The World Wreckers

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  He said, with a faint, fey smile, "We'll have to keep our minds open about-blind alleys, and give ourselves a chance to recover, if we hit them. I can't imagine anything you could do that would turn me against you. It would be only a mistake, not a catastrophe."

  "Was it a mistake to kiss you? Some Terran groups don't-"

  "Not a mistake. A little before I was ready, maybe."

  David felt the effort it was costing Keral to put this all into words, not even in his own language, during this tremendous emotional and physical upheaval. He felt cruel for forcing this alien game of total frankness on Keral, but he saw no other way to come through this without hurting each other deeply, inflicting emotional wounds which could drive a deep wedge between them.

  What diversion, then, while Keral moved at his own pace toward some unimaginable goal? It struck David that they had seen each other unclothed only under the most ordinary of circumstances; it might be wise to get used to each other and not risk being surprised by strangeness later. Keral was completely matter-of-fact when David suggested it, saying quietly that his people went clothed only against the bitterest weather or among strangers. He drew off his clothes without a hint of shyness or erotic awareness. David felt slightly less matter-of-fact; nakedness, to him, was a furthering of intimacy and did have sexual overtones. It heightened his Awareness of Keral, and of himself. He was glad that they had grown used to each other's bodies under more

  impersonal conditions, but he seemed to be seeing Keral for the first time. Keral was tall, inches taller than he, although David was tall, and his frail, fine-boned body was pale and almost hairless except for a faint silvery shadow across the loins. Despite the smallness of the breasts, it was not too hard to think of it as feminine even now. Next to Keral, David himself felt gross, rough, almost apishly masculine.

  They stood looking at each other for a time, trying to recapture their old selves to fit this new time and place; then, with a small shiver, Keral held out his arms and they stood embraced, carefully, not too close. David found himself laughing, and cut it off, aware of the dangers of hysteria. Instead he tried kissing Keral again, and this time there was a hesitant, infinitely shy response. When they drew apart Keral said timidly, "I don't even know-what forms of love play are-customary or permitted with you."

  David felt an almost dizzying, sudden wave of desire and fought an impulse to crush Keral against him, roughly, forcing some sort of response . . . the slow pace was torture, advance and retreat, tantalus . . . but he mastered it, knowing this was the blindest of blind alleys. He suspected rape would be physically impossible, and even if it were possible, what could it possibly accomplish but alienation and anguish? He said, very gently, "My dear, does it matter what's customary? This isn't a customary situation. You said nothing I could do could turn you against me. I feel the same way, but we'll simply have to take our time and see what happens." And David realized this was something of a crucial breakthrough. As the infinitely delicate polarity tipped, male to female, Keral would become more shy, more passive. It was David's turn to take the lead.

  An experienced woman can take the lead with a young or shy male. But he didn't even know how much experience, among his own kind, Keral might have had, and in any case it would now be irrelevant. David must now initiate; lead; and still be aware of response or refusal.

  He drew Keral down beside him and they lay embraced, full length, kissing gently, then moving with growing response. David said at last, huskily, coming up for air, "This isn't too fast for me-but it might be for you, Keral." He took Keral's hand gently in his own and guided it, but Keral jerked violently away.

  For an instant David felt a spasm of anger. Nothing in Keral had prepared him for what seemed like prudery. Then, coming back to sanity (he had to think. Violent erection, desire, or not, he couldn't let his body do the thinking here), he realized that Keral was afraid. Physically afraid, and if that fear began to spiral upward, out of control, they were finished. Keral's whole body was shaking with the effort to conceal his fear, but it was like a scent. David sat up, moving away.

  "See? I'm still in control, Keral. I promised; nothing you're not ready for. But I wish you'd told me before it got so bad. I can't read your mind now; your emotions sort of blur everything. So you'll have to tell me."

  "It's not; I wanted you to touch me, but-"

  David said, on sudden intuition:

  "Am I so different from one of your people in male phase? Different enough to frighten you?"

  "Not really, although-I think you're stronger than I believed. I'm always-it's hard to say this-I'm always a little afraid in the early stages. But it isn't just that. Among us there is more, more continuing change, and if you are already like this, I am afraid that later, when I am ready-"

  He was shaking terribly now, very near tears, and David suddenly understood. He almost laughed, it was too much like some stupid dirty joke, but he cradled Keral gently in his arms and held him tight. He said quietly, "No. No, Keral, you forget. We reach the full stage of arousal quickly. As I am now-that is what I will be when you are ready. No

  more.

  Of course. If Keral was used to a slow and gradual sexual change, a growth which lasted over a period of hours, and if at this early stage David had already reached maximum size and intensity, how could Keral know that? They were, after all, David realized, more alien than civilized man

  and savage; and even among men of a single breed and single planet, there were endless misunderstandings and alien taboos.

  Keral was calmer now. He said, "Of course; it was foolish to be afraid. I wish I were ready for you."

  "I can wait."

  "You're trying so hard to meet me halfway. I'm ashamed."

