tipped tails arching aggressively over their broad backs. None of the landmarks I knew so well looked the same at night, and I did not know how to use the navigation system to pinpoint my destination.
I only had Vox’s voice in my head.
I recognized the wall of cliffs in front of me, and angled the hovercraft, searching for the familiar gap.
There.
I set the agile craft down on the hardpan, as close as I dared to the scree at the foot of the cliffs. After grabbing a headlamp, blanket, and a sonic bangstick from the ship’s weapon cache, I turned on all the ship’s exterior lights, hoping they would keep any predators at bay, and at the same time show me where I needed to go.
The gravel crunched loudly beneath my feet as I faced the cleft. I paused when I reached the gap. “Vox? Are you ’ere?”
“Turn out the light, Etta. It ’urts my eyes.”
The walls of the cliffs rose steeply around us, but overhead, the moonlit sky offered plenty of light. I turned off the headlamp and waited for my eyes to adjust.
A moment later he stepped into the moonlight, and my whole world changed.
15
“To breathe such vows as lovers use”
— William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
From the instructional archives of the grounded SS Dominion
Gaunt as he was from his prolonged dormancy, Vox’s face appeared as handsome as any Romeo’s, at the same time uniquely his own. An angular face, with broad cheekbones and a high, intelligent brow. No hair, but when he smiled at me, white, even teeth glowed like pearls behind full lips.
His beautiful dark eyes had not changed, and when they caught mine, I shivered.
“What do you think, Etta?” His voice had changed as well, dropping to a lower and more pleasing register. I sensed his nervousness, and something else. Excitement.
My heart pounded. “Is it really you?”
He was my height now, darker-skinned, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and well-formed, muscular legs of human proportions.
When he reached for me, I stepped willingly into his arms.
He didn’t just touch me; he somehow came into me. Into my mind. The essence of him filled my senses with the scent, breadth, and depth of him.
It wasn’t just mind-speak, it was a complete melding of our inner selves into each other. I could feel his emotions, like electric sparks across my skin. His sensations were mine, richer and more powerful than any I’d ever known. I had never felt so alive.
And just as he was now fully embraced by the collective consciousness of his people, so was I.
So many different life forms! So many languages, ideas, likes and dislikes, while underneath it all there was this unifying feeling of connection. Like a universal family. I could see it now.
All different, yet all the same. Bound together by a common, never-forgotten history that seemed so vast as to be eternal. Beautiful.
I now understood his confusion about storytelling and fiction. His people had no need for fiction, yet I could see how he’d already brought it to them. Romeo was already there. Juliet, too.
And me.
I was there! They knew me. Welcomed me. Accepted me. I bit back a sob.
His three-fingered hands mirrored mine. His lips, where they pressed against my skin, were as soft as anything I’d ever felt.
He pulled me closer, breathing me in, so focused in memorizing my scent I could taste it. The smell of him was intoxicating. My entire body throbbed with the beat of his heart, which pulsed in perfect synchronicity with mine.
We pressed against each other, tentatively at first, then with more familiarity. My swollen abdomen seemed to contract and harden with the contact. I never wanted the moment to end. This was where I belonged. I ached to get even closer to him.
I pulled my nightgown off over my head. Naked, we pressed against each other, his abdomen hard against mine. An irresistible tension began to build within me.
“What do I do?” My voice sounded breathless. Hoarse.
“Kiss me.”
I obeyed. Not only with my lips, but my mind and body and every part of me, as if the last door between us had flung wide open.
“Your eggs are about to erupt through the top layer of skin on your abdomen. When I release my sperm onto your belly, the skin will dissolve, and your eggs will be fertilized. They will harden quickly.”
He showed me in his mind what would happen. The logic and simplicity of the Tok’s reproduction stunned me. Freed from the responsibilities of parenting, they dedicated themselves to improving their collective mind and advancing their culture. What an elegant alternative!
There would be pain, he promised, but pleasure also. Once hardened, my marble-sized eggs could be buried safely. In time, they would hatch, when conditions were best for our children’s survival.
Our children. Mine and Vox’s. Unique in the universe; offspring of two people who had evolved to be each other’s perfect match. Independent and able to care for themselves from birth, only the fittest and most clever would survive. As opposed to human children, the Tok required only a season to mature, and would return to us as adults.
