Aliena Too

by Piers Anthony

  Explora. Suppose she didn’t make it? Then he relaxed. Even if she got wiped out in the race, she would remain in real life, and he could be with her, having endless fun. That appealed.

  But his relationship with Aliena was more complicated. She was the one who understood him best, just as he understood her, because they were both brain transplants who loved humans. She was his most natural companion, even if she was the mistress of the ship and he was but a lowly peon. He realized that he wanted to make it in the race not just to get to breed with her, but to impress on her that he was more than a moron. To achieve a closer approach to her level.

  Well, good luck with that, he thought. What chance did he have, realistically?

  There was a sound. “Quincy!”

  It was Explora! She had found the site and was searching for him. “Explora!” he called back joyfully, rising from his bed of muck.

  “Oh, I didn’t see you,” she said, coming to him. “You waited for me!”

  “I feared you would not make it.”

  “It was not easy. But I wanted so much to be with you, to help you, that I fought it through.”

  “Not to win the race yourself?” he teased her.

  “I don’t think I have a chance. But you do. I want to help you make it.”

  He liked her attitude, but disagreed. “We’re in this together. Here is my plan. When dusk comes the big birds will return to the nest, as this kind does not hunt at night. That’s what I’m waiting for.”

  “Yes, they sit together and breed. It’s a slow process. They must really like it.”

  Evidently her interest in the subject had caused her to research that. “They are suitable hosts for us. I want to climb that tree, pacify them, and fly them to win the race.”

  “Them? All you need is one.”

  “And you need the other.”

  “Oh!” It seemed that she truly had not thought of that.

  “You provided me with a key bit of information,” he continued. “The insect repellant nature of the moss on the base of the tree. We will need that during our slow climb. The moss will also keep our hides moist, and mask our body odor so that the birds will not be aware of us.”

  “Amazing! I never thought of that.”

  “It is plainly intended as one of the options. That’s what caused me to focus on it: why have such a setting if it was useless? When I pondered it, I realized how it worked. You need to think outside the box. That is, to see what is not immediately obvious.”

  “You’re so smart!”

  He made a flashing laugh. “I’m a moron compared to you and any starfish. I just have different experience.”

  “Not so,” she protested. “You are a creative thinker. That is not moronic, merely different. We have little use for it, but now I see that you do.”

  He continued to like her attitude. “We must harvest moss now, and prepare ourselves for the climb. The bark of the tree should sustain our weight, but we shall have to be most careful.”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “There is something.”

  “Something?”

  “I believe a crockogator followed me. I thought it was hunting me, but it never attacked, and I thought it was wary of my spines. Suddenly now I fear it was possessed by a starfish. I may have led it to you, Quincy. I’m so sorry.”

  That was something he had not anticipated. Stalked by a possessed creature? Yet it made sense. “Then we shall have to deal with it.”

  “It will have protection against our poison, and starfish intelligence. That will not be easy to deal with.”

  “We must make loops.”

  She paused blankly. “I do not understand.”

  “Neither will anyone else, I hope. On Earth we have alligators, and they are fearsome creatures. But there are hunters who have no problem with them. Because they use loops. We need to find some tough vines.”

  “I passed a land spit with vines.”

  “Fetch some, while I start harvesting moss.” He described what he needed in further detail.

  She departed, and he made his way to the submerged base of the tree. He carefully picked moss and hooked it to his skin, putting it place with his slowly moving arms. By the time Explora returned with the vines, he was well covered.

  “Now cover yourself the way I have done,” he said. “While I work with the loops.”

  She began the tedious process. He fashioned several loops of vine into nooses that could be readily drawn tight but would not readily loosen again. He was glad that he had learned this particular art as a boy. Now it might serve him in good stead.

  Dusk came. The big birds returned to the nest, no longer hunting. They settled down comfortably together, not concerned with anything below. Quincy and Explora commenced their slow quiet climb up the trunk, using their nether spines to stick into the bark and hold them close to it. Starfish could climb trees; they just seldom had reason. He let her start first while he remained on guard below. If trouble was to come, now was the time for it.

  The croc attacked, having at last fathomed their strategy. It charged the tree trunk, its formidable jaws gaping.

  Quincy was ready. He flopped a ball of vine and muck into that mouth as it broke the surface. It slammed shut automatically to crunch the morsel. Before it realized that this was not edible, Quincy used two arms to gently place a loop around its long snout. He drew it tight, sealing the mouth closed.

  The croc jerked, thinking it was engaging the prey. Then it realized that its mouth was sealed. It thrashed in the water, but had no leverage to remove the loop. Even with starfish intellect, it had to take time to figure out this surprise ploy. It swam rapidly away.

  Now Quincy started up the tree. He knew that by the time the croc got untangled he would be out of its reach, and by the time it could return to its starfish host and go after the birds, they would be gone. All it had required was being prepared, thanks, in this case, to Explora’s warning. She might have brought the starfish to them, but she had also enabled him to nullify that threat. Interesting, however, that starfish were allowed to actively interfere with each other; he had not thought that would be the case. Yet if it was not allowed, Aliena, surely watching, would have intervened. This was a hard-nosed exercise.

  The two of them climbed the tree. The birds above took no notice; they were otherwise engaged. As Quincy climbed out of the water, following Explora who was on the other side of the trunk, he became aware of the phenomenon of weight. He was weightless in the water and climbing was easy; it was quite another matter in air. He had to dig in his multiple stickers to be sure of a firm grip, then move some of them up to take the weight while the old ones held on.

  Explora had not objected. She must have had prior experience climbing. At least it was doable, if not comfortable. Fortunately the moss on his upper surfaces kept his flesh damp. It was well that he had not tried this in daytime; the moss probably would not have sufficed. So many little things he had not thought of, any one of which could ruin his effort.

  They continued upward, and came to where the cluster of branches spread out from the trunk, forming the basket for the nest. This required even more power and control, because now he was actually hanging by his spines. Suppose the big birds caught on? All they would have to do was fly away, and there would be no chance to catch them.

  Explora was doing better at this than he was. She continued upward, hanging, then slowly turning onto the upper surface of the lowest branch. She hauled her body to the edge of the nest. Then she waited. Why? Oh—because they had to do the two birds simultaneously; otherwise the one not taken first would catch on and fly.

  Quincy caught up, on the other side of the nest. Now he saw that the birds were not nestled side by side, but one in front of the other, partly overlapping. Why rest in that awkward position? Then he caught on: they were breeding! Explora had said that they liked to do that, and that it was a slow process. The male was behind and partly on the female’s back, and the connection between them was massive.
His giant member was wedged in her capacious aperture, probably even larger inside her, to hold it firmly in place. They slept while mating. No wonder they preferred a really private nest.

  Now was the time. Quincy extended an arm and slowly touched the side of the male, while Explora did the same for the female. Before the bird could react, he injected the pacifier fluid. The bird made as if to flutter his wings, to escape, but the pacification was swift, as it had to be, and the bird’s effort soon ceased.

  Now Quincy slid slowly up onto the bird, mounting the body. He caught the head between two arms and pushed it down against the body. Explora did the same with the female. He oriented his body over that suppressed head, and squeezed out a thick paste from his central orifice. That paste was caustic; it rapidly burned a hole in the skin and then the bone beneath, exposing the brain. He issued more paste, which dissolved that brain, leaving only a gray slurry. He sucked that slurry into his own body for later digestion. The skull was now a hollow cavity.

  Now came the tricky part. Quincy opened his central sac over that cavity and squeezed out his own brain. It descended, trailing its nerve connections to his body as the ball of it pushed into the bird’s skull and filled it. Nerves grew from his brain and reached out to find the essential connections to the bird’s body, which were preserved in the protective paste. Only the bird’s brain had been dissolved, not its supporting network of blood vessels and neurons. Each nerve knew where to connect.

  Only when Quincy was able to open the bird’s eyes and see with them, and to operate its other parts, did he allow the connections to his own body to sever. He was now a bird. So was Explora, who had paced him throughout.

  And the two of them were still locked in copulation. Explora was surely thrilled. But this could not last; they had a race to finish. They carefully disengaged, he shrinking the size of his member, she relaxing the closure around it, until he was able to slide out of her. Then they let the two inert starfish bodies slide off their backs to the nest. They would remain there, safely unconscious, with only the most basic functions operating, until such time as the two of them returned to reoccupy them.

  They took the necessary time to assume complete command of the bodies, because they would need to fly without veering out of control. This could not be rushed, but was efficient. Starfish had evolved to handle exactly such exchanges, and were proficient at them.

  Explora made a muted squawk. Quincy understood it: she was saying, in effect, “Too bad we couldn’t wait longer before separating the bodies. We could have completed the breeding.”

  Quincy squawked in response, laughing. It might indeed have been fun, and they could very well have done it, if not pressed for time.

  More time passed as they assimilated the new connections and made sure of their responses. Quincy worried that the horn would sound while they waited, and was relieved that it didn’t. But it could happen at any time as others progressed toward the finish.

  At length they were ready. Quincy perched on the edge of the nest, spread his wings, then hopped off, flapping madly. That was too much; he sailed up and flipped over in the air, wavering out of control. But in moments he reoriented and went into a controlled flight. He was ready.

  Explora perched similarly, then hopped off and flew with greater assurance. Her starfish brain was simply better at this than his human brain.

  Then the two of them oriented to the north and stroked powerfully, ascending. The lake, with its islands spread out beneath them, glowing in the light of the moons. It was a lovely landscape, which they were now seeing from above for the first time. Most of its features did not show, as they were beneath the water, but the hills were now revealed as islands, and the walls as ridges projecting above the lake.

  As they rose higher there came a new phenomenon: currents in the air, or winds, as they were known in this medium. They buffeted the two fliers, sometimes fiercely, pushing them off-course. They had to descend somewhat to avoid that awkwardness.

  Then they came to a range of mountains that towered far above their level of flight. Not only that, but the winds were fierce around the heights. The range blocked their way; they had to cross it to progress toward the finish. No wonder the finish horn had not yet sounded; no one had been able to pass this obstacle, which had not been in the prior layout.

  They hovered, considering. There were some holes in the mountains, perhaps passages that went through to the other side. There might be some of those under the water level that starfish could use in their natural forms. But Quincy was pretty sure there was no way through for a natural starfish; they had to change hosts to make it. If there were water passages, sharks might navigate them. If there were air holes, two-, four-, or six-footed creatures might use them. But what about lurking predators? Surely no route was easy.

  They were probably best off the way they were, in the air. That meant handling the turbulent heights.

  Quincy decided. He stroked upward, into the blast. Explora followed.

  The winds caught them and carried them rapidly higher, rising toward the peaks. The air currents were coursing along the mountain slopes and moving up over them. This was easier than he had feared. All they had to do was maintain their balance and let the winds take them.

  They crossed the highest ridge—and an eddy current caught them and dropped them onto the north side. Quincy barely managed to stabilize himself, bouncing off a slope before coming to rest against a supplementary ridge.

  Explora was not as lucky. She crashed into the slope, wrenching a wing, and came to rest with it awkwardly spread. He knew immediately that she would not be able to take off again and fly. Not this hour or this day.

  He made his way to her on the windy slope. “Squawk,” she said weakly. She was plainly in pain, and unlikely to be able to fly.

  He could go on without her, but that did not appeal. He could remain here with her until the race ended, when they would both be released from the simulation. That did not appeal either. They had come this far, and must have a good chance if they could just finish. Could they walk in the bird hosts?

  “Squawk,” he said reassuringly, and took off. He stayed in the lee of the mountain, avoiding the worst buffets of wind, studying the outline of it. It looked navigable.

  Then a bear creature emerged from the cover of the lower forest. It eyed him as if daring him to land there. It was clearly beyond the bird’s ability to oppose. It would intercept them if they walked down the mountain. That would be the end for one or both of them.

  He flew back up-slope, found Explora, and landed. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure he could communicate it to her. Then he realized that he might. The starfish communicated in multiple ways, including pulses of light. He tried to emulate those pulses, making a pattern of tapping on the ground with his beak. This was a degraded pidgin, but might work.

  YOU FLY ON ME, he tapped. I SUPPORT YOU IN AIR.

  She was surprised, but quickly caught on. DIFFICULT, she tapped back.

  ONLY CHANCE. NOT FAR TO GO. He hoped.

  She shrugged, which worked in this body. NOTHING TO LOSE.

  She dragged herself to the precipice beyond the niche she had settled into. The slope beyond was almost vertical. Quincy joined her. NOW he tapped.

  Trusting him, she hopped over the brink, spreading her other wing. He followed immediately, getting just under her, both wings spread. She gripped his back with her claws, holding on. He stroked powerfully, lifting her while she coasted. It was awkward and precarious, but they were airborne and gliding together down the slope of the mountain, buoyed by the stiff updraft. They were doing it!

  The bear below stared after them, disappointed.

  Linked, clumsy, but maintaining elevation, they moved on beyond the mountain range. Quincy’s system was straining; he was expending energy at a horrendous rate that he could not maintain long. All he could do was hope the finish line was close.

  And there it was! A vertical wall like that of the entrance, beyond which
was the placid water of the normal undersea realm. He pumped desperately toward it, rapidly losing elevation, and crashed through barely above the ground. They landed together on the sand and fell apart, each sprawling ignominiously.

  There was the sound of the horn. Damn! The race had ended.

  Then he realized it had ended because the two of them had won it. This was good news, not bad.

  “That was a remarkable finish,” Aliena said.

  The setting had dissolved, revealing the other contestants scattered through it. The emulation boxes had disappeared. They were back in their natural forms.

  Explora, no longer injured, spoke. “Why did you do it?”

  “I couldn’t leave you, after the way you helped me,” he replied. “We were in this together.”

  “We were until I crashed. Then you should have gone on to win.”

  He flashed demurral. “Empathy wouldn’t let me. I had to help you if I could.”

  “What is empathy?”

  He stared at her. Suddenly he had a revelation. The starfish lacked empathy! They had to, or they could never destroy the brains of living, feeling creatures and take over their bodies. They truly did not care about the situations of other species, just their own.

  “To learn love, I also had to learn empathy, to a degree,” Aliena said. “That was hard. I am still learning it.”

  “To interact effectively with humans, you need empathy and love,” Quincy said.

  “Yes.”

  Now Quincy tried to answer Explora’s question. “Humans have what are called mirror neurons in their brains. These emulate the feelings of others. That enables us to think like other people or even other creatures. When I first saw the nest I tried to think like a bird.”