  "Don't be, Keral."

  He felt pliant, almost brittle in David's arms; David felt gross and rough and almost unsure of the land and type of physical change he would see in Keral. David said, at last, "I'm still in-unfamiliar country, without a map. I want to be sure-"

  Keral said immediately, "Yes. This at least is so. We must know completely what the other is ... even if we were two of a kind, it would be wise, and now there's no other way."

  David was glad to be detached and almost clinical again as Keral slowly explored his body with his hands. The touch was exciting, but not dangerously so, and mutual curiosity relaxed the tension. To hell with theoretical specimens and anatomical generalities, I want to be sure about this one, individual one! As he touched Keral curiously, he wondered, embarrassment and unsureness mingled, would the strangeness be enough to repel him? Could anything about Keral make him feel revulsion? The textbook drawings he had made from the first medical examinations of both Keral and Missy were in the back of his mind. When he made them had he guessed this? He touched the folded genital slit, thinking randomly that it was a more sensible arrangement than the exposed one of his own kind of human. "Promise to stop me if I hurt you."

  Keral laughed. "I don't think you will. I'm not really that fragile. I didn't hurt you, touching you, did I?" David realized that they had come a long way; Keral could touch him now, easily and without hesitation or fear. The change must be far advanced, and he took courage from that.

  There was no great strangeness and nothing repellent. At the front of the slit, retracted now like a small folded bud, the male organ, smaller now than a human baby's, although when David, telling himself that he must somehow come to terms with the male in Keral, touched it gently, Keral murmured softly with pleasure. Behind it, deepening in color and faintly swelling, was the female organ, and David, losing his detachment, trembled slightly as he felt the slow throb under his hand. He closed his eyes and moved away, afraid again to hurry anything. Keral broke into violent shuddering and pulled him closer.

  "I'm not sure; it's not the same-I can't stand this," he said fiercely, "not knowing, something's got to change, it's killing me-"

  We should have expected this, David thought bleakly. Deadlock. So far and no further, and the cultural
taboos so strong neither of us can break through them. The attempt had to be made before he lost his nerve, and yet the fear of what a premature attempt could mean held him paralyzed. He moved carefully above Keral, and the chieri's eyes closed, as he clutched David's shoulders, still trembling. He said, "I don't know-I'm afraid-"

  David himself was so frightened that it nearly unmanned him. Oh God, why did we try, we had so much. ... He found himself sobbing, limp, lying across Keral's breast and crying helplessly. He had never known such terror. Keral was crying, too; they held each other, clinging in a sort of blind panic. David finally managed to gasp, "What shall we do? What shall we do?"

  Slowly, Keral quieted. He held David close, his lips against David's hair, and for the first time tonight, David was aware of the softness of his skin, the feminine lightness of his touch, as Keral whispered softly in his own language, words David could not understand, although he knew them for endearments. At last he murmured, "David, my dear, we should have expected this. We were both too-too tense, too aware. Maybe love needs a little madness. Remember what you said about blind alleys?"

  "It's hopeless, then?"

  "No. No. A mistake, not a catastrophe. We were frightened, and-well, self-conscious." He raised himself and kissed David, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Lie here close to me, David. We were both in a hurry. As if we had to make sure of each other right away."

  "I'm ashamed-" David muttered.

  "I was before, but it's easier for me if I know that you're frightened too," Keral said simply. "You seemed so sure of yourself, I wondered if you had any idea how hard it was for me-"

  "I was pretending," David muttered against his throat, "I wanted to give you confidence, too."

  Slowly they quieted, lying close together, feeling the rhythm of each other's hearts. They had been Like this before, David remembered, but not so honest with each other. Warmth and security had done their work. David found himself erect again, throbbingly aware of Keral warm and trustful against him. Keral smiled and pulled him close.

  "Don't be afraid. We can try."

  At first David could not find the entrance and Keral had to help him. He. She. Damn, damn. Fear again, and momentary awkwardness; a drawn breath from Keral; tension that nearly undid David again. Then he realized that he had actually entered. He felt dizzily strange, resisting the instinct to move, and whispered, controlling himself:

  "Keral?"

  "It's all right-" but the voice was a threadlike gasp.

  "Not-afraid?"

  "A little, but-go on, I want you to-"

  It was hard and awkward, and for a moment they struggled helplessly toward each other, in a renewed spasmodic fear and anger; and Keral sobbed again, in a last flare of panic trying to fight him away. And then, suddenly, they found that they fitted together, and David felt a relief so enormous that he could have burst into tears again. He rested a minute, leaning down to kiss the wet face beneath his, then hunger and desire quickly overcame him again, surging up at the lessening of the seemingly endless tension and fear. They clung together, moving almost savagely, learning each other's rhythms and movements. Keral was still sobbing, but not, now, with fear. And then, swiftly, it was over for David, in an exploding, blackout burst of light.