I could see the future now.
I wanted it. All of it.
I gasped as spasms shook my whole body. He held me close and murmured into my ear until I came back to myself. The Tok pair bond for life, he told me. We are bonded now in body and mind.
Yes.
There would be more clutches. More children. More chances to preserve humanity, our version of it, into the distant future. But more than that, there would be more love. We were one now.
He didn’t have to ask, and I didn’t have to say a word. He already knew my answer.
Oh my sweet love, yes.
16
“Parting is such sweet sorrow”
—William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
From the instructional archives of the grounded SS Dominion
By the time we’d buried our eggs, the sky was growing light above the horizon. Time for us to leave. The Tok would soon arrive at the crater site.
We were making our way back to the ship. In the light of the coming dawn, I couldn’t help but admire his naked beauty. Like a Greek god.
He sensed my thoughts and grinned. He kissed me, and again and again until I pushed him away, breathless.
His glance flicked to the sky behind me.
The other, larger hovercraft from Dominion Colony streaked toward us. Lyle sat in the pilot seat with Father Isaac beside him.
I gave Vox my robe and asked him to put it on. I didn’t want them to see my beloved’s nakedness. They landed next to the one I’d taken, and after they got out, Mother Bekke emerged as well. All three walked stiffly; all three wore sidearms.
“What are you doing?” Lyle asked.
I had never seen him so tense. Gone was the easygoing man I thought I knew. He wouldn’t even look at me. His eyes were glued to Vox.
“I’m taking Vox to the rendezvous spot.”
Father Isaac shook his head, his expression a dark scowl. “Lyle tells me that creature wants you to come with him. I can’t let you do that.”
“’Is name is Vox.”
“He’s not one of us. You are,” Father Isaac said.
I shook my head. “Your definition of ’uman is based on a number, and as you said yourself, my numbers don’t add up. You think that’s why I’m sterile, but that’s not the right answer. The truth is that I’m not ’uman anymore. I’m something new.”
“You sound like him now.” Bekke said. “What have you done, Ettie?” She looked furious.
My face grew hot, but I said nothing.
“It doesn’t matter to me.” Lyle protested. “I’ll marry you, if that’s what you want.”
“Why do you want to marry me?”
He looked away. “If you want …”
Lyle didn’t really want me, not any more than I wanted him, but I hadn’t anticipated this. Leaving Hesperidee might be more difficult than I expected.
Vox put his arm around my shoulder. I am ’ere.
I leaned into him, savoring his touch. Nothing would change my mind about him, but I had to ask. If I asked, would you stay with me? On ’Esperidee?
He wiped a stray wisp of hair out of my face. A simple act, yet so full of caring. His eyes were soft as he gazed into mine. “You are the stars that make dark ’eaven light for me, Etta.”
My breath caught in my throat. That line from Shakespeare touched me in a whole new way. In Vox’s eyes, I was a beautiful woman. I am Juliet.
Oh my sweet love. I put my hand on his soft cheek.
To Isaac, Bekke, and Lyle, I was the little brown girl who took care of the children. Their estimation of me would never change, and nothing I could say would convince them to let Vox stay. I turned to face them. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving with Vox.”
“He’s nothing but a mimic,” Isaac said. “This is what their species does. You’ve manufactured some romantic notion of him, but it’s all a lie.”
“And what about the children? How can you stand to leave them?” Bekke edged closer. “I know how much you love them.”
I thought about the beautiful clutch of nine fertilized eggs Vox and I had buried. Our children. I loved them too. They would hatch when conditions were right. And when they reached maturity, they too, would enter the shared mind of the Tok, and I would know them. Maybe next year, maybe in another millennium.
I said softly, “This is a different kind of love. Vox and I are bonded.” His hand felt comforting in mine.
Isaac drew his gun, his expression cold. “You’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.”
I choked back a gasp. This can’t be happening! In spite of all his assurances about treating the Tok as guests, he really wasn’t much different from Jean or Robert. Or any of them.
“No!” I quickly stepped in front of Vox, shielding him with my body.
“Get away from him, Ettie.”
Vox twisted himself around and stepped in front of me. “No. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Don’t ’urt ’er.”
“Put down the gun, Isaac.” Bekke said. “Ettie, you know you belong with us.”
