Dark Planet (16 page)

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Authors: Charles W. Sasser

BOOK: Dark Planet
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I sensed in Maid’s emotions a certain excitement and anticipation that, to my discomfiture, I associated with mating. Ardor in Human females, I decided, was not so much different from that of Zentadon females during the annual season of breeding, for all that the Zentadon females’ long, sensuous tails made them more expressive. Humans might well have done better socially with tails of their own. Sometimes I felt cheated, even partially muted, by having lost that particular part of my physical legacy when my parents succumbed to passion and produced a hybrid line of half-breeds. But, as Maid once said in an old, old Earth expression, we all had our crosses to bear.

Her excitement transferred itself to my Human side. I looked at her and caught my breath.

What will he think if I’m too forward? Will it frighten him off?

Try me!
I sent back. The returned thought seemed to jolt her, as though she had actually received it. That puzzled me. Why was my ability to read thoughts growing stronger on Aldenia? Was it, as Commander Mott suggested before he dispatched me to DRT-213, because close association with Humans opened up my receptiveness to them?

Fu-ucking elf! Maybe a bug’ll get him tonight
.

That from Blade. It shook me upright and I looked across the camp in his direction. I couldn’t see him in the darkness, but I felt his illogical hatred of beings different from his own and for me in particular. For reasons I couldn’t even guess, and perhaps which he couldn’t himself explain, he despised me from the beginning. Now he had a real reason to fear me, and to hate.

Suddenly, I was no longer sure I wanted to read others’ minds, with or without their permission.

We had deactivated our chameleons before nightfall in order to save them for when we were on the march. Maid donned a wide rain hat over her black hair. She smiled at me before she assumed her post downstream. In the quick-covering night, I erected a pocket bivvie to offer refuge from the rain, but left all sides open. I caught rain in a tin folding cup and added some ground harrow herbs. Grasping the cup in both palms, I concentrated on the contents until they were of a temperature to my taste. I sipped the hot tea and nibbled on a prepared LR/DRP meal of vegetables. There was nothing moral in my vegetarianism. It was simply a preference cultivated among all Zentadon in order to temper the predation of our ancestors. A consolation, perhaps a conciliation, to civilization.

I sensed Maid’s approach after the others slept, although I failed to detect her light step in the rain. Lightning shimmered on the surface of the river, a spectacular display, and in the flickering she joined me beneath my overhead shelter. I moved over and in the aftermath of the electrical fanfare, felt the warmth of her small muscular body settling on the boulder next to me.

I had never bred before for all my wiseass macho bragging, so was unfamiliar with its rituals of “romance”, especially as they applied to Humans who pursued them much more ardently than the Zentadon. I felt her heart racing and her breath catching in her throat and the rise of her body temperature, all certain indicators of passion. I became aroused by feeling her aroused. It was not yet the season for Zentadon coupling, so it surprised me that my Human side responded so readily.

“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed …” she quipped in a thick voice.

“I know. Another old, old Earth expression.”

“… then Mohammed must go to the mountain,” she finished with a nervous laugh.

I’m shameless, shameless …

I offered her tea, my trembling hand almost spilling it. That was me all right; worldly and coordinated. She sipped from my cup. We sat side by side in the total darkness between lightning flashes.

“It’s raining cats and dogs,” she said presently. We both chuckled. “I like the purring way you laugh,” she said.

I felt comfortable with her while at the same time uncomfortable with her being here. Atlas and his jealousy could make trouble for us. Cross-mating, or even the appearance of cross-mating, was against both Human and Zentadon law.

She tried another sip of my tea.

“What is this?” she asked, thrusting my cup back and pulling a face.

“You like it then?”

“Does it come from Ganesh?”

“Yes, but the Zentadon on Galaxia also pay the prolies to grow it for us.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked softly. “Ganesh, I mean?”

“There are times,” I admitted. “Have you been there?”

“No.”

“If it were not for the cloud cover, if we could see the stars, I would point it out to you.”

“Could we also see Earth from here?”

“If we knew where to look. Do you miss Earth?”

“I have never been there either, but I have seen movies and visited through VR.”

“It is a magnificent planet, seen from space.”

She gave a start. “You have visited? How is it? Is it as ruined as they say? Is there still the aftermath of the war contamination?”

“No one lands there anymore, Pia. Parts of it are still uninhabitable, populated by dreadful and savage mutants. Still, there are isolated points where Humans have struggled to make a comeback. After all, they sent colonists into space. Galaxia is proof of that.”

“If the Blobs reach Galaxia,” she said in a quiet voice, “they will destroy it too. Maybe it is Human destiny to keep moving from planet to planet like interstellar gypsies.”

“They will not reach Galaxia,” I reassured her. “In two more days we will be off Aldenia and able to warn the Republic.”

She shivered against me.

“You are cold?” I said.

“The chameleons are losing all their properties, beginning to leak and let in the weather. It’s almost like they’re rotting while we’re wearing them. Gorilla fears that we might not reach the pod before we become visible to everything.”

She shuddered. She recalled her close call with the scorpion-thing when her cammies malfunctioned and it saw her. I knew what she was thinking.

“Here,” I offered. “Let me touch you.”

She said nothing. I took that as permission. I placed my hands carefully on either side of her neck. She was cold. I felt her heart racing again. I made myself concentrate. She gasped.

“How do you do that? It’s like sitting before a campfire.”

I gave the Zentadon purr. “Yes. I am Sergeant Kadar San, campfire.”

“You’re not having sex with me or something?”

I snatched my hands away, causing her to giggle.

“Please, Kadar. I was only teasing. Put them back on my neck. They’re warm.”

I did. She sighed with pleasure.

“When you awakened from cocooning in the dreadnought …?” I began.

I felt her smile. “You were there dressed in green,” she said. “You looked like a wonderful Irish elf with gold hair and big green eyes.”

“I was wondering, “I said, teasing. “The VR you were experiencing must have been X-rated. That is how you describe it — X-rated?”

“You read my mind.”

“No. Your lovely nipples were hard.”

“Kadar San!”

She grew very quiet. I took away my hands. We sat, comfortable with each other. Lightning played on the storm’s surface and thunder coughed and growled.

“You have a mating contract with Atlas?” I finally asked. “You didn’t answer when I asked you before.”

“He would like it to be. But, no, we do not have a relationship.”

“Is a relationship the same as a romance?”

“Perhaps not. A relationship is about sex. Romance is when a man and a woman fall in love and … surely you have romance on Ganesh?”

“We mate,” I said, defensively.

“How do you mate?”

“It … it is arranged during the breeding season.”

“How is it arranged, Kadar San?”

“Our respective representatives meet and they decide the terms …”

“I see. Your seconds? Like a duel? How long does the mating season last?”

“Nine days, sometimes shorter. It depends upon the female’s ovulation and …”

“That’s a true relationship,” she said, appalled. “How do you do it?”

“It is our custom …”

“No. I mean
it.”

“It?”

“You know.” She seemed embarrassed. I received a mental picture of a male and female naked together.

“Oh.” It was my turn to be embarrassed. “Well … do you really want to know?”

“I’m interested,” she said bravely.

“Well … The female assumes the position on her hands and knees. Then the male places her tail over either his left or right shoulder. Over the left if he would like the ‘relationship’ to continue. Over the right if not. Then he …”

“Doggie style. Wham bam, thank you, ma’am. If he places her tail over his left shoulder, does that mean they are married?”

“It means they are exclusive. But exclusive does not happen often.”

“What does she do with her tail if she rejects his offer of exclusivity?”

“That is her choice. She will move it to his right shoulder.”

“What does the male do with
his
tail?” She giggled. “Providing he has one.”

I felt my face burning. “Nothing.”

“Are you exclusive?”

“I have never mated.”

“Why not?”

“I have been away from Ganesh for awhile. I … I …”

“And this … arrangement occurs only once a year?”

“That is so.”

“What do you do for the rest of the year?”

“We work. We study. We … things.”

“But you don’t make love again.”

“When the season comes again.”

“How awful! Do you think I am too forward, Kadar San?”

“Yes.”

She giggled. “So do I. You don’t have the urge except during the breeding season? You, personally, I mean?”

“I am half-Human,” I pointed out, defensively.

“You have the urge?”

My ears went into spasms. I was glad she couldn’t see them. She moved close.

“Kadar San, I haven’t properly thanked you for saving my life.”

She placed her lips over mine. My eyes widened in surprise just as a magnificent bolt of lightning spidered from horizon to horizon. In the sky’s afterglow, Pia said, “You’re supposed to close your eyes. Haven’t you ever been kissed?”

“Well …” I stammered.

“You haven’t, have you? Did you like it?”

“I do not know,” I lied. “Shall we try it again?”

C·H·A·P·T·E·R
 
TWENTY FIVE
DAY SIX

A
t daybreak, during a hurried breakfast away from the rain in our individual bivvies, I looked out and saw Blade walk over to Captain Amalfi’s tent and bend down to go inside after announcing himself. All the other bivvies were sealed against the rain.

A moment later, Gun Maid stuck her helmeted head out from the opening of her shelter and looked quickly around, as though to make sure no one was watching. I closed my opening to a mere peep hole. Maid emerged, hunched against the rain, and made her way covertly to the commander’s bivvie. She crouched behind it out of sight, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation inside.

Although my powers as a sensitive had grown during my time on Aldenia with the Humans, there were certain occasions on which I drew a blank. Such as when Humans were talking to each other. Perhaps it was because they didn’t think when they were talking.

I was as curious about the content of the conversation between Blade and the Captain as Pia. I donned my helmet as protection against the storm and slipped outside. Gorilla and Ferret had drawn last watch, but withdrew at first light to eat and prepare for departure. No one was out and about to see me as I crept from camp and returned against the cliff wall behind Captain Amalfi’s overnight domicile. Gun Maid was so engrossed that her first awareness of me came when I threw one arm around her waist and snatched her off the ground. My free hand clamped over her mouth to prevent an outcry.

I carried her into the hidden protection of an outcropping of rock.

“It is me,” I whispered into her ear.

She stopped struggling.

“I will let you go,” I said. “Keep your voice down, little spy.”

She whirled angrily to face me as soon as I released her. “I am not a spy!”

My eyebrows lifted and my ears gave double flickers. She blushed, then took a breath.

“Okay. I’m a spy. You caught me. Are you going to report me?”

“Would I do that after last night?”

“Would you?”

“Pia, we have to trust somebody. Let us start by trusting each other.”

She studied me.

“Are you a Homelander?” she asked bluntly.

“Why would you think that?”

“I saw you at the hangar with the Homelanders trying to sabotage the
Admiral Tsutsumi,”
she accused.

“Wait a minute,” I recoiled. “I saw
you
with the Homelanders.”

“You couldn’t have seen me with them, Kadar San.”

“Same here, Pia Gunduli.”

We looked at each other.

“We have apparently had misconceptions,” I said finally. “Okay. Who goes first?”

Can I really trust him?

“You first,” she said.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. An old, old Earth expression. Rainwater pouring off the cliff and beating past the sheltering overhang covered the sound of our voices. I hurried through my explanation. We didn’t have much time before the camp was up and ready to move out.

I told her about Mina Li, how I had gone to the safe house to reason with Mishal, only to have been taken prisoner. I escaped and intercepted the terrorists on post while they were attempting to bypass the security robots.

“You were the one throwing rocks!” Pia exclaimed, giggling. “I saw you back in the shadows. I assumed you were the lookout. But it was you who triggered the alarm by throwing rocks!”

She sounded relieved.

“A skill I learned from a misspent childhood. I saw a female with the terrorists at the hangar. That was not you?”

“I’m not saying I don’t have a certain sympathy for the Homelanders’ aims for a planet of their own on Ganesh,” she began seriously. “I’m acquainted with some of the Homelanders. I got to know them through volunteer social projects working with both Human and Zentadon prolies. I’m afraid I’m a bleeding heart.”

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