  When he got his breath again he leaned down and kissed Keral; then, in swift compunction for his tears, gathered him close:

  "Don't, there's nothing to cry about-is there? Did I hurt you so much? I tried-"

  "No, no, you didn't hurt me, I was so afraid something would go wrong again and now-now I want to cry, to laugh, to fly. . . ."

  They fell together into silence, still aware of the soft snow whispering against the window. David had not realized how wholly the strangeness had gone, and yet; this was still Keral. He still did not think of Keral as a woman; and yet- oh, hell! Why struggle for labels? Keral was Keral; and he loved him; and he didn't care; and he fell asleep in Keral's arms not caring.

  XIV

  on a day late in the winter, Jason stopped by the laboratory and said, "David? Regis Hastur just sent me a message; he wants us all to come up to the castle. He didn't say why. Will you walk there with me?"

  David got his heaviest coat-a Darkovan one; the ones he had owned on other planets would have been summer-weight here-and came along. Jason asked, "How is it going?"

  "Busy, as usual. I was right, by the way; all of the other telepaths in the new group have gray eyes, and all of the Comyn and Darkovans have the typical brain wave readings; not as pronounced as in the chieri, but the same thing on a lesser scale."

  Jason chuckled. "Did you ever see so many redheads?"

  "No. I read an old story once-from prehistory-called The Red-headed League, a foolish tale about something that was a crime then; I can't remember, but one paragraph in it-I thought of it this morning: 'I never hope to see such a sight as that again. From north, south, east and west, every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped in. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country. Every shade of red they were: straw, lemon, orange, brick, liver, clay and the real flame-haired tint.'

  "Well, you look as if you belong," Jason said, and David laughed. "Coincidence; when I was a kid on Terra, red hair wasn't associated with anything except bad temper. I had that too; that was before I realized that everybody around me couldn't tell what I was thinking as easily as I could tell it about them. But where in hell did you get it, Jason? You're not red-headed."

  "I was as a kid, but I'd forgotten. My mother was," Jason said; "she was Darkovan, but she died before I was old enough to remember. As for being a telepath, I never suspected I was until being around all of you I started picking things up. Where's Keral?"

  They had gone down to the spaceport gates now and passed through, climbing the steep old streets toward the old castle on the cliffs high above them. David said, "He went out for a walk in the fields; I think the streets and buildings stifle him."

  "Alone?"

  "No; Conner was with him, and some guards-I had work I wanted to finish."

  "Keral doesn't look nearly as-well, as girlish-as Missy. I notice you still say he."

  David shrugged. "I still think of him that way. Maybe Missy changed so much only because she was mimicking humans; a lot of behavior we think of as sex linked is really just culture linked; I don't know."

  Jason said, "I loved a Free Amazon once; in many ways it was like loving a man, and more so toward the end than at first."

  "I've heard Linnea speak of the Free Amazons but somehow I thought they only loved other women."

  "Oh, no! But they do as they please, and no man holds one of them for long. Kyla stayed with me for three years and that was a long time, for a woman with no child; then she grew weary of the city, but my work was here and I decided to stay. I'm not sure if I was right or wrong, but I'm a doctor, and for better or worse-" Jason fell silent, and David said, "I understand."

  "The work we're doing now, a reliable study of telepaths and their powers, is going to make all the difference to Darkover," Jason said; "it's been tried before, but nothing ever came of it; the Darkovans wouldn't cooperate. Now they are doing it of their free will."

  "Not entirely of their free will," David said, "but of necessity. I think seeing Keral and hearing about his people has frightened them; they see themselves. Their birth rate is falling too, you know. Appallingly. Not one of the women here has had more than one child; and the men-" he shrugged. "A few, like Regis, felt it their duty to make sure they had children; the others never thought of it."

  Jason asked, "A case of nature breeding back to the norm?"

  "I think not. It's a case of-sensitivity," David said. "Once you get habituated to that kind of contact, nothing less seems real. And there aren't so many potential mates either; marriages are made for political reasons, too, and the girls are brought up in isolation, seeing only their own blood kin. No one ever thought of trying to breed deliberately for the telepath genes, and as a result, half of the telep
ath families are diluted until the gift hardly shows, and the others so inbred that some awfully freaky recessives are coming out."

  "True enough." Jason said. "Well, perhaps something will come of this gathering." As he spoke, they passed under the high gates of the old castle. The guards on duty there looked faintly askance at the two Terran Medics, in their white uniforms, but let them pass, and inside the corridors, which were, like most Darkovan buildings, of pale translucent stone with colored lights behind the panels, one of the servants told them that the Lord Hastur had given orders to bring them to the Council Chamber.

  David already knew that the orders sent out by Regis to bring every known telepath on Darkover to Thendara, had resulted in two hundred and thirty adult men and women-which on Darkover meant over fifteen years old. About a hundred more were accounted for as unable to come because of inaccessible weather and climate, extreme old age or illness, and a few because of advanced pregnancy. This was not a great number for a population which numbered somewhere in the low millions-a census of Dark-over had never been made. David had heard the old estimates; in the old days, roughly one in a hundred of the population had displayed measurable telepathic gifts.