“I said, get away from her!” Father Isaac shouted.
“No!” I clung to Vox, refusing to let him go.
It’s all right, Etta. I won’t let them ’urt you.
No! I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t bear it. Please, Vox. Please trust me.
I whirled to face them. “If I stay, your plans to save ’umanity mean nothing! By your own definition, I’m not ’uman anymore, so I have nothing to contribute to Dominion. Vox, has given me—” I stopped. No. I wouldn’t tell them about the eggs.
“Vox has evolved to be a genetic match to me. And my body has changed to match ’is as well.” I felt myself blushing. “Even without the DNA test, you must you know I’m right, Isaac. If I am ’uman enough for Dominion, so is Vox. If Vox isn’t ’uman enough for you, then neither am I.”
Isaac’s gun hand began to tremble.
I eased toward the hovercraft, Vox arm-in-arm with me at every step. “What kind of example are you setting by taking away my freedom? If all children are a blessing, then so am I. Dominion was never intended to be a prison.”
Isaac’s hand dropped. “Please don’t do this.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Bekke protested. “We would never try to hurt you—”
Lyle took the gun from Isaac. “Go, on. I won’t let anyone stop you. I don’t understand your reasons, but I agree that you’ve got the right to choose your own path.”
“Thank you, Lyle.” ’E really is a good man. Just not the one for me.
“Good luck.”
I gave a final glance at Isaac, deflated now, and Bekke, who seemed to have finally accepted my decision to leave. I thought about the rest of the colony and Rae and her upcoming womanhood ceremony. I would miss it, of course, but no matter.
I’d already ’ad mine.
17
We stood together on the dusky gravel floor of the suns-baked crater, Vox and I, ’olding ’ands as the bronze-colored spacecraft arrived to take us to Volkjaryn-ko. Whatever fate the future ’ad in store for us, for good or bad, we’d face it together.
The Tok who greeted us at the bay doors were bigger and stranger-looking than either of us had expected, but they sensed our nervousness, and welcomed us aboard with thoughts and expressions of unabashed joy. When it came to getting to really know someone in a ’urry, ’umans could really learn a lesson from the Tok.
I considered leaving a message on the ’overcraft about the eggs. Not that I was worried; our children would be self-sufficient at birth. They would adapt and thrive or perish, just as Darwin ’ad so famously observed centuries ago. Only the fittest of any species would survive.
Maybe the fittest were the ’umans of Dominion Colony.
Maybe the fittest were the Tok.
Or maybe the fittest would ’ave a little bit of both of us.
I liked that thought the most. In the end, I decided against leaving a note.
Better to let nature decide.
Art
BY L. RON HUBBARD
During a remarkable life, filled with adventure, new discoveries and meaningful accomplishments in an array of professional fields, L. Ron Hubbard mastered numerous artistic skills as an avid photographer, an experienced cinematographer, musician, poet and songwriter.
But of all the arts, writing, for Ron, was always first and foremost. He wrote in a myriad of genres including adventure, western, military and war, mystery, detective, romance, and of course, science fiction and fantasy. During a long and distinguished career spanning more than fifty years, and with international bestsellers and sales of some fifty million translated into better than thirty languages, he is among the world’s most enduring and widely read authors.
Then, too, he is legitimately credited with helping to reshape whole genres and laying the foundation for much of what we know as modern speculative fiction.
As author and critic Frederik Pohl stated: “There are bits and pieces from Ron’s work that became a part of the language in many ways that very few other writers imagined.”
Not surprisingly then, his belief in, and respect for, the artist can be found in this all-encompassing statement:
“The artist has an enormous role in the enhancement of today’s and the creation of tomorrow’s reality. He operates in a rank in advance of science as the necessities and requirements of Man. The elevation of a culture can be measured directly by the numbers of its people working in the field of aesthetics. Because the artist deals in future realities, he always seeks improvements or changes in the existing reality. This makes the artist, inevitably and invariably, a rebel against the status quo. The artist, day by day, by postulating the new realties of the future, accomplishes peaceful revolution.”
His studies, and his involvement in the arts, led him to compose helpful essays on the subject, including the following article titled “Art.”
Art
The Fundamentals of Art
Basic Definition
Writers of the Future Volume 31 Page 13