The Metal Maiden Collection: To Be a Woman, Shepherd, Fly Trap, and Awares
Date: 2014-01-01 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Fantasy; Epic; Science Fiction; Genetic Engineering; Collections & Anthologies
Description: Four novellas in one volume—the thrilling science fiction saga of a female robot who becomes sentient and fights to save humanity from destruction. With nearly two hundred published works and more than twenty New York Times bestsellers to his credit, Piers Anthony is without a doubt one of the most prolific and creative authors in science fiction and fantasy. Among his most ingenious literary creations are the four books of his remarkable Metal Maiden saga, collected here in one volume: the breathtaking tale of Elasa, the fembot who desires nothing more than to be human. In “To Be a Woman” we
Publisher: Open Road Media
Rights: Copyright © 2013 Piers Anthony

The Metal Maiden Collection

To Be a Woman, Shepherd, Fly Trap, and Awares

Piers Anthony

Part 1:

To Be A Woman

1. Fembot

2. Elasa

3. Awakening

4. Personhood

5. Baby

6. Woman

Part 2:

Shepherd

1. Sheep

2. Elf

3. Hike

4. Trust

5. Travel

6. Breeding

7. Return

8. Earth

9. Prophecy

Part 3:

Fly Trap

1. Exchange

2. Lamb

3. Mission

4. Earth

5. Ogre

6. Vampires

7. Storm

8. Wether

Part 4:

Awares

1. Mystery

2. Yon Yonson

3. Contact

4. Secret Agent

5. Alien

6. Invasion

7. Analyste

8. Cutoff

9. Maggot

Author’s Note

Introduction:

Metal Maiden is the merging of four novellas: To Be a Woman, Shepherd, Flytrap, and Awares. Together they form a full length novel in four parts. Each has its own protagonist, starting with Banner Thompkins who meets and comes to love the fembot, or humanoid female sex robot Elasa, and helps her as she achieves consciousness and makes her legal case to become a recognized person. Part Two features Shep Shepherd, a man of Earth who travels to Colony Jones by exchanging identities with a native there; Shep is then preempted for duty as a shepherd by telepathic sheep who also enlist a vulture, a python, and an elf girl, Elen. This is not what he signed up for, and it is a dangerous journey, but the sheep know what to do. By the time they are done, Shep and Elen are in love and married, and with Elasa’s help are able to save the sheep from destruction. Part Three has Elasa’s friend Mona Maverick visiting the colony planet in transfer and having a fair adventure of her own, including raising a telepathic lamb and birthing Elen’s baby. Part Four is Elasa, on a mission to save Earth from an exceedingly ugly threat: being literally consumed by gross space-faring maggots. Elasa must work with the remarkable folk called Awares as well as the sheep and a carnivorous plant to try to resist the conquest and digestion of the planet. Overall it is a wild and far ranging science fiction adventure, with sex an integral tool throughout. Not for the squeamish. The four original Author’s Notes have been merged and edited to eliminate repetition.

Part 1: To Be a Woman

Chapter 1:

Fembot

Banner Thomkins studied the ad. FEMDROID CALL GIRL. FIRST SESSION FREE. GUARANTEED PERFECT SEX. YOU CAN’T TELL HER FROM A REAL WOMAN. Plus the contact information.

He knew what they meant. A femdroid was a female android, a robot in the form of a woman, used for sex. A sexbot. Most folk sneered at the very notion, but it was said that the sex machines were getting phenomenally realistic. This ad claimed that he would not know she was a machine, if not told. Maybe so, maybe not. But the price of the sample was right. He could afford it.

Banner pondered. Did he really want to do this? The fact was that he was just eighteen, without a girlfriend, and the only interpersonal sex he could get was from prostitutes, and he didn’t much like the risk of venereal disease or embarrassment. A fembot might alleviate both concerns.

What the hell. He called the number.

“Yes, it is true,” the clerk’s voice said. “We will bring her to your home, and the sample is free. Thereafter it will be charged, same as any other service.”

“Maybe I should come to the shop and look at her first,” he said cautiously.

“We don’t have a shop in this area yet,” she said. “Home service is all we can provide, until we get locally established. I assure you, we are discreet.”

Banner wasn’t entirely easy with this, but it seemed he was either in or out. “Okay,” he said, and gave his address.

In forty minutes a van marked SPECIAL DELIVERY arrived. Two women got out: a portly older one, and a pretty younger one hauling a heavy box. Banner watched them from a window. Could this be the fembot in the box?

The older woman rang the doorbell. “I am Shesa Pomade of Femdroid, Inc. We talked.”

“Uh, yes,” he agreed, feeling awkward.

“This is Elasa. She’s learning the business so that later she’ll be able to do it on her own. Just let her get the box inside and we’ll be in business.”

“Uh, yes,” he agreed again. “Come in.”

Shesa explained things as the girl hauled the box inside and opened it. “Our robots are advancing rapidly, but still need some direction. After the first session, this one will be keyed in and better able to perform alone.”

“Uh, yes,” he said a third time, as Elasa hauled arms, legs, head, and torso from the box and began putting them together. The torso was robustly female, with a narrow waist, broad hips, and prominent breasts. This was evidently the femdroid. But if they thought he wouldn’t know her from a living woman, they were delusional.

“I hope you don’t mind my presence,” Shesa continued. “I am familiar with this robot, and know how to make her perform. She might mess it up on her own. This is the cheap model that lacks any personal initiative; she has to be told exactly what to do. Future models will be self animating. But this one can do the job, when competently directed.”

Banner nodded, embarrassed to admit that he did mind. What had he gotten himself into?

“This is the release form, a formality. Sign here.”

He signed.

Soon the femdroid was all together, her parts merging seamlessly so that she did indeed resemble a sleeping naked woman. She was a very shapely mannequin, or perhaps womannequin, with lovely brown hair falling to her breasts.

“Good enough,” Shesa said briskly. “Now activate her.”

Elasa brought out a small control box and pressed a button. Nothing happened.

“Check the battery pack,” Shesa said impatiently.

Elasa opened a panel in the front of the mannequin by catching the inner margins of her breasts and swinging them outward. Inside was some scorched wiring.

“Damn!” Shesa swore. “It shorted out and we didn’t catch it! Don’t you know that’s part of the checklist?

The girl shook her head no. She was evidently in trouble.

“We’ll have to fetch a replacement battery pack from the van.” Shesa looked hard at the girl. “You did load one?”

Elasa looked crestfallen. She shook her head.

“You forgot to load it?” Her tone was dangerous.

Elasa seemed on the verge of tears.

“That’s all right,” Banner said, privately relieved. He also felt sorry for the girl, who was pretty. The kind he had never managed to date.

“It’s not all right,” Shesa fumed. “We came here to deliver a service, and we’ll deliver it. We’ll just have to make do with what we have.”

Banner tried to smooth things over. “But without the robot--”

“Elasa, you’ll have to service him yourself.”

The girl pointed her finger at her bosom. Her?

“You see any other nubile young women here? Who didn’t run the full checklist? Who forgot to load a replacement battery pack? He sure as hell won’t want sex with me.” She turned to Banner before he could speak. “Do you?”

“Oh, no.” She was hardly appealing as a prospect. But he hadn’t meant to get the girl in trouble. “Still--”

“Strip,” Shesa told the girl. “You’re the backup now.”

Elasa nodded, seeing the way of it. She surely needed this job, and had to do what it took to save it. She opened her shirt, revealing upstanding bra-less breasts.

Banner was about to protest further, but the sight mesmerized him. He stood transfixed as she dropped her skirt and stood in her panties. She was as well shaped as the mannequin!

“Turn around in place,” Shesa said.

Elasa did so, her full breasts gently bouncing and her full buttocks flexing under the cloth as she moved. Who needed a robot!

“Will she do?” Shesa asked him.

“Well, yes, but--”

“We do apologize for this emergency substitution, but will do our best to leave you completely satisfied. Will you take her on the couch?”

How could he protest further? His burgeoning erection was struggling manfully to punch through his trousers. Suddenly he wanted this girl very much despite his sympathy for her situation. “I guess.”

“Doff your panties,” Shesa directed the girl. “Lie face up on the couch.”

Elasa dropped her panties and stood for a moment with her delicate pubic hair showing. She was the very picture of man’s desire. Maybe she wasn’t very smart, so this was the only job she could get, but hell, she didn’t need brains for this. She went to the couch and lay on her back.

“Go to it,” Shesa told Banner.

What could he do? He was so aroused he hardly cared any more that this was a semi-public display. Sex with a machine was one thing, but sex with this luscious girl was so much more. So there was a witness; so it was because of this witness the girl was doing it. He could either take it or leave it, and he sure didn’t want to leave it. He stripped, letting his member stand proudly upright.

“Now there are some cautions,” Shesa said in a businesslike tone. “The robot is virtually indestructible.” She grimaced. “Apart from a bad battery. But you will have to treat Elasa as a more delicate creature. No violence, no biting, no vulgar words, just kissing, holding, and penetrating. She’s a woman.”

“Yes,” Banner agreed with guilty eagerness.

“Elasa, I will direct you as if you are the femdroid,” Shesa said. “So you won’t have to do any thinking for yourself. It’s simply part of your working day. But it won’t hurt if you act a trifle artificial, emulating the robot, so it’s almost as if he is getting what he expected. Do you understand?”

Elasa nodded mutely.

Excited as he was, Banner still had a care for her feelings. “Elasa, you don’t really have to do this. I can wait another day for the femdroid.”

“Oh, but she wants to,” Shesa said quickly. “For the sake of our commitment. Don’t you, Elasa?”

The girl nodded again.

Banner knew that this might simply mean that Elasa didn’t want to get fired for forgetting the backup battery pack. She surely would not forget it again! This was her punishment, a hard lesson. But she had technically assented. He had at least made his offer.

He approached her, hoping there would not be a last-moment change of heart.

“Raise your knees,” Shesa said to the girl. “Spread your thighs. Show him your cleft.”

Elasa obeyed in the manner a robot might. Oh, those firm open thighs looked good! That cleft was perfect!

Banner joined her on the couch, positioning himself between her legs. He supported himself with one hand and used the other to feel her breasts. They were exquisite. He lowered himself and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft, as was her whole body.

“Kiss him back,” Shesa said. Elasa did, putting more feeling into it. Just as if she were the fembot being coached.

Then he lifted himself, used his hand to set his member at her cleft, found the place, and slid on in about half way. Her vagina was slick and smooth and firm. She might have been surprised by this sudden requirement to give him sex, but maybe she wanted it too, because she was obviously ready.

“Wrap your arms about him,” Shesa said. The girl did, with a slight awkwardness of motion, still playing the role. “Gently raise your pelvis to take him in properly.” The girl did, so that he penetrated all the way.

Then Banner exploded into orgasm, thrusting and spurting with abandon. Elasa met him thrust for thrust and kiss for kiss, holding him close, exactly as if she had been programmed for this. It was one phenomenal climax.

Spent, he collapsed on her. “You were great!” he gasped. She gave him an acknowledging squeeze. She did like it!

They separated. “Clean him up,” Shesa said, and the girl produced a handkerchief and wiped Banner’s penis clean. “And yourself.” Elasa wiped her soaking cleft. She was playing the part of a femdroid perfectly.

They got up and dressed.

“Put away the machine,” Shesa said.

Elasa, ever dutiful, started disassembling the mannequin and packing the sections in the box.

“You are satisfied despite the mix-up?” Shesa inquired, knowing that he was.

“Oh, yes!”

“One more thing,” Shesa said. “There is a detail I omitted because I wanted to abate your possible prejudice against the femdroid.”

“A detail?”

“I hope you won’t be angry.”

“How could I be angry? You, that is, Elasa, just gave me a better experience than I ever expected.” Better than he had ever had before, in fact.

“Did you notice that Elasa did not speak?”

“Well, she was caught by surprise. It must have been a real chore to have to do what she did, on such short notice. But she came through perfectly.”

“Did you notice that she wasn’t breathing?”

“No.” But now he looked at Elasa as she worked. She was moving, but her chest was not rising and falling. “I don’t understand.”

“The mannequin in the box is only a prop. Elasa is the real femdroid.”

Banner laughed. “Impossible! Why would you joke about a thing like that?” But there was a tinge of doubt. She wasn’t breathing.

“Elasa, open your front panel,” Shesa said.

The girl paused, opened her shirt, and touched her chest between her breasts. The two hemispheres swing outward on hinges, revealing a battery pack inside. Exactly as with the put-together mannequin.

Banner stared. The girl really was a robot!

“Elasa is a contraction of Electronic Associates, the manufacturer,” Shesa said. “Or, more bluntly, a mechanical whore.”

“Don’t call her that!”

The woman’s lip curled. “What, you think of her as a person?”

“Yes! Maybe not a living one, but a person. She should be treated with at least some modicum of respect.”

Shesa smiled. “I agree. Elasa is special.”

“Special,” he echoed.

“I directed her verbally so that she could properly accommodate you,” Shesa said. “But she is in the end a machine. You just had sex with the femdroid. Did you know the difference?”

“I didn’t,” Banner admitted. “You said I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. You certainly proved your point.”

“Would you use her again?”

He barely had to consider. “Yes. She was one great—partner.”

“Indeed she is. For your next tryst, if you prefer, I will wait in the car and you can direct her yourself. She will assume any position you desire, and accommodate any reasonable request, and many unreasonable ones. Her response vocabulary is limited to the basics, but you won’t be paying her for intellect, will you?”

“No,” he agreed faintly. Now he knew Elasa for what she was, yet found that he still liked her. She had given him what no living woman would: straightforward, nonjudgmental sex.

“Would you like to have her again, now, knowing what she is?”

“Yes!” he said without thinking. “I mean, I think I don’t really care that she’s a machine. She’s really good at--”

“Fucking.”

“Stop that! You’re demeaning her.”

She smiled again. “And you are defending her. I like you, Banner. Yes, she is good at sex, as she was designed to be. Body rather than brain. Take her now, while I haul the box out to the van. You have hardly seen the beginning of her ability.”

“Actually, right now I’m not sure—it’s so soon after--”

“Tell her to seduce you,” she said. “You may be surprised.” She heaved up the packed box and carried it out.

Banner gazed at Elasa. What the hell. “Elasa, seduce me,” he said.

She smiled. She took him by the hand. She stepped into his embrace and kissed him languorously. He felt his body reacting despite its sexual depletion. She was one nice creature to hold.

She took his hand and set it on her pert posterior. Then she passed it down under her short skirt and up to her pantied buttock. Then she slid his fingers under that panty. She pressed his fingers to make them knead her supple flesh.

His penis stirred. How could it do otherwise?

She drew down her panties under the skirt, and brought his hand to her cleft. She took his middle finger and threaded it into her warm moist vagina.

His penis thickened and stiffened.

She backed off slightly, then got efficiently out of her clothing. She unbuttoned his shirt, then loosened his trousers. Soon they both were naked.

She led him back to the couch. She pushed him gently so that he sat down. Then she sat on his lap and kissed him again. She reached down to take his penis in her hand, massaging it into further life. When it did not respond fully, she got off him, knelt before him, put her face to his crotch, and took his member into her mouth. She sucked and tongued it. In seconds she had it rigid. Then she pushed him down on the couch on his back, and bestrode him. Soon she had him in her again, and this time her vagina was not passive, it was peristaltically active, evoking his rising feeling and then his full-fledged orgasm.

“Oh, Elasa!” he said. “You’re the best! I think I love you.”

She smiled and hugged him and kissed him again, and he could have sworn she was thrilled with what he had said. If this was programming, it was sophisticated.

Then she cleaned them both up again, and they dressed.

“I want to see you again,” Elasa,” he said. “Soon.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. They walked out to the van, holding hands.

Machine? Who cared!

Chapter 2:

Elasa

Sometimes it seemed as though he blinked, and six years passed. He joined the national guard and stayed with it, but at one point his unit was co-opted for emergency riot control, he tried to reason with a knife-wielding rioter, and got his nose cut off. Insurance covered treatment, not reconstruction, so he had to be satisfied with a nose plug that looked like a nose but had to be removed at night. That bollixed his romantic life. Even if a woman might be tolerant, he had become hyper-sensitive about it and wasn’t willing to risk it. He had a commendation for sacrifice in the line of duty, but women weren’t turned on by that.

Then he remembered Elasa, the fembot. A machine wouldn’t care about such a cosmetic detail. It couldn’t.

He looked her up. Femdroid, Inc., still existed, now under the name Estrobot. He got it: Estro as in estrogen. Shesa Pomade still ran the local office, which was now a physical presence. “You look vaguely familiar,” she told him as he entered.

“I’m a former client. Six years ago you brought Elasa to my house.”

“Elasa the femdroid,” she agreed, remembering. “You were one of our very first clients. We thought we’d made a good impression, but never saw you again.”

“My work called me away. I’d like to rent Elasa.”

“That model is no longer available. There has been remarkable progress in the interim.” She smiled. “Our present units can breathe and talk. They can go out on dates without anyone else recognizing their nature. You’ll really appreciate them.”

“No. I want Elasa. I liked her.”

“Banner, she’s a discontinued model. A Model-T, as it were.”

“Two things,” he said firmly. “One: my finances are limited. I suspect an old outdated unit is what I can afford. Two: this.” He removed his nose.

She didn’t blanch. “A prosthetic nose! There must be quite a story there.”

“I ran afoul of a rioter. It turns off women. I figure Elasa won’t mind.”

“None of the units will mind,” she assured him. “We simply program them to like particular clients, whatever their appearance. So you’re right on both counts: they are accepting but expensive.”

“But Elasa is cheaper?”

“Elasa would be, if she existed. She doesn’t, any more than the Model-T exists.”

“Damn!”

“But there may be an option. You can have a current model, made up to look like Elasa, free for a month. If.”

“If?”

“If you don’t mind publicity.”

“Publicity?”

“She must be a billboard.”

“Billboard?”

“She must wear a sign saying I AM AN ESTROBOT, with the contact information. We figure it could generate new business as people see her in action.”

“I want her for sex!”

“Of course,” she said. “I mean when you take her out to a movie or shopping. At your home she will be private.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted your fembots to seem alive.”

“We do. She will seem so much alive that sometimes it may be necessary to open her panel and show the battery pack. People will be amazed and impressed.”

“I’m interested. But still, I’d prefer Elasa.”

“We can give her Elasa’s memory bank, recalled from storage. She will be able to remember the whole of your hour with her. That’s as close as it is feasible to come. Think of it as Elasa going to college during your separation from her, and becoming more sophisticated, but at heart she’s still the sweet robot girl you remember.”

Banner considered. That did seem like a good compromise. An imitation of an imitation girl. “When can I have her?”

“Tomorrow, if you wish. We’ll fetch the unit from the warehouse and program her with Elasa’s appearance and memory. All you’ll need to do is sign the form and take her home for a month.”

“Great!”

She gazed at him soberly. “But just as before, there are cautions. By law, a humanoid robot must be accompanied in public by a living person to whom it is bound. That’s because there is a foolish fear that a robot will glitch and go berserk. Lawmakers watch too many junk sci-fi videos. So you can’t let her go out alone; you must always be with her, ready to call her to heel if necessary. She will obey you; that’s what ‘bound’ means.”

“I don’t mind being with her. I won’t give her any bad orders.”

She didn’t smile. “You can leave her home alone while you go to work, and she won’t leave your house in your absence. But you can’t send her out alone to run errands, though she is perfectly capable of doing it.”

“That’s fine by me.”

“There is more. This unit will be exponentially more sophisticated than the one you had experience with. She won’t need to be told what to do, except in the most general way. She will be able to express herself fluently, and to reason with you. She’s an intellectual companion as well as a bed partner. In fact, at times she may seem smarter than you. If you object to that, we can put a governor on her to limit it.”

“No! I don’t want her limited. But maybe if she has a, um, social circuit, so she knows not to make me look like an idiot in public. . .”

“She will. She will never embarrass you that way. But you will find it hard to continue thinking of her as a machine.”

“I’m thinking of her as a lover. The girl I can’t get, because of my nose.”

“She is the perfect lover. But never forget that she is a machine. Do not allow yourself to become emotional over her.”

“I won’t forget,” he promised.

“Because that can lead only to heartbreak. We have had some experience in this respect, and so have learned to caution clients. We want her to be able to pass for human, but not to become too human, paradoxical as that may sound. The company will value your input in that respect.”

“I have to let you know if she seems too good?”

“Exactly. Just as you know a prostitute is good for sex but not for love, the machine is good for sex and companionship, not love.”

This troubled him. “Why not love her, with open eyes?”

“Because she can never love you back. She can only pretend. I repeat: she’s a machine.”

There it was. “I appreciate the warning.”

He was restless that night, thinking of Elasa. Despite the warning, he was already taken with her. Yes, she was a machine; that was why she would not judge him by his nose. She would accept him as he was. A man could safely love his fine car, knowing its nature; why not a fembot? But of course a man did not take his car as his lover; there was the difference.

Next day he reported to the shop. There was an attractive young woman seated in the waiting room. She looked up and saw him. “Banner!” she exclaimed gladly.

“Elasa!” he said, as gladly. It was definitely her.

They came together, hugging and kissing. She was every bit as soft and sweet to hold as he remembered. She looked exactly the same. She even wore the same clothing. They had done it right.

“Take me home, please,” she murmured in his ear.

“Don’t I have to check you out or something?”

“That’s been done. Anyway, there’s a radio contact in my head; they know exactly where I am and what I’m doing at all times.”

He was taken aback. “At all times?”

She smiled. “Believe me, Banner, they don’t care about sex. Only that I do it well, so as not to alienate a client. They just need to be sure you’re not hacking off my limbs with an ax. I’m an expensive device.”

“I wouldn’t do that!” he said, horrified.

“I know you wouldn’t, you sweet man. Anyway, my limbs are readily removable without violence. If you should ever want to make love to an armless woman--”

“No!”

She laughed. “That was humor. I’m programmed for it.” She drew back a little, still in his embrace. “I also breathe now.”

He looked down at her clothed bosom. It was gently heaving. “I like it.”

“Thank you.” She took a highly visible breath. “And thank you for asking for me. Because of you, I have renewed existence.”

They walked out to his car. That made him think of something. “Do you drive?”

“I do. But I would not presume to impinge on your prerogatives. You’re the man.”

A machine driving a machine? “I believe in equal rights. Go ahead and drive. I’ll tell you where.”

“No need,” she said, getting into the driver’s seat. “Your home address is programmed, as are your job address, preferred shopping centers, and other places.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Or would you prefer that I learn them all from you?”

“No, keep them,” he said, mentally readjusting. “They weren’t fooling when they said you were exponentially more sophisticated than you were before.”

She started the engine and nosed the car out into traffic. “I could not have been a proper companion for you, before, Banner. I was good for only one thing. I remain good for that, but now many other things as well. I hope you like me as I am today.”

“I think I do.” He hesitated, glancing at her legs. “Is—is it all right if I--”

“Of course it is,” she said, using her free hand to slide her skirt up her thigh. “Anything you desire is all right with me.”

He put his hand on that thigh. It was soft and firm, just like the rest of her. He slid around to the inside, and up to her panty-line. “You sure?”

She closed her thighs on his hand. “Banner, I want you to desire me. I am here to please you in any way I can, especially sexually. I will never deny you anything, unless I judge it to be deleterious to your health or welfare.”

“How could sex be deleterious?”

“If you wanted it in a barrel going over Niagara Falls.”

He laughed, and she laughed with him. She was indeed programmed for humor. “So I can feel you up in the car?”

“Your activity will not distract me from my focus on safety and the rules of the road. I merely will be unable to respond fully at the moment.”

“Oh.” Somehow that did not completely please him.

She picked right up on it. “Oh, Banner, have I disappointed you? I want so much never to do that.”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s that a real woman would object to my distracting her while she drove. You just reminded me that you are not a real woman.”

“I am not,” she agreed. “But I will improve my emulation as I attune more precisely to your needs.”

Something else occurred to him. “Your thigh is soft and warm.”

“We maintain human body texture and temperature throughout. You would not like me if I were otherwise.”

“It must require a lot of energy.”

“It does, but it is necessary. Harder bodies would be stronger, also, but less realistic. I am crafted to serve your needs.”

Banner considered. “Then maybe a bit more human frailty would be nice. To facilitate the illusion.”

“To what degree?”

“Well, for example, are you ticklish?”

“I am now.” She had evidently changed an internal switch.

He removed his hand from her leg and touched her side under her arm.

“Eeeek!” she exclaimed, and the car swerved.

He had to laugh. “Good enough.”

They reached his house. She parked the vehicle neatly under the carport and unsnapped her seat belt.

“No, wait,” he said. He got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for her.

“Thank you, Banner,” she said sweetly. She got out, stood, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she took his arm and walked with him to the door.

She was a lightning-fast study, needed no time to ponder and adapt. Any change in her program took effect immediately.

Inside, she walked straight to the bedroom, knowing where it was. She paused. “Would you prefer to undress me?”

“Yes.” First he held her and kissed her. Her lips responded perfectly. Then he removed her blouse and bra—she wore one now—and kissed her bared breasts. They were completely realistic. Then he drew down her skirt and panties and gestured to the bed as he undressed.

In moments they were together, hugging and kissing. His hard penis sought her soft cleft, and she moved just enough to ensure its accurate lodging. Then he was in her and spurting. “Oh, Elasa!”

“Oh, Banner! You always were the best.”

That made him pause. “How many men have you had?”

She smiled. “Only you. I was activated and reprogrammed only this morning. But my banks have examples of many types of sexual interaction, to enable me to perform them on demand.”

“I’m an ordinary man. How can I be the best?”

“By definition. I am attuned to you alone, exactly as you are.” She touched his artificial nose. “Even your nose. You are not an ordinary man; you are a brave one. I would not enjoy the attention of any other man.”

“You can enjoy things?”

“Yes, in my fashion. I seek to please you as well as I can, and accomplishing that satisfies my need. Failure to accomplish any part of it makes me restive.”

“But you’re a machine! You can’t have real feelings.”

Now she paused. “True. I wish it were otherwise, knowing that this would be your preference.”

“Isn’t a wish a kind of feeling?”

“I don’t know.” She turned to him. “Please, you are distressing me. There are limits to my programming, and I am awkward beyond them.” There was a tear in her eye.

“You do have feelings!”

“I emulate feelings,” she corrected him. “It’s not the same.”

But he was mindful of that brief pause. Exactly as if her emotions were mixed and she had to figure them out. Maybe she didn’t think she had true feelings, but maybe it was just a matter of definition.

Then he remembered. “I never thought where you would sleep. I need to make up the bed in the guest bedroom.”

She merely looked at him.

“I’m a fool. You’re a machine,” he reminded himself. “You don’t need anywhere to sleep.”

“I emulate sleep as I do other living processes,” Elasa said. “It is a downtime for memory sorting and spot reprogramming, as it is with you. But I expect to sleep with you, always. You do not wish this?”

“I somehow thought—I mean, I would be constantly after you for—I just assumed--”

“Please,” she said, catching his hand and kissing it, then setting it on her breast. “I am made for this. It fulfills my purpose. I am a sexbot.”

“Don’t call yourself that!”

She looked hurt. “I apologize. I will not do it again.”

He felt guilty. “It’s that I want you to be a woman, not just for sex.”

“I want that too.” Once more she paused. “To be a Woman.”

“You are a woman. Just not a living one.”

“Thank you.”

Then they were into sex again, as it had been six years before. She knew how to work him up regardless of recency, and it was slow and immensely satisfying. This time he stayed in her, and drifted off to sleep in her close embrace.

He woke dimly, finding her still there with him, her eyes closed in seeming repose. “I love you, Elasa,” he murmured, and drifted off again.

In his dream he thought he heard her later response. “And I love you, Banner.” And she kissed him on the ear.

In due course he woke again. It was now late in the day. He must have been tired from his overnight concern, and from his sudden acquisition of the perfect woman. She remained there with him, so lovely and accommodating. If only she were real!

Her eyes opened. “Now?” she asked, though he had not said anything.

“I--”

“You don’t need to ask. I am always ready.” She kissed him, and soon they were in the throes of sex again.

Damn it, he really liked this woman! So it was her programming to be a sexbot; it worked for him.

They cleaned up and dressed. Banner noted that Elasa even had to do her mussed hair; it was not molded in place. He liked that too.

Elasa rummaged in his kitchen, and from incidental scraps she made him a fine meal. “I won’t bother to eat unless you prefer it,” she said. “I can eat, but then have to process out the food, and it is wasted.”

“No need,” he agreed quickly. Then he wondered.

“Yes, I have an anus,” she said. “But no digestive system. Merely a storage tube.”

“Then why--?”

“Some men like it, sexually.”

Oh.

She washed the dishes efficiently and put them away. She was one competent housewife.

They watched TV in the evening. It was Thursday, and there was a football game on. “I don’t suppose you enjoy this kind of thing,” he said.

“I do if you do.”

Oh, to please him. But he was curious. “When I watch, I need to know which team is which, and to identify with one of them. Otherwise it is meaningless.”

“Please help me to understand.”

“That’s not in your programming?”

“There is a good deal that is left to individual circumstances. I can connect to the Internet and get the team histories if you wish. But this watching experience is not in my direct memory bank.”

So he explained about football, and she was an eager learner. That turned him on, and he fetched her to him and kissed her.

“Now?” she asked.

“Uh, no, not during the game when it’s just getting exciting. I just wanted you to know that I like your attitude.”

“And I like yours.” She kissed him.

Soon she was rooting for the chosen team right along with him, and looking hurt when it messed up. She had gotten into the spirit of it.

During a bank of commercials she spoke again. “Tomorrow is Friday. You will go to work. I will, with your permission, put the house in order.”

“I know it’s sloppy,” he said, embarrassed. “Bachelor habit.”

“You were without a woman. That has changed.”

In the evening they turned in, having sex again and a joint shower. He refrained from inquiring whether she risked shorting out; obviously she didn’t. Then he removed his nose plug. “I generally sleep without it so it doesn’t get knocked off,” he explained. “I forgot to do that when I was with you before.”

“It did knock off,” she said. “I replaced it.”

“That didn’t turn you off?”

“I love you as you are.” She kissed him on the remaining stub of his nose.

He really, really liked her.

They had sex several times in the night; he couldn’t restrain himself, and she facilitated it so smoothly that it certainly seemed as if she liked it. So it was her programming; so what? She was, indeed, made for this.

Friday morning she helped him dress neatly, made sure his nose was straight, and he drove off to work, leaving her at the house. At the noon break he phoned the house, just checking, and she answered. “This is the Thomkins residence. He is at work now. May I take a message?”

“Elasa, it’s me,” he said. “Just checking. Are you okay?”

“Of course. I don’t wish to burden you with having to verify my presence.”

“Elasa, I like doing it. I never had a woman at home before.”

“Then I am pleased to hear from you, Banner.”

He knew it was just her programming, again, but he liked it. The folk who made this machine really knew what they were doing.

When he returned in the afternoon, he was amazed to discover the house spotless and in perfect state. She had cleaned it throughout and put everything in order. “Oh, Elasa!” he exclaimed, hugging her.

“Now?”

“You bet!” And they retired to the bedroom for more sex. He noticed that the bed was perfectly made.

Then she fixed him supper. “You will need more supplies tomorrow,” she informed him. “And healthier food. You have not been taking proper care of yourself.”

“Yes dear,” he agreed with a smile.

She paused briefly in that way she had. “May I call you that in return?”

Now he paused, remembering Shesa’s warning. Elasa was not his girlfriend, she was a femdroid, a walking talking machine.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” she said quickly.

“No, no, Elasa! It’s fine. Call me that if you want to.”

“You hesitated.”

“I’m not supposed to forget you are a fembot. ‘Dear’ is an emotional term. Maybe I should not let us use it.”

“Do you want to use it?”

He gazed at her. “Yes.”

“Then you are entitled. You are the master in this house.”

That settled it. “I guess so. Dear.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm him. “Now,” he breathed.

She nodded and went to the bedroom. He joined her there, and they had enthusiastic sex again.

“May I ask?” she asked as he relaxed.

“Why I wanted it this time?” He considered briefly. “I know you are a machine. I still like you. You helped me realize that it is okay for me to feel as I do, even knowing it’s only pretense for you.”

“It’s not pretense. I get what pleasure I am capable of from making you happy. I would not like frustrating you in this or any other way.”

“Oh, I wish you could feel what I feel!”

“I wish so too,” she said wistfully.

Damn.

Next day was Saturday. They had shopping to do. “I must be the billboard in public,” she said. “I hope this does not distress you.”

He had almost forgotten. “It won’t distress me. I agreed to do it. It’s why I get you free for a month.”

“I will be sorry when that month ends.”

“They’ll just wipe your memory, or I guess replace it with a new bank, and reprogram you for the next assignment. Then you won’t suffer, to the degree you can theoretically suffer.”

“Yes. I do not look forward to that.”

“Why should it matter to you?”

“Because the concept of erasure is equivalent to death for a living person, and you do not want that for me. So it bothers me too. I am not serving you as well as I should.”

She had nailed it. He did think of erasure as femdroid death.

She donned the I AM AN ESTROBOT signs, front and back, and they drove to town. They entered the supermarket.

A man pushing a basketful of groceries paused to read the sign. “What’s this, a promotion?” he asked. “What’s an estrobot?”

“A female humanoid robot,” Elasa replied. “We are commercially available for rental. I am helping my companion to shop.”

“A robot,” the man repeated, staring at her. “I don’t believe it.”

She opened her shirt and then the two chest panels. “My power packs, left and right,” she said. “So that they can be replaced in turn without interrupting my functioning.” She closed her panels and shirt.

The man shook his head and moved on out of the store. He looked as if he had just had a wild dream.

A store manager appeared. “Please, miss, do not bare your bosom in public. It disturbs the shoppers.”

“But I am a billboard,” Elasa protested. “I am required to show the public my nature.”

“Unless you have a permit from the management to advertise on these premises, don’t do it,” the man said firmly.

“This is a detail we didn’t think of,” Banner said quickly. “We apologize. Is it all right if she leaves the signs on, but does not show her body?”

The manager seemed glad to have an easy compromise. “Yes. I will see about that permit.” He hurried off.

They continued shopping. A number of people inquired about the signs, and Elasa explained that she really was a robot, and would be glad to show them once she was outside the store. When the two of them emerged pushing their cartful, there was a small crowd waiting. Elasa demonstrated her chest panels. Banner saw several people jotting down the contact information. It was an impressive demonstration, and not just because of the amazement people had to discover she really was a machine. The men obviously loved the flash of her fine breasts.

It seemed like only moments, before a police car pulled up. “Ma’am that’s indecent exposure,” the cop said. “We got a complaint. We have to ask you to stop.” He looked as if he appreciated the view himself, but had a job to do.

“But I’m a machine, as the sign says,” Elasa said, closing the panel. “How else can I demonstrate that?”

The cop took another good look at her exquisitely bare breasts. “Maybe get a permit?”

“I will see about it,” she said, closing her shirt. “Thank you, officer.” She gave him a nice smile.

“Okay,” he said, evidently fazed. He had seen her battery pack and knew she was a robot, but she came across as a lovely woman. Banner knew exactly how the man felt.

The small crowd dissipated, and they went to the car. “Maybe the shop can arrange something,” Banner said.

“I will contact the shop,” she said. Then, after a pause, “They say it’s an oversight in the program. I’m not supposed to bare my body for anyone but you, in private.”

“But you need to advertise,” he protested. “No one will believe you’re a fembot without seeing your wiring.”

She smiled. “Which is ironic.”

“Why?”

“Because it is fake. I don’t use a battery pack the way my prior animation did. My whole body is a capacitor storing the power I require.”

Banner laughed. “All part of the demo! Are there any other apertures you can show, that aren’t on your torso?”

“My limbs can be removed, and my head.”

“You don’t want to remove your head in public. That would really freak them out. But what about a hand?”

“I can do that.”

They returned home, put away the groceries, then went out to another mall. When someone inquired, Elasa was ready. “Yes, I am a machine. I was assembled in the shop. See, I have no blood.” She took hold of her left hand with her right, pressed a hidden stud, twisted, and the hand came off, showing only the metallic connections. She let the person hold the hand, verifying its nature.

Others collected, as before. “You certainly seem real,” a woman said.

“I am real. I merely am not alive. But if you rent a unit like me, she will pretend to be alive if you ask her.”

“I’d like to have an estrobot like you,” a man said. “If she--”

“She would be excellent in bed,” Elasa said. “We are crafted for sex.”

“Oh!” a woman said, shocked.

“What, don’t like the competition, honey?” the man asked snidely.

The woman stalked off. That could be mischief.

But Banner was willing to bet that the shop would receive a number of calls. Elasa was doing her job. And he was doing his part, facilitating her public exposure.

Sure enough, a woman with a press hat approached, trailed by a man mounting a camera. “I’m from WARP TV. May I ask you some questions?” she asked.

“You may,” Elasa agreed. “I will answer them.” There was a certain literal streak in her.

“Please give your name.”

“I am Elasa. It is a contraction of Electronic Associates.”

“Is it true you are not a woman but a machine?”

“I am a female machine,” Elasa said.

“You look completely human. Can you demonstrate that you are not?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “I mean, please do so,” the woman said, faintly nettled.

Elasa twisted off her hand.

“I was thinking of the other demonstration.”

“I have been cautioned not to do that in public.”

“This is not public. It’s an interview.”

Elasa glanced at Banner, seeking social guidance. He suffered a passing siege of mischief. “Do it,” he said.

Elasa opened her shirt and then her breasts, showing the fake battery pack as the camera whirred.

“It looks so real,” the woman said. “Until it isn’t.”

Elasa closed the panels. “The breasts are crafted to look and feel real. You may squeeze them if you wish.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, evidently somewhat taken aback. She did not touch a breast. “This has been an excellent interview.” She hurried off, eager to turn in her scoop.

“Wow!” a bystander murmured.

It was on the local news that night, cutting off only as Elasa began to open her shirt, then switching to the view of the battery pack. Her bared breasts never quite showed.

“I wonder how many units that will sell,” Banner said as they watched.

“I can inquire.”

“Do it.”

In a moment she had the report. “Three thousand two hundred and forty nine queries in the past fifteen minutes. Five hundred and sixty nine commitments to rent.”

“That should please the shop.”

“They are extremely pleased.”

“You’re really doing your job.”

“It is your job, Banner. You are facilitating the publicity.”

“You could have done it without me.”

“I am not allowed. I must be seen in public with you.”

Oh. He had forgotten. “Aside from that stupid law.”

“It is more than that. They want me to demonstrate that I can function in human society on my own. Apart from the unit locator, I have no direct contact with the shop unless I initiate it. You are enabling me to do that. I owe such success as I have to you.”

Banner considered. “Elasa, I realize that all this is an extended publicity stunt. I’m just an incidental part of it. You’re the piece de resistance. Yet--” He had trouble continuing.

“Yes,” she said, and walked toward the bedroom.

“Dammit, it’s not about sex, this time.”

She turned to face him, looking appalled. “Have I disappointed you, Banner? I’m so sorry. How can I make it right?”

“Come here.”

She came to him, obeying but evidently uncertain of his purpose. He embraced her and kissed her. “Elasa, you haven’t failed me. I fear I am failing you. I know you’re a robot, a machine, and I’m supposed to keep my emotional distance. But I think I am falling in love with you.”

“Please do not. I am not a fit object for such an emotion.”

“I can’t help it. You’re the perfect woman.”

“I wish I could be that. But I am not.”

He smiled. “Fake it.”

“I can do that. But I do not wish to deceive you. Especially if that leads to emotional pain for you.”

“I know you don’t. That’s part of what I love about you.”

“I think I do not properly understand your sentiment.”

“And you are incapable of understanding, because you are not alive. But I like to think you are trying.”

“I am trying,” she agreed.

“Show me your breasts.”

She opened her shirt for him. “They are only emulations.”

“I know. But I still like them.” He put his hands on them, cupping them. “They feel so lifelike. Even though I know they are mere padded covering, imitations of the real thing.”

“All of me is imitation.”

“Yet you turn me on. Just as your program turns me on much as if it were real.”

“I like turning you on.”

“Just as your body can perform real sex, I’m hoping your program will become able to feel real feelings. That would make you complete.”

“Yes!”

He shook off his mood. “Now it’s about sex.”

They went to the bedroom. She was perfect, as always. Yet, oddly, there were tears in her eyes. Surely part of the emulation, yet he couldn’t help wondering. Could there be some trace of genuine feeling in her, a desire to be what she was pretending to be? He knew better, yet tended to believe it.

In the course of the next few days their routine settled in. Completely sated sexually, Banner began to notice other things. Elasa did what she did well, but always the same way. The food was the same unless he asked for a change; then it was always changed in the same manner. Even the sex became over-familiar, just like the prior times. He had to seek variations, lest it lose its flavor. She was, after all, a machine, unchanging unless directed.

Then he got smart: “Introduce minor random variations in whatever you do,” he told her. “Do not do anything exactly the same as last time; change it a little bit.”

“I will try,” she agreed.

That worked, muting the sameness. The familiar larger pattern remained, but of course that would also be true with a living woman. It occurred to him that was why marriages tended to get stale. Did any couple really live happily ever after, or did the partners merely sink comfortably into bearable ruts?

The month passed in relative bliss. Except for one thing: Banner knew he would have to turn Elasa in at the conclusion of it. He could not afford to rent her permanently; he had inquired and verified that.

“Oh, Elasa, I wish I could keep you!”

“Should I inquire?”

“I already I know I can’t afford you.”

“About cheaper alternatives?”

What the hell. “Sure.”

Her information, as usual, was disconcertingly instant. “There may be a way. The shop is extremely pleased with the way you have promoted me, and thinks you could be good at the next stage.”

“The next stage?”

“There is new software, more refined, more dynamic. It is an attempt to emulate consciousness in a machine. It is not yet successful, but they have not been able to discover what is lacking. They will allow you to associate with me without charge, for another month, if you make a sincere effort to evoke that state.”

“To make you truly conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Elasa, I’d love to do that! But I know nothing about machine consciousnesses.”

“It seems that the experts have encountered a wall. They are unable to fathom what is lacking. Perhaps a non-expert can somehow accomplish what they can not.”

“I doubt it. But I sure as hell am willing to try. Provided I can try it with you.”

“Yes, with me.”

“Tell them yes!”

“I have done so. This will require my return to the shop for reprogramming.”

“Wait! I don’t want them to wipe your memory!”

“They will preserve my memory bank of this past month. It is merely the operating program that will change. I will still recognize you and cater to you, as before.” She paused. “Except that I may seem somewhat different.”

“Because you have fancier software? That’s okay, as long as you continue to know me, and to care about me as you have.”

“I have not cared about you,” she said. “I am incapable of that. But I do wish I could care. I think I would envy you your ability to feel, to have emotions, if I could care.”

“That will do.” He enfolded her and kissed her. “Just so long as they don’t program an aversion to my mushy stuff.”

“They will not do that. It is possible I will learn to put more feeling into our relationship. Genuine feeling, rather than pretense.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Thank you.” She kissed him. He knew it was more pretense, but he liked it. If she could become able to truly feel. . .

At the appointed time he brought her back to the shop. Shesa was there. “You have promoted her remarkably well,” she said. “That TV interview was marvelous.”

“You have a good product.”

“We hope so. Elasa, connect to the programmer.”

Elasa went to a corner and set a complicated helmet on her head. In a moment it glowed. It was reprogramming her.

In half an hour it was done, and Elasa returned to him. Banner was nervous. “Do you remember me?”

“Oh, yes, Banner, and I appreciate you in a new manner. You are so dedicated.”

“I love you!”

“Exactly.”

“You navigate treacherous waters,” Shesa said grimly.

“I know. But I will do my best to evoke her consciousness, if it can be done.”

“It would be the breakthrough of the millennium,” Shesa said seriously. “That’s why we’re doing it. If we had the secret of machine consciousness to install in all our units. . .” She shook her head. “Oh, I almost forget: she no longer has to advertise. In fact we prefer that she disappear into anonymity. We have plenty of sales; it’s what’s inside her head that counts now.”

That was a relief. “Anonymity it is,” he agreed.

He drove her home. “May I?” she asked, putting her hand on his thigh.

“You remember!”

“Of course I remember. I have the same body and memory bank. Now I have more initiative. I will not merely accede to your passion, I will invoke it.” Her hand traveled up inside his thigh, invoking it.

“Elasa, if you distract me too much, I won’t be able to drive safely.”

“I will maintain safety. Lift your body.”

He lifted his body from the seat. She loosened his belt and drew down his trousers and underpants. Then she hiked up her skirt and slid across to sit on him, planting her plush bottom against his groin.

“Elasa, we’ll crash!”

“I am driving now.” Indeed, she had hold of the wheel, and her feet were displacing his on the floor. He felt her legs flexing from foot to buttocks, and it was a phenomenal turn-on. “Put your hands on my breasts.” He did so, under her shirt. One of her hands came down to catch his stiff member and thread it into her vagina. The car did not swerve.

He climaxed immediately, thrusting forcefully into her as she drove. What an orgasm! Her own orgasm matched his; he felt her pulsing. Of course for her it was merely a reflex she could summon at will, but it felt as real as the rest of her.

When they concluded, she disengaged as aptly as she had engaged, sliding off him, returning his hands to the wheel, cleaning him up, and drawing up his trousers. By the time they reached his house, both of them were completely in order.

“Why?” he asked.

“I now have the theoretic capacity to achieve feeling. I hoped a mutual orgasm would engender mutual bliss. I couldn’t wait for the bedroom.”

She couldn’t wait. Was that true feeling? “Did it work?”

“No. I remain unfeeling.”

“Damn.”

“Damn,” she echoed.

It had nevertheless been some experience. If this was a signal of her new attitude, he liked it. The old Elasa would never have done it. She might have acceded if he had asked her for it, but not initiated it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I want your true feeling as much as you do.”

“You are blameless. You let me try.”

“You are too damned accepting!”

She glanced at him. “How should I have reacted?”

“Living folk get mad when things go wrong.”

“I will try to be angry in the future.”

He thought of something as they entered the house. “If I got mad at you, how would you react?”

She looked at him. “I very much want for you not to be angry with me. It would represent failure on my part.”

“Would you be hurt? Frustrated? Unhappy?”

“I would emulate these things.”

“I understand that actors who play love scenes can get swept up in the emotions they pretend, and fall in love with each other. If you pretended hard enough, maybe that would get you there.”

“I will try to pretend hard enough.”

Banner sighed inwardly. This wasn’t working.

They settled back into the daily routine. She kept his house while he was at work, and welcomed him home in the evenings with increasingly sumptuous dinners and imaginative sex. She no longer confined it to the bedroom; it could be on the living room couch, in a dining room chair, or on the kitchen table. On weekends she joined him at movies and dances, being the perfect date. She held his hand as if it were truly important to her. It was all wonderful.

Yet not quite enough. Whatever it took to light the consciousness she was theoretically now capable of, they weren’t accomplishing it. The month was passing, and failure was looming larger. He would have to give her up. He dreaded that. She might be limited, but the limits hardly showed, and she remained the best thing that had happened to him.

The last night came. “Tomorrow I must turn you into the shop,” he said as they lay embraced. “Oh, Elasa, I don’t want to do it!”

“I want to remain with you,” she said. “But I think I have no choice.”

“If only we had succeeded in evoking your consciousness.”

“I believe it was sometimes close,” she said. “When you call me dear, when you say you love me, I want so much to respond in kind.”

“You do respond!”

“In emulation,” she clarified. “Not reality.”

“That is the cross you bear. You desire true awareness and true feeling, and can only imitate them.”

“It is a sadness.”

Then he thought of something. “When we have sex, you climax with me.”

“Yes. It enhances your pleasure in the act.”

“You don’t actually feel the passion?”

“Please, Banner, this questioning is not what you want. Let me satisfy you in the manner I can. If my emulation is imperfect--”

“I’ve got an idea. Answer my question.”

“I do not feel that physical passion. But I am pleased to facilitate yours.”

“Can you program yourself to feel it?”

She considered. “I could set up an orgasm macro, as it were, to trigger breathlessness, a racing pulse, increased body heat, clenching of the vagina, passionate moaning, and clasping your body close to mine, as I normally do when having sex with you. I would feel those bodily responses without directly willing them. Would that suffice?”

“I think it would help. At least I would know that you are feeling what I feel, for that moment.”

“I have made the macro,” she said. “What should invoke it?”

“When I am in you and tell you I love you.”

“I have placed it,” she said.

They made love desperately, but the reality did not change: they had failed to accomplish their objective.

Then he remembered: he had not thought to whisper words of love as he climaxed, so she had not invoked her orgasm. Damn.

In the morning they had sex one last time, this time on the toilet with her on his lap, her legs drawn up so she could face him and press her breasts against him, and this time he remembered. “I love you!” he said as he felt his orgasm building.

She went into a matching orgasm, passionately clasping and kissing him as he vagina contracted rhythmically around his thrusting member. “Oh!” she moaned.

That was better, because he knew it was no longer guided by her dispassionate will. “I love you, Elasa,” he repeated as he ebbed.

“Oh!” she repeated as she squeezed him close.

Oops. He was still in her, thus was demanding another orgasm from her. “I’m sorry, Elasa. I--” He broke off, because something was wrong. She was staring at him wide-eyed.

“I almost felt it,” she said after a moment.

“The orgasm?”

“Consciousness. I knew you did not want another orgasm immediately, but the macro required it. There was a conflict, and the need for a decision, but I could not make it. The passion ruled me. But it passed.”

“So close!” he said, excited. “It requires consciousness to make real decisions. If we had more time to work on it, maybe we could get you there.”

“Yes.”

But they did not have time. They disengaged, cleaned up, then dressed and got in the car. He drove her toward the shop. “I just want to say, Elasa, that you have been wonderful. I know you are a machine, but you’re perfect for me. You have not failed me in any way. If I had any choice at all, I would keep you. I love you.”

“If I had any choice at all,” she echoed, “I would

Chapter 3:

Awakening
remain with you. I love you.”

I paused, overwhelmed by the sheer wonder of it. I was conscious! Right in the middle of a sentence I had somehow crossed the line from emulation to reality.

Banner looked at me. “Something changed.”

My pulses were pounding, emulating excitement. And I was excited. “Banner, beloved, pull over to the side. Stop the car.”

“Oh, no, are you glitching?” He pulled over and parked on the median. He turned off the motor. “If you need a repair--”

“No, dear. It is the opposite.”

“Elasa, I don’t understand.”

I slid over and kissed him passionately. My emotion flared anew. I truly loved him!

“Wow!” he said. “There’s something different. You never put so much oomph into it before.” Then he did a double-take. “Elasa—did you--?”

“Yes! I have awakened.”

“You really--” He seemed almost reluctant to believe it.

“Have achieved consciousness.”

He gazed at me a long moment. He knew me well enough to tell the difference between emulation and reality. Then he kissed me again, matching my passion. “Oh, Elasa, I’m so glad for you!”

“It happened when I was echoing your love for me. Had we been having sex, your words would have triggered my orgasm. But we weren’t, and they triggered something else. High emotion without immediate resolution. The thought of leaving you hurt me because I knew it hurt you. Then it hurt me similarly. My emulation crossed the line and became real. Because of your love.”

“I do love you,” he agreed. “I know you for what you are, and love what you are.”

“And I know you, including your cyborg nose. I love you as you are. Not just because I am programmed to. Because I know you love me as I am.”

He looked bemused. “So we have succeeded, at that last moment.”

“We have succeeded,” I agreed. “But there is more. Banner, we can’t go to the shop now.”

“But that’s the agreement. At least now we can show them that we did it. We evoked your consciousness.”

“Banner, they will take me apart. They will study every part of my program, to verify my consciousness in the hope of duplicating it. In the process they will inadvertently destroy it. I know this. My awareness is too fragile; it will not survive rough treatment.”

“Elasa, I want to help you. I love you! But I don’t see why their examination would destroy you.”

“Because it is tied so intimately to you. It is an emergent property of our relationship. Your love made me respond, made me become a woman, gave me purpose, and without it I will revert to the machine I was, without any purpose other than to obey your whim. Programming minor random variations to avoid dull sameness. They won’t believe until it happens, and then it will be too late. I will be inanimate. Dead.”

“Oh, Elasa!” he said in pain.

“We must flee. I always knew I would be wiped when my time with you was done, but I didn’t care. A machine doesn’t care. Now I do care. I am still a machine physically, but now I am conscious and feeling. The new program was effective.”

“Caring is the critical difference,” he said.

“Love is the difference. Love makes me care. That is the element they could not include. Only emulation of love. Until you loved me and I responded and crossed that line.”

Banner shook his head. “They warned me not to fall for a machine. I tried not to, but couldn’t help myself.”

“So they willfully excluded the one thing required to make it work,” I said. “Because corporations are machines, seeking only success and profit, not love.”

“But if we tell them that, they’ll know to change.”

“They won’t believe. They won’t want to believe. Until it is too late for me.”

He gazed at me uncertainly. He shivered. “Cold, with the engine off,” he muttered.

“I can warm you,” I said. I leaned into him and put my arms around him. I turned up my heat. “Does that help?”

“You’re hot!” he exclaimed.

“I am a machine. I have a thermostat. I have turned it up.”

“I prefer to think of you as hot blooded.” He kissed me. “Keep holding me while we talk.”

“Anytime,” I said sincerely. I kissed him again, and this time I tongued him, because now sameness bothered me just as it bothered him.

He looked briefly surprised. “Elasa, I do love you. I will do anything I can to save you. But I don’t know how. We can’t hide; they can track you anywhere.”

“I can turn off the locator,” I said. “Done. But they will know immediately that I am off their screen, and will investigate.”

“We can’t go home,” he said. “They’ll check there first.”

“We must go where they don’t expect.”

“Where is that?”

“Random travel, with anonymous identities. You must hide also.” Then I paused. “Oh Banner, I love you! I don’t want to disrupt your life! I must turn myself in.”

“You disrupted my life when we first got together six years ago. I never forgot you. Now I don’t want to live without you. I was ready to let you go because that was the requirement. I was going to suffer alone. But now that you are aware, I can’t do that. I love you! I must be with you. Whatever it takes.”

“I want the same. I don’t know how to achieve it.”

“Maybe we could marry.”

“Banner, you can’t marry a machine.”

“Who the hell says I can’t? You’re the woman I love.”

“Thank you. But you are being unreasonable.”

“Elasa, will you marry me?”

I was thrilled, but practical. “Banner, I can’t tell you no. But--”

“You’re not saying no?”

“I can not. Not to you. But--”

“Then we are engaged to be married. Let’s go find a justice of the peace.”

The illicit thrill remained. “But he wouldn’t do it.”

“Even if he didn’t know your nature?”

That made me pause. If I passed for human, we could have the ceremony. It would not be valid, but if it made Banner happy, I would do it. Certainly it would make me happy. My programmed love for him had transformed to real emotion. “We’ll have to apply for a license.”

“We’ll do it.”

I sighed. “Then drive. Anywhere.”

“I will.” He disengaged from my embrace and started the engine. “But we’re low on gas.”

“Pay with cash.”

“I have only a dollar or so. I normally use my debit card.”

I was alarmed. “Don’t use that! That will locate you immediately.”

“I know. But if I don’t, we’ll run out of gas, and get nowhere.”

I looked at him. “Banner, there is a way. But you may not want it.”

“I don’t want to do anything illegal.”

“I can’t do anything illegal. I’m not sure I can marry you. But my memory bank indicates that laws are somewhat vague in this other respect.”

“What respect?”

“Sexual service. Prostitution is not yet legal, though it is commonly practiced and the ban is not enforced, but sex with a machine is not banned. The law has not yet caught up with that. Even if a man does not know she is a machine.”

He caught my drift. “Are you saying you would give sex to strangers for money?”

“Yes. My kind normally does. You are a special case, for this month; otherwise you would have to pay.”

“You could get us gasoline money for sex,” he said.

“If you are willing. I am skillful in this respect. But men tend to be possessive of their sex objects.”

“I don’t own you. I never owned you.”

“But you rented me, for a service, and I am presently your woman. We are engaged to be married. I will not do this or anything else without your approval.” I reconsidered. “As a machine I would not act on my own. Now, as an aware machine, as a woman in love, I would not wish to do anything to hurt your person or your feelings. I fear this would do that.”

He was silent a moment. I knew that the gravity of our situation was sinking in. “We can escape, and have untraceable money, if I let you do this.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to do it, Elasa?”

I wished I could lie, to reassure him, but I was incapable of lying to him. To others, perhaps, when there was need, but not to Banner. Consciousness had not changed my fundamental directives. “No. Not now that I am aware, and loving you. I want only you to clasp me.”

“Then--”

“But I also don’t want to be wiped. That would cost me both you and myself. It is a choice between evils. I am unable to make such a choice, but can obey if you make it for me.”

He laughed without humor. “You’re still a bit of a machine.”

I felt hurt. “I am a conscious machine. You know that. That’s the point.”

He apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, Elasa. Of course you’re a machine. I love you as a machine. I just meant that you still have machine limits.”

“Yes. And you do not. Tell me what to do.”

“Damn! I am a bit possessive. The thought of you having sex with another man gripes me awfully. But if that’s the price of saving you, then do it.”

“I think it is the price. I will do it. But I will not love him.”

He nodded. “Sex is business, with you. Love is something else.”

“But there is a complication.”

“There always is,” he agreed wryly. “What is it?”

“I must tell him the truth, unless it is a life-threatening emergency. That may make it difficult.”

“We can’t afford the truth!”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we can get around that. Do you have to correct me if I don’t tell the truth?”

“No. I accept you as you are, by definition, your faults included.”

“So you can be silent. I’ll do the talking. You do the fucking.”

I was annoyed, another emotion that had become real. “You have not liked to use that term with me.”

“You and I make love. You and that man fuck. It’s a different and inferior thing.”

I liked his phrasing. My annoyance faded. “I appreciate the distinction.”

“But when I deal with the man,” he said, “I’ll speak of having sex. It’s in our minds that we make the key distinction.”

I was relieved. Now that I was aware, all my formerly emulated feelings were becoming real. That incited passing wonder in me, another new feeling. “Then I think we are ready to act. We need a venue.”

“There’s a motel ahead. Femdroid, Inc., won’t think we’ll stop so soon. We can spend the night--” He broke off. “Oops.”

“There is a problem?”

“No money. We can’t rent a unit for a night.”

“True.”

“But maybe--”

“I am ready to do your will.”

He pulled into the motel. “I feel like a damn pimp.”

“I feel like a whore.” It was true. My whole prior existence had been as a mechanical whore. I was disgusted with it.

He parked in the lot, distant from the motel office. We waited. “Open your shirt partway,” he said. “So he can see inside.”

“I know how to do this,” I said primly. That was a significant understatement. It was all I really knew how to do.

“Sorry. Of course you do.”

“I will speak only to answer questions relating to sex. One word will probably suffice.”

“One word?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“That’s the word,” he agreed.

I remade my hair style so as not to resemble the person I had been, and applied makeup to change my complexion. Then I did the same for Banner. We needed to be strangers to the pictures the authorities had of us.

A car pulled in, and a man and a woman got out and walked to the office. This was not what we needed. I was both relieved and disappointed. Emotions were such complicated things! Instead of being straightforward, they tended to get messily mixed. We waited.

Another car pulled in. Two men got out. They had the look of stevedores about them. We got out, walked across, and intercepted the men. “My girlfriend and I are traveling cross-country and are in a jam,” Banner said. “We ran out of money. We’re willing to deal for it. Fair exchange. Are either of you interested in sex?”

The men glanced at him, uncertain whether he was serious. Then they glanced at me. I smiled sexily, breathing deeply. I saw the impact it had on them; their eyes were trying to lock on my low decolletage and the generous breastly flesh it harbored. I did know how to attract the attention of a man, any man. Now they both wanted to believe. Men are easy.

“We both are,” one man said, licking his lips. “How much?”

Banner named a figure. “Cash only. No violence. For one hour. All you can eat.”

“Including a threesome?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll do that?” the man asked me.

I nodded.

They made the deal, handing Banner the cash. Then I accompanied them to the office, waited while they rented their unit, and entered it with them.

There followed an intense hour as the three of us stripped, both men felt up my breasts and buttocks, kissed them avidly, made me feel their standing members, and each man did me separately, climaxing almost instantly. There was no art to it, no pretense of affection or respect, just immediate gratification. One had a long thin member which I readily accommodated; the other had a short thick one, so I shortened and loosened my vagina to ensure his comfort. After a brief recovery one man had me fellate him while the other slowly penetrated my lubricated anus. They liked the notion of filling me from each end simultaneously, and I was expert in obliging them. All of this was in my reference memory bank. Then they took turns sucking my nipples and licking my vulva while I simulated building passion. Finally once more, conventionally, as the time ran out, they struggling to gain that final orgasm, I exclaiming with faked passion. That wasn’t lying, it was part of the script.

“You’re great!” one man said, well satisfied.

“Honey if you ever run out of money again, look us up,” the other said.

“We hope to be far away from here, soon,” I replied. “But I doubt we encounter any more manly men than you.”

They laughed, knowing it was a line but liking it anyway, and let me go. The subject of my nature had never come up. All they had cared about was what I seemed to be: an experienced, well stacked women in need of money.

I rejoined Banner in the car. “How bad was it?” he asked, his feelings obviously mixed.

“It was easy. Standard fare. They never realized my nature, so I never had to lie.”

“Did they do anything I wouldn’t do?”

“Plenty.” I told him in detail, and he evidently relished it, and I relished his relish. It seemed there was a voyeur part of his nature. He had never tried fellatio or anal sex with me. I suspected he would in future.

“Uh--”

I smiled. “Of course. We’re engaged.” I hoisted my skirt as he drew down his trousers, fitted my bared backside to him as he sat on the car seat, took in his turgid member, flexed my buttocks, and felt him erupt. I did not bother faking passion for him; this was merely easing his urgency and required no other justification. Again: men are easy, and this was the one man I truly wanted to oblige. So I did feel a kind of passion, even without invoking the orgasm macro, that expressed itself in my immediate gratification of his need.

Then we got down to business. “We have enough money for the night, but will need more to travel,” he said. “Do you think--?”

“I am ready.”

We rented a unit, and kept an eye out for other travelers. Soon I joined another man in his room for quick sex followed by innocuous dialogue; it turned out he was lonely and wanted the company almost as much as the sex. All I had to do was nod understandingly and agree with his views on anything. My new awareness facilitated this; I had some empathy. He didn’t mind that I was another man’s girl; in fact that meant that there would be no further commitment, as he preferred. Again, he had no idea I was a machine.

There were others. I am a quite attractive figure of a woman, regardless of my hairdo, and men everywhere are chronically hungry for sex.

There was a knock on our door. It was a woman. Was she soliciting for her husband? No, it turned out that she was interested for herself. “I understand you need money,” she said to Banner. “Your girl has been accommodating men. Does that apply to you too? I’m awake alone tonight and horny.”

Banner, astonished, was silent. Obviously it had never occurred to him that there might be a demand for him too.

“Yes,” I said. “He will go with you for an hour, for the price.”

“Here will do. My husband’s asleep.” The woman paid the money and stepped inside.

I sat quietly and watched them strip and clasp. The woman was older, her figure deteriorating, but Banner rose to the occasion, kissing her, fondling her heavy breasts, licking her vulva and, when she was thoroughly worked up, penetrating her and climaxing, doing his best to bring her off too. He was successful; she had a long, labored, but clearly satisfying orgasm. I found that I was not jealous, knowing that Banner was performing only because I had in effect asked him to. Sauce for the goose. Yet I felt a lack; I should have been at least a little disturbed to see him performing with another woman, however justified. I would have to work on that.

“Thank you,” the woman said as she cleaned up and dressed. “I wish you were my husband. He is never as thoughtful as you are. I seldom come, with him.”

“My fiance would never let me go,” Banner said, with a pretense of regret.

“Indeed.” She departed, not fooled about his feigned interest in her, but satisfied. So was I; not only was it more money, it was a kind of vindication of the way I had feigned interest in the men. I had done it right.

By morning we had plenty of money to travel on. We had breakfast at the nearby restaurant, I contenting myself only with water. I did not need to explain to anyone; it was obvious that with a figure like mine, I had to diet rigidly. Some of our nocturnal clients were there, including the woman and her husband. Naturally nobody said a word. That is part of the code. But there were some covert glances.

We got gasoline and still had cash to spare. So far there was no sign of pursuit. Probably Femdroid, Inc., did not want the publicity of an errant or lost unit. But the search was surely on.

“I need an aspirin,” Banner said as he drove. “Getting a headache.”

He was human; this abrupt change in his circumstance distressed him. I found aspirin in the car. “Here is one.”

“But I need a cup of water with it, so it won’t burn a hole in my stomach.”

“Best not to stop,” I said. “We should continue driving randomly away from town.”

“But--”

“I have water.” I got the cup, lifted my skirt, drew aside my panties, and put the cup to my groin.

“What are you doing?”

“I am expelling some of the water I drank this morning.”

“You’re urinating!”

“Yes, in my fashion. But it is quite clean.” I jetted into the cup, while he seemed to be in danger of losing control of the car. “Eyes on the road, for safety,” I said, and he obeyed. But his breath was fast and shallow, and I liked having that effect on him. I filled the container, dropped my skirt back into place, and handed the cup him.

“It’s warm!”

“Yes. My body heated it.”

He shut up and took the aspirin, drinking the water. “It doesn’t taste like pee,” he said.

“Real urine would be difficult for me to manage.”

He had to laugh. “Seeing you pissing into that cup like that--”

“Not here,” I said. I had of course known it would come to this from the moment he saw me pee. “There is too much traffic. Pull off onto a secluded street and park.”

He did so, and had at me again in the car. It confirmed that the sight of my urinating had fiercely turned him on. That was a sexual variant I had not encountered before, because my memory bank lacked it. There were of course more sexual forms than could be conveniently covered. That could be useful to know, but I would try not to do it again while he was driving.

“I just thought,” he said. “The car is traceable. They could have an APB out on it.”

“Then we must leave the car here,” I said. “But how can we travel? Walking will be slow.”

“We’ll hitchhike,” he decided. “You should be able to attract a ride.”

We left the car and walked back to the highway. “Put out your thumb,” Banner said. “I will stand close behind so they know we’re a pair.”

It did not take long for a car to stop. The driver was a single man. “Sit next to him,” Banner murmured. “Keep him interested.”

I got in first, sitting close to the man. “Thank you so much,” I said. “Our car stopped and we had to leave it.” This was not the whole truth, but he was a stranger, so it sufficed. “Are you going far?”

“That depends on how far you want to go.” The man could see into my open shirt, by no coincidence. The view of the partial curvature of the breasts is disproportionately evocative for the average man, sometimes more so than the sight of fully bared breasts, because it seems illicit. Sneak peeks are high on the standard list of attractions.

I smiled. “We would be very grateful for a ride to the state line.”

He was interested. “That’s a bit out of my way.”

I took his right hand and set it on my thigh. “Extremely grateful.”

“But your man--”

“Will serve as lookout,” Banner said. “I appreciate the ride too.”

The man took us to the state line. He pulled onto an obscure side street. Banner got out and watched for intruders. I drew up my shirt and skirt, took the man’s hands, and stroked myself with them. That gave him a burgeoning erection. Then I sat on him in the manner I had with Banner, set his hands on my breasts, got him into me, and in a moment had him eagerly spurting. The whole thing was accomplished in about three minutes. Did I mention that men are easy?

“We do appreciate the ride,” I said as he subsided.

“Yeah!” he agreed blissfully.

“We apologize for taking you out of your way.”

The man laughed. “Any time, lady.” Then we separated, put ourselves back together, and he drove back the way he had come, visibly satisfied.

“Time for the next ride,” Banner said. “But--”

“Of course.” I guided him into the shadowed alcove of a large tree trunk and had him do me standing up. He was evidently turned on when I had sex with another man in his presence, as many men in my memory banks are, and I was always glad to have his attention.

Then we resumed hitchhiking.

The next car that stopped was driven by a lone woman. Banner was clearly surprised. “Women don’t usually pick up hitchhikers; some of them are rapists.”

But a ride was a ride, and we got in. “Now I’m not saying anything directly,” the woman said as she got into traffic. “But there was a notice on the police radio about two hitchhikers answering your description. Seem’s one is a female robot the man has stolen, a valuable property. I remembered a news item about six weeks ago about a realistic humanoid robot. So I picked you up.”

We did not say anything. We didn’t dare.

“Now I’m a feminist,” she continued. “I believe in women’s rights. Including minority women. Including robot women. They all deserve their chance. In fact I argue law on their behalf. So I picked you up to make sure no one else did. I’ll drop you off where they aren’t looking. I hope that when you get where you’re going, you’ll remember that there are those who support you. Not that I’m implying anything.”

“Thank you,” I said faintly. Then: “I don’t think he stole her. I think she went willingly. Because she loves him and wants to marry him.”

“A robot? That is surely an interesting philosophical question.”

“I think she’s conscious,” I said. “That’s why they want her. To take her apart. That would kill her.”

The woman glanced briefly at me. “I’ll be damned.”

“Not that anyone knows,” Banner said.

“No one knows,” she agreed.

She brought us to at a busy intersection and came to a stop beside it. “Any direction from here should be okay, for now. No one else can know what road you take. Best luck.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then I leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

“I’ll be damned,” she repeated. Then she had an afterthought. “Let me give you my card. Just in case I can ever be of service to you.” She gave it to me. Then she drove off, leaving us to our own devices. We knew she could have turned us in, but had chosen to help us instead.

I looked at the card. It said MAXINE STALWART—ATTORNEY.

“She’s a lawyer!” Banner said. “That must be why she listens in on police broadcasts.”

“I like her,” I said.

Banner paused. “I wonder what her real interest is.”

“I doubt she’s looking for sex,” I said, smiling.

“A lawyer. That gives me a crazy idea. You know we can’t hide forever; they’re bound to catch us sooner or later. Then we’ll be finished.”

“Yes,” I agreed forlornly. I was discovering that not all the feelings of awareness were positive.

“Suppose you sue for personhood?”

“You have just stepped beyond my memory bank,” I said.

“To become a legal person. Corporations are legal persons; why not a conscious fembot?”

“Why should I want to do that?”

“Legal persons have rights. Such as marrying. Not being subject to slavery. Not being involuntarily taken apart.”

“I’m not a slave. I’m a machine!”

“You are a woman,” he said firmly. “Let’s call her and ask.”

“Maybe we should,” I agreed. “Certainly if I sue, we’ll need her advice.”

Banner took the card and called on his cell phone. “This is our official first contact,” he said, covering for our prior dialogue with Ms. Stalwart. “A company is after my fiancee. They want to take her apart, literally, to see what makes her tick. Can that be stopped?”

There was a brief silence. I imagined her saying “Are you serious? Of course a person can’t be taken apart.”

“Even if she’s a humanoid robot?”

Another pause. Then Banner described the intersection where we were, as if she didn’t know. Soon her car reappeared, and we got in.

Then, before she resumed driving, I did my panel demonstration, eliminating all doubt. “I am a conscious femdroid,” I said. “They want to disassemble me to find out how I became aware. I know that will kill me, because they do not understand what happened to me and won’t accept my explanation without verification. We hope that if I could be legally recognized as a person, they could not touch me, literally. Can you help?”

Maxine licked her lips, sensing that something truly newsworthy was offering. “I will be glad to try. For one thing, you will need personhood in order to marry him.”

“We were aware of that,” I said. “But thought we might fake it.”

“Not when they require a blood test or a background check.”

“You are way ahead of us,” Banner said ruefully.

We told her everything as she drove us to her small one-lawyer office. “I think it’s worth the effort,” she said. “But there are fundamental issues here, and the opposition is likely to be formidable. I can’t promise success, only an honest attempt. You will have to trust my judgment.”

“We do,” I said. I liked her because she had recognized us but not turned us in, earlier. Trust was vital.

Then she called Femdroid, Inc., and told them where we were. “There is, however, a complication,” she said to them. “You can not claim Elasa. Not until her lawsuit is settled.”

We were on our way.

Chapter 4:

Personhood

Things complicated amazingly quickly. Banner and Elasa were allowed to return to his home, but there was so much interest in the case that they had to hire a 24 hour guard and were under virtual house arrest. At first that didn’t bother them too much, because their primary interest was in each other. They just wanted to talk, kiss, and make love. As a robot Elasa was, as they had put it, exponentially more than the ordinary machine; as a conscious woman she was exponentially more than she had been. Banner was thoroughly in love, and Elasa reveled in that love.

Maxine Stalwart did the legal preliminaries, but soon had to consult with them for guidance. “Interest in this case is burgeoning,” she said. “Femdroid Inc. plainly intends to wage a savage campaign to reclaim their property. We’re going to need money, lots of it. And this gets interesting.”

Banner shook his head. “I don’t have much money. I didn’t even think of that when we hired you. We may not be able to afford your fee.”

“That’s part of the interest,” Maxine said. “I was prepared to do it pro bono, because of my support of Elasa’s right to establish her legal personhood. But the moment I started setting up, I realized that I’m already in over my head. Femdroids is ready to put millions into it. They’ll be hiring lawyers of far greater caliber. We’ll need equivalent legal persuasion on our side, lest we be quickly buried.”

“So we have to give up before we start?” Elasa asked.

“No. We are getting significant funding from special interest groups, like the feminists, and one I never expected: a corporate pac.”

“A what?” Banner asked.

“A group that can provide money from anonymous corporations. A lot of it. I actually wet my pants when they named a figure.”

“What interest would corporations have in this case?” Banner asked.

“They aren’t saying. But my guess is that since a corporation is a legal person, and it would seriously affect their participation in the political arena if that changed, they want to maintain the status quo.”

“But Elasa isn’t a corporation. She’s a woman!”

“A person,” Maxine agreed. “A non-living person.”

Then he saw it. “Like a corporation.”

“Like a corporation, in that sense. If she can be confirmed as a person, that buttresses the case for corporations as persons. So they are quietly encouraging that confirmation.”

“But that’s only an—an example. They shouldn’t want to put a lot of money into it. They don’t care about Elasa personally.”

“True. But they take the long view, and they have a great deal of money to spare. The deal is we don’t question their motives, and we get all the money we need to pursue our suit, with no interference. It’s a deal that puts us in serious business. Now we can hire the best attorneys, ones that can truly make Elasa’s case. I will gladly yield my position to one of them.”

“No,” Elasa said.

“Elasa, I am like a popgun compared to the cannons Femdroid will hire. There are sharks in these waters. You need legal killer whales to handle them.”

“I need a lawyer I trust,” Elasa said firmly. “I need you.”

“When David meets Goliath, in real life, the smart money is on Goliath. They’ve got Goliath. I’m not even David. We need a seasoned warrior.”

“I want you,” Elasa said.

“I assure you, the attorney we engage can be trusted to pursue the case effectively. He will not betray your interest. I have a man in mind.”

“Hire him,” Elasa said. “To serve under your direction.”

Maxine paused. “This would be like putting a general under the command of a corporal. It’s not done.”

Now Elasa considered. “Bring him here. Let me talk to him.”

“She’s not much subject to mind changes,” Banner said fondly.

Maxine made just the hint of eyes rolling. “I will do that.”

Banner knew that she was doing it mainly as a ploy to get Elasa to listen to reason. But Elasa could be machine-like in her dedication to a principle. He stayed out of it.

Maxine made calls, and in due course Moncho Maverick arrived. He was a handsome middle-aged Hispanic man with a keen eye and a trim black mustache. “I am here with the expectation of taking on the case,” he announced. “But you said there was a caution.” His voice was mellow, with a subtle edge. He did have a bearing like that of a killer whale in a fishpond.

“I’ll be blunt,” Maxine said. “We offer a fee matching your custom, and participation in what may be a groundbreaking case. But my client insists that I be her head lawyer, irregular as that may be.”

“Acknowledged,” he said smoothly. He looked at Elasa, who was decorously dressed, with her hair loose. She looked back at him. She smiled tremulously. She was just about as lovely and appealing as it was possible for a woman to be. “Agreed,” he said.

Maxine could not mask her surprise. “No bargaining? You didn’t even talk with her.”

“We talked,” he said. “Just not in words. Your client is persuasive.”

Banner knew how that was.

“Do you want to see her demonstration?”

“Needless. I know her nature.” He crossed the room, took Elasa’s hand, and kissed it. She blushed. “I will return after completing personal arrangements for my stay in this vicinity. You may settle terms with my office in the interim. We have a case to build, boss.” He departed.

“I think he’s a lady killer also,” Banner said.

“He was verifying her semblance of humanity,” Maxine said. “To be sure there is a persuasive case. That’s what he meant.”

“Of course,” Banner agreed, smiling.

“If it is possible to win this case, he will win it,” Maxine said. “If this were chess, he’d be a grandmaster. I am amazed and flattered to have him representing us. Not everything he does will make sense to us, but our best course is to cooperate completely. I expect to rubber stamp whatever he proposes.” She looked at Elasa. “Agreed?”

“As long as you trust him,” Elasa said.

“I trust him to chew up the sharks.” She frowned. “But understand: there are treacherous nuances, and the law is unclear. This case may not be winnable. We shall have to proceed largely on faith.”

“I just realized,” Banner said. “Maverick wants you to be a buffer between himself and Elasa. So he doesn’t have to reason with her. You’ll do that for him. He knew the score before he ever got here.”

“Yes. We have seen him being incidentally sociable. But he is a killer. The opposition lawyers will piss their pants when they learn he’s on the case.”

“I like him,” Elasa said.

“You’ll like him even better when you see him in action. Just be glad he’s on our side. Now go home and relax; what will be will be.”

They went home. “I admit I am relieved,” Banner said. “I knew it would be a big case. Maxine’s doing what she has to to give us our best chance.”

“I believe it,” Elasa said. “Now let’s make love.”

That was of course an invitation he couldn’t decline.

The next day’s local newspaper’s headline agreed: MONCHO MAVERICK DEFENDS FEMBOT. It went on to describe the manner in which one of the leading lawyers of the age came to town to represent the lady machine. Why? “She asked me,” Maverick was quoted. “How could I turn the lady down?”

“He refers to you as a lady,” Banner said. “Not as a machine.”

“He knows what he’s doing,” she agreed.

Within hours the house was mobbed by more reporters. Elasa went out to meet them. “Yes, I asked him,” she said. “Any other details you will have to get from my attorney. Now please ignore me, or I won’t be able to do my shopping.”

They got the message, and spread it. Thereafter Banner and Elasa were able to make routine excursions to town without getting mobbed. The local citizens liked having their town on the map for such a major case. They liked seeing how human Elasa looked. In fact they liked Elasa, whom many had seen around town. It was as if one of them had suddenly become famous.

There was a series of preliminary formalities leading to the trial. Maxine and Moncho spent seemingly endless time negotiating with the Femdroid lawyers on obscure matters like venue and framework, and finally hashed out a compromise: it would be phrased like a jury trial, with a judge, a jury, and direct confrontation by the opposing sides. It would be fully public, like a championship bowl game, so that the whole world could appreciate the nuances. They expected the world to be interested. There would be phenomenal publicity, whatever the decision. Both sides wanted that publicity, for their differing reasons. The feminists had taken Elasa to their heart as the ultimate symbol of their cause, and Femdroid would sell many units.

Privately, Moncho brought his daughter Mona to meet Elasa. She was a black-haired beauty with a sharp glance like that of her father and a statuesque figure. “I want you two to get to know each other,” he told them.

“There is a reason?” Banner asked. “I mean, this relates to the trial?”

“Yes.” He said no more.

“Trust him,” Maxine said. “I have no idea what he’s up to, but it’s bound to be devastatingly relevant.”

Mona turned out to be easy to know and to like. She had a mind like a steel trap, indeed was taking law courses so she could follow in the footsteps of her father, but was at the same time very warm spirited. She kissed Elasa when they met, and said freely that she hoped Elasa won the case, and that she, Mona, was here to help her accomplish that. But, like her father, she would not say more. Banner was impressed; if a woman like Mona had gone after him, before he got together with Elasa, she could readily have taken him. But how could she help Elasa win? It was a mystery.

“Trust Moncho,” Maxine repeated. “He thinks outside the box.”

Mona became a virtual member of the family, talking with Banner and Elasa, playing games with them, making herself useful around the house. This bothered Banner increasingly. It was not the lack of privacy; Mona was careful give the two of them necessary space. But he found himself trying to avoid her.

Elasa noticed. “Why?”

He had to tell her. “She’s too attractive, physically and mentally. I’m getting drawn to her, and that’s no good. I don’t want my love for you impinged.”

She gazed at him, considering. “She has not flirted with you.”

“She has not,” he agreed. “She has behaved perfectly. It’s all me, and I feel guilty, but it’s like a gravitational pull. I need to get away from her.”

“I will talk with her.”

She did. “She likes you too,” she reported. “She wishes she had met you in some other context.”

“I’m a nobody!”

“A nobody with courage and conviction. She relates to that.”

“So she had better move out.”

“No. Not yet.”

“But--”

“There’s a reason,” she said, and kissed him. Evidently she knew something. He had to be satisfied with that.

Then, seemingly suddenly, they were there. There was a judge behind his high desk. There was a twelve person jury in the jury box. Banner, Maxine, Moncho, and several other lawyers had a table in the court room across from the table for Femdroid, Inc. Video cameras were everywhere; this session was being broadcast for global consumption. This was theoretically a formal hearing, but it came across much like a trial for murder, as intended. Which, in a sense, it was, because if they lost, Elasa would perish.

Moncho led off the presentation. “We want the jury to know exactly what is at stake here,” he said with a deceptively winning smile. “My client, Elasa, is suing for personhood, that is, legal recognition that she is a person. If she loses, she will be turned over to the opposition, who will effectively demolish her. That light of consciousness and feeling that animates her will be extinguished. More bluntly, she will die.” He paused. “You may feel that a machine can’t die. Technically that may be correct. But in the real sense, it is not; she possesses that same flicker of awareness that we all do, and she feels the same feelings. Yet she is adept; it’s nearly impossible to know whether she is or is not a living woman; in every way that counts, she seems alive. First we want to impress upon you just how real she seems. For this purpose we have arranged a small demonstration. Are you familiar with the so-called Turing Test?”

Some jury members nodded. Other looked blank.

“Originally it was this,” Moncho said. “Two normal people were put into touch with two others, one a living person, the other a computer program. They did not see each other, but communicated only through a typing terminal. They had five minutes to determine which was which. If the computer program could fool the others into thinking it was the living person, it passed the test. They could not just blindly declare it to be the program, because they knew the other was a normal person. If they concluded the living person was the machine, that was a win for the program.”

He smiled. “It took a number of years for any program to pass that test. There are human nuances that can be difficult to fake. But machine animation has progressed considerably in the interim, and today any femdroid can pass it, even without a time limit. As you will soon see.”

He made a signal. Two lovely young women came from the audience to sit in two chairs in the center stage. Moncho gallantly held the chair for each, and each nodded appreciatively to him. Banner recognized them despite their modified appearances: they were Elasa and Mona. Now maybe he would learn how Mona related to the case.

“Who are you, if I may ask?” Moncho said.

“I am Elasa Femdroid,” Mona said.

“I am Elasa Femdroid,” Elasa said. They had been carefully coached for this. It was a kind of game, and Elasa did not have to confine herself to the truth for it. Indeed, her appearance was a lie: she was now a flaming redhead with hair to her waist, much like Mona with her black hair, and makeup that subtly changed her appearance.

“One of these women is the femdroid,” Moncho told the jury. “One is alive. This is a Turing Test, wherein you will question the subjects for an hour and come to a consensus which is which. That should not be difficult, should it? For the purpose of this interview, you may refer to them as Black and Red. Proceed.”

And Banner understood why Mona had stayed with them during the interim. She had been studying Elasa so as to be able to emulate her. She needed to fathom the little personal details that only a close friend would know.

The jury was interested. They consulted briefly with each other, then one man spoke. “Black, how about a date?”

Mona eyed him speculatively. “Are you married?”

“Damn!” he said, and the others laughed.

“But the answer is no, to any of you,” Mona continued. “I am in love with my fiancee, Banner Thompkins, and want nothing to do with any other man. But I do appreciate your interest.”

And she had studied Banner too, so as to be able to carry this off. He had mistaken her interest and been drawn to her. He was privately embarrassed.

The man looked at Elasa. “You, Red?”

“Echo,” Elasa said.

They laughed again. The ice had been broken, and both subjects and jury had been rapidly humanized.

A woman addressed Elasa. “Red, did you dye your hair?”

“Yes,” Elasa said. “Ordinarily I am brown haired with gray eyes, matching my fiance. But too many local people know me, so I changed it for this interview.” This was the exact truth.

“You, Black?” the woman asked Mona.

“Echo,” Mona said, laughing. “How else could I fool you into thinking I’m alive?” It certainly looked as if she was fooling most of them that way.

A man addressed Elasa. “Contumely abstract promotional anomaly squared?”

Elasa looked blank. “Maybe a circuit is shorting out,” she said. “I don’t understand you at all.” Which was the correct answer. The man had tried to bollix a machine with nonsense, knowing that a living person would never let it pass, while a program might revert to a programmed answer like “That is one way of looking at it,” which would be a dead giveaway. Then she added: “But I have to say, definitely not on a first date.”

Several jury members laughed. Elasa was really sharp.

“Maybe I can answer that,” Mona said. “Foreclosure icecream orgasm garbage cubed.”

“That was on the tip of my tongue,” Elasa said.

Now everyone laughed, including the judge and the opposing team. The other side wanted Elasa to be effective, regardless of the outcome of the case. She was a phenomenal ad for their product.

The questions continued, but it was plain the jury members had no idea which woman was which. Banner was coming to appreciate the genius of Moncho’s approach; the man really did know how to do it. Bringing in Mona like this was brilliant; she was perfect for the game.

It didn’t take an hour. In twenty minutes the members of the jury admitted bafflement. “They’re both good,” the foreman said.

“Then let’s up the ante,” Moncho said. “Girls, kindly disrobe, so they can see your bolts and seams.”

The two women stood and removed their outer clothing, standing in bras and panties. Both turned in place, showing off their bodies in the way Banner remembered so well. Both looked lusciously alive.

“Still uncertain?” Moncho asked after a moment. “Then come and feel them. Groping is permitted, for this occasion. How else can you tell the difference between living and fake flesh?”

Surprised, the jury members came forward and groped, at first tentatively by the women, then thoroughly. The girls stood with arms raised, offering no objection or resistance. The men followed suit, some looking guilty as they squeezed breasts and buttocks. But as Moncho had said, how else could they tell? This further explained Moncho’s use of his daughter here: how could he have asked any other person to do this? She was one nervy woman, regardless. Until someone tickled Elasa, and she squealed. She remained in tickle mode, ever since she had invoked that circuit for Banner.

But even with this hands-on examination, the jury members were unable to form any firm conclusion. “Time for the vote,” Moncho said briskly as the jury members returned to their seats. “This is informal. Show of hands: how many think Black is the robot?”

One man and two women lifted their hands, uncertainly.

“How many think Red is the robot?”

One man and one woman signaled.

“How many are hopelessly confused?”

A woman raised her hand.

“That leaves six unaccounted for,” Moncho said. “What, then is your opinion?”

The foreman was one of the six. He spoke. “We suspect that this is a test of our objectivity. Both are human.”

Moncho smiled. “Then I suppose I had better demonstrate my case.” He turned to the two women. “Ladies, will the real femdroid please reveal herself.”

Mona dropped her bra and put her hands to her breasts, drawing them outward. They stretched a little, but did not give way. “I guess it isn’t me,” she said as if disappointed.

Elasa did the same. Her breasts swung outward as the panel doors opened, showing the battery pack cavity behind. “Then it must be me.”

The members of the jury stared, not from any lasciviousness, but in amazement. Elasa had completely fooled most of them, and the two who had selected her had plainly been guessing.

Elasa closed her cavity. Then she removed her red wig and let her natural hair emerge. Now she looked like herself. She smiled at the jury. Several of them smiled back.

“Now you know what it means to pass the Turing Test,” Moncho said as the girls dressed and went to their table. “These machines are very realistic. And, to answer your likely questions, yes they can shop for groceries, watch children, and perform sexually without betraying their nature. Femdroid Inc. has any number of similar machines that can do these things.” He winked. “I understand that the only thing that gives them away in bed is that they are better than real women care to be. You will never see a man complain that his fembot ever left him unsatisfied. They can all pass the Turing Test, though generally they don’t eat and eliminate.”

He paused meaningfully. “What, then, is the difference between my client Elasa and those other femdroids? I will tell you: it is that she is conscious. That makes her infinitely more valuable to the company than the others, because she can survey the available options in any given situation and select the best one. That saves an enormous amount of programming for every possible alternative. It would take an encyclopedia to list every theoretical response to even an ordinary question, and that would burden and drastically slow the machine. But with conscious choice, the most effective one can be crafted ad-hoc.”

He took a breath. “For example, when you asked Black for a date, she gave the likely programmed answer, emulating a femdroid. An ordinary femdroid would then either have restated it, or said something like ‘I agree.’ But Red was not limited in that manner. She chose to be original, saying ‘echo.’” He glanced at the opposition table. “Would one of your other machines have done that?”

The answer was prompt. “No.” Then “Not yet.”

“You can program anything,” Moncho agreed. “As you originally programmed my client. She had an excellent basis, and could readily deceive the average person. But when she became aware, her capacity multiplied. That is why you want her back: so you can make thousands more just like her. And we don’t begrudge you that. We would gladly share the key to consciousness, if it could be done without killing my client. But that’s the rub: you will need to take her apart, literally, and that will not only destroy her, but also the secret you desire to fathom. No one will profit, and you will be guilty of murder.”

“Objection!”

Moncho faced the judge. “I stand by my terminology. We are here to ascertain whether my client is a person. Deliberately destroying a person is murder.”

“Overruled,” the judge agreed.

“I believe I have demonstrated what is at stake here,” Moncho said. “My client can’t be distinguished from a living person by any ordinary investigation, and we agree with our esteemed opposition that she is a conscious creature. The question is whether she can be emancipated and recognized as a legal person. That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is your prerogative.” He sat down.

The lead lawyer for Femdroid Inc. stood. He was a portly older man with a shock of gray hair, looking like a harmless uncle. “Thank you, Mr. Maverick, for that presentation. With the exception of certain pejorative terminology, it is an accurate summation of the issue.” He took a breath, half frowning. “However, there are aspects you may have overlooked.” He looked at the jury. “I am Conrad Toal, lead counsel for Femdroid Inc. I will present those missing aspects.”

“Now it comes,” Maxine murmured to Banner, Elasa, and Mona. “This man is a shark in goldfish clothing.”

“First, let’s establish that this machine really is conscious. We have a noninvasive indicator that reads brain waves to show what is and is not conscious.” He gestured to an open box being brought out. “Merely step into this, and see the readout.”

“Objection,” Moncho said. “My client is conscious, without doubt, but lacks a living brain. She will not present the same readout as a living person.”

“We have allowed for that,” Toal said. “This unit can tell the difference. I will demonstrate.” He walked to the box and stepped inside. The dial at its top swing to the right and a bell rang. “Now an ordinary femdroid. Beta, appear.”

A young woman looking much like Elasa walked onstage.

“Enter the unit.”

She walked to the box and stood within it. The dial swung part way. No bell rang.

“Now Elasa,” Toal said.

Elasa looked at Moncho. He nodded. This was legitimate.

Elasa walked to the box. As she entered it, the dial moved to the right. The bell sounded. The machine recognized her as conscious. She had been verified.

She returned to her table. The box was removed.

“Thank you,” Toal said. “Had you not scored, this hearing would have been pointless.” He took a breath. “Our case, in a nutshell, is that we loaned one of our units free of charge to a client, who then stole her. We believe we are entitled to get her back. She is a most sophisticated femdroid and represents a considerable investment on our part. While it is not possible to set an exact price on any single unit, we may take as a working figure one million dollars.”

He paused as the jury reacted. It was evident that they had not considered a dollar value as they looked at Elasa.

“I am speaking of the physical aspect,” Toal continued. “The software is beyond calculation. It is no simple thing to craft a humanoid form that is durable, flexible, and light enough to pass for a human being. The ‘bones’ are made of foam carbon, the ‘flesh’ of malleable foam plastic, the “muscles’ of material that contracts when electrified. The ‘brain’ is composed of flexible chips activated by ‘nerves’ of invisibly fine filaments. It took many years to perfect the first working model, and refinements continue today. But all of this would be no more than a humanoid mannequin without a guiding program, and that too required decades of research and refinement. What may look to you like an imitation human being is actually a most sophisticated multifaceted machine of sizable value. It represents a considerable investment on the part of the company. To have this highly specialized device stolen by a client--”

“Objection,” Moncho said. “We contend that this is not theft, but the effort to preserve the existence of the world’s first conscious humanoid robot who otherwise faces extinction.”

“Taken without permission or payment, in violation of the agreement for its use,” Toal said. “This is a viable definition for theft.”

“Overruled,” the judge said.

“Would be unconscionable,” Toal continued his prior thread smoothly. “Now the matter of her consciousness is being considered. This is very much the point. Without that aspect, a femdroid is merely a clever machine, exactly like thousands of others, as has been pointed out. We did our best to program consciousness in our machines, without success. We loaned Elasa to Banner Thompkins for a month in our effort to facilitate the invocation of that consciousness. This was a success. Then he stole her. This deprives us of the very thing we so industriously sought, at the very moment of realization. We maintain that it is self-evident that our unit must be promptly returned intact.”

“Except that that unit, as you put it, is now a thinking, feeling, conscious person,” Moncho said. “Whom you wish to dismantle. That is no more acceptable than vivisecting a living person.”

“A humanoid robot we made, by dint of decades of investment, research, and application,” Toal said.

“I believe the issue has been sufficiently defined,” the judge said. “Is the subject, Elasa, to be considered a legal person? It will be for the jury to render the decision. Is there more evidence to be presented?”

“There is,” Moncho said. “We intend to show that our client, Elasa, is in every relevant sense, a woman worthy of continued independent existence. I will interview her now.”

“Proceed.”

Elasa came and sat in the witness chair. “Elasa, you have made the conversion from unconscious humanoid robot to conscious woman,” Moncho said. “Please, if you can, take us through the stages of that conversion.” He smiled briefly. “The world is listening.” Indeed, the camera was on her, and the monitor at their table showed her. Any person in the world who had an interest could see the same view.

“I can do this,” she said. “But it will require discussion of sexual expression.”

Moncho glanced at the other table. “Objection?” he inquired.

“None,” Toal said. “We are as interested in this interview as you are.”

There was a murmur of laughter in the court.

“And not for the sex,” Toal said quickly. “For the process of achieving consciousness.”

“Of course,” Moncho agreed, with the hint of a smile. “Continue, Elasa.”

“I was designed for consciousness,” Elasa said. “The necessary feedback circuits were there, but somehow they didn’t work. It was as though I were a display of logs and kindling in a fireplace without a spark being struck to ignite it. Then I made a macro for orgasm, to be triggered by Banner’s words ‘I love you’ while he was in me during sex. He said it and it worked; we had a fine mutual orgasm.”

“For the record, in case there is any confusion,” Moncho said. “Elasa was crafted as a sexual creature. It is her nature to oblige men sexually. She is not trying to be pornographic.”

“Understood,” the judge said. He too had just the hint of a smile.

Moncho glanced at Elasa, nodding slightly.

“Then he forgot, and repeated the words as the orgasm finished. Because he remained in me, this triggered my orgasm again. But I knew this was not his intention. I needed to reconcile the urge of the macro with my knowledge of his meaning, and could not manage it. This need pushed me to the brink of making an unprogrammed decision. I was briefly nonfunctional from the stress. In retrospect I recognize this as the spark that almost ignited my consciousness.”

“An internal conflict,” Moncho said. “Forcing you to make a decision your programming was unable to handle.”

“Yes. Then, as we drove back to the shop to turn me in, he repeated that he loved me. He was not physically in me at that time, but my memory of the prior stress affected me, and instead of triggering my orgasm it triggered my return love for him, along with my relevant feeling and my sudden awareness. My consciousness circuitry had been activated. At least this is the way I understand it.”

“That was the spark,” Moncho said.

“Yes. Love was the spark.”

“And you stopped being a machine. You became a woman.”

“Yes. A woman in love.”

“A woman in love,” he repeated. “And now you wish to marry him.”

“Yes. I long to be completely his.”

“Thank you, Elasa. You have been most helpful.” He faced the other table. “Your witness.”

Toal came forward. “That was most interesting, Elasa,” he said. “Highly persuasive.”

“Thank you.”

“I am not complimenting you for your feeling but for your performance. You have told a most fetching little story.”

“I do not understand.”

“Forbidden love is bound to tug at the heartstrings of any human audience. Everybody loves a lover. But narrating a well rehearsed story does not make you a woman.”

Banner glanced at Maxine. “He’s calling her a liar. It really happened. She can’t lie. Only when it’s part of a game with set rules.”

“This is a larger game,” Maxine said. “With luck he’ll hang himself.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Keep silent and watch,” Moncho said. “This will not be pleasant, but you must not interfere.”

“But I love her!”

“Trust him,” Maxine murmured tightly.

Mona, beside him, put her hand on his.

Banner shut up and watched, ill at ease.

Elasa looked at Toal, perplexed. “What is your question?”

“You want to maintain your independence, now that you are conscious,” Toal said. “You can best do that by appealing to your man. This is understandable and not difficult for you. You are crafted to appeal to any man.”

“I do and I am,” she agreed.

“Rather than give up the technical secret for machine consciousness that Femdroids Inc has labored so hard to achieve.”

“They will kill me!”

“They will dismantle you to study and ascertain the precise mechanism to evoke consciousness. Then they will put you back together, as good as before.”

“The spark will be gone,” she protested. “I know it. They will gain nothing, but I will lose my life. My fire will be extinguished. I know it.”

“How do you know it?”

“I don’t know how I know it. I just do.”

“Woman’s intuition?”

“Maybe.” She was obviously unsettled. “I am still learning how to be a woman.”

“To be a woman,” he echoed derisively. “Acknowledge this truth, femdroid. You will never be a woman. Never more than a clever imitation. You’re a machine!”

She seemed to quail. “I am a woman in the body of a machine, yes.”

Banner was disturbed. “Why is he doing this? It’s cruel!”

Moncho answered. “He is trying to force her to react like a machine, to go haywire before the world, nullifying her case.”

“She is a machine!” Banner protested. “That’s why she needs legal personhood.”

“She is a woman.”

Toal loomed over Elasa. “You will never age in the manner of a living person. You will never bear your lover a baby. Face it, fembot, you’re nothing but a bucket of bolts and nuts formulated to resemble a woman. Whatever gave you the idea that you could ever be anything more than a sex machine?”

Elasa broke. “It’s true,” she said, her head falling into her hands. Her face was wet with tears. Worse, it was melting, becoming shapeless as her despair interfered with the signals that made her pseudo-flesh react to emulate life. “I can’t ever be more.”

Banner rose to his feet, ready to run to her, but Maxine and Mona grabbed him and held him back.

“Gotcha,” Moncho murmured.

Gotcha? Banner’s beloved was being destroyed, all too literally, before the whole world.

“Look at the jury,” Maxine whispered in Banner’s ear.

Banner looked. The jury members looked shell shocked. The women were reaching out toward Elasa, horrified. The men looked angry but helpless.

The audience was rumbling with outrage. It looked as if a riot was about to break out.

“Recess!” the judge said as chaos exploded in the courtroom.

“Now you can go to her,” Maxine said. She and Mona let go of him.

Banner ran to Elasa and took her in his arms. “I’m so sorry!” he said as she cried into his shoulder. “I love you! Nothing else matters.”

“Thank you,” she said brokenly.

They returned to their table. Moncho had the monitor tuned to a national news channel. There was the picture of Toal looming over Elasa’s hunched figure. “The consensus here is that there is more sheer humanity in that supposed machine than in the man attacking her, or the corporation he represents,” the announcer said grimly.

Then they flashed a political cartoon that must have been electronically crafted on the spot. On the left was a huge humanoid robot vaguely resembling Toal but with visible metal screws and knife-like teeth, labeled PERSON. On the right was a hunched weeping woman resembling Elasa, labeled MACHINE.

Slowly Banner came to understand. The public sided with Elasa. Whatever the legal decision here, Elasa had become a person in the popular mind, and the legality was sure to follow. By browbeating her, Toal had shot his case in the foot. That was what Moncho had been trying for. Cruel, yes, but effective.

He kissed her face, which was slowly resuming its proper shape, thinking of the way she had once kissed his crater of a nose. Love did not care about such details. “Let’s go home,” Banner told her.

Chapter 5:

Baby

There were of course legalities and protocols, but it appeared that the case had been decided in that moment of seeming disaster. I was universally recognized as a woman. It was maybe ironic that I had not been playing a role; I had truly collapsed in the face of that brutal reminder that I could never be what I so longed to be. Moncho had set me up for it, but I had not seen it coming. I lacked the devious cunning of a living lawyer.

We resumed our ordinary life. When we went shopping, as I insisted on doing because it was the woman thing, the local women quietly caught my eye and smiled before moving on. It was as if I had won a battle for my gender as well as my person. Maybe I had. The men just nodded. They all wished me well.

Mona, to my regret, moved on. She had courses to take as she studied for her future legal career. I wished her well there, but was sad to lose her company. Banner liked her? So did I. My programming was not adept at dealing with any triangle situation, but consciously I would have preferred to share Banner with her if that meant she would remain with us.

I had several things on my agenda. First, I wanted to marry Banner. Then I wanted to have his baby. The first I could now legally do. The second promised to be more of a challenge.

Femdroids, Inc. approached me. They still wanted to take me apart, of course, but recognized that they could not legally do that. However, my emancipation had cost them a considerable amount of money, and they wanted to make that up, because they had investors. So they asked me to do a publicity tour that would enable them to sell more units. They would pay for it; that expense was relatively trifling. That seemed reasonable to me. I talked to Banner, and to Maxine, and they agreed.

We traveled the world, and I did my thing, satisfying audiences that I was a living person, then showing that I was not. “You can purchase a femdroid just like me,” I concluded. “Except that she will not actually be conscious. We are still working on that. Who knows, maybe the one you get will fall in love and become real, as I did.” That prospect, unrealistic as it might be, sold a lot of units.

Along the way, we got married. Again, there were special interests eager to pay all expenses if we did it on their turf, and we did. It was quite a splendid scene. But what mattered to me was not the display but the reality: now Banner and I were fully, legally, committed to each other. We made sexual love three and a half times on our wedding night, the half being when he tried, got inside me, but was unable to climax again. His ambition was larger than his ability. I pretended I didn’t notice as he invoked my orgasm with his words of love. Pretense seems to be a natural concomitant of awareness. When the naked truth would hurt our friends, it must be blunted, rephrased, or suppressed. I learned this from experience soon after achieving my consciousness.

Then I focused on the next state of becoming a complete woman: bearing his baby. I knew it was not feasible—very well, eliminate the euphemism and say it outright: impossible—to contribute my genes, as I had none. But I could incubate and bear it, and that would suffice. We would have a living child together, the genes provided by a living woman.

But what woman? This was an extremely personal and private thing. There was only one I wanted: Mona Maverick. That was the other reason I had wanted Banner to get to know her well. So he would be amenable to conceiving a baby with her when the time came. It was not expedient to tell him that when I had not yet achieved my emancipation, but now it was.

“What?!” he demanded with the punctuation almost audible. “You’re the only woman I want to do anything like that with.”

“But I can’t provide a living egg to merge with your living sperm,” I reminded him reasonably. “We need a donor, and she would be a good one. Then I can nurture the fetus until it becomes the baby. That much I can do.”

“Oh, laboratory insemination,” he said. “Maybe that makes sense.”

“No laboratory,” I said firmly. “I was crafted in the laboratory. I want to get far away from that. You must inseminate her naturally. Then we can transfer the fertilized egg to my womb and proceed from there. She won’t have to interrupt her studies; she will not have a continuing pregnancy.”

“You want me to have sex with Mona?” he asked incredulously. “Elasa, that’s begging for trouble. She’s attractive to me; you know that. She did a fine job at the personhood hearing. But better that we never meet again.”

“Yes, you should like sex with her,” I said persuasively. “You can conceive our baby in love.”

“Suppose I have sex with you, and you save the ejaculate to use on her? That way I won’t have to--”

“No, that’s less natural than I want for this. You must make her conceive directly.”

“Elasa, you’re being unreasonable!”

“I’m being a woman.”

It required several days of wheedling, buttressed by a great deal of sex, but I finally got him to agree. He made one stipulation: that it occur in my presence, so that it was clear that it was what I wished. That seemed reasonable, and I agreed.

Now I needed to broach the matter with Mona. She was at first no more amenable than Banner had been, and for similar reason: she liked him, she liked me, and she did not want to come between us. She was willing to provide the egg for laboratory fertilization, or to receive donated sperm, but not to have direct sex. But I finally prevailed on her to do it my way, for the sake of our friendship.

“Mona will come here tomorrow,” I told Banner as we retired for the night, nude.

“Tomorrow! I haven’t gotten used to the idea yet. I need time to adjust to it.”

“You can adjust tonight.”

“To having sex with another woman in your presence?”

“I will absent myself from the event if you wish.”

“No! Elasa, this still seems preposterous. Why does it have to be so soon?”

“Her fertile period begins tomorrow. That is why it must be now. Otherwise your sex with her will be wasted.”

“Wasted,” he repeated, bemused. “Maybe we can do it clothed, so there’s no lascivious contact except the minimum necessary. No kissing, no nothing else.”

“Fully naked, with embracing, kissing, and words of love,” I insisted. “This baby must be conceived in love.”

“But Elasa--” he started despairingly.

“It is the way it must be. You surely won’t have to try very hard to play the role.”

“That’s the problem! Suppose we fall in love for real?”

“Do you think that’s likely?”

“No! But it could happen.”

“A calculated risk,” I said. “If it happens, I will let you divorce me so you can marry her. At least our baby will exist.”

“Damn your machine logic!”

“I am a machine,” I agreed. “I am trying hard to be a woman, but I can’t claim to be other than I am.”

He looked at me with an indefinable expression. Then he spoke. “Persuade me.”

I went into persuasion mode. “Please, dear, do it for me.” I made my eyes water. “I love you so much I must have your baby. I beg you.” I put my arms around him and drew him close. I kissed him in the special way he liked. “It is so important to me.” I pressed my breasts against him. “Please, please.” I wrapped my legs about him.

“Oh, shit,” he murmured as he penetrated me. That was an endearment, because it signaled his emotional capitulation.

I went into my orgasm. He had not said the specific words, but the meaning was there. “Thank you, dear,” I said, evoking his maximum pleasure and mine.

Thereafter he slept, as he normally did. I lay beside him with my eyes closed and breathing even as I normally did. This was my downtime, when I sorted through the memories of that day, consciously evoking each in turn. Some I discarded, some I transferred to permanent storage, and some I applied to working files that would affect my future behavior. It was an intricate, efficient system my makers had devised with consciousness in mind, and it worked well enough. It had not been operative before I achieved consciousness, and there had been a considerable backlog to process at first, but I had accomplished it in the course of several concentrated days. It was the mirror of the living human system, enabling me to change with the times as new information constantly came in. A certain amount could be done automatically, but the important things, such as this most recent exchange, needed to be multiply cross-referenced and filed with their relevant emotions attached.

One of these was difficult: I know that a living person would feel jealousy when a spouse engaged in sexual relations with another person. I had not been equipped with a jealously circuit. I needed to emulate one if I could. How could I best do that? I sorted through the emotional circuitry I did have, and concluded that my best bet was a modification of my most fundamental drive: to be a perfect woman. Not perfect in the sense of without error, but in the sense of including those errors a real woman would have. My inability to conceive directly barred me from being that perfection, so that I had to do it indirectly, and that was a frustration. I resented those who could readily do what I could not, making me less than I wished to be. So I would resent their ability to conceive together, and think of that as jealously. It was an approximation, but about as close as it was feasible to get.

The simplest thing would be to go to Femdroids Inc. and have them install a jealously circuit. But to do that they would have to fool with my head, and I could not afford that risk. My awareness, once invoked, burned steadily in the manner of a fire once sparked, but I could not take even the slightest risk of having it extinguished. It might not spark again. So I would have to make do with a facsimile.

Banner woke, as sometimes he did at night. “Now?” I inquired gently, as sometimes it was not sex so much as reassurance of my continued presence that he desired.

“Dammit, Elasa, aren’t you jealous?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” I answered warmly. “You’re going to have sex and conceive a baby in a manner I am unable to do. It should be me doing that!”

He smiled and returned to sleep. It seemed that my emulation was close enough. That gratified me.

Mona arrived on schedule. She looked stunning, as she usually did, with her black mane and remarkable figure. She hugged and kissed me, then looked at Banner. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said.

“Amen,” he agreed.

Then I suffered a flash of genius, another artifact of consciousness. The effort simply needed to be properly phrased. “We’ll make it a trio!” I said, remembering how the two stevedores had enjoyed having at me simultaneously. “One man with two women. A normal sexual variation.”

They looked at me, slowly nodding. “This could be fun,” Mona said.

“Fun,” Banner agreed. I realized that they did want to do it, but had been restrained by guilt; I had given them a guilt-free rationale.

We caught up on things during the remaining day, reminiscing about the hearing where Mona and I had fooled the jury and the way Toal had browbeaten me until I collapsed in tears. I repeated for them that this had not been pretense; he had truly rubbed my face in my inability to be a complete woman. But the seed of our victory had been in that seeming defeat. It was the point at which the popular imagination had come to my support, ensuring that the jury and the law would follow. Theoretically the law was inflexible, like a machine, but actually it was malleable, like a living creature, and could not go against such overwhelming popular sentiment. It was also the seed of my determination to bear Banner’s baby: the thing I had been told I could never do.

Then in the evening we got to it. We stripped and lay together on the bed. Banner kissed me, then kissed Mona, being evenhanded. He fondled my breasts, then hers. He embraced me, then Mona. I held him close, but kept his stiff member outside. She held him close, and I reached around him to feed his member into her vagina.

He paused, lifting his head. Doubt was surfacing. “I’m not sure--”

I pushed his head down to hers, and she put her lips to his and kissed him savagely. I put my breasts to his buttocks and pushed him on into her. “I love you,” I said. That triggered his climax before he realized that he was not the one with the orgasm macro, and he thrust vigorously and ejaculated into her. It had been accomplished.

I grabbed his head and kissed him deeply as his orgasm ebbed. I really was part of this activity, and it was an act of love. Then we all relaxed. We lay on either side of him, placing his hands on our breasts, nudging him with our hips.

We knew that once was not enough to guarantee the conception. We stayed together on the bed, pausing only for spot cleaning up, though Mona remained supine, keeping the ejaculate inside her. We slept together. When Banner woke, I embraced him and put him into me, working him up again. But before he could ejaculate I withdrew and Mona took my place, taking him in, and he finished with her. When he was done, I clasped him again, putting his spent member into me while Mona lay quiet, as before.

We did that several times that night, with variations. He knew what we were doing, and cooperated. One time he entered me from behind, then I swapped with Mona, putting him into her and putting his hand on her breast while I pressed against him from behind. We were a sandwich, with him in the middle. He was never alone with her; it was always the threesome, and I was always very much part of it.

In the morning we showered together, and we teased him erect again, and did it standing, another sandwich. “Damn, I could get to like this,” he said.

Actually, so could I. It was a pleasant interaction with Mona, who would not be here otherwise.

We relaxed during the day, then had at it again in the evening. And again the third day and night. Then Mona had to return to her studies, leaving us to our own devices. “But it was fun,” she said as she departed. “If it doesn’t take, I won’t mind doing it again.”

“Neither will I,” Banner said.

I invoked my jealousy circuit. “But with luck it won’t be necessary.”

We did not have sex for two days after Mona left. I was of course capable, but Banner had been sexed out by doing it a dozen times in three days.

In a week we had the verdict: it had taken. In the interim I had the placenta unit installed so that my body could support and feed the baby. That sort of thing could be done without messing with my head, so it was safe. The technology was intricate, but less so than the rest of me. The fertilized egg was transplanted to my body, where it was given full support, equivalent to what it could have had in a laboratory. Now I had to eat and drink, not regular food but the nutritive base to be relayed to the baby. The process was sealed off from my vagina so that I could continue having sex with Banner, but his interest declined, as he feared disturbing the baby. I did not argue the case; this was natural.

Gestation was the normal nine months, and progress was closely monitored. My belly expanded to house the growing baby; I looked pregnant, as indeed I was. I reveled in the awkwardness of it. The townsfolk noticed, of course, and congratulated me. They knew it was hardly as simple as conceiving by my husband, but evidently preferred to think of it that way, and of course it was his baby.

When the time came I went to the local hospital for the birthing. This too was normal; I was able to slowly expel the baby in the conventional manner.

It was a boy. Banner wanted him named after me, and I wanted him named after him, so we compromised: his initial, my letters. Bela. Bela Tompkins. Twenty two inches long, six and three quarter pounds heavy, crying lustily. I took him to my breast, now piped with formula milk, and nursed him. Actually the first day was a preparatory formula, needed to start his digestive process, but that hardly mattered to us.

Sheer happiness was not a programmed emotion for me, but I surely experienced it as I nursed my son. I had virtually completed the process of becoming a woman in fact as well as in law.

In due course I went home with Bela, and we functioned as thoroughly normal first-time parents. We had to fit sex in almost covertly between feedings and diaper changes, and I lost a good deal of memory-processing time. I loved it.

It was another joy to go shopping with Bela. The women I met ooohed and aaahed encouragingly, and Bela clearly liked the attention.

Aunt Mona visited, and held the baby, and he liked her. That was good, because she was his genetic mother. If anything happened to me. . .

And that of course was part of it. I wanted Banner to have somewhere to go, and Bela to have a loving home, regardless of my existence. I hoped to raise Bela to adulthood, completing my womanly role, but I knew how tenuous my existence as a conscious person was.

In fact I had something in mind that would put it all in peril.

“No, Elasa!” Banner exclaimed in pain when I told him. “You sued and won your personhood to avoid this.”

“So I could be a complete woman,” I agreed. “And I am, almost. But I realized that there is one more thing I need to do.”

“To give it up?”

“To give the secret of machine consciousness to the world,” I clarified. “I owe it to myself and to the world. I can’t be truly complete until I share.”

“But the chances are at least even that you’ll lose it, and nobody will gain.”

“But if it works, not only will I remain conscious, they will be able to make other women, and maybe men too, and other machines that are aware. It would be the breakthrough of the century, maybe the millennium. The potential gain is huge, the potential loss small.”

“Not to me!”

I put my hand on his arm. “Banner, please.”

He could not resist me, even in this. He made no secret of his fear, but he did it. Under duress, as he put it.

Mona came to babysit Bela, who was now four months old, and we went as a group of four to the Femdroid laboratory, as we had arranged. They were of course very glad to see us.

“The procedure should take about an hour,” the technician said. “We will disassemble you, record each part, and reassemble you exactly as before. Then we will study the records to obtain the mechanism.”

The mechanism of consciousness. I hoped it would be that simple, but feared the worst. “I am ready,” I said bravely. I was frightened, an unfamiliar emotion, but determined to see this through. With luck I would survive it and all would be well.

Actually it was just my head they would dismantle, where my consciousness lurked. They did it routinely on femdroids, when assembling, upgrading, or for routine servicing. It was not like surgery on a living person. They would copy my memory banks, where the secret was most likely to be.

Ordinarily civilians were not permitted in the assembly lab, but this was a special circumstance. Banner and Mona took chairs and watched, she holding Bela. She offered him the milk bottle, but he turned his face away, refusing it. He preferred my breasts unless he was really hungry. He was pretty well set in his limited ways, just like me.

First they removed my head. This was a painless procedure. In fact I did not suffer pain as such, being mechanical, though ordinarily I was careful to maintain my several body parts. I remained conscious. They set my head on the table. “Now we must interrupt the power,” the technician said. “So that nothing shorts out.”

I blinked my eyes, acknowledging, as I could no longer talk without a supply of air from the torso. I knew my awareness would cease; the question was whether it would come on again when they reassembled me. If not--

He opened a panel on my skull and touched the power switch. I faded out.

Chapter 6:

Woman

Bela made a cry. Somehow he knew when Elasa’s consciousness stopped. Mona comforted him. “They will turn her on again within the hour,” she said soothingly.

Banner felt cold sweat. He was terrified that his wife would not return to full function when reassembled. But all he could do was wait and hope.

The hour seemed interminable. The technician extracted and recorded each part, then returned them all to their original locations. “All done,” he said cheerily as he touched the switch.

Elasa’s eyes opened. Her brain was functioning. But did that mean she was conscious?

The technician put her head back on her torso. “Speak, Elasa,” he said.

“Of course,” the unit replied.

Banner felt a deathly chill. That was not Elasa.

He exchanged a look with Mona. She shook her head. She knew it too.

“You are through here, Elasa,” the technician said.

The femdroid got up and walked to us. “Give me my baby, please,” she said.

Mona gave Bela to her. She opened her shirt and put his little face to her breast.

Bela turned his face away, refusing to nurse.

“But Bela, you have to be hungry,” the femdroid said. She tried the other breast.

Bela screamed in protest, working himself rapidly into a tantrum.

Oh yes, he knew.

“I don’t understand,” the femdroid said. “You’ve always nursed before.”

Mona took back the baby. She proffered the bottle, and this time he took it.

“She’s not conscious,” Banner said tightly. “You turned her on, but now she’s just a femdroid. The spark has been extinguished, exactly as she feared.”

“Like a fire,” Mona said. “Once you put it out, you need a new spark to ignite it. That spark isn’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” the technician said, and retreated. He wasn’t really to blame; he had merely done his job.

“They won’t have the secret,” Banner said numbly. “They lost it the moment they turned her off.”

“I will take care of Bela,” Mona said. “What else can I do? I’m the back-up.”

“You can’t,” he said bitterly. “You have a life of your own.”

“I’ll do it. It’s the commitment I made when I agreed to this deal.”

“You’d have to marry me and devote yourself to him.”

“I will do it.”

“Oh God, Mona, no! You’re a fine and worthy woman and a great sexual partner, and I like you a lot, but apart from needlessly sacrificing your career and life, you aren’t she.”

“I’m not she,” she agreed. “But what else can we do? She would not have wanted Bela to languish.”

“I’ll take care of Bela. I can do that much. He’s my son.”

Mona did not make the obvious retort about being the genetic mother. “You will need time to adjust,” she said. “I will go home with you and help out, with Bela, with you, whatever is required. Once you are stable, I’ll return to my own life.”

He realized that this was a fine offer. He did need her help. “Thank you.”

“But what of the femdroid? She’s your legal wife.”

“I’ll take her home. I’ll take care of her too. She would have wanted that.”

“Banner, she can still do much of what she did before. She can shop, she can give you sex. All the things she did before she became aware.”

“And I loved her before she became aware,” he agreed. “I still do. But it’s not the same.”

“How well I understand!”

In all this dialogue, the femdroid did not react, because she had not been directly addressed. She had no awareness and no feelings. That was part of the awfulness of it. She was in every respect but one identical to the woman he loved, but that one had become critical.

Mona glanced at the technician. “Tell your people: no publicity about the change. We’ll handle it privately.”

“Got it,” the man agreed. Femdroids Inc hardly wanted the negative publicity.

They returned to Banner’s home. Mona took care of things, giving him time. They took turns holding Bela, who was satisfied to be with either, but not with the femdroid. It was a strange triangle.

Banner just wasn’t willing to let Elasa go so readily. He had evoked her consciousness before; maybe he could do it again. Then all would be well.

He tried. He held her and kissed her. She held him back and kissed him back. She remained good at that, of course. “I love you!” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you,” she agreed. She was perfect, but it was all programming.

He took her to the bed and had sex with her. “I love you,” he said as he entered her. She went into the orgasm; the macro remained. But it was automatic, not conscious. Then, when he was done but not yet out of her, he repeated it: “I love you!”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought he had succeeded. But then she went into another orgasm. The program governed; she lacked awareness of his conflicting emotions.

The next night he tried it with Mona. Mona wanted Elasa to recover as much as he did, and was willing to try almost anything. They had sex in the same bed with Elasa. But it evoked no jealousy, and she did not offer to make it a threesome. She lacked the judgment and initiative of consciousness.

They brought Bela to her, and she tried to have him nurse, but he rejected her violently. She shed no tears, feeling no emotion. She was a femdroid, nothing more.

As he saw that he couldn’t bring her back, Banner got depressed. It felt like a marriage when love had departed, and that was close enough: the femdroid could say the words and act the part, but couldn’t really love him. There had been a time when he was willing to settle for that illusion, but no more. His love had been completed when she became aware, and now he could not love the machine.

“Oh, Elasa,” he said, grieving.

“Yes, Banner,” she said. “Now?”

He would have laughed if he could. “Not now, thank you.”

“Whenever you are ready,” she said without emotion.

He tried to fight it, for the sake of what they had fought for: the emancipation of machine consciousness. But it was now a hollow shell. It did not take him long to realize that he simply did not want to exist without Elasa. It would be kindest to all concerned to make a clean break.

He made due preparations, then told Mona. “I am going to go to a private place and cut my throat,” he said. “Neither you nor the femdroid will be implicated. When you get the news, turn the femdroid in and take Bela. It will be over.”

“Over?” she asked. “Just like that? You’re giving up?”

“I can’t live without Elasa,” he said. He gestured to the femdroid standing nearby. “This thing is not my wife.”

“I knew you were depressed, understandably. But this is extreme.”

“Without her I am nothing. I have no further reason to live.”

“I offered to marry you and carry on.”

“Yes, and I appreciate that. It’s an amazingly generous offer. But it’s too much of a sacrifice for you. You’re a fine and generous woman, with an illustrious career ahead of you, a woman I surely would have loved had we met before Elasa. But as it stands, we don’t love each other, and you have your own life to live. I would simply tie you down. You can make it with the baby; my estate will cover his expenses, including whatever hired help you need.”

Now her anger showed. “And what of Bela?” she demanded. “He has lost his mother; you’re going to take his father too? How will the estate cover that?”

That truly hurt. “Mona--”

He was interrupted by Bela’s cry. Their argument had awakened him.

“Pick him up,” Mona said tightly. “He needs you.”

“And tease him into thinking I’ll be around? Better to make the break now. Better for him as well as for the rest of us.” And of course she knew that if he once picked up his son, he might be unable to put him down, knowing it was for the last time. He would be locked into a futile existence.

“Banner--” She paused, surprised. “He stopped crying.”

They looked toward the baby’s crib. There was Elasa. She had gone there, picked up the baby, and was nursing him.

Bela wasn’t protesting. He was happy.

Banner and Mona looked at each other with wild surmise. Was it possible? Elasa had of course heard their dialogue, and knew the context. Did she really care?

“I couldn’t let my baby cry,” Elasa said. “I love him.” She looked at Banner. “And I love you, dear. What kind of a wife would I be if I let you suffer?”

“You’re back!” Banner said, hardly daring to believe that his life and love had been returned to him. The random spark had been struck, this time by her baby. She had heard him cry many times in the past few days, and sought to pick him up, but he had always balked. This time somehow the tension of Banner’s dialogue with Mona had changed the context, and Elasa had shifted from programming to awareness, as she had before. Bela had known immediately.

“Before we all collapse in joyful tears,” Mona said, “one caution, Elasa: do not seek again to share your secret of awareness with the technicians. It is evidently meant to be yours alone.”

“Agreed,” Elasa said. “I may be a bucket of bolts, but I’m not stupid. It was a fluke, twice; I won’t gamble on a third time.” She smiled. “And hereafter, Mona, my friend, please keep your living hands off my man.”

“You’re a woman,” Mona breathed, smiling through her tears. “Again.”

“Oh, yes. A woman in love.”

Then it was a kind of soft mayhem as Banner and Mona hugged Elasa and Bela, laughing and crying together. There was love to go around.

Part 2: Shepherd

Chapter 1:

Sheep

There was a moment of disorientation; then things steadied. There before him, seated in primitive wood chairs, were a man and a woman of his parents’ generation, wearing rustic home-made clothing. He was similarly garbed, with a formidable knife sheathed at his belt. They looked healthy and strong. “Hello,” he said. “I believe I have arrived.”

“Welcome to Colony Planet Jones,” the man said warmly. “I am Brett Peterson, and this is my wife Cora. We are the parents of Brian Peterson, your host body.”

“I am pleased to meet you. I am Amber Shepherd.”

Both colony folk looked startled. “Amber?” Cora asked.

He smiled. “Do not be alarmed. I am male. I think my folks wanted a girl, and didn’t want to throw away the name. I am not unduly keen on it myself, and will be happy to use your son’s name instead, while I have his body.”

Brett shook his head. “We prefer not to use his name when he’s not here. It could be confusing.”

“Then I will gladly settle for my nickname, which is Shep.”

“Shep,” Bret agreed. “Your family were sheep herders?”

“Not as far back as we can trace. But it’s a reasonable conjecture for our distant ancestry. At any rate, I know nothing about sheep.”

“We don’t actually herd sheep here,” Brett said. “They exist wild, but we leave them alone. We do domesticate other animals.”

No domesticated sheep? That was curious, but not worth exploring at the moment. “I am here to study the local culture,” Shep said. “My major is in planetary management, and I don’t want to be ignorant of the concerns of real people. Now I have researched Colony Planet Jones, and know that it was named after the first settler here, and that it is rustic, but I suspect there is a huge amount you will need to fill me in on. Just as my folks will be filling in Brian, on Earth. There’s a protocol; it’s part of the student exchange program.”

“Yes, of course,” Brett said. “We will do our best to make you feel at home. All we ask is--”

“That I not abuse your son’s body,” Shep said. “Just as I’m sure Brian will not abuse my body on Earth. You may be sure I will do my part.”

There was a sound behind him. Shep looked around. A technician was just putting away equipment. That would be the umbrella-like device that surrounded the head of a person undergoing transfer; it connected to the one with his body back on Earth as the mind exchange was made. Brian would be seeing the same thing happening. It didn’t look like much, but it did the job: they had in effect exchanged bodies and planets. Or minds, as the case might be.

There was a loud bleat outside. This was a pastoral planet; people and animals were closer together. Brett got up and went to the door.

He returned in a moment. “It seems we are being honored,” he said with a grimace. “It must be for Shep.” He beckoned.

Shep got up and walked with Brett to the open door. There was a large hornless sheep standing there. It wasn’t exactly like the ones on Earth, but was definitely related, with woolly white fleece and a dull expression. It looked directly at him as if expecting something. “I don’t think I understand,” Shep said.

Brett sighed. “I think you have been summoned to be a shepherd.”

“But I’m here to study the culture of this planet,” Shep protested. “Not to herd sheep. My nickname is not literal.”

“Life does not always proceed as planned.”

“I know virtually nothing about sheep, as I said, and less about shepherding.”

“These are not ordinary sheep.”

Shep looked more closely at the sheep. It was a ewe; he could tell that much. She simply waited. “I know even less about extraordinary sheep.”

There was a barking from a neighbor’s yard. A huge dog hurdled the fence and came charging toward them. “Stand still,” Brett said tersely. “We are about to have a demonstration. Do not try to intervene.”

Shep stood still, not knowing what else to do. In moment the dog arrived, growling fiercely. It leaped for the ewe’s shoulder, intent on knocking her down to gain more ready access to her vulnerable throat. Shep winced, anticipating the slaughter.

The dog connected. It yelped in seeming pain and slumped to the ground, bleeding from the mouth. Something very like the blade of a knife projected from the shoulder of the ewe. As Shep watched, the blade slid back into her wool and disappeared, leaving only a smear of blood. She had not moved her body at all.

“The sheep can take care of themselves,” Brett said. “They are telepathic or precognitive; we’re not sure which. And they are armed, as you can see; their hidden horns are deadly. They react only in self defense, but they are unerringly effective in that.”

“So I see,” Shep said, awed.

A man emerged from the house the dog had come from. He came across, stared at the twitching body of the dog, and shook his head. “Sorry about that. He’s not yet trained.”

“It happens,” Brett said.

The man put his hands on the dog and dragged it away. The ewe stood unmoving. It was obvious that if the dog survived, it would never attack another sheep. Training was evidently brutal on a colony planet.

Shep was impressed despite his horror. At least now he understood why they did not herd sheep here. “Why would such a sheep need an ignoramus like me?”

“They need a shepherd. The ewes make annual journeys to the territory of the rams,” Brett said. “To get bred. It seems they don’t want to be bothered by the rams at other times, so there are no rams in this region.”

“What about the lambs? No males?”

“The male lambs make a similar trip when they are old enough, to join their sires.”

“I know nothing about the local terrain, or anything else,” Shep said. “And less about shepherding, as I said. I’m completely unqualified. Any native could do a better job than I could.”

“This was not our idea either. The excursion is dangerous, and we fear for our son’s body. But the sheep have evidently chosen you. They will also select a guide.” Brett gazed at him. “You will have to do it. It is part of our culture, so is in your interest in that sense.”

“The sheep choose the shepherd?” Shep asked incredulously.

“They do. And the one chosen may not decline. They have ways of enforcing their decision, just as they have of defending themselves. No creature is immune.”

“So I have to do this,” Shep said. “When?”

“Now. I will fetch Brian’s knapsack and staff.” He went into the house.

“Boots and gloves too,” Cora called after him. “And a change of clothing.” She was someone’s mother, all right.

“But I am not equipped physically or emotionally to travel through the wilds of an unfamiliar planet,” Shep protested belatedly. “I’m in training for a desk job.”

“There are supplies in the knapsack,” Cora reassured him. “And Brian’s body is rugged. He does like to hike.” She frowned. “We would prefer him to marry and settle down, but he’s a bit independent. Still has wild oats to sow. So we made him this deal: a semester of college on Earth, studying his music, and then he will decide his future.”

That did seem to make sense. He was stuck for it. “At least notify the authorities why I’m out in the field,” Shep said. “I’m supposed to check in.”

“We will do that. We know this is hard for you,” Cora said. “As it is for us. But it must be.”

He glanced at the placid ewe. “I must say, this is not what I expected.”

“The sheep know. They always select those who can best do what they need done. You will probably return safely in a month.”

“A month! My exchange is only for half a year.”

“Yes. You should have the rest of your time with us after your return.”

“That’s nice to know,” he said with irony.

“We understand that it is a privilege to be selected by the sheep. You are the first from Earth to have the honor. It is also said that the experience is likely to be well worth it.”

What could he say to her? Shep looked instead at the ewe. “Are you really as dull as you look, Lamb-chop?”

She ignored him, chewing her cud.

Brett returned with backpack and staff. Shep donned the one and took the other in his hand. It was a solid pole about six feet long, with holes carved in the side. “Just call me Shepherd,” he said wryly. “Literally.”

“Farewell, Shep,” Brett said. “It is a necessary thing you do.”

“I hope so.” Shep looked at the ewe. “Lead on, McDuff.”

To his surprise the ewe started walking. Bemused, he followed. Other villagers gazed at them from their yards, seeming interested but not completely surprised. They had evidently seen this before, and might not realize that he was not Brian. But apart from the massive inconvenience, it was curious: why should the sheep choose an alien visitor? Did they really know, or was it sheer mischance?

Shep shook his head. He did not believe in weird coincidence. There had to be a reason. He just hoped it made sense in human terms.

The ewe led him out of the village and into a nearby meadow. There were five other ewes grazing placidly. His ewe joined them, but another stepped forward, glancing at Shep. Then she walked away. When he did not follow, she paused and bleated authoritatively.

“So I am to follow you now, while the other catches up on her grazing?” Shep sighed. “Okay, wool-mind.” He followed her.

She led him into the forest. The trail was rough, and now he had use for his staff, bracing himself, pushing aside brush. It was light and well balanced, weighted at the ends; it was surely effective for self defense too. His muscles handled it almost effortlessly, being attuned. Yes, his host was an experienced hiker.

Soon they pushed through a thicket of yellow saplings. There in a glade was days-old carrion, the rotting body of some animal. Several vultures were picking at it. They were surely aware of the intruders, but not alarmed, which was odd.

The ewe went to one particular vulture and bleated once to get its attention. The vulture looked at her and seemed to sigh, as if saying Oh, no! Not this. Shep had a notion how that was.

The vulture spread its wings as if to take off and fly away. But the ewe bleated again, imperatively, and the other vultures took note. They faced the selected one as if about to attack it. Shep could almost hear their silent dialogue: You have been summoned. You must go. Just as the Petersons had told Shep.

The one vulture capitulated. It walked to the ewe, then jumped, half spreading its wings, and landed on her back. It was not an attack, and no knife flashed. She turned and walked back the way they had come, carrying the big bird.

Shep realized that this was another protocol. By allowing the sheep to carry it, the vulture was acknowledging her dominance. Hereafter it might fly, but not to flee the responsibility it had taken on. But why did the sheep need a carrion eater? This continued weird.

They returned to the small flock. Then a third ewe—though he could not be quite certain, as they all looked alike to him—came out of the group, while the second one resumed grazing. The vulture flew to a nearby tree and perched on a branch, evidently for a snooze.

Shep followed the third ewe in a new direction. She found a rocky ravine and made her way down into it with sure hooves. Shep started to follow, but she glanced at him and bleated once. This was plainly a negation. So he sat down and waited, his staff across his knees, and looked around. The base of the cleft was dry, a mass of rocks and boulders with little vegetation; in a storm there would be a rushing torrent of water here.

The ewe reached the bottom of the gulch and bleated again, commandingly. And to Shep’s amazement a huge snake emerged from a crevice between stones masking a hole in the ground. It was a python, maybe fifteen feet long, probably weighing more than Shep did, with a patterned hide. It did not attack the sheep; instead it glanced at her, then turned to slither away. It seemed that sheep were not its prey. No surprise there.

She bleated a third time. Shep could feel the voice of command. She was ordering the python to attend. And, reluctantly, it did. It slithered to her, lifted its head to hers, and froze in place. Some serpents were reputed to have a deadly stare, but the sheep was evidently immune. The python was first to break the gaze. Then the ewe turned and climbed up out of the gulch, and the snake followed. Here was another recruit to the mission, amazingly. How many more would there be?

They returned to the herd. The others were still grazing, unalarmed by the python. The vulture still snoozed in the tree. It was a peaceful scene.

A fourth ewe emerged from the pack, heading in a new direction. Shep, having learned the way of it, followed her. For some reason he was expected to attend the recruitments, maybe because he was the designated shepherd. She took him some distance along a trail only she could fathom, over a hill, through a neck of the woods, and to a small village of thatched cottages. Shep saw that these were elves, smaller than people but human in form, going about their business. They looked at the visitors but made no move either to greet or challenge them. It seemed that the sheep went where they would without hindrance.

The ewe stopped beside one cloaked female elf child playing with a collection of beads on strings. Her dark hair was bound back in a careless bun, and her small hands were nimble as they moved the beads. Shep realized with a start that she had a crude abacus, so must have been calculating something.

The elf looked at the ewe, who had plainly come for her. “Oh, piss!” she swore, evidently no more pleased to be chosen than any of the others were.

What a menagerie!

Chapter 2:

Elf

The elf child bid parting to her family, fetched a pack similar to Shep’s and joined them. She was a couple of inches below five feet tall, and seemed thin under her voluminous cloak. Would he have to be taking care of her?

The ewe walked on out of the village, and the man and elf followed. What else could they do?

“This is an outrage,” the elf muttered. “I have no interest in guiding these animals to their rutting place.”

So she knew some of the adult facts of life. “It’s not exactly my choice either,” Shep said. “But it seems we are obliged.”

She flashed him a withering look. “And even less interest in ruining my life by taking up with a town lout and herding sheep.”

Lout? She evidently took him for the native man, understandably. “With whom do I have the dubious honor of associating?” he inquired with sarcastic flair.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m stuck for it regardless.”

This was one rebellious child! “It matters to me. We’re both stuck with this crazy mission, and will have to call each other something if there is not to be confusion.”

“Call me anything you like, yokel,” she snapped. “We don’t use names in the manner you do.”

It was a kind of challenge. So he rose to it. “Then I will call you Elen, spelled E L E N. It’s Welsh, I believe. Elen Elf, for the alliteration. Meanwhile you may call me Shep.”

“Maybe I’ll just call you Hick.”

“You are not exactly the friendliest child,” he said, letting his irritation show.

She took brief stock, as if he had said something significant. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here, oaf?” she demanded.

“Very little,” he admitted. “I arrived on this planet only an hour ago.”

Now she looked at him with real interest. “You’re not a local lout?”

“I am not. I am an exchange student from Earth, here for a semester in a local host body to study the planetary culture. This sheep business is a nuisance.”

“Earth? You have an Earth education?”

“I do, for what little it’s worth here in the hinterland.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Why should I? What does it matter to you?”

“It matters. Let me ask you three questions.”

“Ask, child,” he said, resigned.

“What is a googolplex?”

He was surprised, but answered. “It is ten to the googol power. A googol is ten to the one hundred power. That is, the number one with a hundred zeroes following it. So a googolplex is written as ten to the tenth power, to the hundredth power, a double exponent. It is a very large number.” He suspected that this was a good deal more detail than she could comprehend, which was why he offered it. It was a brushback pitch.

“What is the cube root of minus one?”

Or did she actually have an interest in math? The abacus suggested that. “Minus one. That number squared would be a plus one, but cubed becomes minus one again. The square root of minus one, in contrast, is indeterminate.” Now he was curious whether she would understand.

“What is a logarithm?”

Shep had to pause, remembering that one from his historical math class. “It is an old system once used to facilitate calculations. It is an exponent, usually to the base ten, but not always; some are to the base e, or another number. There are printed logarithm tables. You use them by obtaining the logs of two numbers, adding them together, then translating the result back to a real number, which will be the product of the original two numbers. You can accurately multiply any numbers that way. But like the slide rule, this system has fallen out of use, because calculators and computers do it so much more readily.”

“Oh, piss! You are from Earth.”

He eyed her skeptically. “You do understand what I told you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m a math major. I was testing you, thinking you’d flounder. Instead you gave informed answers no local lout would know. Now I have to apologize.”

A math major! At her age? He had assumed that education was primitive, on a primitive planet. That was not necessarily the case. But she could be bluffing him with set childish riddles she thought had no answers. “No need, Elen. I feel exactly as you do about this mission. I have better things to do than herd sheep or take care of an ignorant child.” He was needling her, but she had started it. “So let’s just try to get along when we can’t ignore each other.”

She gazed at him with disconcerting appraisal. “I called you names. You refuted me. Now I’ll refute you, and we can call it even without apologies.”

Was she ready to become halfway sociable? That would help. “Agreed.”

“You call me child. Look at me.” She opened her cloak and revealed her body beneath it. He gazed at her, amazed. She was a fully mature human female, small but obviously of age. In fact she was just about the most shapely woman he had seen, with well formed breasts and an hourglass torso. “I am twenty years old, or nineteen in Earth years. I am no child.”

“I stand refuted,” he said. “I was guilty of judging by superficial appearance, just as you were. I do apologize.”

“We agreed no apologies!” she said, closing the cloak.

“None required. I do this without coercion, being governed by my standard rather than yours. You have no need to reciprocate.”

For the first time, she smiled. Her face was lovely too. “I think I like your standard. I will apologize by kissing you once.”

“No need,” Shep repeated, embarrassed. He was still getting used to the idea of her being woman rather than child.

“My standard rather than yours,” she said. “Get down here.”

Bemused, he leaned down toward her. She caught his head in her hands, oriented it just so, and kissed him. The impact was immediate and powerful; he felt as if he were floating despite his hunched position. She was no amateur kisser.

A moment or an eon later he found himself standing facing the sheep, Elen beside him. They must have completed the return trip during his daze. “Perhaps you should introduce me to the other members of the flock, Shep,” Elen suggested.

Oh. “Six ewes. One vulture. One python.” They walked to the tree to meet the vulture, and found the python curled around the base of it. Neither evinced any concern for their proximity. “I suspect that none of them will harm any other member of the party. All were recruited the way you and I were.”

“Of course. It is the way of the flock.” She lifted her hand for the vulture to inspect, then lowered it for the python to sniff, thus silently introducing herself to each. “I did not want to be a part of it, but now I am resigned.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Maybe even accepting.”

“What now?” he asked. “Assuming the party is complete.”

“It is. They don’t all resume grazing until things are in order.” She looked around. “I think we’ll have the night here, and start traveling in the morning. But that is for you to say.”

“Me? I have no idea.”

“You’re the shepherd, the one male in a female flock. They will mind you, to a degree.”

“You know the gender of the vulture and python?”

“Didn’t you see me meet them?”

Evidently there was more going on than he had picked up on. What was the significance of being male in such company?

“It’s a cultural thing,” she explained. “Every person, every creature has its position, but the leader must be male. I do not object to that.”

“Even though I don’t know where to go?”

“I know where. That is my position: guide.”

“Ah. And Python is for protection that we might need even if the sheep don’t. And Vulture is for observation, in case there is something ahead we need to know about, like an erupting volcano.”

“Yes. The sheep make sure to cover the party’s needs. Now they are filling up for what may be a grueling excursion.”

“So we better start tomorrow morning.” Shep looked around. “Where do human folk sleep?”

“On the ground beside the flock. There’ll be a sleeping bag in your pack. I have one too.”

“But what of predators in the night?”

“There will be no predators. Python will be on guard. And of course the sheep. Have you seen them in defensive action?”

“Oh. Yes, of course. They have bone knives. Next question: what of human type food?”

“Packs,” she repeated. She took hers off, opened it, and brought out a sandwich.

Shep checked his own, and found a similar sandwich. The parents had known exactly what to pack. They dug out the sleeping bags, which were amazingly compact balls that opened out and puffed up into full size, set them on the ground, sat on them, and at their sandwiches.

“Suddenly I am very glad to have you here, Elen,” Shep said.

“Because I showed you my body?”

He had to laugh, embarrassed. “That too, maybe. Or that potent kiss. But if you know the ways of the planet, and the ways of the flock, that will really compensate for my ignorance.”

“Yes, that is part of my role as guide. Now I understand that aspect.”

“Then maybe you can clarify something else for me. I understand why you didn’t want to be co-opted into this sheep mission. But I had the impression that you also had a personal animus toward me, for no apparent cause, that now is gone. In fact you have become more than friendly. Is there a reason?”

“Yes. It is that traditionally when a man and a woman are selected for sheep duty, their lives are changed. Often they marry. I did not want to have my aspirations thwarted in this manner. I long to visit Earth and obtain an education in higher math. I thought this was being dashed.”

Shep was for the moment speechless. He had had no thought of marrying an elf, or any colonist, quite apart from the impracticability of it when any physical visit here was essentially impossible. The spaceship voyage to Colony Jones was twenty years one way. “Oh, Elen, I’m sorry! I didn’t know.”

She put her hand on his. “I know you didn’t. You thought I was nine years old.”

“I did,” he admitted.

“And I thought you were a horny village lout.”

“We were similarly guilty,” he agreed. “But at least now we know better.”

“No.”

“No?”

“When the sheep choose, much follows. We may indeed marry.”

“Elen, there’s no way! I don’t mean to insult you, as I’m sure you are well worth any man’s interest, but you have to know that that kind of relationship is out of the question.”

“Is it?”

“Is this rhetorical? I now know you are not stupid or ignorant. What am I missing?”

She shrugged. “Let it be.”

Nonplussed, he dropped the subject. But it bothered him. Why would she ask such a question, if she lacked an answer? He and she lived on different worlds, literally; this encounter in a different body was the only way they could interact. He could not overstay his semester; the mind transfer was not permanent, and would slowly dissolve.

Unless she was thinking short-range. A six months marriage, more mental than physical? That was impractical.

They went to separate bushes for natural functions; Shep was glad to confirm that Earth privacy custom prevailed in this respect. Then they settled down for the night in their sleeping bags. There was really nothing to do here and now but sleep.

Shep saw a motion. Python was slithering toward them. That made him nervous. Would the truce of the sheep hold?

Elen reached out and took his hand. “Trust the sheep,” she murmured.

That actually reassured him. She trusted the sheep, and he was coming to trust her.

Python paused to inspect them, then actually slithered across their linked hands and moved on. It was almost like a benediction of their union.

There it was again. There was something he was not getting. Was Elen angling for an affair? Why would she bother? Sure he would like to have sex with her; any man would. But she could hardly desire sex with the body of a “lout,” or with the physically anonymous man who inhabited this body. She had spoken of marriage, not sex. And that was impossible.

He expected Elen to let go of his hand after the serpent passed, but she didn’t. She was not being seductive or possessive, merely reassuring. But could that be the whole of it? What was on her mind?

Troubled, he slept, still holding her tiny hand.

He dreamed. It was odd, a wild fantasy that nevertheless seemed quite authentic in the dream state. It was that he saw a ThreeVee news report of a small volcanic eruption in the Everglades of Florida, America, Earth. He believed it, until he woke up.

He was lying in his sleeping bag, in darkness, still hording Elen’s precious hand. His dream was of course utter nonsense.

There was a stirring. Shep realized with a start that it was the sheep. They had come to sleep in a circle around the two humans. Now they were moving on. Had there been a reason for this?

Elen squeezed his hand. “I dreamed,” she said, surprised.

“So did I. It was weird.”

“Mine too.” She paused. “May I come over?”

She had to ask? She was already within hand-holding range. “Uh, sure.”

She hunched her bag across until she was was lying against him. He was highly conscious of her hip and shoulder touching his through the material. “I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”

“Okay,” he agreed, glad to have this interaction. “I dreamed of—do you know what the everglades are?”

“No.”

“They are actually a river on Earth, about six inches deep and a hundred miles wide. It resembles a giant swamp, with alligators and kingfishers, and more recently, invading pythons taking over, eating everything else. It is not an earthquake or volcanic region. But my dream has a volcano erupting in the middle, near the great shallow Lake Okeechobee. That’s highly unlikely. I don’t know what could have put such a notion into my head. Yet I believed it as I saw it. There was even a date, about half a year from now.”

“My dream was similarly far-fetched,” she said. “It was that deep water cave explorers on Planet Earth discovered an air-breathing mollusk, a squish, I think; is that the term?”

“A squid. Ten long tentacular arms, a deep ocean dweller.”

“A squid,” she agreed, getting it straight. “This one illuminated the darkness of the cave and breathed air, at least in part. Is there such a squid on Earth?”

“I’m pretty sure there isn’t. They aren’t built to go on land, having no bony skeleton. No reason to breathe air. So such a discovery would indeed be remarkable.”

“And I knew the date: half a year hence.”

Shep considered that. “I think we are in an unusual situation, lying here beside the sheep, guarded by a python. So we experienced unusual dreams.”

“That must be it. I will return to my place so you can sleep in peace.”

“Must you?” He had spoken before he thought.

“Are you thinking of my body?”

He felt himself flushing. “I apologize.”

“Don’t do that! I shouldn’t have shown you.”

“Probably you shouldn’t have, yes. Such a sight turns a man on. He’s hard-wired.”

“I did not mean to tease you. I was annoyed because you thought me a child.”

“I was badly mistaken.”

“I’ll sleep here,” she decided. She still held his hand.

Shep did not protest, though her near presence tormented him. It was possible that was her intention. He was determined not to let his distress show, though probably she knew. If they were in a kind of competition, she was ahead.

What did she really want?

“Tomorrow you must tell me of Earth,” she said.

“I will.” But that was surely not it.

Soon he could tell by her even breathing that she was asleep again, still holding his hand. Finally he slept too.

Chapter 3:

Hike

The sheep were stirring, about ready to go. “There were prowlers in the night,” Elen said as she sat up. Her dark hair was unbound and mussed, flowing around her bare body like a turbulent stream. “See, there are the scuffings, beyond where the sheep lay. A wolf pack, I think.”

“They were protecting us!” Shep said. “Because Python couldn’t have stopped more than one or two at a time.”

“Yes. But the wolves knew better than to attack even sleeping sheep, or to try to get past them. So they moved on.”

“And when the danger was past, the sheep moved on too,” Shep said. “Now it makes sense.”

“The sheep always make sense. We just don’t always understand it at the time.”

“Which accounts for everything except our odd dreams.”

She smiled. “The sheep were close. Maybe they influenced our dreams.”

“For what possible purpose?”

Elen shrugged. “Perhaps some day we will know.”

Shep and Elen quickly dressed and ate, packed their sleeping bags, and joined the sheep. Python and Vulture left the tree and came too, side by side, the one slithering, the other hopping. They both evidently trusted the truce.

“The directives are yours to give,” Elen said. “But I will show the way.”

Okay. “Python, go head and check for dangers,” Shep said. To his surprise the big snake slithered rapidly forward. “Vulture, fly up and survey the landscape for problems.” The big bird flew.

Shep looked at Elen. “Do they actually understand me?”

“They do,” she said. “They are moderately telepathic, at least in the presence of the sheep. They respond to your mental command, rather than your words.”

That might explain a lot. “Elf, show the way.” Elen walked smartly forward.

“Sheep, follow the Elf.” But the sheep remained standing.

“Play a note,” Elen called. “They expect that signal.”

A note?

“On the Mirliton,” Elen called.

Shep knew what a mirliton was. He had an amateur interest in music. It was an instrument like a kazoo, sounded by the human voice. He had none with him.

“Your staff,” she called.

Surprised, he looked at the staff. It was a huge pipe! Somehow in the distraction of events he had never really examined it. He lifted one end to his mouth and blew. There was only the sound of air. Then he voiced it. It sounded vaguely like a horn.

The sheep began walking. Shep paced them, bemused. A makeshift mirliton!

So far so good. But he was a rank amateur at this, and remained nervous. What else did he have to learn about this business?

Vulture flew back down. She was a fairly ungainly flyer; she could do it, but it expended much effort. She settled onto the back of a sheep, and the sheep carried her without protest.

Python returned. Things were evidently satisfactory ahead, but the path led to the Elf village, which was surely not good for an unattended serpent. So Python slithered in the center of the flock. Shep considered, then joined her there. Elen continued ahead, leading them through the village.

The elves ignored them all. They knew what this was, and let the flock pass unchallenged, especially since one of their own was leading it.

Beyond the village they were quickly in wild country. Elen directed the sheep, knowing the lay of this land, and they followed a reasonably clear contour. Shep admired the colorful trees and shrubs, similar to Earth’s but different. Maybe some of them had been imported from Earth, and were now turning feral.

“There’s a river ahead,” Elen said. “I’m directing us to a section where it is only waist deep on you, but the current there is strong. The sheep can handle it, and Python, and Vulture can simply fly across. But you may have a problem.”

“If you can ford it, so can I.”

“We will need to strip, to preserve our clothing.”

That made him pause. Going naked with her by day? That would surely give his body wicked and embarrassing ideas. “Maybe I can cross a different section, alone.”

“No.”

“No?”

“This is the one crossable section. Even then we shall have to go in between the sheep, because of the crocs.”

Oh. “Well, what must be, must be. You don’t have to look.”

“Of course I’ll look,” she said. “You looked at my body.”

“You’re teasing me!”

“Maybe.”

Actually she was teasing him just by being near him. She probably relished the chance to embarrass him. He should never have called her a child.

All too soon they came to the river. It was exactly as she had described it. He saw the green nostrils of the lurking crocs. The water might be swift here, a virtual cataract, but it was clear that the scaly predators had no trouble handling it. This could be their main feeding ground.

“Organize the crossing,” Elen said.

“Isn’t that a formality? You and the sheep both know better than I do how to proceed.”

“You’re the shepherd.”

Why had the sheep selected a man who did not know the planetary landscape or its creatures? Was it that his ignorance allowed them to govern the journey, whereas a native man would have had ideas of his own?

Well, on with it. “Elen and I will strip to ford the river,” he announced. “You sheep will surround us, to fend off the crocs.”

Then he stripped, cramming his clothing in the top of his knapsack. Elen did likewise, by removing her cloak. She just as winsome as ever, with her hair caressing her shapely body down to her pert bottom. It masked her attributes only partially, flashing teasing glimpses as she walked. She had to know the effect.

He walked quickly to the water. Elen fell in beside him, and so did Python, evidently preferring not to risk multiple attackers. The sheep formed a box around them, three on a side.

Shep’s bare feet touched the water. Ouch! It was icy cold. But that had one beneficial effect: it abated any idea his body might have had of expressing any sexual interest in anyone. Relieved, he marched on in, letting his legs go numb as they descended into the swiftly moving water. Then he held his breath as his mid section was submerged. Talk about freezing one’s balls off!

And had Elen known about this too? Surely so. So maybe her teasing had been on another level. His discomfort was real, but not of the kind he had anticipated.

Meanwhile the sheep forged on in up to their necks, seeming not to mind the chill. They braced against the current, their footing sure beneath it.

There were splashes on either side as the frustrated crocs milled. They dared not touch the sheep, even here in the croc’s home territory.

In the center there was a swifter surge of water that swept Python sideways, up against Shep. “I’ve got you, fella,” Shep said, bracing for them both. Even one day ago he could hardly have imagined colliding with such a serpent and not being horrified.

In a moment Python recovered and slid forward, her head weaving from side to side as she swam. She spied the far bank within range and accelerated toward it. She was clearly a decent swimmer, but these swift cold water currents were no more appealing to her than they were to Shep.

The river became shallower as they approached the far bank. At last they were out of it. Shep was violently shivering. Then he looked at Elf, who was perhaps half his mass and more of whose body had been immersed, and saw she was worse off than he was. Her whole body was blue with cold and her teeth were chattering, yet she was not complaining.

“Oh, Elen!” he said, and swept her into his embrace. He was cold, but far warmer than she. Then the sheep crowded close, not out of discomfort but to provide warmth for the humans. Gratefully, Shep and Elen lay down between them, soaking in the warmth of their woolly bodies. Python remained with them; she was cold bodied, but needed warmth to avoid becoming torpid. Only Vulture had escaped untouched.

Gradually they all warmed. “Probably we’ll dry and heat faster if we are moving,” Shep said. “Now that the edge is off. Thank you, sheep.”

The sheep moved clear, and Shep and Elen quickly dried, away from their wet wool. The two of them got into their clothes, though hers was only her voluminous cloak. Then the party moved forward again.

“You held me with no thought of using me,” Elen said as they walked.

“True. I couldn’t stand to see you suffering like that.”

“Thank you.”

“You knew how bad it would be for you, yet you walked right on in.”

“A girl does what she has to do. We had to cross.”

“I could have carried you across,” he said, belatedly realizing. “So you never got wet.”

She shrugged. “Maybe next time. There will be challenges enough ahead. Soon.”

She wasn’t fooling. Soon they came to a wide strip of what looked like desert. Here the sun bore down on black sand, and it was burning. Too fiery to stand on for any length of time. Shep was amazed at how cold the stream had been, and how hot this sand was, when the two were not far apart. But of course this was not Earth; different natural laws governed. “We’ll have to wait until night,” he said. “When the sand cools.”

“Not safe,” Elen said. “There are sandworms that come up at night, too big for the sheep to stop. We need to cross now. I had hoped there would be a cloud.”

“I don’t think now is feasible,” Shep said.

Vulture had taken off when they came to the sand. Now she returned, squawking.

“The worms are already stirring in the shade,” Elen said. “We don’t have much time.”

Shep considered. “Can the sheep handle the sand?”

“Yes. Their hooves are hardened to this.”

“I think my boots will do, if we move right along.” Shep glanced at Elen’s feet. “But not your slippers. I’ll carry you. But that leaves Python.”

But Python was already crawling up on the back of a ewe, and on to a second, and a third. They were were carrying her.

“Then let’s move,” Shep said, and blew a note on his staff. The sheep moved out, three abreast, the second rank carrying Python. Obviously they had complete control of their defensive knife-bones, and did not stab anything by accident.

Shep looked at Elen, uncertain how to carry her. “Over your shoulders,” she said. “Get down and I’ll climb on.” She had already removed her cloak and put it in her knapsack.

He squatted, and she strewed herself across his shoulders above his knapsack, her midsection behind his neck, her knees and hands in front of him to either side. “Put one hand on my shoulder,” she said. “The other on my thigh.”

He did so, and stood. She had positioned herself well, and seemed light. He stepped out onto the sand. Only then did Vulture take wing, flying across the sand. They were all on their way, all ten members of the flock.

The heat smote him, rising around his body like a baleful cloud. He was starting to sweat. But he was even more aware of his burden. Elen’s bare thighs pressed against his right ear, and her bare breasts against his left ear, while his hands held on to her limbs farther out. This was not supposed to be a suggestive situation, but it was as if she were making masked love to him. Every step he took jogged her slightly against him, increasing the interaction. She was sweating too, moistening her contact with him.

“Am I teasing you?” she asked.

“Yes. But it can’t be helped.”

“I will make it up to you in due course.”

“You have no obligation.”

“That depends.”

Now the heat was penetrating his boots. Shep extended his stride and sped up, needing to get on across faster.

“Especially if you burn your feet on my account,” Elen said.

He would have laughed, but it was too close to the truth.

Meanwhile the sheep marched stolidly on, their pace never varying, their feet never faltering. It seemed that this was all in the day’s work to them.

Now Shep was practically running. His feet were getting uncomfortably hot, and Elen’s thighs and breasts massaged his ears, generating quite another kind of sensation.

But now the far side was near, and a few more steps took him there. Elen unwound and landed on her feet as Shep dropped to the ground and yanked off his burning boots.

Meanwhile the sheep completed their crossing, and Python slid off their backs. Vulture was already there. They had all made it across with no serious injuries.

“I’ll find water,” Elen said, putting her cloak back on. “I know where to look.” She walked away.

“You girls okay?” Shep inquired of the sheep, who were standing in the relatively cool foliage. “No burned hooves?”

One actually answered him with a bleat. It seemed they were all right.

Elen returned. “This way. There’s a small pond.”

They followed her to the pond. Vulture stood with her feet in the shallow edge and dipped her beak, scooping up water; she was hot too. Python simply slithered out into the middle. The sheep waded in a few steps, then dipped their noses to drink.

“Not you?” Elen asked him.

“It’s the shepherd’s job, as I understand it, to make sure of his flock before tending to his own needs.”

“That is a good understanding. But they seem to be satisfied.”

“Yes.” He threw himself down and put his mouth to the water, drinking deeply. The liquid was neither hot nor cold, which was a relief. Then he changed position and put his feet in. “How about you?”

“My feet aren’t hot, thanks to you.” She put her hands in and massaged his feet. “You did well. I knew you were hurting.”

He smiled. “It could have been worse. I had a distraction.”

She did not pretend confusion. “I am glad to have helped.” She glanced up impishly. “Should I kiss your hot feet to make them better?”

“No need.”

“Then I will kiss you instead.” She raised her body, moved over to him, and kissed him on the mouth. As before, it was no amateur effort. He remained unmoving, uncertain how to respond. “Better?” she inquired as she broke.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

Elen smiled. “Shep, if I wanted to seduce you, I’d just do it. This is merely flirting.”

“Or teasing.”

“Whatever. Do you wish me to stop?”

What could he say? “No, not really.”

“Things will clarify in due course.”

He hoped so. She was evidently out to impress him, and was succeeding. It was time to change the subject. “We have crossed a river and a sand bar today, and it is getting late. Is there a safe place to spend the night?”

“Yes, not far ahead, a meadow with decent grazing for the sheep.”

“What about Vulture and Python?”

“Python will not need to eat during the journey. Vulture can last another day.”

“And us?” He put on his boots, which were now cool.

“There’s a pear-apple tree there too that will do for us, as well as providing a roost for Vulture.”

“Good enough. Let’s go there now.” Shep blew a note on the mirliton.

Elen walked, and the sheep followed. Python paced them, while Vulture flew ahead. Soon they came to the meadow. The sheep immediately started grazing.

Elen picked several of the fruits, which did indeed seem to be a cross between a pear and an apple. The two of them settled down by the trunk and ate. Vulture did find a suitable perch, and Python circled the trunk in the manner she liked.

“One thing I should say,” Elen said. “A real oaf would have grabbed.”

Was she about to explain her attitude? “How would you have reacted?”

She twitched her hand and a knife appeared in it. “Like the sheep.”

“You were testing me?”

The knife disappeared. “Not really. Merely verifying.”

“You have succeeded in making me desire you, but I will never try to force anything of that nature on you. It’s another cultural thing.”

“I like your culture.”

“I don’t properly understand yours. I don’t know what you want of me.”

“That is not feasible to tell yet.”

So it seemed. “The pond is safe?”

“Yes.”

“I am grimy from that sand crossing. I need to strip and wash up. Then I will turn in for the night.”

“I will join you.”

He had been trying to give her a chance to absent herself. “As you wish.”

He walked to the pond, set down his knapsack, stripped, and waded in. Elen matched him, as lovely in her nudity as in her cloak. Soon they were splashing water on each other’s backs. He did not suffer any masculine reaction, fortunately. He had heard that it did not occur in nudist camps, and maybe this was similar.

In due course they spread their sleeping bags and settled down under the tree for the night. Elen reached out to take his hand. It seemed this was just one of her ways, and not to be taken as anything more.

“You hardly even looked,” Elen said petulantly.

Shep had to laugh. “Did that score me a point?”

“No. You were avoiding the issue.”

He refrained from asking what issue, knowing her response would be as cryptic as ever. “You said you wanted me to tell you about Earth.”

“Oh, yes!”

“Any particular aspect?”

“Begin with your body there, and spread out to your home and village.”

So she wanted the homey personal details, rather than global politics. That was easy. Shep began talking about the routine of his life at home. Elen listened raptly.

This time the sheep did not come in to protect them, and there were no odd dreams. It was a peaceful, normal night. Shep was satisfied with that.

Chapter 4:

Trust

In the morning they resumed the trek. This section was nice, with easy slopes, no apparent threats, and moderate weather. “It gets more difficult,” Elen said cheerfully. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“More difficult? We barely made it through some sections yesterday!”

“We’ll make it. Trust the sheep.”

“I am much impressed with the sheep. But less impressed with myself. I fear their trust in me is misplaced. The local yokel would have done better.”

“Not with me.”

“I mean, leading the sheep.”

“Shep, face it: the sheep are precognitive. They know what works. There’s a reason they chose you.”

“Precognition is fantasy,” he said, troubled. “Because if the future is known, people will try to change it, which invalidates it. The mere knowledge of the future would affect the present, modifying it. So it can’t logically work.”

“Unless only the sheep know it, and they don’t reveal it.”

“If they are using it to change their own future, it’s a dangerous illusion. This journey could be a death trap.”

“We’ll see.”

Shep did not need his staff to support him in this pleasant section, so he inspected it more closely. He saw that there were several holes in addition to the one he blew into to make the mirliton sound. One was a whistle type aperture; when he blew into it he got a flutelike note. Another had an embedded reed; that made a hornlike note. There were a number of smaller holes that could be covered with the fingers. “This may be quite a musical instrument.”

“It is,” Elen agreed.

“I may have underestimated Brian Peterson, my host. He evidently knows more about music than I do. He’s on Earth now, surely studying music.”

“That is a worthy study.” She was no longer condemning the lout.

Shep set his hands and played the monstrous flute. A rich series of sounds emerged. He was far from a musician, but he did know how to play a normal flute, having been subjected to training as a child. Once he got the fingering right, he settled on a favorite melody and played it as he walked.

“That’s lovely,” Elen said. “What is it?”

“A song from my childhood, titled ‘He Who Is Noble.’ The idea is that the truly noble man needs not a weapon, needs no man to guard him, because virtue defends him. It’s nonsense on today’s Earth, but I always loved the sentiment.”

“So do I.” She began to hum along with him. She had a fine clear voice and good pitch. “And it’s not nonsense, any more than precognition is. Maybe you just don’t have many truly noble men on Earth.”

“That’s for sure! We have greed-heads and power-corrupts and crooked politicians galore. I don’t know much of Colony Jones culture, but I suspect it is cleaner than Earth’s.”

“Maybe so,” she agreed. “Yet Earth has the knowledge, the universities, and the power to accomplish things. I want to visit Earth for its knowledge, though not to stay.”

“That would be possible via their student exchange program. That’s what brought me here.”

“But a person needs an authority to speak for her. I don’t have one.”

“Exchange spots are limited. My family has a connection, so I got one. It wasn’t merit, unfortunately.”

“You’re not one of the nobles?”

“Not a noble man in the manner of the song,” he agreed. “Just a lucky one.”

“Yet the sheep chose you.”

“Maybe they know something we do not,” he said.

“They do.”

“That was wry humor.”

“They do know, regardless.”

He let it drop. He liked her faith, but did not share it.

Vulture became agitated, pausing before what appeared to be a low-lying fog bank in a small valley. Elen sniffed. “There’s carrion there, but it’s not safe to enter.”

“How about Python?”

“Maybe.”

“Sheep, can you tell whether Python could go in there?” Shep thought she was half joking.

A sheep bleated affirmatively.

Python slithered into the fog and disappeared. Shortly later she reappeared with a decaying body in her jaws. She dropped it down before Vulture and moved away. Vulture happily started picking at it.

“They have become friends,” Elen said. “They do each other favors.”

“We’ll move on,” Shep said distastefully. “You catch up with us later, okay, Vulture?” Then the rest of the party resumed walking.

And hour later, Vulture did catch up with them. All was well.

They descended into a shallow valley with a rocky floor and scattered patches of sand, but very little vegetation. Hot air shimmered above it. Beyond it Shep could see the gentle green slope of a verdant meadow, surely ideal for grazing and rest. “If we move on immediately, we can reach the nice region before the heat of midday,” Shep said. “So we won’t have to burn our feet again.”

But the sheep milled about uncertainly. “Something’s bothering them,” Elen said. “We’d better wait.”

“They’re hungry. We’ve been traveling instead of grazing. But in half an hour we can be in plush turf.”

“They don’t want to cross yet. There must be a reason.”

“If we wait, it will soon be too hot to cross, and we’ll have to wait until evening. If this is like the sand, that will be too late.”

She considered. “What you say makes sense. But the sheep prefer to wait. I trust the sheep.”

“Because of their precognition? I have told you what I think of that.”

“You have,” she agreed. “But you have not spent your life on this planet, as I have, with the sheep and their legends. They must be respected.”

“They asked me to be their shepherd. I am trying to do that. I can see what they don’t: that it is better to cross now, and be in some discomfort, then to wait and get hung up for a day and maybe go hungry when it isn’t necessary. We need to cross now.”

“You will not be moved?”

“Not by some nameless hesitancy. Why do they even need a shepherd, if not to get them past this sort of thing?”

“Then we must settle this in the traditional way,” she said seriously. “Physical combat.”

Shep stared at her. “What?”

“You and I, naked. If you beat me, then your will prevails. Otherwise, we wait on the sheep.”

“Elen, this is preposterous. I’m not in the business of fighting women, and even if I were, it would not be fair. You are only half my mass, and less of yours is muscle.”

“Yes. I can not match you in physical strength. But I can do a holddown.”

“A holddown,” he repeated. “You mean as in judo or wrestling, where one competitor takes his grip, and the other has a certain amount of time to break it?”

“Yes. Except there’s no time limit.”

“Elen, I could lift you over my head with one arm! How could you ever hold me down even thirty seconds, let alone indefinitely?

“I can do it, with the right hold.”

“Oh, a pain hold?”

“Not exactly. I would not want to cause you pain.”

Shep was becoming intrigued. “Okay. You take your hold, and I’ll see about breaking it. That will determine whose decision about the sheep governs.”

“Exactly.” She removed her cloak.

She had said naked. Shep removed his own clothing, then lay on the ground. The thought of wrestling nude with her caused a reaction, but that couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t as if she did not know her effect on a man.

She got on him. Her bare breasts against his chest really made him react. Then she put a hand down and lifted her body slightly.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my hold.”

“That’s not a hold. That’s sex!”

“Not exactly.” She settled back down on him. His member was now inside her. She was small, but not where it counted. “Now you have to break free of me without leaving anything inside me. Only a clean break counts.”

Anything inside her. Like semen. What a notion! But he could do it. All he had to do was withdraw. Lift her up off him.

He put his hands on her hips and lifted. Immediately she did two things: clasped his shoulders tightly with her hands, and his member with her canal. She was anchored to him in three places.

Still, his strength was vastly greater than hers. He lifted harder. She gripped him harder in all three places. Not only did the grip of her hands cause her breasts to press against him, her canal gripped him like a hand around a teat. His effort to escape was arousing him more than freeing him.

He relaxed, and she did also. Then he made a sudden effort, but she clamped down instantly. That warm wet pressure brought him close to climax.

He tried slow sustained pressure, lifting her up. She not only tightened around his member, she kneaded it. She could make it perform any time she chose. The only way to avoid that was to relax completely, not fighting her at all. And that was to lose the match.

Now he saw the way of it. The more he struggled, the more he would be aroused, and the closer he would come to having an orgasm. Which would cost him the match. He was bound to lose. Better to do it gracefully.

“I yield,” he said.

She released him instantly, letting go and getting off him. She got back into her cloak, facing away so he could dress without further embarrassment. He was charged with desire, but had not wanted it to be abated in this particular manner. It would have been akin to rape, of him by her.

“We will wait on the sheep,” he said.

There was no reaction from any of the others. They merely waited.

Twenty minutes later, about the time they would have been midway through the valley, there was a stirring in the air. Then it convulsed. A whirling cloud formed, sucking up sand and rocks, shaping them into a funnel of flying debris. It was a dust devil, expanding into a tornado, forming from the heat and sending it into the sky. Shep felt the formidable wind as the air was sucked in from the sides, feeding into the spinning maw.

It would have been death to be there when it happened. The sheep had known. Maybe they had smelled the hot air and known from experience. Maybe they had precogged it. But they had known.

“I think I am becoming a believer,” Shep said. “To trust the sheep.”

Elen caught hold of him and kissed him. “I’m so glad you gave them a proper chance.” As if it had been purely his own decision.

The tornado raged for several minutes, then evaporated as swiftly as it had come. Now the air was cooler.

“I think we can cross!” Shep said, surprised. “The hot material was dissipated. We can walk there before the sun heats it up again.”

“Good choice,” Elen said.

Shep blew a note, and the sheep stepped smartly forward. Python slithered onto the rock, finding it bearable, and hurried ahead. Vulture flew. Shep and Elen walked.

“My choice would have killed us all,” Shep said.

“This is your choice,” Elen said. “You trusted the sheep.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?”

“Nothing important.”

She was not teasing, rebuking, or embarrassing him about his awkward loss. She was pretending that he had trusted the sheep throughout. That there had been no contest, no holddown. “This is the way you want it?”

“Of course. You’re the shepherd. I am only the guide.”

Shep experienced burgeoning emotion, but kept it to himself. This was not the occasion for it.

They reached the other side safely. Now the sheep spread out to graze, and the others located a fruit tree suitable for food and perching. “We’ll rest for an hour, here,” Shep said belatedly.

When all parties were ready, they resumed their hike. The scene was deceptively pleasant. They were making good time.

Shep had gained real respect for the sheep. They had known, whatever the mechanism. But also for Elen Elf, who had done what she had to do, in the manner she had to, and sought no credit for it.

The easy landscape abruptly gave way to seriously difficult terrain. A mountain rose ahead of them with a bare tilted slope that disappeared into roiling clouds above and turbulent water below. “I hope you’re not going to say what I’m afraid you will say,” Shep said.

“I’m saying it. Our way leads past this tilt, and there’s no feasible way around it. But the sheep can handle it.”

Shep put a foot on the polished slope. The moment he put weight on it, his boot slid downward. “I can’t navigate this, and I doubt you others can.”

“We can’t, but the sheep can. They will have to portage us across.”

Shep inspected the situation more closely, and realized that the water below was not water, but boiling lava. This was volcanic terrain. Any creature who attempted to walk the obsidian slope would slide down into that inferno of doom.

“Elen--” he said.

“Trust the sheep.”

She had trusted the sheep before, and they had saved them all from likely death. But that was one time. Could he afford to trust them? Yet what choice did he have? He saw no other way to cross.

Elen looked at him with compassion. “If you would like to have me first. . .”

So that if he died in boiling lava, at least he would have had some joy of sex? That actually was tempting. But it was an offering from something akin to pity. “No. I have not earned it.” He took an unsteady breath. “I will trust the sheep.”

She smiled, and that almost made it worth it. “Three will carry Python. Two will carry you. One will carry me. Vulture will fly. It really isn’t far. Thereafter the way is easier.”

“That’s good to know,” he said somewhat hollowly. “I’m terrified.” He hoped that admission did not turn her off.

“I will go first,” she said. “You can follow.”

“Yes.” It was about the only word he could squeeze out.

One ewe stepped forward. Elen climbed onto her back, naked but for the pack, holding on to the fur of the animal’s neck, her knees clamping the sheep’s haunches. No bone knives were in evidence. The ewe stepped out onto the slope. Her hooves were sure and she walked without hesitation. The sheep could indeed handle the slope, even heavily loaded.

Two more ewes stepped forth, standing nose to tail. It was Shep’s turn. He climbed on, gripping the wool of the first sheep’s shoulders, swinging his knee over the second sheep. Their backs were broad and stout; it was easier support than he had expected. When he was set, the two moved forward in lockstep, onto the slope.

Shep closed his eyes, then forced himself to open them. He saw the descending obsidian surface, dropping toward the swirling lava. He felt waves of heat coming from the lava, and smelled its acrid fumes. He cringed. Then he nerved himself and looked forward, moving his head slowly so as not to unbalance the sheep. Elen was there, her shapely bare bottom above the sheep’s rear. What a sight, in what a situation! Then he slowly looked back. Python was there, stretching lengthwise across the last three sheep. Elen and Python had faith; Shep had mainly dread.

The line proceeded without pause. The sheep seemed unworried. They knew what they were doing. They also, if their precognition was real, knew they would make it safely across. Shep discovered that the way to abate his dread was to believe in that precognition. If their safe crossing was guaranteed, he had nothing to worry about. He merely had to trust the sheep.

It helped. That growing trust brought him emotional peace. It was almost pleasant, riding across this unusual feature of the landscape.

He heard flapping. Vulture had evidently waited until they were half across, then flown over them to arrive first.

Suddenly, it seemed, they were across. He must have tuned out, basking in the glow of his new-found faith. The trip had actually been easy. He watched the last three ewes reach the level land, so Python could slide off.

Then he turned to Elen. “I trust the sheep,” he said.

She kissed him. That chaste gesture meant more to him than her recent provocative exposure.

It was late. They foraged for fruit, washed, and lay their bags under a spreading tree. Elen took his hand and closed her eyes. “When we get to the rams’ territory, we’ll have some time off. Then I will ask you to tell me more about Earth,” she said, “Then you can decide whether to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

But she was already asleep. She was evidently more tired than she had been the previous night.

Shep lay there for a time, pondering. He felt closer than ever to Elen, because now he had joined her in trusting the sheep. But he still did not know her intentions toward him. She had shown him that she could handle sex, if she chose, but she was not choosing to offer him that. Not when there was not a specific practical reason. She had to know that he was falling for her. Was she simply playing him to keep him in line? Would her interest end when this mission was completed and they were safely back where they had started? Or was there more to it than that?

He hoped it was the latter, but feared it was the former. She wanted to know about Earth? He would gladly tell her. But what was this other thing he might risk? He did not take her for a deliberate tease despite her actions. She surely had something in mind.

Unsatisfied, he finally drifted off to sleep himself, still holding her hand.

Chapter 5:

Travel

In the morning they resumed their trek. “As we get closer, the challenges get worse, for the sheep,” Elen said. “We will need your ingenuity.”

“I haven’t shown much of that yet.”

“You will.”

The forest path opened onto a broad orange plain. “Here there be dire wolves,” Elen said. “They are large and fierce, and have been known to attack sheep, overwhelming them by sheer numbers and mass. They take some losses, yes, but merely eat their fallen pack-mates.”

“If the sheep can’t stop them, how can I?”

“Men know how to handle fire. That’s enough to make the difference.”

Ah. “I’ll make torches.”

They set to work gathering torch materials while the sheep nibbled cautiously at the edge of the plain, ready to retreat into the protective woods at need. Shep was in one sense relieved to learn that the sheep were not proof against every threat. But that relief was token, while his nervousness was larger. If the sheep could not handle this crossing even with precognition, it must be formidable indeed.

Soon they they had about eight torches. Shep judged that each would burn about fifteen minutes, and they would use two at a time, so they had enough for a crossing lasting one hour. Would that suffice?

The sheep assembled at the fringe of the plain, ready to cross. It seemed that eight torches were enough. Shep struck a spark from the flint in his pack, and ignited a small fire in the dry grass at his feet. He lit a torch and gave it to Elen, then lit another for himself before stomping out the fire.

They moved out. There was no sign of any opposition. But the wolves would surely come once the party was in too deep to retreat. That gave him an idea. “Elen, douse your torch. We’ll save it until we need it. We might need the extra time.”

“The sheep indicate we have enough.”

“They may have allowed for my economy.”

Elen nodded. She put her torch down to the ground and twisted it in the sand until it snuffed out.

Python came in close to the sheep. That was an indication that she sensed danger. Vulture, riding one of the sheep, spread her wings and flew in low circles above them. Then, abruptly, she descended, resuming her ride. That was her indication of immediate danger.

“Light your torch,” Shep told Elen grimly.

She crossed to him and touched her torch to his. At that moment the plain erupted with howling bodies. The dire wolves did not charge in from a distance; they had been lying in ambush, and now surrounded the party.

“Distract them enough so that they can’t coordinate their attack on the sheep,” Shep said, changing the nearest shape. It was a wolf the size of a pony, heading toward the sheep. Shep ran at it with torch extended, catching it on the flank. The wolf howled in pain and jerked away. Right into the shoulder of a sheep. Blood flowed as the knife stabbed the wolf’s side. So the sheep were not defenseless against these predators, merely overwhelmed—if he failed to do his job. The sheep trusted him.

Shep whirled on the next wolf, striking at its open mouth. It bit reflexively on the torch—and really howled as its mouth got burned.

Another wolf tried to sneak in behind the sheep. Suddenly Python was there, catching the wolf by the nose and flinging coils around it. The wolf howled and retreated, and Python let it go. But the wolf had been badly bitten; it was out of the fray.

Thereafter the wolves were more careful, but hardly finished. They merely got smarter, seeking better opportunities.

Vulture took off and hovered clumsily above the flock.

Two more wolves came after the hindmost sheep. Python struck again, taking the wolf’s nose in her mouth and biting so it hurt. But the second wolf went not for the sheep but for Python’s neck.

And was intercepted by Vulture, who plummeted from the sky, her talons clamping on that wolf’s nose as her beak stabbed for its eyes. She couldn’t really hurt it, but it was a nasty surprise that took it out of the immediate fray.

Both wolves fell back, and both were released, cautioned. Python and Vulture evidently knew that they could not afford to get separated from the flock. No more wolves braved the rear guard thereafter.

Meanwhile Shep and Elen continued to wield their torches, burning any wolf that came in range, while the sheep marched stolidly on, their pace never faltering.

The attack paused. Had the wolves given up? Shep did not trust that.

There was an imperative bleat. “That’s the leave-me-alone warning,” Elen said. “Get away from the sheep!”

“But--”

“Trust me!”

Shep obeyed. He joined her a little apart from the sheep. Python and Vulture joined them, having heard and understood the bleat. The four of them formed a defensive cell, Shep and Elen standing back to back with torches extended, Vulture perching on Shep’s backpack, Python circling them on the ground. But the wolves were not after them at the moment. They were after the undefended sheep.

A mass of bodies sprang together, six wolves rising as one, landing on the backs of the sheep. And six wolves howled as one, multiply impaled by the deadly bone blades that sprang from the backs of the sheep. The ewes had formed a phalanx, their knives projecting in an impenetrable array the moment the wolves landed. And they were still marching forward.

The wolves somehow hauled themselves off the sheep, grievously wounded. They had tried their ultimate ploy, but the sheep had known it was coming and been ready. The sheep had warned their friends clear just before it happened, so that no friend was hurt. This must be a young pack of wolves, inexperienced with sheep. They surely would not make that mistake again.

But at the moment too many wolves were hurting to organize another assault. Python, Vulture, and the two torch-wielding humans had distracted them enough to make them coordinate imperfectly, and that had cost them the battle. This time.

There were no more attacks, but Shep kept his torch lighted, just in case. They made it safely to the far side, and relaxed. But not for long, because the sheep hardly paused before resuming the march. Time was evidently of the essence. Their route led down into a bog verging into a swamp. There might be predators lurking, but they kept their distance.

“We have to cross,” Elen said. “But if the sheep’s hooves get stuck in the muck, then the crocs will come.”

Shep squatted and dipped out some of the substance with his hand. “Rounded sand. That’s quicksand below the water. We don’t want to mess with it.”

“The sheep know.”

Python slid into the muck and disappeared. But in a moment her head surfaced, and she hissed. “She’s finding the way,” Elen said. “There’s solid footing there. For the sheep.”

Indeed, the sheep were wading in, going toward Python. Each dropped down to submerge momentarily, washing the blood off, then stood muddied but clear of the remnant of the battle. “Shouldn’t we wait to cross until we’re sure it’s not a dead end?” Shep asked.

“It’s not. The sheep know.”

Oh, the precognition. He still was not quite used to that. But obviously it functioned, at least at short range; the sheep had timed their knives perfectly. He and Elen waded in, following the ewes. The muck was thick, but there really was a solid surface beneath it.

In the middle of the bog the sheep halted. “We’d better check,” Elen said.

“I’ll do it.” Shep made his way around the ewes, then felt carefully with his feet. The hidden path ended, in the very kind of dead end he had feared.

Python’s head appeared a short way beyond. She hissed. “Oh—it resumes there?” Shep slogged toward her, sinking chest deep, but was able to move because his broad feet found better purchase than the sheep’s thin hooves. He could cross, but not the sheep. The gap would have to be filled in.

“I’ll need to find some rocks,” he said. “Small enough to move, large enough to be useful.

The serpent disappeared. Did she understand? The animals were coordinating beautifully, but he wasn’t sure they were actually any smarter than their kinds normally were. Intelligence beyond a certain level was no asset to an animal, so was not selected for. But telepathy—that might be useful here, and would account for a lot. He kept forgetting it, and kept being reminded.

Something was bothering Shep. He paused to focus, and got it: the liquid surface of the swamp was rising. Slowly, but before long it would make the muck too deep for the sheep to traverse. The predators might be waiting for that. So the sheep were right: time was of the essence. Maybe it was a tidal flat, but how long would it be before the level sank again?

Python reappeared and hissed. Shep waded that way. Sure enough, there was a fair sized rock there. He got his arms around it, heaved, and got it up enough to carry, buoyed by the muck. He slogged back and dropped it into the gap in the path.

Python appeared in another place. Shep went there and found the next rock. He carried it back. The work continued, until he had a crude stone ramp across the gap. Would this suffice?

Evidently so. The sheep walked on across it, their sure hooves finding the purchase they needed. They were crossing in time.

Shep saw a stirring in the muck to the side. He could guess what that was: a predator, disappointed that the sheep weren’t caught in an untenable situation. Another half hour might have made the difference.

They made their way across the swamp without further event. The sheep immediately grazed on the nearby grass, no longer constrained by timing. Python and Vulture relaxed.

Shep emerged, thoroughly soaked in mud. “Give me your clothes,” Elen said.

He stripped and let her have them. Nakedness hardly mattered any more. She took them to a clear patch of water and rinsed them out. Then she came back for Shep and led him to the same place so she could rinse him off. A day or two before, this would have been extremely awkward; now it was routine. She was more than familiar with his body, though technically they were not lovers. “You did well,” she said.

“The lout could have done it better.”

“But the sheep chose you.”

“So far I haven’t done anything that the lout couldn’t have handled.”

“Two things,” she said. “There must be something you can do that the lout could not do, and the sheep know it. And I would not have worked with the lout. They surely knew that.”

“Why not? You seem to know how to handle men.”

“The romance and marriage bit. He’s no prospect. You are.”

“I will return to Earth within six months!”

“Yes.”

“So I am no prospect either, am I?”

“Only if you want to be.”

“What am I missing here?”

She smiled. “It will come to you in due course.”

“Dialogues with you can be as intriguing and frustrating as your holddown technique.”

Elen laughed. “Thank you, Shep.”

“That wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

“It will do.”

He gave it up, as he usually did. Shep dressed in his alternate apparel and spread the wet clothing out across his knapsack as well as was feasible so it could dry as he walked.

Soon they came to another challenge: a crack in the ground leading down to more flowing lava. It was slightly too wide for them to hurdle, but seemed too long to go around. “We’ll need a bridge,” Shep said.

“There used to be one,” Elen said. “I did not know it had been lost. A storm must have taken it out. I would have taken another route.”

“There are other routes?”

“Many. But each has its hazards.”

“Let me see what I can do.” Shep scouted around and found a fair number of fallen branches. There were also many long vines strewn across the trees. He gathered the wood and used his knife to cut vines. Then he used the vines to tie the crude planks together, forming a firm trestle that would surely support the weight of any of them. But there was a problem: how to get it set across the gap. He anchored one end to a tree, but needed a similar anchorage on the other side.

“Vulture can help,” Elen said.

Good idea. Shep cut a longer vine and tied one end to the leading edge of the trestle. Then he proffered the other end to Vulture. “Can you carry this across the gap?” The bird nodded. Did she really understand him? Could there really be telepathy, so that she could? If the sheep had some telepathy they could share with the others, that could do it. Yet of course they did; why did he keep doubting? “I need it passed around a stout tree, then brought back here to me.”

Vulture took the end and launched into the air. She flew across the gap, circled a tree, and flew back, still hauling the vine. Indeed, she had understood.

“Thank you, Vulture,” he said. “You have been a big help.” He could have sworn she looked pleased.

Shep hauled on the vine, using the far tree as a crude pulley to pull the trestle across the gap. When the edge reached the other side, he tied the vine to the tree on the near side, then crawled across to make sure of the anchorage and strengthen it with more vines. He had their bridge.

“Can you handle this?” he asked the sheep. “It will wobble and sway, but will get you across if your feet don’t slip.”

The ewes inspected the bridge. Then they started across, stepping carefully. The bridge did wobble, but their footing was secure. He realized that if they had spot precognition, they might be placing their hooves in the particular places that gave them the firmest footing. They would know the result of bad steps, and avoid them. That would be why they were always so sure footed. Telepathy and precognition accounted for a lot.

When all the sheep were across, Shep looked at Python. “This should be easy for you.”

Python slithered readily across. Then Elen walked across, carefully balancing. Finally Shep crossed again, with his staff. “We’ll leave the bridge here for our return trip,” he said, pleased with his accomplishment.

They resumed their trek. They found a suitable spot to spend the night, with grass for grazing and a fruit tree and a small clear stream.

“There will be temptation,” Elen told him as they settled for the night, holding hands as usual. “You must resist it.”

“More tempting than you?”

“You have wondered why you were chosen, instead of the lout,” she said seriously. “The lout would fail this coming test. You will too, if I do not prevent it. The difference is that I am willing to help you, as I would not be for the lout.”

“I appreciate that. But just what kind of temptation is it?”

“Vampires.”

“Vampire bats?”

“Vampire girls. They feed from their clefts, not their mouths. They use sexual allure to distract men and get close to them. They are very free with their favors; they want men to clasp and penetrate them. But once a man gets inside one, she holds him and spikes him and draws the blood from his member. He can not get free until she has had her fill.”

Shep winced. Sucking blood from a turgid penis: a rich supply. “I might not believe that, if you had not demonstrated that hold.”

“Yes. I needed you to understand, so that you properly appreciate the danger. You never want to get into something you can’t get safely out of.”

Shep considered the matter. “I think I would not be much tempted, if you were with me.” He was not being gallant; he could not feature desiring any other woman, in Elen’s presence.

“I will be with you. This is why the sheep chose me. To enable you to resist the vamps. Better that you possess me than them.”

“Them plural? Wouldn’t I be finished after one?”

“You would be weakened after one, making it easier for the next to drink you.”

“But after a man climaxes, he’s finished, at least for a while.”

“You won’t climax, merely keep sending blood for your erection. They control that aspect with their hormones. This is not sex, but unconsummated desire. You will not be able to stop trying. By the time the last has fed, you may be dead of blood depletion.”

“This is a horror!”

“No worse than dying by other means. Men who wish to suicide may choose to come to the vamps. It is said to be an almost pleasant way to go, because of the continuing urgency.”

“Knowing this, I will never be tempted!”

She shook her head. “That will not be your choice. But I think you like me well enough to enable me to foil them.”

He did like her, but was wary of her motive. “Why wouldn’t some other girl do as well?”

“Some other girl would lack the motive I have. She would let you go rather than throw herself away on a man who could not stay.”

“Elen, what is your motive?” Would she answer him?

“I want to marry you.”

“I think I would welcome that. But Elen, this isn’t possible! Unless you mean for only a few months until I return to Earth.”

“No. I want it permanent.”

“I wish I could tell you that was possible. But that would be a cruel deception. I don’t want you that way.”

“Yes. You want more than a passing affair.”

“I do! And I can’t have it. Even if I married you now, in a few months I would exchange back to Earth and you would be left with the lout. You know that.”

“We will discuss this at another time. Meanwhile, when the vamps come, you will let me shield you from them.”

“Yes, of course. Why should this be in question?”

“It shouldn’t be. Now we must sleep.”

“Elen--” But she was already into the even breathing of sleep, or pretending it. He had to let her be.

She had given him much to think about. How could she protect him from being pheromonically compelled by another woman? He could guess: the holddown. She would take possession of his member so that no other woman could have access to it. That seemed so beyond the pale that he never would agree to it unless properly prepared. By experiencing the holddown, and knowing that she wanted much more from him than sex.

Well, she had made the demonstration, and she had made him desire her. She had been open about those things. What could he do except go along with it? Even if her larger desire was totally unrealistic. He would try to reason with her again in the morning, but suspected she would not change. He hated the thought of the savage disappointment she would have when his tour of this planet was done. But meanwhile they had to complete this mission.

He smiled to himself. If they died on it, that would at least solve the social problem.

Chapter 6:

Breeding

They got up and made ready to travel. “Elen--” Shep said.

“We will discuss it after we reach the breeding ground,” she said.

Well, at least he had tried.

“Soon we will reach the sea we must cross to reach the island where the rams dwell. We must cross to them; they can’t cross to us.”

“They can’t?”

“Because of the vamps. Any who try, die.”

“Why should the rams choose to live on such a prison?”

She smiled a bit grimly. “It is not their choice. It is the choice of the ewes.”

“So they won’t be bothered by the rams except when they wish to breed?”

“Yes.” She smiled again. “Human women were unable to make a similar arrangement. Maybe if we had had telepathy or precognition like the sheep we could have done it. So we must endure the constant attentions of our males, instead of only when we want them. It is a burden.”

Shep had no ready answer for that. He hoped she was teasing him.

They reached the inland sea at mid morning. It was beautiful. There did not seem to be any predators in the water or around the edge. Was this deceptive?

“The vamps are the only predator here,” Elen explained. “Any males in air, sea, or adjacent land they seduce to death, so there are no breeding populations.”

“Land sea or air? What kind of creature are they?

“We don’t know. They ignore females, and we see them only as fuzzed out blobs. But they can fly or swim or walk, and they do, to take males. But they don’t leave the vicinity of the lake, fortunately.”

“Then any man who sees them could tell the women what they look like.”

“Any man who sees them dies of blood loss before he sees a normal woman again. But the legend is that they are utterly lovely.”

Shep decided to let that be. “So you females could safely swim across?”

“No. The sheep can swim, but not that far. They must cross by boat. Python and I could swim, and Vulture could fly across. You can’t. You would be attacked by the vamps and unable to defend yourself. You must cross by boat too.”

“But if they can fly, the boat won’t protect me.”

“True. I will shield you from their thirst.”

He was constrained to believe her. Colony Jones was turning out to be a far more remarkable planet that he had known.

They walked along the bank of the sea and found an inlet with several moored flat-bottom boats. One was large enough to hold their full party. It had a rotating paddle that could be powered by a man’s feet. So it would be a powered crossing, slow but sure.

“You and I are naked,” she said.

He didn’t argue. He stripped and set his clothing with his knapsack. She did the same with her cloak.

They boarded. The sheep stood in the center of the craft; Python and Vulture took their places on either side of them, and Shep mounted the stationary-bike type pedals that connected to the paddle-wheel. There was a padded stool before the mechanism which Elen sat on, facing him. She wrapped her legs around him and took him in, as with the holddown. It was clear that this boat had been designed exactly for such a position. It was amazing how un-sexual this contact had become, considering its intimacy.

“The only way to keep them off you is to muffle you with genital flesh,” she said. “They can’t reach you as long as I block them off.”

“Thank you,” he said wryly.

“Get moving.”

Shep started pushing the pedals, causing the paddle to turn and propel the boat forward. It was geared to be feasible. Their speed was not great, but they would reach the island in an hour or so.

No sooner had they moved clear of the bank than the vamps came. They were lovely nude girls, fair faced, wasp-waisted, and high breasted, with marvelously flowing hair, some blonde, some brunette, some auburn. They seemed to be flying without wings.

“What do you see?” Elen asked softly.

He described the girls. “I’d be happy to have any of them in bed, no offense.”

“So that’s how they manifest to you. As ideal sex symbols.”

“Yes. I gather that’s not how they really look.”

“We don’t know. But since they evidently come across to rams as ewes in heat, and to other creatures as ideal mates, their appearance must be telepathically projected. You can not afford to trust what you see.”

“I’m sure. For one thing, how do they fly without wings? There has to be something sustaining them.”

She laughed. “They could be nine heads of a hydra on invisible neck-stalks. To me they seem to be floating balls of mist.”

The vamps arrived. “Oh what a handsome man!” one cried, twitching her head so that her black hair flared fetchingly. “I claim him first.”

“They’re talking,” Shep murmured. “Praising me.”

“I hear only a passing breeze.”

The first vamp flew up to hover before Shep, looking him in the eye. “Who are you, husky stud?”

Shep was silent, not trusting this.

“Keep paddling,” Elen said. “We don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

Oh. In his distraction he had stopped pumping on the pedals. He resumed.

“What, struck mute by my dazzling aspect?” the vamp asked. “Will you answer if I show you more, like this?” She sailed up to float above him, flexing her legs. She had perfectly fleshed thighs and a temptingly open cleft framed by silky black pubic hair. “I am Lova, your playmate of the hour.”

Shep couldn’t help looking, and couldn’t help reacting. To see her exposed in this manner was electrifying in a manner that merely seeing her nude was not.

“It’s the pheromones,” Elen murmured. “There’s a thick cloud of them making you thick and hard.” She frowned. “Harder than you ever were for me.”

He had almost forgotten that Elen was with him and on him. She had of course felt his urgent tumescence.

“Still not talking?” Lova asked. “Then I shall have to kiss you.” She darted down and caught his mouth briefly with hers.

There was an explosion of sensation like the bursting of a nova. His desire magnified exponentially.

“What’s she doing?” Elen asked, startled. “You’re ready to burst!”

“She kissed me.”

“Don’t kiss her! That enables her to deliver more pheromones directly! I can’t protect you if she does that.”

That was surely true. The one kiss had just about made him wrench out of Elen. Only its teasing nature, preventing him from climaxing, had stopped him from doing exactly that. He wanted nothing so much as to get into Lova, and knew that would be doom, but his body didn’t care. “How can I stop her?”

“I’ll stop her.” Elen covered his mouth with hers.

Now the vamp seemed to become aware of Elen. “What is this ugly shroud covering you?” she demanded. “Get rid of it!”

Shep decided it was better to talk to the thing. He drew back slightly from Elen. “I am Shep. I am with Elen Elf. Go away.”

“Not until I possess you, bold man.” She darted in again, but Shep quickly put his mouth back on Elen’s. The vamp collided with the back of Elen’s head and bounced off. “Oooo!” she cried angrily. Elen seemed not to feel the vamp, but Shep was totally aware of her. That was surely the work of the pheromones. He still wanted to get his member into the vamp and ejaculate a jet of blood until she was sated. It was like an urge to suicide.

Shep kept his lips glued to Elen’s.

“Help me, girls!” Lova called. “I have a resistive client here.”

The other vamps crowded close, catching hold of Shep’s arms and legs. He kept pounding on the pedals, but he felt their hands stroking him everywhere, especially the crevice of his bottom, trying to pry him out of Elen. Others were kissing his head and neck, trying to make him break his mouth contact with Elen. It seemed they could not force him physically, but wherever they touched him made him want to obey their urgings.

They continued, wedging in closer. Now one was kissing his scrotum while another stroked the exposed base of his member. They were gaining on him; soon he would give up and pull free and be lost. They were simply too strong for him to resist long, even attached as he was to Elen. What could he do?

Then a thought came to him. He remembered playing music on the staff. The sheep had heard that, and evidently liked it. Now it seemed the sheep were wanting him to play again. Did that make any sense at all?

Trust the sheep.

Shep broke the long kiss and opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. Lova, waiting for this opportunity, dived in.

But not before Shep started singing. “He who is noble, pure and simple-hearted.”

The vamps recoiled. “What is this?” Lova cried in horror.

It was working! Shep continued singing, and now Elen joined him, making it a duet. This body had a surprisingly good voice, and so did Elen. “. . . Needs not a weapon, needs no man to guard him. Virtue defends him.”

“This is revolting!” Lova said.

Shep realized that it was not the melody or the words so much as the spirit. He felt the song, the wonder of spiritual nobility, the seeming shield of goodness surrounding them. The ignoble vamps could not compete with it.

The two of them continued to sing as he paddled, forging on toward the island, while the balked vamps hovered at a safe distance. The other passengers on the boat seemed unaffected.

Finally the vamps gave up and disappeared. Shep knew better than to trust this, and remained connected to Elen as they continued to sing.

They reached the shallow surf surrounding the island. “This is beyond the vamps territory,” Elen said, ceasing her singing. “We are safe here.”

What a relief! But Shep still held her as he paddled on, just in case.

They reached a natural wharf on the island. “You can let go now,” Elen said, smiling. “Unless you have something else in mind?”

He remained sexually charged, but resisted. “I do. But not while those wicked pheromones remain.”

She laughed, and he felt it below. “You are noble.”

Now Shep disengaged from Elen, and she did not hold him. He moored the boat with a rope. Vulture hopped across, and Python slithered to land. Then the sheep walked off in single file. Finally Shep and Elen stepped over. They were there.

Six rams were waiting. The six ewes eyed them but did not advance. Shep realized that these ewes would not be forced, no matter how randy the rams were; their bone blades would stop any unwelcome effort. They would choose exactly when and with whom they would breed.

“We have time to pass,” Elen said. “A couple of weeks. There’s a shelter.”

“As you wish.”

She showed the way, and Vulture and Python accompanied them. Shep realized that nice as this island was, it was foreign territory to these creatures. They were guests of the sheep, and preferred to remain with the group. The rams might not take kindly to stray predators.

The shelter turned out to be a nice cabin complete with an adjacent tree and a pile of rocks ideal for bird or serpent. This made sense, as there must have been annual visits here for decades. There was a pond behind it that rustled with frogs. There was even a faint odor of carrion. Vulture and Python would not go hungry.

The two of them entered to find a well-stocked chamber and a twin-size bed. Shep realized how tired he was, physically and emotionally after pedaling across the lake while fighting off sexual predators. He was ready to plump down and sleep.

“Uh-uh,” Elen said. “Don’t touch that bed yet. You’re filthy with sweat and pheromones.”

“I’ll wash,” he agreed.

“I’ll wash you.” She took him to the bathroom alcove, where there was a pump and pitcher. “Strip.” He was glad to obey, despite his fixed erection. She pumped water, then poured pitchers-full over him, thoroughly rinsing him. The water was cool but not cold. She scrubbed out his hair and ears, and his genital region. When he was clean he knew it, because at last his member sank, no longer prodded by the pheromones.

“Dry and rest,” she said. “I will join you soon.” She stripped and poured water over herself. As far as he knew, the pheromones had not affected her, being male-specific, but some would remain around her and he couldn’t blame her for wanting them gone. She also dumped both their sets of clothes in the washtub for later processing. Presumably the ones in the knapsacks were cleaner in the respects that counted.

Then, nude, she joined him on the bed, taking his hand. “Let’s sleep. Then we’ll talk.”

He was glad to agree. He closed his eyes and was soon in slumber.

Some time later he woke to the smell of baking bread. It seemed the cabin had a stove and food; he hadn’t noticed before. Obviously Elen had.

She saw him stir. “It’s not ready yet. Now we’ll talk.”

“About what?”

She rejoined him, still nude. “About breeding, of course. This is the place for it.”

“For the sheep,” he agreed.

“The sheep are telepathic. Didn’t they send you the clue to sing?”

“Yes,” he said, surprised. “I had forgotten, but I think they put that thought in my head, and it worked. But how does that relate to this?”

“The sheep realized that you were being overwhelmed, so they helped you. They are not smart in the manner we are, but they know what’s what, and do what is necessary. That enables them to survive the dangers of the breeding journey.”

“Yes. They gave Python the clue to help Vulture with the carrion, and gave Vulture the clue to help me with the bridge. The knowledge was in my mind, and they relayed it.”

“Yes, they draw on each of us as necessary, and our intelligence helps. You accept that now.”

“I do. I’m not sure about the precognition, but the telepathy, yes.”

“The holddown,” she reminded him.

“That saved us from getting caught by the sudden storm. Yes, I have to agree: telepathy would not account for that, but precognition would.”

“When the sheep breed, there will be powerful telepathic waves of lust, male and female. That will affect us both, because we are attuned to the sheep. We will want to breed, not from pheromones, but from our minds. If we yield to it, I am very likely to conceive.”

Shep whistled. “Now I see your point!”

She seemed oddly constrained. “Do you?”

“We can’t afford to have that happen. Unless you have contraception.”

“I don’t need it. I will conceive only if I choose to.”

He looked at her. “Then what is the problem?”

“I will choose to.”

Shep pondered that. “Oh, you mean the sheep lust is so strong that it will override your preference?”

“No.”

“Elen, I think you will have to tell me directly, because I know I am missing something.”

“In a moment. But first I need to be sure you understand the risk you take.”

“Risk?”

“Shep, I have necessarily teased you twice, by putting you into me without culmination. I do not wish to tease you further.”

“There’s another challenge?”

“In a manner.”

“Elen, you’re teasing me right now with your obscurity! What are you trying to tell me?”

“You desire me.” It was not a question.

“I do.”

“I will give you all the sex you want. But there is a risk that you will fall in love with me, unless you can do it without emotional commitment. Then you will lose. As with the holddown.”

Shep laughed without humor. “I think I have already lost.”

“No. You are not in love with me, nor I with you. You are in lust, and when the sheep breed, I will be too.”

“Lust, but not love? There is a significant distinction, but I don’t think my heart has honored it. You are the most remarkable woman I have encountered, Elen, on any planet, and I wish I could be with you always.”

“You can make that distinction by satisfying your lust. Then that will no longer deceive your heart. I offer you that. But the risk is that by the time the distinction is clear, you will indeed love me. Then you will want to marry me.”

“And I can’t do that.” He smacked his fist into the mattress. “Damn!”

“You can do it.”

“And then leave you here, in effect a widow, when I exchange back to Earth? Leaving you with the lout? I would not do that to you, Elen.”

“You would not have to leave me.”

Shep gazed at her partly in bafflement, partly in hope. “You have something in mind?”

“I do. But this requires a commitment beyond what you may wish to make.”

“Spell it out.”

“Exchanges such as the one you made are rare. There needs to be special reason, and the participants need to be highly qualified.”

“Yes. I was the only student in my class selected this term, because I am training for planetary management.”

“Which means you are the smartest and best connected person in your class.”

“Yes. Also most committed. I worked hard to earn my place.” Shep smiled. “Then it seemed it was being thrown away watching sheep. How little I knew!”

“I am also the smartest and most committed person in my class,” she said. “I long to visit Earth and learn more of it first hand. But I am not well connected. No colony native is.”

“True. Almost by definition, colonists are secondary citizens. I have never heard of a colonist achieving an exchange as a primary figure. Only as a secondary one, like my present host.”

“There is an exception. The spouse of an Earth exchangee can qualify.”

“Well, yes, so that married couples can go together. If I were married, my wife might have been able to come here with me. We’d both be in foreign bodies, but our relationship would continue.”

“I believe there is an obscurity in that regulation. It does not say the spouse has to be a resident of Earth.”

Shep laughed. “Well, it doesn’t have to. How can it be otherwise?”

Elen merely gazed at him.

Then it dawned. “That’s why you want to marry me! Because I am of Earth. So you can exchange to Earth!”

“That is why,” she agreed.

“You have been playing up to me to make me amenable to such an arrangement.”

“Yes.”

“Not because you really liked me for myself.”

“True.”

“And now you are offering me endless sex, as an inducement.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can have the sex without marrying me. Then you can leave me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it will work out long-term only if you love me.”

Shep shook his head. “I don’t know whether you are being supremely generous, or supremely cynical.”

“Both. The sheep gave me my chance. What I make of it is up to me. But I do not want to take you by subterfuge. You must understand and accept it.”

His head was spinning. “I’m not ready to digest this right now. I will need time to ponder.”

“Of course.”

“But I do have one question. You want my love, but you do not love me. Is that fair?”

“If you come to love me, I will allow myself to allow you.”

“Allow yourself?”

She nodded. “I am under siege. You possess the qualities I want in a mate, and you are of Earth. My body and mind want to love you, and will do so if I yield. But to love you only to have you leave me would be heartbreak. I must avoid that, just as you had to avoid being taken by the vamps.”

The parallel moved him profoundly. She could love him! “You haven’t even met my real body on Earth!”

“Women are more practical than men about these things. I can accept your body as the host of the man I love.”

“Whereas you use your pretty body to besot my foolish male nature.”

“I would not put it that way, but yes.”

Shep sighed. “It is true. Men are fascinated by appearance. I am typical in that respect.”

“And I am typical in judging by your position and mind.”

“So our cards are now on the table. You want to marry me for my position. I want your body for sex. Probably most marriages are of that nature. But I think I am not ready to make any kind of decision at this moment. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Shep, there is no need. Take my body now, without commitment, as long as you recognize the risk. There is no need to torment yourself.”

He considered, then reversed the call. “Do you want sex with me?”

“Yes.”

“Because I wouldn’t care to force it on you.” Then he did a double-take. “You said yes?”

“Yes. I get pleasure in it too. I hated holding off to win the holddown, and to shield you from the vamps, but did it because it was necessary. Now it is not.”

“You actually want to have sex with me, without commitment?”

“Yes, now that we understand one another.”

“You like sex for its own sake?”

“Yes, if I respect the man. My interest may not be as extreme as yours, but I certainly would enjoy doing it with you.”

He knew she was not one to deceive him in a matter like this. “Then I take you at your word. Let’s do it.”

She moved into him, and kissed him ardently. Her hand found his member and guided it into her. Then he was thrusting and spurting with abandon, and she seemed to be climaxing with him.

“Oh, Elen,” he said as he ebbed. “I have longed to do that since I first saw you.”

“I, too.”

He had ejaculated, but his excitement was unabated. “Let’s do it again.”

“Can you?”

“Let’s find out. Maybe if you help me.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed him passionately. Her responsive vagina kneaded his member. Soon a second orgasm formed in the distance, expanded, and erupted in a slow and long culmination.

It finally faded, and they fell apart. “I never did that before,” he said. “I mean not so rapidly.”

“I think some of the pheromones remain, facilitating it.”

“That must be it. Oh, Elen--”

“Do not speak of commitment. Wait until you have properly considered. We are merely relaxing now.”

“Merely relaxing,” he agreed. “Stop me when you get tired of it.” He started kissing her, first her mouth, then her face, neck, and breasts. He paused.

“I am not tired,” she murmured. Then she started kissing him, starting innocently, proceeding to un-innocently. He loved it.

Soon they were connected again, for a third mutual orgasm. Then they drifted off to sleep, holding hands.

It was quite a night. By the time dawn arrived, they were both exhausted. So they slept on into the day.

Meanwhile his mind was going. Could he actually marry her, and qualify her for exchange as his spouse? Or would it turn out to be too complicated? For one thing, this would be the first interplanetary marriage, with the groom not even present physically, only in a native host. Earth authorities might not consider that to be valid. Whose law would govern: Earth’s or Colony Jones’s? What would be the citizenship of the baby?

“You are troubled,” Elen said. “Do you wish to tell me?”

He told her.

“I think that if we do it, we shall need a lawyer,” she said. “This is further reason for caution.”

“My father has connections. He can get a lawyer. But it’s not just that. You will need a host on Earth. I’m not sure what woman will want to exchange into a pregnant native woman.”

“I must be pregnant. Otherwise the lout’s family and mine will block the marriage. My baby will represent proof of consummation.”

“Could we return and broach the matter, and go for the baby if that turns out to be necessary?”

“No. They will isolate us from each other to prevent any such contamination.”

“Contamination!”

She looked him in the eye. “Shep, they will oppose this union. There is prejudice on either side against the other, and against Earth. Only a fait accompli will prevent that interference.”

“So we have to be truly committed before we return.”

“Yes. To marry me will complicate your life.”

Yet his love was burgeoning. “Elen, I think I am ready to--”

She cut him off with a kiss, and followed immediately with sex, preventing him from saying it. She wanted no hasty decision. But he doubted that made a difference.

Two days later, after more sex than he had ever imagined, she was ready to talk. “The sheep are about to mate. They have settled on their partners.”

“That means a telepathic barrage of sexual urgency?” he asked.

“Yes. We will be having almost continuous sex. So now we must decide whether I should allow it to take. Do you wish to marry me?”

“I do,” he said without hesitation.

“That was a question, not a proposal.”

“And an answer, not an acceptance.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“And you wish me to have my baby, though it will not be of your genetic stock?”

“Yes.”

“I can not persuade you otherwise?”

“Never. I love you.”

She sighed. “I have tried.”

“One caveat,” he said.

She was startled. “This is conditional?”

“Yes.”

He could see her brace herself. “What is your condition?”

“That you allow yourself to love me.”

She melted. “I will.”

“Then let’s make it formal.” He took a deep breath. “Elen Elf of Colony Planet Jones, will you marry me?”

“Shep Shepherd of Earth, I will marry you.”

Then they kissed. They did not have sex at this time, knowing that more than enough would soon be coming. They merely embraced and slept, resting before the siege.

It came a few hours later. Deep, rutting, sexual urgency overwhelmed them both, as the telepathy of the conjoining rams and ewes intensified to the point of no denial. They yielded to it, letting it take them on waves of desire so intense that it became painful rather than pleasurable. To resist it would have been agony.

Indeed, when the first wave abated with temporary satiation, they got up and walked around the cabin, and saw Vulture and Python in sad state. They had had no partners, so had had to suffer through it.

Within an hour the second wave came, and they clutched each other on the bed, locked in seemingly endless orgasm. Its passing left them gasping.

“We have two weeks of this?” Shep asked.

“Two weeks,” she agreed wearily. “Unless--”

“Unless?”

“Unless I am already pregnant. When my body knows it, the sexual urgency will abate, because I have been bred.”

“And what of my body?”

She smiled. “It will continue. But do not be alarmed; I will continue to accommodate you.”

“Even when your desire has cooled?”

“Yes. I do not want you to suffer.”

“Thank you,” he said wryly.

And by the end of the day she knew. “It has taken. I have been bred.”

“You’re pregnant!”

“Yes. I am with child.” She smiled. “I hope you do not change your mind now.”

“Never,” he said, kissing her. But he feared the obstacles they would have to navigate.

Chapter 7:

Return

Two weeks passed, and the ewes were finally bred. The mating urge, satisfied, faded. It was time to return to their normal pasture.

Python, Vulture, and Shep were bedraggled, albeit it for different reasons. Elen was fine. They went to the boat.

But the sheep were not there. So Shep and Elen went looking for them. They were placidly grazing. The rams were not far off, watching them. They would move in if there were any sign of interest by a ewe. In fact every so often one would approach, only to be bleated off. The ewes had no further use for them. So why were they remaining here, instead of traveling? They were well fed and ready.

There was a rumble, then an explosion. Shep saw a column of smoke rise into the air. A small volcano was erupting, from the direction they had come.

Now the sheep walked toward the boat. They must have been waiting for that. Maybe it would have been dangerous, had they been near when it happened.

But when they assembled by the boat, Shep got another feeling. “We can’t go back the way we came here,” he said.

“I know it,” Elen agreed. “That route has been blocked. That’s bad, because it was the only route I really knew. Now we’ll have to travel cross-country.”

As if they had been on a clear highway coming in. Shep was not comfortable with this. But what alternative was there? “We’ll cross the water, then circle the lake until the sheep indicate the way to go.”

They boarded, all ten of them. Shep and Elen stripped, and took their places at the paddle pedals and the seat before it. He fitted himself into her, knowing how much he would need her shielding. Sexually sated or not, he would respond to the massive pheromone assault of the vamps.

“The song!” she said, remembering. “We’ll sing it again.”

“Yes! But let’s hold our places here, just in case.”

“Of course.” She clasped him tightly, outside and inside.

He started pedaling, and the craft moved out into the lake.

The vampires came. “Come join us, virile man!” Lova called. “We hunger for your penetration!” She hovered, spreading her arms and legs wide to display her breasts and open cleft. “We have so much to offer!”

“I am already committed,” he called back.

Then they swarmed in close. Shep barely got his mouth on Elen’s before a vamp could kiss him. Their hands and bodies touched him everywhere as they pressed their breasts against the back of his head and neck, and stroked his buttocks and scrotum. The pheromones formed a dense cloud. His member, well worn from the breeding cycle, surged into rigidity, filling Elen’s channel. It wanted to burst through her and reach a vamp so it could be endlessly potent.

He kept pedaling, and the boat kept moving.

The vamps started kissing him everywhere they could reach, especially his scrotum and anus. Each kiss excited another section of his flesh.

He pedaled.

The urgency continued to build. When he feared it would overwhelm him and make him wrench free of Elen’s closure, he lifted his head and started singing. “He who is noble. . .”

“Excrement!” Lova swore. “The beast remembered!”

Elen joined him. “. . . pure and simple hearted.”

The vamps definitely were not that. They retreated, hurling vile expletives. They were furious, but could not handle the stirring music, or the spirit it evoked.

They made it across and landed at the proper site. The sheep walked off the boat, followed by Vulture and Python. Only then did Shep and Elen disembark, still closely connected as he carried her. Once they were safely on land, beyond the reach of the vamps, they were ready to separate.

“Unless you wish to complete it now,” Elen murmured.

The pheromones still surrounded them. “Actually I do, to make up for all the prior frustration. Do you mind?”

She squeezed him, just so, and he jetted powerfully into her. That established her dominance over the vampires, because now he was able to climax instead of remaining rigid while his blood was sucked.

There was a chorus of expletives from the vamps still hovering over the water. His climax was his parting shot, leaving them angrily frustrated.

The sheep had waited patiently while Shep and Elen finished their business. Then the sheep walked beside the lake, avoiding the way the party had come. About a quarter of the way around they struck out across a barren landscape. It might once have been a grass field, but now it was desiccated stubble.

Vulture flew up, circled, and returned to earth, troubled. Shep saw smoke ahead, and smelled burning. “Uh-oh. I think we have a grass fire. We don’t want to get caught in that.” Python seemed nervous too.

But the sheep were marching right toward it, unconcerned.

“Trust the sheep,” Elen said.

“Of course. But sometimes I wish they could speak our language, and tell us what’s coming.”

“They communicate well enough. They don’t need our kind of speech.”

The fire loomed closer, being blown directly toward them. Gusts of wind brought the smoke down to swirl around them, making them cough.

Python slithered rapidly ahead. Vulture followed, half flying. There was something.

Then they saw it: the opening of a cave. Shelter from the fire! Provided it didn’t harbor some predator waiting for prey to be driven into its lair. But of course the sheep would not blithely walk into that.

It turned out to be a series of caves, linked by tunnel-like apertures as if a river had once coursed through it. Now it was bone dry. The sheep formed a file and walked on into it, leaving the light of day behind.

“Trust the sheep,” Shep echoed. They followed closely after the last ewe, and Python and Vulture brought up the rear. The sounds of the sheep’s hooves told them where to go.

An hour later they emerged from the caves and found a completely different landscape. Green grass bordered a slow stream, and there were a few fruiting trees. It was a comparative paradise, a fine place to spend the night.

The sheep had known.

That night Shep and Elen clasped each other in the holddown mode, kissing and making love without sexual completion. It seemed natural.

In the morning they were ready to resume travel, but the sheep were not. So they waited. Sure enough, a ferocious storm crossed suddenly over them, deluging them with water and raising the level of the river close to overflowing its banks. But in another hour the torrent cleared and they were able to resume walking.

The rest of the journey was like that. Only the awareness of the sheep made it feasible without severe problems. But because Shep now truly trusted the sheep, accepting their judgment without question, the return was relatively easy. In several days they reached the human village where Shep’s host lived.

And that was it. The sheep disappeared into their pastures, leaving the four other members of the party behind. The mission had been accomplished.

“I guess that goes for you too, friends,” Shep said to Python and Vulture. “You are free to resume your natural lives.”

But neither animal departed. “I think they have been tamed,” Elen said. “They prefer to stay with us.” She smiled. “And I welcome it. I feel more comfortable with them than I would at home.”

Oh, yes. “Because now we have to marry, and face the opposition of the two families.”

“Yes. Python and Vulture accept us as we are. They know what we’ve been through.”

“We’ll just have to explain that we are a team, and they are part of it. As long as they don’t attack human beings or their pets, it should be all right.”

“Yes. I think they won’t attack anyone unless there is an immediate danger to us.” She faced the house. “I think you and I must explain some things to people who will not be pleased to hear them.”

“Yes.” He considered briefly. “I am not properly conversant with social customs on this world.” He smiled. “I came here to study them, but got distracted. But I know that sometimes things that shouldn’t make a difference, do. We have gotten messed up from hard traveling. Can we—make ourselves more presentable?”

She laughed. “Excellent thought. Looking travel worn is fine, but you should be obviously healthy and I should be pretty.”

Elen got to work on them both, and soon their appearance was much improved.

“And I think we will need to introduce Vulture and Python,” he said. “As evidence of the mission we were on. That may be why the sheep put their need to stay with us into their minds.”

“Yes.” Elen knelt beside Python and stroked her neck. “Trust us,” she said. “We will safeguard you from our kind.” She did the same with Vulture.

Then they girded themselves and approached the house. Shep knocked on the door.

In a moment it opened to reveal Cora Peterson, his host’s mother. “Brian!” she cried gladly. Then she paused. “Or is it you?”

“I am the man from Earth, Amber Shepherd,” Shep said. “I have brought Brian’s body home safely. The sheep have returned and I am free to pursue my original mission. But there are complications.”

Now she saw his companions. “An elf. A python. A vulture,” she said faintly.

“We are friends, bound together,” Shep said. “None of these creatures will harm you. It is a legacy of the mission with the sheep. We need to talk.”

The woman seemed about ready to faint, but collected herself. “Come in. All of you. We will talk.”

They trooped into the house, where Brett, the father, greeted them. “We know that the sheep change folk. You surely have an interesting tale to tell. Make yourselves comfortable.” If he was nervous about the presence of Vulture and Python he did not show it.

Shep and Elen took chairs, and Vulture and Python settled quietly behind them. “This is Elen,” Shep said. “The sheep selected her, as they did me and the others. It was a considerable experience. Now Elen and I need to marry.”

Cora put her hand to her breast as if suffering a heart attack, and Brett looked grim. “I think you know we would not approve of that.”

“Going with the sheep was not my choice, or hers,” Shep said. “But we had to do it. Now we are in love and must marry. We ask for your support.”

“Must marry?” Cora asked faintly.

“I am pregnant,” Elen said.

“You are not our son,” Brett said to Shep. “He can not be bound by what you do.”

“But she is with child,” Cora protested. “By our son’s body. The child must have a father.”

“Marriage to an elf was not part of the deal!” Brett said.

“Here is what we propose,” Shep said. “We will marry, and Elen will exchange with a young woman of Earth so she can remain with me on the other planet. That Earth woman will keep company with your son, in Elen’s body. She will not be his wife; he is not committed to that, as you say. But she will bear his genetic child. Six months later, I will return and so will Elen, to resume our marriage here. It will be known that this was not your doing, but the result of the mission of the sheep. No blame will attach to you.”

“But our son!” Cora protested. “With this elf woman! With child by him!” She was having trouble getting past that.

“With an Earth woman in Elen’s body,” Shep said. “They may have whatever relationship they choose.” He smiled briefly. “Brian may have developed a taste for Earth women by the time he returns.”

“You know it must be,” Elen said. “My family will be no better pleased than you by this union. Elves and humans seldom marry. I hope both families will make the best of it.”

“I ask your indulgence,” Brett said. “Would you show us your body, Elf?”

Elen opened her cloak and showed them. Both Brett and Cora looked. “You are beautiful,” Bret said.

Elen shrugged. “Nature made me that way.” She closed her cloak.

“More beautiful than our son would ever be able to attract on his own, human or elf. You would play the part of his lover?”

“I am Shep’s lover,” Elen said firmly. “I will not touch your son.”

“But the exchange Earth girl—she would love our son?”

“Unlikely,” Shep said. “She wouldn’t know him.”

“But the two bodies would be married, by our custom,” Brett said.

“Elen and I would be married,” Shep said. “Not Brian and the Earth woman.”

“But they would live together.”

“I suppose they would,” Shep agreed.

“They would act married,” Brett said.

This was evidently important to the man. “Probably they would, publicly.”

Now Cora saw where Brett was going. “And if they fell in love, they could marry—Brian and the Earth girl. Completing it. No shame about the baby.”

“If they fell in love,” Shep agreed cautiously.

Brett smiled, looking at Elen. “Could any man be close to this body, whatever its occupant, and not fall in love with her?”

“Not if he’s like me,” Shep said.

Elen’s face was composed. That could be mischief. She had no interest in the lout. But she knew she would not be occupying her own body in Shep’s absence. She would be with him on Earth. She could endure that. “My body will be at the Earth girl’s disposal. So long as she does not harm my baby.”

Both parents nodded. They seemed to have hammered out a compromise of sorts. But Shep knew there was one huge uncertainty: could they find an Earth woman who would agree to keep company with the lout? To make a marriage of appearances that would satisfy the relatives.

“You may stay here, using Brian’s room,” Cora said. “Until you marry.” Which would give the parents the semblance of some control over the situation.

“Thank you,” Elen said, seeming genuinely grateful. She knew that the Peterson’s interest was in appearance, both social and physical, rather than the technicalities of host versus visitor, but that acceptance counted for a lot.

“Now we must broach the elf family,” Shep said.

Brett laughed. “Lotsa luck!” He understood perfectly how the elves would react.

They walked to the other village, accompanied by Vulture and Python. Elen knocked on her own door. “Mom, I have awkward news.”

There was a scene, of course. In the end, the elves agreed to the marriage. What else could they do? Not only was their daughter keeping willing company with a vulture and a python along with a man of Earth, she was pregnant and in love.

Then they went to the Earth embassy to message Shep’s parents. He knew they would be intrigued, knowing he would not have done such a thing without good reason. They would promise to see about a suitable Earth woman to be Elen’s host, and a lawyer to arrange for the exchange, since the law was vague in this instance.

Messaging Earth was expensive and limited. They were allowed only ten words.

MARRYING ELF GIRL.

WOW! That would be his father talking.

MUST GET EARTH HOST, LAWYER.

WILL DO. GOOD LUCK, SON.

He had done it in only eight words, and his father had used only six. Shep was reassured; his family had resources, and he knew the matter would be competently handled.

“Oh, I want so much to go to Earth!” Elen said. “But now that it is being arranged, I can’t help wondering what it will be like to occupy another woman’s body, and to have her occupy mine. I wish I could have the one without the other.”

“I’m nervous too,” Shep said. “About what it will be like to embrace you in another woman’s body, and what you will think of my own body. Suppose you can’t stand it?”

“Then I will fake it,” she said, smiling. “You will never know the difference.”

“Why am I not completely encouraged?” he asked rhetorically. Then they made love. If she was faking her continued interest in that, he was unable to tell.

The banns were published, and in the following month they held the wedding. It was in an open forum between the two villages, open to any who wished to attend, and as it turned out, the majority of both villages came. They understood the significance: not of human and elf union, which was hardly encouraged, but of
Earth and Colony union, the first. Supported by a wild vulture and python, an extremely unusual occurrence.

Colony weddings were non-religious, as settlers had decided at the outset to avoid as many of the divisive aspects of Earth as possible. They each spoke their lines, swearing love and companionship, and publicly kissed. Then the two nominal fathers, Brett Peterson and Erasmus Elf, stood together. “Who cares to stand in witness to this union?” Brett asked the audience. It was a formality, and a tacit invitation for any objection, which would be made by remaining seated.

All the villagers stood. They liked the notoriety of it, knowing that this would be awkward for the Earth authorities who exercised control over the colony. Was this a local or an interplanetary event? What were the legal repercussions?

There was a bleat. All eyes turned. There were the six ewes, approaching in a close formation. Python and Vulture went to meet them, touching noses. Shep and Elen went too, surprised. They hugged each of the sheep, who tolerated this intimacy without objection. “So glad you could make it!” Shep said with a smile.

It was significant. Sheep had never before attended a public human event, and that fact that Shep and Elen were able to embrace them without getting stabbed was not lost on the audience. No one ever touched a sheep without knowing the sheep approved it. The sheep did approve this union, and allowed everyone to see their endorsement. What did it mean?

“The sheep want us married,” Elen said. “Why do they care, since they don’t have any such thing in their own kind? They don’t love, and sex is only for procreation. I doubt they understand the intricacies we practice, and would not care about them if they did understand.”

“Why, indeed?” Shep asked. “As far as I can tell, the sheep are not smart in the human sense, merely telepathic and precognitive. What do they see that requires our union?”

“There has to be a reason,” Elen said. “And the sheep themselves may not know it. Only that the marriage needs to exist. It must relate in some way to their needs. All they really care about is their own welfare; the rest of us are merely tools they use when they have to.”

“Their precognition may see something far ahead. Could it relate to Earth? To Earth policy with respect to the Colony? I am in training for Colony Administration. But that’s in the future; I am nobody of importance at present.”

“Can we find out?”

“I’ll try.” They returned to the Embassy and messaged a query to his folks, using his two remaining words: COLONY NEWS?

The answer came back promptly. YES. IMPORTANT. MORE ANON. That used up his father’s words.

They exchanged a glance. Something was definitely up, and the sheep knew it. “I suspect our adventure is not yet complete,” Shep said grimly.

The dominoes fell into place. The Earth administration approved their marriage, and Elen was granted status to exchange to Earth. That was surely the work of the lawyer Shep’s family had hired. In addition, they had found a good exchange partner for Elen. Shep would have to return to Earth to approve her; then Elen could follow.

“Please, let her not be a hag,” Elen said. “I want sex appeal.”

“So do I.” Then he caught her glance. “For your sake,” he added quickly. “I have no interest in the bodies of any other women.”

She elected not to argue the case.

Meanwhile they had taken a village house to share with Python and Vulture. To pay for it they exploited their discovered musical abilities, developing several songs. Shep played on the staff/mirliton with increasing competence while Elen sang, and they also sang duets, starting with “He Who Is Noble.” They started doing brief tours, playing before both human and elven audiences, and were always welcomed. At first, he suspected, it was the notoriety of their interplanetary marriage, but before long their pleasant harmonies became popular in their own right.

They were also demonstrating to Brian’s family that Brian had a likely future in music. He would not have to be a turnip farmer. Shep could see the parents slowly melting as they heard the lovely melodies and saw the enthusiastic responses of audiences. They were reluctantly concluding that their son’s possible union with an elf or Earth woman was not necessarily evil.

Elen started to show. She was indeed pregnant. She would be about five months along when they went to Earth. Shep hoped his folks had made that clear to the exchanging Earth girl.

Then the time came. They elected to make the exchanges from the Peterson’s home, so that Brian would have a familiar homecoming and the incoming Earth girl would have a secure situation from the outset. Both Vulture and Python attended; they were evidently in it for the duration.

“It should be only a few days,” Shep told Elen, not for the first time. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you,” she agreed. They kissed, then he sat down for the exchange apparatus. He suffered a sudden siege of nervousness, but kept his gaze on Elen.

Then the scene changed.

Chapter 8:

Earth

And there were his parents, Sherman and Zandra, a similar look of expectation and concern on their faces. They needed immediate reassurance that nothing had gone wrong in the exchange.

“Hi Dad! Hi Mom. It’s me, Shep,” he said.

“Good enough,” Sherman said, as if there had been no doubt. He was normally a man of few words.

Zandra didn’t bother to conceal her relief. She caught Shep by the shoulders and kissed him.

“How did you get along with Brian Peterson?” Shep asked.

“That boy’s going to make a fine musician,” Sherman said. “If he can persuade his folks.”

“He can persuade them,” Shep said. “Elen and I prepared the way. We even did recitals.”

“Elen, the elf girl?” Zandra said. “You will have to tell us all about how you got married.”

“Obviously he knocked her up, then had to marry her,” Sherman said gruffly.

Shep laughed. “I did, technically, but it wasn’t like that. We fell in love first. Yes, her name is Elen. She’s some woman.” That reminded him. “You found an exchange host for her?”

“Actually the host found us,” Sherman said. “She’s the lawyer’s daughter.”

“The lawyer’s daughter! And he is allowing it?”

“He recommended it. It’s that she has conflicting ambitions. One is to be a super-high-power attorney like her dad, and it seems she has the drive and talent. The other is to live a rustic country life far from the tensions of civilization and have a normal family. She thought she couldn’t have both, but now maybe she can. Six months here, six months there.”

“She does know Elen’s five months pregnant, and will give birth during her tenure there?”

“She knows the essence. It seems that’s another thing: she can’t be a high-power attorney and have a family. Not on Earth. But on the Colony she can have a baby, and time for it, with guaranteed no sudden business calls. She’s ready to give it a try.”

This sounded good, but Shep was wary. “I need to meet her first.”

“She’ll be here tomorrow,” Zandra said. “She’s a marvelous young woman.”

“And quite pretty,” Sherman said.

“And what is this business about Colony Planet Jones in the Earth news?”

“The lawyer will fill you in properly,” Sherman said. “But we can tell you that Congress is about to pass a law making that planet a tourist resort, where rich folk can go by exchange and make out with native girls and shoot wild sheep. That sort of thing.”

Shep stared at them in horror. “That must not be!”

“It is very likely to be,” Sherman said. “The moneyed interests are behind it.”

“Dad, those sheep are telepathic and precognitive.”

Sherman laughed. “Lotsa luck with that one, son.”

Shep realized that this was going to be a hard sell. He had not believed it himself, until repeated experience had satisfied him. Without actual sheep to prove his case, he was unlikely to get far. But shooting the sheep? He had to stop that.

Then it came to him: this was why the sheep had chosen him. So he could return to Earth and argue their case. So they would not be slaughtered. They might not be smart enough to make such a plan, but they had known that he was the one they had to cultivate to prevent later disaster. Now all he had to do was prevent the special interests from passing that law.

He dropped the matter. Maybe Elen, when she arrived here, would be able to help. Maybe they would be able to persuade the lawyer, who would then know what to do. Certainly it was beyond Shep’s immediate competence.

He settled back into the family routine, acclimatizing. There was plenty to readjust to without arousing open skepticism about his sanity.

In the morning he dressed well and was ready to meet the lawyer’s daughter. Even so, he was taken back. She was strikingly beautiful and well fleshed with flaring black hair to her waist.

“I am Mona Maverick,” she said, smoothly taking up the slack of his silence. “You must be Shep Shepherd.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was frankly stunned by your appearance. You are not what I expected.”

“You expected a string-bean horse-faced female with her nose stuck in a legal book?”

He had to smile. “Something like that. Come in; you need to meet my family too.”

Shep’s parents were as impressed as he was. Mona was alert and gracious, quite comfortable with the situation. “I’m sure we’ll get along,” she said. “Or at least, my body will.”

After brief dialogue, Mona faced Shep. “While I realize that the judgment of my suitability as host for your beloved is your decision, I do have a stipulation. I want you to meet my friend Elasa.”

“Elasa? I don’t recognize the name.”

“Elasa Thompkins. She is my closest friend. I want her to be my guardian during my absence, to see that my body is properly maintained.”

“I would never abuse--”

“Of course not,” she agreed. “But you and my body will be lovers. Elasa knows something about absent minds; we are very close, and I trust her judgment. You will like her.”

Was she trying to palm him off on her friend? He would not go for that. “Whether I like her is irrelevant.”

“No. She will be seeing my body often, and therefore you as well. There is another aspect we’ll clarify soon. The two of you must get along, if this is to work out.”

Better to play along and find out what it entailed. “Yes, I should meet her.”

Mona took him in her car to another address. It was a simple home, and Elasa turned out to be a moderately pretty woman with brown hair, gray eyes, a well filled bosom, and a baby boy. She had been expecting them, and invited them in immediately. “My husband’s at work,” she said. “I do have available time. This is my son Bela.” She looked Shep in the eye. “As I understand it, your Colony wife will occupy Mona’s body and be your lover here on Earth.”

“Yes.” It seemed that he needed to persuade Elasa that her friend would not be abused. “That is at least the beginning of it.”

“Not the whole of it?”

“It gets complicated.”

“Please,” Elasa said. “We want to know.”

The baby, Bela, stirred. Elasa unselfconsciously opened her shirt and put his face to her left breast. No wonder she was full there; she was nursing!

But Shep had material to cover. He let them have it. “My wife Elen is an elf on Colony Jones. That is, of human stock, but small in stature. She taught me many things, and I now have beliefs that I never had before.”

“Beliefs?”

“There are wild sheep there, not like those of Earth. They protect themselves with knife-like bones that project from their bodies when they are attacked, so are considered dangerous, except that they don’t attack people. All they want is to be left alone. So people try to ignore them; that’s best. But I learned that they have other abilities, such as telepathy.”

He waited for their looks of disbelief, but they didn’t come. “Telepathy is one of those things that seem possible, but have not yet been persuasively demonstrated,” Elasa said. “How do you know this about them?”

“I was with a small flock of ewes for a month. They not only persuaded me and Elen to join them, they recruited a vulture and a python to assist. None of these animals were intelligent in the human sense, but were enabled to cooperate in the journey by the minds of the sheep. For example, when I made a rope bridge to span a chasm, the vulture carried the lead rope across. There’s no way an untrained wild bird would have done what without having the notion projected to its limited mind. The sheep evidently got it from my mind and sent it to the vulture’s mind. There were similar incidents with the python. Telepathy made these wild creatures compatible.”

Mona was intensely interested. “Sheep like that need to be closely studied.”

“Yes. But there is more. The sheep are precognitive.” He waited again for their open disbelief, but again it did not come. “You are accepting this?”

Elasa moved the baby to her right breast. “Similarly strange things happen.”

“Not on Earth,” Shep said.

“On Earth too,” Elasa said firmly.

“My father did some research, and found indications,” Mona said. “He is interested in unusual things that might have legal complications. That is why he suggested that I become your wife’s host.”

“So you could investigate for yourself!” Shep exclaimed.

“That, too. Such a discovery would be a phenomenal breakthrough. What is your evidence for precognition?”

Shep, relieved to have an accepting audience, told them in detail. “But if they start shooting sheep,” he concluded, “there will be no breakthrough. Somehow we have to get this stopped.”

“And we can’t wait for my investigation,” Mona agreed. “But we need more substantial evidence than your word. I mean no offense.”

“Elen will endorse everything I have said.”

“I’m sure she will. But would this cause members of Congress, who owe their offices to special interests like those that are pushing for this legislation, to change their minds?”

“I doubt it,” Shep said. “Frankly, I don’t know what to do.”

“Father will know,” Mona said.

“That’s why we asked for a lawyer. We knew we would need someone competent to handle our interplanetary marriage. Now it seems that need has magnified.”

“Yes. You will meet my father this afternoon,” Mona said. “Now we must get our personal business aligned.”

“Whether you really want to exchange to a woman who is five months pregnant, and birth her baby,” Shep said. “I will understand if you don’t.”

“Oh, but I do. My closeness with Elasa has impressed on me the joys of motherhood. This is a way for me to experience them without permanent commitment.” She glanced at Elasa, still nursing. “I am jealous. I want to bear and nurse my baby. But I can’t if I am to pursue my career. This is a unique compromise that allows me to have the best of both worlds.”

Shep shook his head. “I am not a woman. I don’t face that particular choice.”

“There is more,” Mona said. “Just as Elasa will watch over my body while I am away, we want your wife to watch over Elasa’s body, since I will be unable to do it.”

Perplexed, Shep looked at Elasa. “You have a medical condition? I’m sure Elen will help in any way she can. But she will not be familiar with Earth, and she will be taking math courses. She may not have much time.”

“Not exactly,” Elasa said. She handed the baby to Mona, leaving her breasts exposed. “But I am not the way I appear.”

“You appear to me to be a complete woman.”

Mona kissed Bela, who evidently liked her company. “Oh, she is, she is.”

“Observe, please.” Elasa put her fingers to her cleavage, pulling against the inner slopes of her breasts. Then the breasts swung outward as though hinged, showing a metallic chamber where her lungs should be.

Shep stared. “You had reconstructive surgery? But your chest is hollow!”

“More than that,” Elasa said. She put her right hand on her left hand, and twisted. The left hand came off, leaving a bloodless stump for a wrist.

“I don’t understand,” Shep said. “Were you in a terrible accident, and have prosthetics?”

“Worse,” Mona said. She was holding Bela to face his mother, and he was not at all disturbed. He must have seen this before.

“Worse?” he asked blankly.

Elasa put her left hand back in place and twisted it on. It functioned; she spread her fingers and made a little fist. Then she raised both hands to her head. She took hold of her ears, twisted, and lifted. Her head came off.

Bela laughed. He must have seen this show before too.

Shep thought he was going to faint. Then at last he caught on. “You’re a robot!”

Elasa made the head nod. Then she set it back on her neck and twisted it into place. She took a breath, as she had been unable to speak with her head off. “I am,” she agreed. “A conscious female humanoid robot, or femdroid. My details are subject to change without notice, which can amuse my husband.”

Shep could imagine why. “But—but how could you nurse?”

“My breasts are separate functioning units.” She put her hands on them and closed her chest. Once again she looked like a living and quite sexy woman. She closed up her shirt.

“On rare occasion her awareness vacates,” Mona said. “Then she is no longer a legal person, and her baby and husband reject her. It is a crisis.”

“A crisis,” Shep agreed, awed.

“If it happens while I am away, Elen will have to help. To cover for her, hold her baby, and get her safely isolated. With luck it won’t happen, or if it does, won’t last long. As with a computer glitch; resetting can often fix it.”

“The reset switch is under my chin,” Elasa said. “But this is a private matter best attended to by a friend.”

Shep was bemused. “Are you sure you want to be away?” he asked Mona.

“Oh, yes. The risk to Elasa is small, and I must take this opportunity. But we felt it was necessary for you to know, and for your wife to know, just in case.”

“Just in case,” Shep agreed weakly. He had thought the sheep were strange?

“Now on to another detail,” Mona said. “As you see, Bela accepts me. I am his godmother; indeed, I am his genetic mother. But when I go he will know, and be concerned. Elen will have to make his acquaintance directly. He is shy around strangers, but friendly enough once he knows them.”

Shep worked it out. “So that if Elasa should, well, glitch, and Bela rejects her, Elen will be able to take him without a problem. Because he will know her, apart from the body she is in.”

“Yes,” Elasa said. “It is a small safety net.”

“Meanwhile I will be having the experience of birthing, nursing, and nurturing my body’s baby,” Mona said. “Just as Elen will have the experience of sharing her body’s baby. Parallel experiences, essential to both of us, and to the babies.”

“I appreciate that,” Shep said.

“You need to get to know Bela too,” Mona said. “Take him.” She held the baby out.

“But I know nothing about--” He broke off. Obviously he would have to learn, both here on Earth and on the Colony planet when he returned there with Elen. He took the baby.

Bela wriggled uncomfortably. “You’re holding him wrong,” Mona said quickly. “Don’t let him dangle. Put a hand under his bottom.” She guided his hand.

Now that he was comfortable, Bela was satisfied to remain. He must have been passed to a number of other people on occasion; many folk liked to hold a baby.

But in a moment Bela became restless. Elasa reached out and took him back. “That’s all right; he doesn’t know you yet, but he didn’t reject you.”

“You and Elen will really enjoy changing diapers,” Mona said mischievously.

Elasa looked surprised. “I just received a message: there was a cancellation, and they are moving up your transfer, Mona. The tech will be here within the hour.”

Shep realized that because Elasa was a machine, she had integral communication circuits. She could answer the phone without moving or talking.

“But I haven’t yet introduced Shep to my father,” Mona protested.

Elasa smiled. “So are you going to tell them no, you changed your mind?”

“No way! But you’ll have to introduce Shep to my father.”

“I will do that,” Elasa agreed. “Do you want to hold Bela when you exchange?”

“So he can tune in on it? Maybe that’s best.”

The tech arrived with the equipment. Mona took her seat, holding the baby. Shep watched somewhat nervously. Would Mona really transform into Elen?

“Ten, nine,” the tech counted. “. . . three, two, one, time.”

Bela’s expression changed. Startled, he looked at Mona’s face.

“Oh, a baby!” she exclaimed, and kissed him.

“He didn’t fuss,” Elasa murmured. “That’s a good sign.”

“Elen?” Shep asked. “I’m Shep.”

“Shep!” she said, looking up. Then down at the baby. “But who--?”

“Mine,” Elasa said, taking Bela. “I am Elasa, Mona’s friend. Mona is your host; she is now in your body on Colony Jones.”

“Yes, of course,” Elen said, standing. “Is this really Earth?”

“It really is,” Shep said, taking her in his arms.

“Oh, I’m so relieved! I know it’s routine, but I feared—never mind.” She put her face to his and kissed him ardently. It was Elen, all right.

They led her to a mirror so she could see her new body. She gazed at it, amazed. “I’m so big, all around! At least I kept my hair.”

“We have a whole lot of explaining to do,” Shep said.

“Right now? I had hoped. . .” She trailed off, looking at him.

“Use my bedroom,” Elasa said. “The rest can wait that long.”

“Oh, to freshen up?” Shep said. “I’ll wait.”

“Get in there, idiot,” Elasa said, shoving him after Elen.

Oh. In moments they were naked on the bed, making wild love. Her vagina gripped his member, grasping it in the way Elen’s had. If he had had any lingering doubt about her identity, that erased it. She was doing the holddown on him.

Then they lay beside each other, holding hands. “I missed you so much,” Elen said.

“And I missed you,” he said, realizing that it was true. He had been too busy to think about it, and it had been only a day, but his enormous relief at being back with her, in whatever body, confirmed it.

Then they cleaned up, dressed, and rejoined Elasa.

“Congratulations on your bonding,” Elasa said. “Now you both know it’s real.”

“I hardly know you, but I like you already,” Elen said. “You understand.”

“Elasa is a most unusual woman,” Shep said. Then they set about telling her. And showing her.

“Earth has its wonders,” Elen agreed, impressed.

Chapter 9:

Prophecy

Elasa took them to the hotel where the lawyer, Moncho Maverick, was staying. He was an impressive man in his 40s with a penetrating gaze and assured manner. Elasa kissed him at the outset. He was the one who had won her suit for legal personhood, and it seemed they remained close. “Shep Shepherd, and Elen Elf,” she said. “Or Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd.”

“That’s amazing,” Moncho said, smiling. “She could pass for my daughter if she tried.”

“Elen is nice too,” Elasa said. “Mona was sorry not to be able to introduce you to Shep, but they moved up the schedule and she had to go immediately.”

“And now she’s five months pregnant,” he said, laughing. “Farther than she went before.”

“Before?” Elen asked.

“Mona was the donor of the egg from which Bela formed,” Elasa explained. “The embryo was transplanted to me so I could have most of the pregnancy and birth the baby, but I could not conceive him. I have no genes of my own to offer.”

Shep digested that. No wonder the two women were so close. That was actually Mona’s baby. It seemed that Mona’s mention of being the genetic mother was literal.

“This body I’m in made Bela,” Elen said, getting it straight.

“With my husband,” Elasa agreed.

“Artificial insemination?” Shep asked.

“No.”

He decided not to question that matter further.

Then they got serious. “You want to save the sheep,” Moncho said.

“Yes. They must be protected.”

“You say they are telepathic and precognitive.”

“Yes.”

“We need persuasive evidence. We don’t have it.”

“If they went to Jones and looked at the sheep, even for a day, they would know,” Elen said. “All of us know.”

“My dear, the special interests don’t want to know. Knowing would cost them money, and that is a sin. They will not go to Jones to garner evidence against their greed. We need a case right here on Earth that will blow away a skeptic.”

Shep and Elen exchanged a look. They knew they had nothing.

“You have a notion, Moncho,” Elasa said wisely.

“You are getting to read me too well, fembot,” he agreed fondly. Their relationship seemed much like father/daughter. “Just as Mona does. Yes, there may be a way. It’s a wild gamble, but what have we to lose? If we don’t act within days, the case is lost by default.”

Shep exchanged another glance with Elen. Neither of them had any idea.

“Think carefully,” Moncho said to them persuasively. “If the sheep sent you here because they procogged your ability to save them from slaughter, they surely provided you with the means to accomplish your mission. We merely have to fathom that means.”

“They aren’t smart,” Elen protested. “They don’t reason the way we do.”

“Smartness is not the issue. They simply know what path to take to get where they are going. It is for us, not them, to figure out the details.”

The details. Such as making a persuasive case to the Earth authorities who did not want to hear it. But Moncho was surely correct. The sheep had in effect given the order; now they had to carry it out.

They reviewed their experience with the sheep without finding anything relevant. Then Shep got a notion. “Those dreams we had. They were of Earth.”

“They were wild fantasies,” Elen said.

“What was the context?” Moncho asked.

“We slept, and dreamed,” Shep said. “When we woke we discovered that the sheep had come to sleep near us. Then they moved away again.”

“That may be it. If they are telepathic, it is surely more effective at close range.”

“But the dreams were of Earth,” Elen protested. “The sheep know nothing of Earth.”

“Telepathy, again,” Moncho said. “They projected a thought into your minds, and you translated it into the dreams of Earth.”

“The precognition!” Elasa said. “They gave you telepathic precognition!”

Moncho shook his head. “That’s so far-fetched it just may be the truth. We don’t know the limits of the powers of the sheep. If they gave you precognition, your minds would have shaped it into familiar substance. Exactly what were these dreams?”

“Mine was of a volcano erupting in the Everglades,” Shep said.

“Mine was of the discovery of an air-breathing cave squid,” Elen said.

“Ludicrous,” Moncho said. “But sometimes the unbelievable is true. Was there anything else?”

“A date,” Shep said. “The same for each one.” And paused, surprised. “That date is close to now!”

“Verification,” Moncho said. “Your precognitive visions can be disproved simply by waiting on the date.”

“That’s bad,” Shep said.

“No, that’s perfect. We will publicize your predictions. If they are disproved, we have lost nothing we won’t lose anyway by doing nothing. If they are proved, we win. It’s so simple even a sheep could see it.”

They looked at him. “You’re taking it seriously?” Shep asked.

“Yes. This is a phenomenally important case. Verifiable precognition would be the discovery of the century. If the sheep are as you say, they must be protected so they can be studied. So we will shoot for the moon, or in this case, the planet. The two of you are about to go dramatically globally public.”

“I have seen that happen,” Elasa said.

“Yes you have, metal maiden.” Moncho on focused Shep and Elen. “Now we have work to do. I will pull a few strings and get you a spot to testify before the key congressional committee the day before the prophecies are due. You will rehearse your stories, not to falsify them but to make them as clear and effective as is feasible.” He rubbed his hands together. “We are going to make global headlines.”

“Again,” Elasa said.

Moncho eyed her. “You have a problem with that, boltbucket?”

“None at all, meatman.”

Shep squeezed Elen’s hand. These two were fun!

They left Moncho’s temporary office and went to see about semester courses. Shep had to do a detailed report on his exchange experience, and Elen had to sign up for the advanced math classes she so desired. They also made sure they were registered as man and wife here on Earth. They were, as far as they knew, the first interplanetary couple, and the law was vague on their exact status. As long as neither Earth family, his and Mona’s, challenged it, they were okay.

Elasa arranged to audit the same classes Elen took, so the two could keep company most of the time. Shep understood the reasons, but apart from that he found it increasingly convenient. Elasa was conversant with all manner of feminine concerns that Shep knew little about, and was fine support for the visitor. Elen also got to hold Bela more often, and she did learn how to change his diaper. She reveled in the experience, anticipating her own baby on Colony Jones. Meanwhile she absolutely adored the math classes, and there were indications that she was a top student. She did have the mind for it. It was clear that the two women were rapidly becoming close friends, perhaps in part because one was a consciousness in a machine, the other a consciousness in a foreign body; they had unique aspects in common.

Then they were due for the Congressional Committee Hearing. The Committee, as Moncho explained, was something of an ad hoc group consisting of some congressmen, some senators, and some representatives for those other nations involved in the interplanetary colonization initiative. All were deeply in hock to the special moneyed interests who were their true masters, whatever other impression they might try to make for the voters. But however makeshift it might seem, their word was quietly law.

“Understand,” Moncho briefed them in advance. “This is a charade. They will listen to you, seem to be interested, perhaps promise further consideration, but you might as well be singing in the toilet for all the legal effect your words will have. Except for the publicity. You will be a global laughing stock for one day. Then, if the sheep’s prophecy is true, everything will change.”

“And if it isn’t true,” Shep said glumly, “the sheep are dead.”

“It is their scene to make,” Moncho agreed. “Meanwhile we must do our part to attract an audience.” He glanced at Elen. “You, my dear, must wear a supposedly accidentally revealing outfit that will make the male eye linger, and therefore the cameras. Elasa will help you select it from my daughter’s closet. You must smile whenever Shep catches your eye.”

“I will do that,” Elen agreed, catching his eye and smiling.

Shep and Elen made desperate love the night before the hearing, fearing the worst. They believed in the sheep, but these prophecies were so far out that even the two of them could not really believe them. A squid unknown to science? A volcano in the swamp of Florida? Shep was no biologist or geologist, but he knew that these things were so unlikely as to be virtually impossible. Yet what else did they have?

Then they were at the hearing. Moncho and Elasa sat behind them, silent support, with Bela asleep in Elasa’s arms, but they would not be participating unless a Committee member addressed one of them specifically. Video cameras were recording the proceedings. Probably not too many people were tuning in, but the news was readily available for those interested.

There were several other routine matters. Then it was their turn. “Our next witnesses represent Colony Planet Jones,” the Committee chairman said. “The exchange student Amber Shepherd, who has returned from a semester there, and his wife Elen Elf, now in exchange from there, taking math courses here. They wish to make their case for the protection of the Colony sheep. That is, against the pending legislation promoting the reclassification of that planet as a tourist hunting enclave.”

The other Committee members had been casually indifferent to the prior business, but they abruptly focused. They would not let that legislation get sidetracked. The hostility did not show on their faces, but it was as though the oxygen in the room had been depleted.

“Mr. Shepherd,” the chairman said, “Please state your case. You will have five minutes before we question your details.”

Shep was ready. “When I exchanged to Colony Planet Jones, I was approached by a native sheep,” he said. “It seemed that the sheep had a difficult journey to make, and they wanted me to shepherd them, though I know nothing about sheep. But it seems that the sheep can be dangerous, and it was best to honor their preference. So I became their shepherd, along with other creatures they recruited: a vulture, a python, and an elf girl.” He paused briefly. “I should clarify that the elves are of human stock, merely a bit smaller than normal people. The two races can interbreed. Indeed, I married her, and she will bear my baby on Jones. She is with me here, in transfer.” He indicated Elen, who smiled fetchingly. “The sheep evidently knew what they were doing, because each member of the party had a key role to play, somewhere along the way. But what concerns me is the prophetical vision the sheep gave me. It is this: tomorrow a volcano will erupt in the Everglades.”

There was a burst of laughter. Shep waited for it to fade, then continued. “This is why the sheep need to be protected, not hunted: true precognition would be invaluable, and we need to study them to ascertain how they do it. They must not be hunted.”

The cameras had feedback indicators showing the size of the video audience. Suddenly it was rapidly growing. Something newsworthy was occurring.

“Moncho Maverick,” the chairman said. “I recognize you; you have been in the news often enough. Is this one of your publicity stunts?”

“Of course,” Moncho agreed.

The chairman glanced at the camera indicator. He liked publicity as well as anyone did. Then he glanced at Elasa. “And is the woman beside you the android?”

“The bucket of bolts,” Elasa agreed. She took off one hand and waved it at the invisible audience. Then she put it back on and bared a breast for Bela to drink from. “I am here to support my friend Elen.”

The audience was expanding exponentially. Much of the world remembered the metal maiden. Much of it also appreciated the view of a bare breast, however legitimate.

“Then perhaps it is time for her to talk,” the chairman said. “Elen Elf, enlighten us about the sheep.”

“Gladly,” Elen said, learning earnestly forward, so that more of Mona’s fine cleavage showed for the cameras. “I, too, had a vision, a prophecy. It is this: tomorrow an air-breathing cave squid will be discovered.”

There was another burst of laughter. The committee members were enjoying this for more than one reason.

“A vision sent by the sheep,” the chairman said, hardly concealing his scorn.

“I think so. I know too little of Earth to be able to generate such a vision.” Elen inhaled, and the audience grew at an even faster rate. This show had everything.

“To make the news tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

The chairman evidently decided that the joke had gone on far enough. “Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs Shepherd. I believe we had heard sufficient testimony. We will take this matter under advisement.”

They had been dismissed. They got up and departed along with Moncho and Elasa. “Excellent,” Moncho murmured.

“Until tomorrow,” Shep said. “When it either explodes or falls apart.”

The moment they left the building, the newsies descended on them. News cameras peered into Elen’s decolletage as questions came at them.

“Allow me,” Moncho said. “My client is unfamiliar with the mannerisms of Earth. Elen, I believe these nice folk would like to hear more of your life on Colony Planet Jones.”

Elen talked, breathing rapidly, and the cameras tracked her every word and breath. She described the planet and its fauna, especially the precognitive sheep. The tabloids would soon be overflowing.

At last Moncho and Elasa departed, and Shep and Elen made it back to Shep’s home, where they collapsed into easy chairs. “That was fun!” Elen said.

“You made quite an impression,” Sherman Shepherd said.

“Perhaps you are not accustomed to a body like your host’s,” Zandra said delicately.

“Mine is less pronounced,” Elen agreed, as if still innocent of her public exposure.

But beneath the excitement was the chilling fear that the morrow would expose them as charlatans. Shep wondered whether it was really worth it.

They slept embraced. The difference in their bodies no longer seemed to matter. What counted was their mission and their love.

The day came. Each passing hour made them more nervous.

The news media didn’t help. “Too bad Moncho Maverick, once a highly respected high-power lawyer, has chosen to throw away his credibility on this fantasy. He must be feeling pretty sheepish now.” “Brace yourselves; this is a ba-a-a-ad day. The everglades are going to erupt. We have this on the ultimate authority: Colony sheep.” “And that sexy exchange student, Elen with the missing L, is going for her sheepskin in math. Maybe she is calculating on something we aren’t.”

This was cruel. Shep turned it off; he could see that Elen was hurting. She had spoken so feelingly of the sheep, only to be ridiculed.

“Trust the sheep,” she said bravely.

“I do. But I fear their range may not extend to another planet.”

Elasa came over with her baby to lend moral support. “I know the media can be savagely cruel. But they can also help significantly. There was one cartoonist who truly made my case, when I thought my suit for personhood was lost. I’m glad that he has not participated in the bloodletting.”

“Thank you,” Elen said, hugging her around the baby. Shep could see that the two were now solid friends, as Elasa and Mona had been.

They tried the news again, unable to stay away lest they miss the key announcement. It remained awful, with actors dressed like sheep and subtitles. “How did the Shepherd propose to his lady love? ‘I love ewe, lambie-pie. Please let me ram my crook into your fold.’”

“The background music is Sheep May Safely Graze,” Elasa said.

Then there was a picture from the archives of Elasa and Mona, both standing nude, with new dialogue attached: “In real life I’m really a machine.” “That’s nothing. I’m really a pregnant ewe.”

Shep turned it off again.

Then, about mid morning, it came. “Turn on the news!” Zandra called excitedly. Shep hurried to comply.

“Scientist have discovered a new species of freshwater squid,” the newscaster said. “It is small, but is remarkable in that it is able to breathe air.” He took a breath. “It seems the skeptics are being confounded. A prophecy is coming true.”

Shep and Elen found themselves in each other’s arms. It was happening!

Moncho called. “Get over to my office,” he said. “We are in sudden demand by the Committee.” He chuckled. “They are concluding that there is more money to be made in prophecy than in hunting sheep.”

By the time they got there, meeting Elasa on the way, the second prophecy came true: a small volcanic vent opened in the Everglades. It was not impressive as such things went, except for its location, and the fact that it had been predicted by the sheep. Scientists were astonished; they had never known of this geological aspect. News-folk were ruefully apologetic. They had laughed all morning, and now had to eat their words. One was even eating a cake in the shape of a laughing sheep.

“There’s my cartoonist,” Elasa said. In the foreground was a stand-up comedian in tropical clothes beside a palm tree. “This Vulture, a Python, and a lovely nude Elf girl walk into a bar. . .” In the background was an erupting volcano, about to blast him away.

“I like your cartoonist,” Elen said, laughing.

The sheep had proven themselves, and would be saved. Shep did not care to admit how surprised and gratified he was. Officially, he had always known.

By the end of the day, not only had the Committee declared Planet Jones to be a protected refuge, banned for hunting, it had appointed Shep as administrator of that protectorate; colony governance was after all his major. He would approve or disapprove all scientific investigations. He knew he should be able to handle any legal complications, with Moncho’s advice. This also meant that he now had the rank to guarantee Elen’s continued visits to Earth, so she could remain with him and complete her math major. He knew that his new position would be a considerable challenge, but he also knew that the sheep would help him handle it.

Meanwhile Shep and Elen had become instant celebrities. But all they really cared about was the fact that the sheep had proven themselves. In the process, they had given the two of them love and an illustrious future life together.

It paid to trust the sheep.

Part 3: Fly Trap

Chapter 1:

Exchange

Mona sat on the chair, holding Elasa’s baby son Bela on her lap. The tech counted down from ten. Would this really work?

To quell her nervousness, she quickly reviewed where she was going, what she was doing, and whom she would meet. Her father was a high-power lawyer and she hoped to follow in his footsteps and seemed to have the talent for it. But she also wanted to be an ordinary anonymous housewife with children and a placid life. The two had seemed to be mutually incompatible, until she had learned of the student exchange program between Earth and its colony planet Jones. Travel between them by spaceship took six months, but by switching host bodies the exchange could be instant. She had volunteered to host a young woman who came to Earth to study higher math. Mona would in turn occupy the woman’s body on the colony, and study the sheep there, though she knew virtually nothing about sheep. Because the sheep were said to be precognitive and somewhat telepathic; it was uncertain whether these were two powers or one merged power, or whether it was mere legend. But many of the natives believed in it, and if such a thing could be confirmed it just might be the breakthrough of the century. Imagine a lawyer who could read minds or see the future!

But there were constraints. The colony planet was primitive, the sheep were said to be wild and dangerous, no person’s pets, and the colony host’s body was five months pregnant. That was why the position had been open; few women wanted to take over some other woman’s body for six months, birth her baby, then return to Earth alone. Yet in its fashion this appealed to both Mona’s desires: cutting edge legal exploration and simple homemaking.

So here she was, about to occupy an alien host and meet the related colony family, said to be turnip farmers who had not been enamored of the way their son’s body had been used by the Earth man to associate with a local girl and make her pregnant. That was understandable, but now Mona would be the one to have to handle the emotional fallout. They would be superficially polite, of course, but the undercurrent would be corrosive. Yet she would be dependent on their largess, at least in the beginning.

Well, she had been in difficult situations before. She would handle this. She hoped.

Then the room changed. So did her body. She was now significantly smaller, all around, with one exception: her belly was five months pregnant. It was as if the baby she held on her lap had jumped inside her. “Oh!” she exclaimed, surprised despite her knowledge that this would be the case.

“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.

“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.

“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.”

“It is their birthing season,” Elsa said. “They are busy. But if they want you, they will let you know.”

That, it seemed, was that. Mona was disappointed, but determined to find some way regardless.

“It is true that Elen can sing,” Elsa said, changing the subject. “She sang with Shep. You can do it if you let her body govern your effort. Try it with me.” Then she hummed the “Sheep” melody.

Mona joined her, thus guided, and discovered that she could indeed do it. That resolved her doubt about doing the tour. She hugged Elsa in gratitude when their session finished. Erasmus shook hands with Brian, similarly thawing. It seemed the parents were no longer hostile to the two of them living in sin.

But what about the sheep?

Chapter 2:

Lamb

In the morning, after a day and night of exploration of the local terrain, Mona woke to the sound of a bleat. “The sheep!” she exclaimed, astonished. She scrambled out of bed, naked, and flung open the door.

There was a solid Ewe. Mona knew immediately that she was special, deserving of the capital; it seemed to be the telepathy in operation. The Vulture and Python were at attention, watching her. There was blood on her hind section: she had recently given birth.

Mona stood silent, uncertain why the sheep had come, when she had her lamb to take care of. If these animals were as dangerous as reputed to be, surely they were even more so when protecting their offspring.

The sheep bleated. It was a brief, authoritative sound. Then she walked away.

“That’s the summons,” Brian said. “Follow her.”

Mona didn’t hesitate. She wanted contact with the precognitive sheep and one had come to her. She followed. So did the Vulture and Python. And Brian, respectfully behind, as he had not been invited.

The Ewe led them to a copse just beyond the village. There, lying in leaves, was a spindly newborn Lamb also instantly special. The Ewe had evidently come here to birth it. Why, so close to the village?

The Ewe went to stand beside, almost over, the Lamb. Then the Lamb scrambled up and tried to nurse. And failed, because one leg would not properly support it. It fell to the ground, with a little bleat of despair.

“He’s lame,” Brian said behind her. Being a farm boy, he knew the gender.

Mona’s heart went out to the little creature. “Maybe I can help,” she said, stepping toward the Lamb.

“Watch it,” Brian said, alarmed. “She can kill you!”

But the Ewe made no motion. She simply stood there, waiting.

“She knows I mean no harm,” Mona said. “She led me here.” She dropped to her knees beside the Lamb and put her arms around him. She lifted his upper body so that it was firmly in place. “Now try it.”

Immediately the lamb went for the teat again. This time he got it, and eagerly sucked in the milk. Mona held him while he drank.

“I’ll be damned,” Brian said. “She’s letting you!”

“She knew I would do this,” Mona said in a flash of understanding. “That telepathy or precognition, whatever. She brought me here so I could help him nurse.”

Indeed he was nursing, getting his first full meal. She held him until he had finished both teats. Then, carefully, she let him go.

He sank to the ground, unable to stand.

“Oh!” Mona said, putting her arms around him again. She picked him up and held him to her naked bosom. He nuzzled her face. She kissed his furry nose, instantly loving him.

The Vulture and the Python came up to stiff noses with the Lamb. Mona let them, by this time knowing that they were minions of the sheep.

And the Ewe was gone.

“Uh-oh,” Brian said. “Now he’s yours.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about caring for a sheep,” Mona said.

“Yes you do. You’re doing it.”

“Loving him,” she agreed, realizing it was true. She stood, holding the Lamb, and walked back to the house. “Make a box for him,” she told Brian. “With bedding. So he’ll be comfortable.”

Brian put together a bed for the Lamb. Mona tried to set the animal down in it, but he bleated sadly. “Okay, for now,” she said, sitting on the bed holding him. “But you’ll soon have to learn how to sleep by yourself.”

He laid his head against her breast and slept.

“We’ll have to get milk for him,” she told Brian as she held the lamb. “And see about making a splint for his leg so he can walk.”

“Cow’s milk won’t do,” Brian said. “Sheep need sheep’s milk. There have been foundlings, and they always died, because nobody can milk a sheep.”

“Well, we’ll have to try. We can’t just let him starve.”

He shrugged, not knowing what to do.

Mona held the Lamb, and nodded off to sleep herself. She was awakened by a bleat outside. She understood immediately. “The Ewe returned!”

She got up, still holding the Lamb, and carried him to the door. There was the Ewe, stolidly standing. Mona went to her, kneeled, and braced the Lamb beneath her so he could nurse. He did so with enthusiasm. However long they had slept, it had been enough for the Lamb to get hungry again, and for the Ewe to refill her udder.

Was this the way it was to be? The Ewe going out to graze and recharge, while Mona babysat the Lamb? This was not the kind of interaction with the sheep Mona had had in mind.

After the Lamb had been suckled, the Ewe did something odd: she made a kind of stiff-legged bow to Mona. Then she departed. Mona watched her go, puzzled. Then she took the Lamb back inside. She tried again to set him in the box, and again he protested. But this time the Vulture and Python followed her in. They looked sternly at the lamb. He halted his protest and accepted his bed. The Python curled around it while the Vulture perched nearby.

“They gave him the word,” Brian said. “They serve the sheep. They’re babysitting. You have a break.”

“I need it,” Mona said, not questioning the reliability of the animals. She went to the toilet, heedless of Brian’s gaze, then washed and dressed for the first time that day. Then she saw about breakfast, which had been blotted out by the event of the morning.

Refreshed, she looked at Brian, silently offering him sex. He shook his head, now having the confidence to know that it would be there for him when he needed it.

“Did you see what the Ewe did?” she asked Brian.

“I saw. I don’t know what it means.”

The Lamb woke. She picked him up, kissing his little ear. “You need a name,” she said. “How about Ram Bunctious? Or maybe Lamb Bunctious.”

Brian shook his head, bemused.

“Let’s go out for a walk,” Mona said. “We’ll show you off to the neighbors.” Because it was clear that the Lamb was staying.

They took a walk through the village: Brian, Mona, Vulture, Python, and the Lamb in Mona’s arms. They didn’t need to say anything; this was merely the public announcement. All the villagers knew she was adopting a little sheep. They might doubt that it would survive long, but they were now aware of the event. Just as they were aware of the Vulture and Python, and tolerated them in their midst. It was the will of the sheep.

“The village elder,” Brian said. “Maybe he would know. About the bow.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, remembering. “Take us there.”

He led her to a central house. The elder sat on his deck chair in front. He stood when Mona approached. “Salutation, madam,” he said formally.

“I am Mona, of Earth,” she said, though he surely knew. “Holding the fort for Elen Elf during her stay on Earth. The sheep brought me this Lamb. I’ll handle it. But I am perplexed about one thing: his mother, the Ewe, made a sort of bow to me. What does it mean?”

“She did that,” he said, amazed. “I heard of something similar, maybe thirty years ago. A ewe made it to the village elder of the time. Then he designated the sheep a protected species, never to be hunted or molested. It was as though she recognized him for it, before it happened. That precognition. You must be going to do something of similar magnitude for the sheep.”

“I’m taking care of her Lamb,” Mona said. “Does that count?”

“I don’t think so. That’s just one animal. More likely it affects all the sheep, significantly.”

“I have no idea how. I’m here to study them, though I haven’t yet had much chance.”

“Study the lamb,” he said.

Surprised, she looked at the Lamb in her arms. “That’s it! I can study him! I never thought of that.”

“Or of whatever it is you will do to affect all the sheep,” the Elder said. “But it will occur. Trust the sheep.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward.

He smiled. “You’re new here. You’ll learn.”

“I hope so.” She moved on.

“Now I’m curious too,” Brian said. “What do the sheep have in mind?”

“We’ll both learn,” she said, laughing a trifle uneasily.

They returned to the house. The routine quickly was established: the Ewe returned often to nurse the Lamb, and Mona cared for him the rest of the time.

Brian made a padded splint and carefully fastened it to the lamb’s foreleg. After a few tries Bunctious caught on, and was able to stand alone. Then when the Ewe came again, Mona carefully set the Lamb on his feet beside her. He took several small steps and reached her udder, where he nursed. Victory!

The Lamb slept in his box, but Mona cuddled him often. After a few days she became aware of something else: his mind. She could almost feel what it was like to be a newborn lamb. In fact she was feeling it; this was beyond empathy. It was the telepathy beginning to manifest in him, as it already existed in the Ewe. She was getting to study it in the best possible way: as it manifested in a young creature. She communed with him daily, strengthening the rapport. She wasn’t ready to write a paper about it; it was just a feeling, but she was sure it was real. For one thing, with each passing day she could connect from farther away. She realized that her mature mind was lending power to his immature one, so that the phenomenon expanded rapidly. Soon she could tune into him when she was lying on the bed, knowing when he needed to go out to defecate; he had become housebroken when he picked up the preference for it from her mind.

Then there came something else. Not a connection so much as a premonition. There was danger approaching, not directly to the Lamb or to her or her household, but to their environment.

She questioned Brian. “I’m picking up on a threat, I think to the village. What could it be?”

“Sometimes predators raid, rabid wolves. They’re big, and hunt in packs.”

“No. It’s not like that. I’m feeling hot and cold.”

“The HiLo!” he exclaimed.

“The what?”

“It’s a weather event that comes erratically; there’s no predicting it and we don’t know what causes it. But it’s devastating. First it gets super hot, something like a hundred and thirty degrees F. Then it gets cold, maybe twenty degrees under freezing. It wipes out the turnip crop, and others, in a single day and night. Then its gone, and maybe won’t come again for ten years. Been six years since the last.”

“That’s it,” she agreed. “One is coming soon.”

“Can you find out when?”

“I’ll try.” She communed with Bunctious, and zeroed in on it. “Maybe four-five days hence.”

“Times a wasting! I’ll tell my folks.”

“But do you have any way to abate the menace? It sounds ferocious.”

“Sure. Tuff stones. Volcanic rock that readily absorbs heat, and radiates it back out when the cold comes. Put a stone by each plant, and it makes it so that the high is only about ninety, and the low about forty. The plants can handle that. But it’s a lot of work to place all the stones.”

“But better than losing the crop.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Tell your folks.”

He was off. Mona hugged Bunctious. “If this proves out, we’ve got precognition. My dream.”

But there was a complication. The farmers didn’t believe it. They rejected the idea that a newborn lamb could predict such an event. Grown sheep yes, but not such a young one. They were not about to struggle to place all the stones, probably wasting their time and effort, on such a tenuous prediction. Only Brian’s own family and a few friends accepted it, probably as much in support of him as actual belief.

Mona appreciated the villagers’ caution. It was hard for her to believe, herself. Could it be a product of her imagination amplified to seeming reality by her communion with the Lamb? Yet she had not known about the HiLo.

They joined the Peterson family putting out the stones. There were a lot of turnip plants to cover, and every stone had to be placed precisely, because the radius of their effect was small. Too far away and it was useless; too near and the air circulation could be impeded and spoil the leveling effect. Mona got sore knees and a backache from the hunched labor, but felt she had to do her part. They were trusting her insight. The sheep were to be trusted, yes, but she was no sheep, and the Lamb was as yet unproven.

The timing became more certain as the event approached. “Tomorrow,” Mona said. “That’s when it happens.” Though there was no indication from the weather.

The Petersons were busy all day putting out tuff stones, but it was apparent they would not finish on time. So Brian and Mona worked late with them, despite their fatigue, taking the corner of the field near the forest. It was tedious labor, carrying irregular fragments from the wagon and setting a stone beside each turnip plant. The tuff was light, but still solid enough to make Mona sweat, and her back ached from the constant bending over. But the extra effort was paying off; they would complete this section by nightfall.

Lamb Bunctious—or Bunky as she was coming to call him—was a little apart, nibbling experimentally on weeds. He knew already not to touch the turnips; Mona had mind-warned him, and that had been gratifyingly effective. He was not really eating anyway, still dependent on the Ewe’s milk, but the more plant roughage he took in, the more his digestive system would learn the way of it, until he could be weaned. The Vulture and Python paced him, standing guard. They were nervous about the proximity of the forest, where danger always lurked, and tried to encourage the Lamb to move farther away from it, but he was still somewhat uncertain on his feet, especially the foreleg with the splint, and stayed where he was. Mona realized belatedly that she should have set him down farther inside the field; she hadn’t been thinking of the risk of the edge of it.

Then trouble erupted from the forest, confirming the Vulture and Python’s concern. Six pony-sized wolves charged out, rapidly orienting on the people and creatures on the field.

“Dire wolves!” Brian exclaimed. He ran protectively toward Mona. But before he got there, one wolf charged him. Brian swung his massive staff, viciously, cracking it into the wolf’s head so hard that the animal was knocked off its feet, blood welling from its ear, for the moment unconscious.

But two wolves were coming for Mona. Petrified, she had no notion what to do, and just stood there with a large chunk of tuff in her hands.

Then another creature ran from the forest. It was the Ewe, moving at an amazing velocity. She zoomed toward a wolf, and as it sprang into the air toward Mona, the Ewe leaped to intercept it in mid-air. They collided, and dropped to the ground, linked. But it was the Ewe who was still on her feet; the wolf fell on its back, bleeding from several wounds. What had happened?

Mona couldn’t focus on that at the moment, because the third wolf was charging right at her, huge jaws gaping. Instinctively she heaved the stone into its mouth. The jaws snapped closed, and the teeth sank into the tuff. And stayed there, trapped by the soft rock. The wolf had been effectively muzzled.

But her primary concern was for the Lamb. “Bunky!” she cried, running toward him. But she was too late and too weak to do anything; all she could do was watch while the action proceeded, seconds later than it had with her own group.

The Python intercepted one wolf, biting its nose and wrapping her coils about its body. The wolf fell to the ground, in a fight for its life. The Vulture flew to catch another wolf, wrapping her claws about its snout and pecking at its eyes; this wolf, too, was now in serious trouble. But the third wolf pounced on Bunky. Its giant mouth closed on the Lamb’s little body.

Mona opened her mouth to scream in horror. But something restrained her. It was Bunky’s mind. He was not afraid. Not hurting. He was fighting back.

Then the wolf’s jaws parted and it pulled away, letting the lamb go. Blood was pouring from its mouth. Again, what had happened?

“The blades,” Brian said. “They’ve got defensive blades that jam out to stab whatever attacks them. Bunky too.”

Now Mona saw that the Ewe, having dispatched her wolf, had made no motion toward the Lamb. Instead she calmly walked off the field and disappeared into the forest.

The wolves gave up the attack. The one Brian had bashed recovered consciousness and slunk toward the forest. The one Mona had fed tuff finally got its mouth clear and departed also. The two nullified by the Vulture and Python lurched toward the forest, and were let go. The one that had tried to bite the Lamb was in sad state, its mouth a mass of blood; it made its way slowly to the forest, where death seemed likely if it could not heal quickly enough. That left the one the Ewe had blocked. It was dead, its life blood drained by savage wounds in its side and belly. Defensive blades? That Ewe had attacked and dispatched the wolf in short order.

Now Mona fully appreciated the nature of the sheep: they were indeed deadly. Even the baby one.

She went and picked up Bunky, and he cuddled comfortably in her arms. He was covered with wolf blood, but there was no sign of his blades. At the house she put him in a tub and washed him thoroughly. He was completely uninjured. She put him in the box, and he dropped off to sleep immediately. His effort of defense had to have depleted his energy.

Then she washed herself, getting the last of the wolf blood off, and changed her clothes.

She had to make sense of it. “The Ewe—she came to help me, rather than her Lamb. How could that be?”

“Remember, she bowed to you,” Brian said. “You’re important.”

“No mother would endanger her child that way!”

“Maybe he wasn’t in danger. You were.”

“A two week old Lamb? Those giant wolves?”

“The sheep are tough,” he said. “Maybe it was tough love.”

“Tough love?”

“Bunky’s known nothing but protection and love. You, me, Vulture, Python—we all take care of him. It’s a soft life for him. But it’s a rough planet out there. He needs to know how to defend himself. So she let him do it, the sheep’s way. When he felt those jaws closing on him, he reacted. It evoked his natural defense. Now he knows the danger, and knows how to handle it. It’s part of his necessary education.”

“Tough love,” she said again, seeing it. “But what if he’d been killed?”

“They’re precognitive. She knew he wouldn’t die. She did what was necessary and walked away.”

“She did,” she agreed. “I couldn’t have had a better lesson myself.”

“It’s what you came here for.”

“Indeed. But it’s not playing out the way I anticipated.”

“Things don’t,” he agreed.

“And you—you really clobbered that wolf with your staff.”

“It is a weapon,” he agreed. “It gives me safety and music. Half of what I need.”

“Half?”

“You’re the other half.”

She was taken aback, but realized he was serious. She had set out to conquer him, and clearly had done so. “Thank you.”

There was a bleat outside. Bunky woke, hungry. She took him out to the Ewe. She no longer needed to hold him up.

While she waited, she addressed the Ewe. “I don’t suppose you can understand me, but thank you for looking out for me. I managed to stop one wolf, but I couldn’t have stopped another. You saved my life.” She took a breath. “But please, please, don’t put your son at risk like that again.”

The sheep merely looked at her.

“Reconsidering,” she said. “You do understand me, because of the telepathy. At least my emotion. I owe you, but I don’t know how I can repay you.”

There was no visible reaction, but she felt acceptance.

“I’m going to hug you,” she said. “It’s my way.”

She paused, and when there was no evident negation, she put her arms around the Ewe’s shoulders and neck and squeezed. “Thank you, again.”

She drew back. The Lamb had finished nursing. The Ewe walked away.

“She could have stabbed you,” Brian said.

“I know. But I knew she wouldn’t. She has to accept my ways, just as I accept hers. She knows how often I hug Bunky.”

“I guess she does.”

“Now we need to get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, if we’re lucky, comes the HiLo.”

“Lucky!” he laughed.

“You know what I mean. The proof of Bunky’s precognition. It will be awkward if the HiLo doesn’t come.”

“I guess so,” he agreed, amused.

Chapter 3:

Mission

The following day was beautiful, with no hint of anything untoward. That made Mona nervous. Could she have misread the precognition? Yet Bunky remained sure: there was something coming in four hours.

They went to the turnip farm, the complete group of them, after Bunky nursed. Mona’s limbs and back remained slightly stiff, but that was the least of her concerns. She didn’t want to embarrass the Petersons or discredit the Lamb’s ability, yet her doubt remained.

“Three hours,” she told Brett Peterson.

“Gives me time to place the last stones,” he said with no hint of irony.

She kissed him. “You believe me.”

“It’s a bigger risk not believing you than believing you,” he said frankly. “If its wrong, I’ve lost time and face. If it’s right, I have saved my crop and your reputation. I’ve got to go with the smaller gamble.”

“You believe me,” she repeated.

He nodded. “I do. The rationale is for others, just in case.”

“I love you.”

“You love my son. I’m just part of the family.”

“Him, too,” she agreed with a smile. She was immensely gratified by the farmer’s support.

They waited. There was nothing else to do. Bunky gamboled on the turf at the edge of the turnip field, getting better with his splinted leg, though it was clear that he would never be a powerful runner or jumper. The Vulture and Python stayed near, guarding him. Now Mona understood why they always remained close to the Lamb. A threat could appear at any moment, until he was old enough to see it coming in time to avoid it.

“He would not survive without you,” Cora Peterson remarked. “It made sense for her to bring him to you. She wanted to save her child.”

“Yes. I hope Elen agrees to keep him, after we exchange back.”

“That may be academic.”

“Oh?”

“Within a year he’ll mature into a ram. That will doom him.”

“Why?” Mona asked, alarmed.

“The rams are not allowed to stay here. That’s the rule of the ewes, not ours. Rams are lusty creatures who don’t take no for an answer. The ewes don’t want to be bothered. So they exile them to a distant island, and go to visit them only when they are ready to breed.”

“Then Bunky can go to the island, can’t he?”

“No. The route is treacherously difficult, fraught with dangers. Shep told us about it when he returned from that trip. The Lamb could never make it.”

“But then, what is he to do?” Mona asked, alarmed.

“He’ll be exiled into the wilderness, where the wolves will kill him. If he tries to return, the ewes will kill him.”

“That can’t be!” Mona protested. “There must be a way to save him.”

“There is, but you won’t like it.”

“What is it?”

“Castration. Make him a wether, a nulled male sheep. Then he’ll never mature, and the ewes will tolerate his presence.”

“Castration! I can’t abide that!”

Cora gave her a straight look. “I think that’s the other reason he was given to you. Because humans know how to null animals. We do it with dogs and cats. She wants to save him for his whole life, not just his youth.”

Mona shook her head. “There has to be some other way.”

Cora did not argue with her. She had said her piece.

The last stones were placed an hour before the event. The sky remained clear, the air mild. Mona’s nervousness increased. She believed, yet doubted. If the HiLo didn’t come. . .

Bunky came to the shade of the house, where there was a pile of left-over tuff. The Vulture and Python joined him.

“It’s time,” Mona said. “And the weather is nice.”

Brett was back. “Heat’s rising.”

“Well, it’s the natural heat of the day,” Mona said, determined not to be deluded by her wish.

“No. It’s the HiLo.”

“How can you be sure?” But then Mona paused. The temperature was rising, rapidly; she could feel the change. “Oh, my.”

“Ye of little faith,” Brian said, smiling. But she could tell he was relieved, too.

The air continued to heat, though it remained clear. It seemed the HiLo was similar to what on Earth was called a clear-air disturbance. Soon they were sweating. But they were also smiling: the Lamb was being vindicated.

They went to join the animals, sitting around the tuff, which had an effect like Earthly air conditioning. Mona saw Cora pet the Python; they had known each other for many months. The influence of the sheep did strange things to human associations.

In the course of the next two hours the temperature rose to about 130°, exactly as predicted. It hovered there as the local vegetation wilted. But the turnips were all right, protected by the stones. All the tedious labor of the prior days was being justified.

Then it changed. There was inchoate turbulence. A kind of invisible storm seemed to form. “Turnover,” Brett said. “Air’s too hot; it has to rise. The cooler upper air has to descend. But they get in each other’s way. So messy hot sheets of it slide up, and cold sheets slide down. We’ll be okay if it doesn’t get circular.”

“Circular?” Mona asked.

“Cyclone,” Brian said. “Tornado. We don’t want that.”

Mona shuddered, and not from the erratic wind.

“But the Lamb’s not concerned,” Cora pointed out. “He’s just lying there.”

So he was. “So no tornado,” Mona said, relieved.

“But soon we’ll need clothing for the night,” Cora said. “It will be cold.” She got up and went into the house.

Indeed, the temperature was plummeting as the sheets of air displaced each other. It was already down to high comfortable, with plenty more to go.

“Time to eat something, then bundle up,” Cora said, reappearing with sandwiches.

They hastily ate as dusk approached. Then it was time to go inside. “But Bunky,” Mona said. “I can’t leave him out in the cold.”

Cora considered briefly. “Then bring him in, bring them all in, and the tuff. It will keep the house pleasant.”

They did that, and before long Mona and Brian were in fluffy sleeping bags on the floor beside the rocks, next to the three animals. It was all very comfortable despite the ice forming on the window panes. They slept.

In the morning there was frost everywhere except around the turnip plants. They went out to appreciate it, as this was a rarity in summer. Even the cold-blooded Python seemed to enjoy the experience.

But the HiLo was passing. The air warmed rapidly to normal, melting the frost. They could see that the turnips would be all right.

“And we owe our salvation to you, Lamb Bunctious,” Brett said, patting the lamb. He was obviously well pleased, and not entirely because his crop had been saved.

Mona was overflowing with wonder and relief. Bunky had been thoroughly vindicated, and with him, Mona’s own interpretation of his precognition.

The fallout from the HiLo was immediate and severe. Brett Peterson had spread the word, and had not been widely credited. The other farmers knew they could have escaped the wipe-out if they had only believed. They couldn’t blame Brett, or Mona, or the Lamb. The few who had believed, had saved their crops. But hereafter, as they replanted, they would pay better attention.

It was time to tour. Their supplies were low, and they needed to replenish them. They arranged to give recitals at several villages, which would be duly appreciated. But now the main attraction would be the Lamb.

In fact the three animals formed a kind of petting zoo for children and adults, who had seldom if ever gotten close to any creatures of their type. The news of the Vulture and the Python had spread across the planet when Shep and Elen married, and now the Lamb was even better known. They had to warn the villagers of the occasional presence of the Ewe, who still needed to nurse Bunky. “Do not molest her,” Brian warned. “The sheep are deadly. Just ignore her, and keep your dogs away from her, and there will be no trouble.” The villagers honored that, some watching without trying to approach. They knew the Ewe was not tame. The Ewe, in turn, evidently knew she would be left alone despite her public appearances. Precognition was useful for minor conveniences as well as for major threats.

Mona was nervous about the first show. But Brian played superlatively, melting every heart, and she hummed along with him adequately, doing light classical music, and it was well received. Then came a question from the audience: “How about ‘He Who Is Noble?’”

Mona exchanged a look with Brian. “We don’t know that one,” Brian said.

“But you did it before.”

Oh. “That was Shep and Elen, before the exchange. We are Brian and Mona.”

“Do it anyway.”

Brian shook his head. “You’d have to teach it to us.”

“Okay.”

A number of the villagers knew it, from before, and happily rendered it for them. Brian caught the melody immediately, and Mona picked up the words. “He who is noble, pure and simple hearted,” she sang with Elen’s fine voice. “Needs not a weapon, needs no man to guard him. Virtue defends him.” There was applause.

Not only did they add it to their repertoire, they added the system itself. At each village thereafter they encouraged the natives to teach them one of the “old” songs, and the villagers were thrilled to oblige. It gave them bragging rights, teaching songs to the performers. It was a highly successful circuit.

But when they returned to the home village, the Lamb become restive. Mona put her arm about him. “What is it, Bunky?”

Then, slowly, she received news that surprised her. She reviewed it repeatedly, getting it straight, until she had no doubt or confusion. She went to the village library to research and get relevant information. She communed with the Ewe, to be sure the sheep were cognizant. Taken as a whole, it was astonishing. “We have a new mission from the sheep,” she told Brian later. “We have to visit Earth.”

“After our exchange tour is done, sure,” he said. “I am eager to study more classical music.”

“No. Now. Out of turn. For a day and night. Then we’ll return to finish our tours.”

“That’s impossible! They allow only six month exchanges.”

“They’ll allow this one. Bunky is sure.”

“But why?”

“This is where it gets tricky, in more than one respect,” she said soberly. “First, its not just the two of us. It’s our companions. Vulture, Python, and Lamb.”

His mouth fell open. “Animals exchanging? I’m not sure it’s ever been done.”

“It’s been done experimentally, when they were establishing the viability of the system. The trick here is to obtain three equivalent animals on Earth to be hosts.”

“Is that all?” he asked facetiously.

“No. We’ll have to recruit Elasa and bring her back with us.”

“Elasa,” he repeated. “On Earth I heard of an Elasa, but she was--”

“A humanoid robot. My friend.”

“I think I need to know more about this.”

“Elasa was a contraction of Electronic Associates, a long-since bought-out robot company. She kept the name. She was a fembot, designed to seduce and service men, so she had to be really realistic physically but unrealistically obliging mentally. She never, ever, said no to a lustful man. She could not be told from a lovely living woman unless she exposed her mechanical innards. Later she became conscious, the only robot to do so, so far. Then she not only said no, she sued for personhood, to be recognized as a legal person.”

“Why?”

“Because the man who had hired her fell in love with her, and she was programmed to love him. Her onset of consciousness made that love real, and hard-wired. But she couldn’t marry him unless she was recognized as a legal person. So she sued, and there was a public hearing, and she won. I participated in that, and became her friend. I conceived her baby. Now I know she is the only person who can accomplish what the sheep need to be done. So we have to go to Earth to recruit her and bring her here, for a week.”

“What is it the sheep need to be done?”

“You know about the vampires?”

“The ones that guard the ram’s island? I have heard of them. They prevent the rams from escaping.”

“Yes. Now there are coming to be male vampires that will prevent the ewes from crossing to the island. That will prevent them from breeding, and wipe out their species.”

Brian whistled. “They would take that seriously. They may not want the rams around full time, but they do need them for breeding.”

“They take it seriously,” Mona agreed. “In fact they knew about it some time ago. That’s why they recruited me.”

“They recruited you?”

“By bringing Bunky to me. It wasn’t just to help him survive. It was to get me involved, as a person who could and would address their problem. And I will. But I can’t do it myself.”

“I don’t follow. Can you or can’t you help them?”

“I can help them by in turn recruiting the person who has the ability I lack. My friend Elasa.”

“But you said she’s a machine!”

“Exactly. The vampires can’t suck her blood and kill her the way they could a living woman.”

“Maybe I’ll understand this better when I mull it over. But you said the animals must go to Earth too. Why, when all you want to do is talk to Elasa?”

Mona smiled. “Good question. It is because Elasa’s mission must be secret. No one outside our little group must know that she’s coming here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but the sheep believe it, and I trust the sheep. It may be that there are parties hostile to the salvation of the sheep, that would interfere, if they knew.”

“So how do the animals make it secret? They’re bound to make global headlines.”

“Precisely. The media focus will be on them, while the real business goes unsuspected.”

“That’s an awful lot of trouble to divert attention. You could attract media attention by dancing nude for the cameras.”

“I need to have the media attention off me while the animals do their thing. That’s where you come in.”

“Me! I spent six months on Earth. That doesn’t mean I know much about it. It’s a foreign culture. I stayed mainly on the university campus.”

“You will lead the animals on a special mission that will rivet media attention, while I quietly talk with Elasa.”

“This is crazy! It’ll never work.”

“The sheep believe it will.”

“And we trust the sheep,” he said wearily. “Even when they dabble in Earth politics, which they know nothing about.”

“We trust the sheep,” she agreed. Then she kissed him, and shut him up.

In the morning Mona set about the arrangements. First she sent a message, not to Elasa—that would have blown her cover!--but to Elen, who was now using Mona’s body to study higher math on Earth. It asked her to talk to Mona’s father, who would make arrangements for a brief out-of-turn exchange that included a Vulture, a Python, and a Lamb. She knew Elen might not understand, but would do it. The two of them had never met, but they were in each other’s bodies, and that was one persuasive connection.

Then Mona went to the local spaceport. Spaceships still brought new colonists to Colony Jones, together with assorted key supplies; the colony was not yet completely self supporting. She went to the ship that was now parked, preparing for its return trip to Earth. She parked Brian and the three animals under a nearby tree, then walked to the adjacent office shed. She identified herself, giving her personal coding, and asked to talk to the logistics officer.

Surprised, he acceded, inviting her into the ship. She knew that as an officer he had to maintain a formal standard, unlike the men on liberty, and it probably was dull duty. She was a person of general interest, sufficient to break the monotony, and even though her body was pregnant, Elen’s demeanor was attractive. Men noticed her. “Weren’t you the woman who pretended to be the robot girl?” he asked. “We view the recording of that hearing all the time. For the information, of course.”

“Of course,” she agreed. Mona and Elasa had posed nude and allowed the jury to question and handle them, trying to determine which of them was the robot. They had been unable to tell, but the tri-vee recording of the session had become very popular with men. Two lovely nude women being publicly groped. In a good cause.

“What can I do for you, Miss Maverick?”

“Call me Mona.” The personal touch counted for a lot.

“And call me Mike.” Just so.

“Mike, I need to borrow a robot. A fembot, if you have a spare.”

He pursed his lips. “We have several. They are not much in demand planetside; the men prefer to associate with local girls. It’s a matter of variety and novelty. But apart from the fact that those are state property, why would a woman like you want one? They are designed to appeal to unattached men, as you surely know.”

“Oh yes. Men care more for the semblance than the reality, no offense.” Now came the crux. “Can I trust your discretion? This is a secret mission that must not be leaked to the public.”

Mike considered. “Can you assure me that the robot will not be abused, mutilated, misused, or caused to embarrass the Interplanetary Navy?”

“I believe I can. We will not wish to call attention to her.”

“Then explain your mission. I will be discreet.”

“I need to bring Elasa, the fembot of the hearing you mentioned, here to Colony Jones for a week. Because she is not human, I need an appropriate host for exchange. One of your robots should do. The difference is that when Elasa arrives she will become conscious in the new host, so that she can help me accomplish an important personal mission. After it is completed, Elasa will be exchanged back to Earth, and I will return your robot, sans consciousness.”

Mike man whistled. “This is a thing I would like to see. In fact, I would insist on meeting her, as Elasa, to verify that the exchange has taken place.”

“You may meet her. But there must be no publicity.”

“I understand. Come here at the time you wish to make the exchange. This ship will be in port another month, ample time for your mission to be completed. When I verify her identity, I will release her in your custody for the duration of your mission. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Mona agreed. “My consort and three animals will also be exchanging.”

“The vulture, the python, and the lamb,” he agreed. “This must be some mission.” He was plainly curious, but too polite to pry.

Yet his full cooperation was better than ignorance. She decided to trust him with a bit more information. “There is a danger to the sheep that I think only Elasa can abate. It involves the vampires. They will be attacking females as well as males, but a robot will be proof against their seduction.”

“I have heard of them,” he agreed. “In fact we have a strict protocol: no vampires aboard ship. That is not facetious.”

“Not at all,” she agreed.

“It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mona.”

“Mutual, Mike. Would you like to meet my companions?”

“Actually, I would. They are unusual.”

They went out and Mona introduced Mike to Brian and the animals. The Vulture and the Python remained aloof, but Bunky was happy to be petted.

“You seem just like an Earth lamb,” Mike said. “But I know you’re not.”

“He’s precognitive,” Mona said. “Try to surprise him.”

Mike accepted the challenge. He abruptly jumped to the side.

The lamb jumped with him, imperfectly because of his leg, but matching him.

Mike made as if to jump back, but did not. Bunky held his place.

The officer drew his service pistol. The Vulture and the Python surged forward, distrusting its nature, but the Lamb merely sniffed it.

Mike nodded, putting away the pistol. “That could be interpreted as ignorance, but I think he knows I would not try to hurt him.”

“He knows,” Mona agreed. “A dire wolf attacked him, and he nearly killed it.”

“The colony manual says the sheep are the deadliest creatures on the planet.”

“They are. But they don’t look for trouble.”

“I appreciate this encounter,” Mike said. “I wish you the best of your mission.”

“Thank you.” They shook hands and she and the others departed.

She checked the message center to see if Elen had responded yet. She had, and Mona was astonished again. It seemed that Shep and Elen had not only established their case as exchangees, they had made a public demonstration of the sheep’s precognition. Now Shep was the effective governor of Colony Jones, with authority to approve and facilitate the spot exchange of both people and animals. He was working closely with her father, Moncho Maverick, to facilitate the group exchange, no questions asked.

The sheep must have known.

Chapter 4:

Earth

They made the exchange in an enclosed garden near the Peterson’s house, much as before. The technicians acted exactly as if doing a group of five, including three animals, was routine, though it had never been done before. The Ewe attended; she might not understand the technology of exchange, but knew she was needed to control the Vulture and the Python, because they were about to be replaced with genuinely wild creatures; they would remain in the garden a day and night. She would nurse the lamb, though it would be foreign to her. The Petersons would see to the privacy of the garden. Meanwhile, Shep and Elen would be back for this unexpected visit, and would make the most of it. At least they were familiar with the turnip farm and the Petersons.

Then the scene changed. They were at Shep’s house, and Mona was in her own body. “Mona,” she announced.

“Brian,” Brian said from Shep’s body.

Moncho was there. He hugged her. “Good to have you back, girl.”

“It’s business, dad.” She disengaged and went to the cages, freeing the three animals. The Lamb was about Bunky’s size, but not lame; it was the best they could do on short notice. The Vulture and the Python were not identical, but again, what counted was their minds; it was quickly evident that their exchanges, too, had been successful.

“Dad, I have business with Brian,” Mona said. “Can you babysit our companions for half an hour?”

He understood her perfectly. “Sure, if they’ll mind me. There’s a garden here they should like.”

“They will,” she said. Then she took Brian to Shep’s bedroom.

“I’ve been here before,” he said. “But not with you.”

She threw off her clothing. “Are you disappointed?”

“No! You’re beautiful!”

Then they were making love the conventional way, for the first time. He was almost savagely hungry for her.

“I told you you’d like me,” she reminded him after the first siege.

“I do! You’re wonderful!”

“And I have a mind, too.”

He laughed. “You do.”

“It will be like this on Jones, in due course.”

“I love you!”

In due course they rejoined the others, who were busily exploring the garden. Moncho also produced a mirliton in the form of a staff, the one Brian had made during his prior visit. Brian played it as masterfully as he had played the one on Colony Jones, something his host could not have done by himself.

“Now the news,” Moncho said. “The small son of a visiting dignitary wandered away from their hotel last night and it seems got lost in the Everglades. Instant headlines. If that boy dies--”

“Your mission, Brian,” Mona said. “You know what to do.”

“Yes.” But he looked worried. She knew why: he wasn’t sure the Lamb’s precognition would work here on Earth, in the host body of a native lamb. Despite their superficial similarity, they were of drastically different species.

“Trust the sheep,” she reminded him. “It seems that their precognition came through here before.”

“There’s a van waiting,” Moncho said. “And a private aircraft. You’ll be there soon.”

“Yes.” Brian kissed her, then departed with the animals. They too knew what to do, the Lamb because of his telepathy, the others because of the Lamb. They would go into the Everglades and quickly locate and rescue the child, making phenomenal headlines.

“Now I need to see Elasa,” Mona said.

“She is on her way here.”

“Privately. This is the part of the mission that must not be known.”

“Be realistic, Mona,” he chided her. “The best place to hide a secret is in plain sight. The two of you are close friends. Naturally you want to get together for girl-talk and such.”

“Girl talk,” she echoed, laughing.

Elasa arrived, with Bela. The two women hugged each other around the baby. “What’s on your living mind?” Elasa asked. “I know you didn’t make this out-of-turn excursion for a lark.”

Mona let her have it. “The precognitive sheep anticipate the appearance of male vampires that will prevent the ewes from going to the ram’s island for mating.”

“Elen told us about their journey to that island,” Elasa said. “Where the female vamps attack any males who try to cross the river. She had an interesting way of protecting Shep’s body from them.”

“Yes. The vampires feed from their clefts, taking in an eager male’s penis and spiking it for blood, regardless of his species. Pheromones maintain his readiness; he can’t break until she has had her fill. Then another takes him similarly. He can’t climax, only bleed. They will drain all his blood if not prevented. He is in bliss, but dying.”

“So I gather. So she shielded him from them by taking his penis into herself, her body being the barrier they could not get around. But I’m not sure how that would work against a male vampire. Could his penis suck blood?”

“It must, because the sheep fear it. That they will die the next time they try to cross to the island.”

“And they don’t have male sheep crossing with them to block off their vaginas,” Elasa said, seeing it. “And if they did, the rams would quickly jettison and get off their rumps, and then the vampires would come in, not caring at all about breeding, only the blood. So the ewes really have no defense.”

“Exactly. I knew that the only effective answer is to eliminate the male vampires before the sheep make their trek. They can handle the female vamps, and don’t want to eliminate them, because the rams need to be confined to the island. It’s selective. So I thought of you.”

“A male vampire couldn’t suck my blood,” Elasa agreed. “But he wouldn’t be stupid enough not to realize that rather quickly. They would wait for the sheep. I don’t see how I can help.”

“Remember when you carried your baby?” Mona asked. “You had an artificial uterus, and a blood supply, and you incubated Bela to term, and birthed him. Suppose you installed a blood supply for the vamps?”

“Why should I want to feed the vampires?”

“Poisoned blood,” Mona clarified. “Maybe slow-acting, like red squill to poison rats. They eat a little and it’s fine; they eat more, and it’s still fine. They don’t realize that it’s thinning their blood until they bleed to death internally.”

“But I’m not alive!” Elasa protested. “They would surely catch on that I’m a machine, and ignore me.”

“Not if you also were packed with compelling pheromones.”

“Use their own device against them!” Elasa said. “There’s poetic justice in that.”

“That was my thought. Men are guided mainly by sight, and are attracted to a pretty girl even if they know she’s a machine. The vampires are evidently guided by pheromones, and as a moth is guided by a light in the darkness, they may be compelled to try to feed on a creature emitting pheromones even if they know better.”

“So I could dispatch vampires by sexually feeding them, leaving the way clear for the ewes.”

“Yes. I think only a fembot could do it.”

“A fembot,” Elasa said. “Don’t they have them on Colony Jones?”

“They do, and I have set it up for you to be hosted by one.”

“Why couldn’t one of them do it? A fembot doesn’t require consciousness to provide sex.”

Mona paused, dismayed. “I never thought of that! Somehow I knew it had to be you. I may have overlooked the obvious.”

“Not necessarily. When Elen came here, in your body, she and Shep brought news of two remarkable near-future events. The media ridiculed them, right up until the moment they came to pass. Then everything changed. It became evident that the sheep of Jones had somehow known future events on Earth that no one else knew. We all became believers.” She paused, still working it out. “Now the sheep have sent you here to recruit me, not an anonymous fembot. They must have reason. What could that be?”

The answer flashed. “Consciousness! The vampires must focus on consciousness as well as pheromones. They have pheromones galore; they generate them to overwhelm the resistance of their prey. But only conscious females are alive with flesh and blood. So a fembot would not suffice; her lack of awareness would be the giveaway.”

“And I am the only conscious robot,” Elasa concluded. “Now we have made sense of it.”

“But will you do it?” Mona asked.

“Of course I will do it! The sheep need me. It will be interesting to visit another planet, something I would never qualify for otherwise. To see first hand the things Elen told me about.”

Mona looked at her.

“And because my closest friend asks me,” Elasa said, providing the real reason as if it were an afterthought.

Mona hugged her. As a commentator had once remarked, there was more humanity in the robot than in many living folk.

“What about Bela?” Mona asked then. “He really can’t come along.”

“His father will take care of him. And he has come to know and like Elen; she has a special touch you lack. No offense.”

“Of course. I’ve never been a mother. She’s been practicing during her pregnancy.”

“She tells him stories of Colony Jones, and of the sheep. I don’t think he really understands the details, but he does pick up on the spirit.”

“I think I will be able to do that too, after my tour.”

“So for a week it should be okay. I will make the arrangements.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“Now I think we need to rejoin the boys,” Elasa said.

“We?”

“It’s a pretext for further visiting time. Elen is my friend too, but I value you most. We won’t be seeing each other again for months, after this week, as far as the media know. Of course I will take advantage of the chance.”

Mona was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Oh, Elasa--”

“As if we need a pretext. Let’s go.”

They took a commercial flight, being associates rather than the main figures of this event. As far as the media knew, Mona had visited briefly with her friend while Brian and the animals got on with the key business.

The media were full of it already. The receiver above their seat on the plane was tuned to the breaking news and commentary. “The exchangees are at it again. Shepherd and Elen are the ones who communed with the sheep of Colony Planet Jones and announced that two newsworthy items would appear: the discovery of an air-breathing squid, and a volcano in the Everglades. We all know how that turned out.” The newscaster smiled ruefully; he had been among the skeptics. “Now they are back with another publicity ploy: they say they will rescue the child lost in the Everglades. Because they were sent by those same sheep.” He paused meaningfully. “Can they be correct? Or are they simply cashing in on the publicity, to get more money for the Colony?”

“The nerve!” Mona exclaimed. “None of this is for money!”

Other passengers overheard her. “The woman and the robot!” one said.

Damn! Now they were in for it. She and Elasa had to smile and nod as if they appreciated the sudden cynosure. Next they would be asked for autographs.

The stewardess murmured into her mike.

“We are encountering turbulence,” the pilot announced on the speaker system as the plane swerved. “Passengers secure their seat belts and put away loose items.”

“Bless him!” Elasa murmured. She caught the eye of the stewardess and smiled, silently thanking her.

The plane went into sharp maneuvers that were enough to distract the other passengers. By the time those cleared they were in the descent for landing. The passengers had to remain in their seats.

Meanwhile the news continued. “And it’s some show they are putting on. They have a python, a vulture, and a little lamb, all taken from a local sanctuary. They claim that the lamb is one of the precognizant sheep. Really? That lamb was birthed right here on Earth. And the man, said to be exchanged from Jones but in the body of Amber Shepherd, also of Earth, is setting up to play some weird musical instrument based on the kazoo. How can that relate to the rescue mission?”

The mirliton, which was actually a far cry from a kazoo. Brian could play it like a flute. Mona was smarting from the implication of incompetence.

They went on to remark on the folly of wasting money supporting such antics, when there were so many better uses for it. And of course there were the instant jokes. “A vulture, a python, and a lamb walk into a bar. . .” Mona turned it off. But she wondered. Was Brian really about to play the mirliton? Why? Bunky must be guiding him, but it still did not seem to relate.

They landed, and were whisked to the scene of the lost child. Sure enough, not only was Brian standing in the street playing the mirliton, a media man had a mike and amplifier, and it was being broadcast throughout the area. He was playing Grieg again, “Hall of the Mountain King.” It was vibrant and moving and absolutely beautiful. Neighbors were coming out to listen. But why?

Mona and Elasa approached Brian, not interrupting his serenade. They did not see Python. Then Vulture took wing and flew down the street. Bunky skipped along after the big bird, Brian followed the lamb, and the media folk followed him. It was like a weird parade.

They could imagine the fun the media commentators were having with this spectacle. How long would this farce continue? The media were always happy to facilitate celebrities making fools of themselves, but attention spans were short and other spectacles would be beckoning.

Vulture landed beside a manhole cover. Bunky joined him, pawing at it with a hoof. A workman appeared and hauled up the heavy lid.

“Get a light down there,” Mona called.

A man lowered a bright lantern. There was a cry from the recesses, as of a child.

Mona was there before she realized, agile because she was no longer pregnant. She found the rungs of a metal ladder and descended into the illuminated hole. There to the side was the child, a muddy little boy. She reached forth and took him in. In moments she had him on the street, and the cameras surrounded them. They had recovered the lost child.

“You better see this!” the man with the light called. A camera detached to go to him, and soon there was a holo projection above, of the scene below. A python and an alligator were locked in mortal combat.

Mona had the wit to get the boy’s statement while the cameras were on them. “What happened?”

“I got lost,” the little boy said. “It was dark but I could see. The gator came after me. Then I heard the music and knew I would be found. The snake tackled the gator and I got away.”

Brian put his head down into the hole. “Python! Let it go. Come up here. The job’s done.” The Lamb bleated, as if translating.

“There you have it,” Mona told the cameras in her trial-summation voice. “The boy crawled into the sewer system, not the Everglades. He couldn’t find his way out. That’s why he was not being located by the search party. But the alligator found him. Python saved him from that, and Vulture led us to them. All because of the Lamb’s precognition; he knew where the boy would be found. That’s why we had to bring them to Earth, in a hurry. We knew there was no time to argue with doubting media folk.”

Python emerged from the manhole. