The Metal Maiden Collection

by Piers Anthony

  “Miss Maverick?” a male voice inquired.

  She looked up. He was a handsome older man in coveralls. Beside him stood a matching woman, and a little apart was a young man. “I am,” Mona said.

  “I am Brett Peterson, and this is my wife Cora,” he said. “And this is our son Brian, who returned to us yesterday.”

  “Brian,” Mona said. “Shep’s colony host.” The exchanging Earthman had been Shepherd; she had met him briefly on Earth.

  “Yes,” the young man said.

  Mona glanced down. “The genetic father of the baby within this body.”

  “Yes,” Brian said. “But it is Shepherd’s baby.”

  “I understand, believe me,” Mona said. “I conceived a baby for my friend Elasa, by her husband. Genetics is only part of it.” A tiny part; there had been far more of a story there, for Elasa was a humanoid robot.

  “We thought it better to make the exchange here,” the woman said. “Shep and Elen were living apart from us, but things are changed.”

  “I am not Elen,” Mona agreed. She glanced at Brian. “I am not anyone’s wife.”

  “You are welcome to remain here,” Cora said. “We feel a certain responsibility. But--” She broke off uncertainly.

  “But the villagers don’t know about the exchange,” Mona finished for her. “They think Brian and I remain a couple.”

  “Not exactly,” Brett said. “They know about the exchanges. That Shep has returned to Earth, and Elen is going with him. But despite that, they do still see the two of you as a couple. Because of the pregnancy.”

  Mona had had little time to work this out before the exchange, but it had crossed her mind. “I am not Elen, and Brian is not Shep. But we are conservators of their relationship, and of their baby, who knows only the bodies. In six months they will resume as a couple. I believe it is best to maintain the semblance during the interim.”

  “You are willing to remain living with Brian?” Cora asked, sensitive as a woman could be to the nuances.

  “Yes.” Mona smiled briefly. “It isn’t as though our bodies do not know each other, and when the baby comes, those bodies should be together.” She glanced at Brian. “If you are amenable.”

  The young man was plainly taken aback. “I really don’t know you or Elen,” he said. “That relationship started while I was on Earth. I first saw Elen yesterday.”

  “So this is as unfamiliar to you as it is to me,” Mona said. “But surely she told you about their relationship, apart from the baby.”

  “She told me that they traveled to make musical presentations,” Brian said.

  “Indeed they did,” Brett said warmly. “I was not keen on their association at first, but Elen won me over. She’s a lovely, talented, dedicated elf.” He caught himself. “Young woman.”

  “Elf?” Mona asked alertly.

  “In our time on Colony Planet Jones, we have separated into somewhat distinct races or subspecies,” Brett said, clearly feeling awkward. “We don’t associate much. I understand that Elen did not want to travel with Shep, let alone have a romantic relationship with him, but the sheep required it.” He smiled, embarrassed. “Obviously the two were sufficiently compatible.”

  “The sheep,” Mona said. “I understand they are telepathic and precognitive. That’s why I came. I want to study those psionic abilities.”

  “That may not be easy,” Brian said. “The sheep here are not like those of Earth. They are wild and dangerous, and no one approaches them unless they will it.”

  “So I understand. Yet Shep and Elen did.”

  “The sheep came for them,” Brett said. “That is quite another matter.”

  “And the sheep regard us as a couple?”

  “They attended the wedding,” Cora said fondly. “That was a surprise.”

  Mona nodded. “Then I think we had better remain a couple. That will make it easier to approach the sheep.”

  “You can’t approach the sheep!” Brett protested. “You couldn’t even find them, and if you did, they would drive you away.”

  Mona saw already that the elders were conservative about more than young romance. It would be better to make her case directly to their son Brian. She stood up. “Brian, if you will, please take me to our house.”

  Brian closed his open mouth and approached her. “Yes, if you say so.”

  Brett spread his hands. “Take care of her, son. Don’t let her get in trouble.”

  “No danger of that,” Brian said, now briefly amused.

  “He means the sheep,” Cora said. “Don’t let her run afoul of them.”

  They walked out of the house. Mona paused. There was a huge ugly bird and a giant serpent. “Oh!”

  “She and Elen had company,” Brian explained. “The sheep recruited them too. This is the Vulture and the Python. They are wild, but committed to Elen. They were in the house when I returned, then stayed with Elen until just before she exchanged with you. My folks say we can trust them.”

  “I confess this is stranger than I anticipated,” Mona said. “But let’s see.” She stepped toward the vulture, extending her hand. “I am not Elen,” she said.

  The bird sniffed her hand, but did not react otherwise. Mona presumed that was good news.

  She turned to the python. “How do you do?”

  The huge snake also sniffed her hand, and did not react. That was better news.

  Then the two creatures set off, moving away from the residence.

  “They are going to our house,” Brian said. “We’ll follow them.”

  “Of course,” Mona agreed, as if this were routine.

  “About our living together,” Brian said as they walked through the village. “We don’t know each other. Shep and Elen are married, but--”

  “You have no idea what married life is like,” Mona said. “You don’t know what to say or do, even if its only imitation.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen my folks, but that doesn’t seem to help. Shep and Elen’s place is small. I saw it yesterday. I—there’s only one bathroom there. One bed.”

  Mona gazed straight ahead. “Are you blushing?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “And you think all the villagers are looking at us, with our menagerie.”

  “Yeah. They know about the animals, but--”

  She took his hand. “We’re on display. We’re a couple.”

  “I guess. But we don’t have to--”

  “Yes we do. We must reassure them that nothing really has changed.” She squeezed his fingers.

  “Oh. Maybe so.”

  They walked on, holding hands. No villager seemed to notice. That meant that others accepted the status quo.

  They reached the house. The Vulture and Python entered it first, verifying its emptiness, then emerged and settled down outside. Brian and Mona entered. It was indeed small, barely comfortable for a couple, uncomfortable for two people who were not a couple. “We’ll share,” Mona said.

  “Share?”

  “Brian, we can’t maintain fully separate identities in confinement like this. We’ll share the bed and bathroom. We’ll see each other naked. Couples do.”

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  “You have seen a bare woman before?”

  “Yes, once.”

  “Just not a pregnant one.”

  “Yes. Not.”

  “I’ll break the ice. You sit on the bed and watch.”

  He sat on the bed, plainly bewildered.

  Mona shed her shoes, then slowly stripped off her homespun colony shirt, then her bra. “Don’t look away,” she said.

  “But--”

  “Precisely.” She waited until his reluctant eyes were on her. She drew down her skirt, then her panties. She turned around once, showing him every facet. The elf actually had an excellent little body, apart from the pregnancy. “You’ll see me like this every day when I wash up. You’ll get used to it. It will be routine.”

  “Routine,” he echoed numbly.

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sp; “Now your turn.”

  “My turn?”

  “Strip. You’ll be washing up too.”

  “I—I can’t,” he said, blushing furiously.

  “Because you have an erection?”

  What could he do but admit it? “Yeah. You’re pregnant, but you’re still some woman.”

  She sat down beside him. “I am indeed pregnant. I don’t want to have vaginal sex. But there are other ways.”

  “Other ways?”

  “Such as oral. Strip and I will demonstrate.”

  “No!” he said, shocked.

  “I’m sure Shep and Elen did it. They would have maintained a complete relationship, regardless of her pregnancy. We must also.”

  “But we don’t even know each other!”

  “I am trying to remedy that. We are not going to exist this close to each other for six months as siblings. I mean to establish our ease with each other at the outset, so there’ll be no subsequent awkwardness.”

  “I—can’t--”

  “You do see the need,” she said firmly.

  “I guess so.”

  “Very well. Remove your clothing and lie on your back on the bed. You won’t have to move. I will take it from there.”

  Silently he obeyed. He lay with his stiff member above, his eyes determinedly closed. She addressed it, and in moments had his emphatic climax.

  “Now you can relax,” she said. “The worst is over.”

  He did not comment.

  They did wash up, and sure enough, most of his embarrassment was gone. They dressed. “Now let’s get to know each other better,” she said.

  “Better?” he asked blankly.

  “Sex is only part of a marital relationship. What is your main interest in life?”

  “Music,” he replied promptly.

  “Do you play an instrument?”

  “The mirliton.”

  She had never heard of it. “Show me.”

  He brought out a thick staff evidently used for hiking, but it had a number of holes cut in it. “I made this myself. What would you like?”

  “You’ve been on Earth. Did you study any classical music?”

  “Oh, yes. It was great. That’s why I made the exchange. My folks gave me that chance, and if I didn’t make good as a musician, then I’d settled down and farm turnips.”

  “I like light classical. Bach, Beethoven, Brahms.” She wasn’t sure he could really play it. Not on a clumsy homemade instrument like this.

  He held the staff to his face and blew into a hole. His fingers touched other holes. And suddenly the room was filled with the music of Bach, “Sheep May Safely Graze.” It was absolutely beautiful.

  Mona listened, entranced. Brian might be the son of a turnip farmer, unschooled in the ways of contemporary Earth culture, but he did know music.

  She had come here officially to study precognition. But unofficially, she was looking for her quiet mundane marriage. Because of the relationship of these two bodies, Brian was the prime candidate. After hearing him play, she knew he would do.

  “Not for you?” he asked.

  She realized that she had sat stunned by the marvelous sound. “I was still absorbing it. It’s lovely,” she breathed. “Do you know others?”

  “Some.” He lifted the instrument again. “Grieg. Song of the Morning.”

  “I know that one.”

  He played it, and the haunting melody suffused her spirit. She tried to hum it along with him, but quickly stopped, as her singing voice was not the shadow of the sound of his instrument. The voice was clear, the notes on key, but she was untrained.

  When it finished, she stood and went to him. “I’m going to kiss you,” she warned him, knowing her power over a man, any man, regardless of the body. “Brace yourself.” They had not kissed during the sex.

  “You don’t have to--”

  She cut him off with the kiss. When it was over their arms were around each other, and she knew she was blushing as much as he. “You are some man,” she said.

  “I just like music.”

  “We are going to get along.” Her emotion was burgeoning explosively. In her Earth life she had guarded herself from romance, not being able to afford it; now she was going for it, and it was like stepping into a hurricane.

  “This feels more important than the other,” he said in wonder.

  “It is.” She looked at him seriously. “I think I underestimated you. I was ready to play at marriage, for the sake of appearances. Now I may get serious. Fair warning.”

  “You—like me?”

  “Yes. And if this goes the way it may, I may marry you, and the next baby will be yours.”

  He stood there, awed.

  “Too fast for you?” she asked. “I’m a lawyer. I’m accustomed to rapidly assessing situations and making fast decisions. Bear with it. You are free to say no at any time; this is not intended to be coercive.”

  “I’m the no-count son of a turnip farmer!” he protested.

  “I think not any more. You’re a serious musician. After this exchange is over, I may take you back to Earth with me, and show you my real body.”

  He looked a bit like a kid in a candy store, not quite believing it. “Is—is it as good as this one?”

  “Larger. All around. Not pregnant. You’ll like it.”

  “Are you joshing me?”

  “No. On Earth, as I said, I’m a lawyer, and I love it. But I also want to be a housewife. With you, here on Colony Jones, I believe I can have it all.”

  He shook his head. “I think I’m dreaming.”

  “I have six months to persuade you otherwise.” Because sudden as her interest was, she knew this was what she wanted. It would be in six month intervals, but that was probably about her limit before her hunger for legalistic combat became too strong. It was a perfect compromise between the two facets of her ambition.

  The cottage was well supplied, and there was a little garden behind it. Mona rummaged in the supplies and made them a dinner of spiced turnips, with the greens farmed into a salad, while Brian split kindling for the stove. It wasn’t any gourmet delight, but he had the wit to praise it. After the meal she washed the dishes in a basin of hot water. Primitive, yes, but comfortable.

  “This—with you—I don’t know what to make of it,” he said.

  She knew how to deal with his natural doubt. “I’m going to make love to you, my way, including kissing. Are you saying no?”

  “No! I mean--”

  “I know what you mean. Relax and enjoy it.”

  He did, and she did. This time he participated more fully.

  “I understand that Shep and Elen did a music tour to pay their way,” she said. “We should carry on with that, but I’m not sure I can do my part. I’m not a trained singer.”

  “Maybe Elen’s folks can help you,” he said diplomatically.

  “I hope so.”

  When darkness came, they shared the bed, sleeping together without awkwardness.

  Next day Mona got serious about her agenda. “I need to get close to the sheep. Maybe Elen’s folks will help with that too.”

  “Maybe,” Brian agreed. “I know the way to their village.”

  The Vulture and Python accompanied them. Word must have gone ahead, because Elen’s family was expecting them. Erasmus and his wife Elsa stood at their door. She had dark waist-length hair, like her daughter. They were not friendly, and made no indication that the visitors should enter the house. “We know you are not them,” Erasmus said gruffly.

  “We are not,” Mona agreed. “I am Mona Maverick, of Earth. This is Brian Peterson, of Colony Jones. We are maintaining the relationship that Shep and Elen had, to the extent we are able. I would like to have your help.”

  “We do not approve,” Elsa said.

  “For the sake of appearances, and for the baby. It is better to have its genetic parents together throughout.”

  “The baby,” Elsa repeated, softening. But her husband remained unyielding.
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br />   “I am here to study the precognition of the sheep,” Mona said doggedly. “I believe that you understand them better than Brian’s folks do. Please--”

  “Please depart,” Erasmus said.

  Mona met his gaze, applying her lawyer mode. “If something should happen, such as the shutdown of the student exchange program, your daughter will be left with this man, though she does not love him. He is nevertheless worthy. You need to get to know him. His body will be in your future as your grandchild grows.”

  Elsa wavered visibly, then glanced at her husband, and remained silent.

  This was difficult. Mona decided to play her trump card. “Brian, play for them.”

  “They don’t want music!” he protested. “We are being offensive. We should go.”

  “Sheep May Safely Graze.”

  He did not try to oppose her further. He lifted the mirliton and played. Mona saw that both parents were impressed by the way Brian obeyed her wish. They knew she had control, and that their daughter would retain it.

  The melody took hold and transformed the very atmosphere as its competence manifested. Mona saw that other elf villagers within hearing were pausing to listen. No one with even the faintest appreciation of music could fail to respond. How well she understood! It had made her love Brian.

  The older elves were visibly impressed. The lovely music held them speechless until the end.

  “You are better than Shep,” Erasmus said, amazed.

  “Brian is the musician,” Mona said. “Shep merely borrowed some of his talent. As I hope to borrow some of your daughter’s talent for singing. With your help. I’m untrained in that respect.”

  “Come in,” Elsa said, fading back into her house.

  They entered. The Vulture and Python elected politely to remain outside.

  Inside they were more comfortable. “Please help me get in touch with the sheep,” Mona said.

  “We can’t directly help you,” Erasmus said, no longer aloof. “If the sheep want to know you, they will arrange it. It is their initiative, not yours. This is the way it is.”

  “Trust the sheep,” Elsa agreed.

  “But--”

  “It is the only way,” Erasmus said. “No one governs the sheep.”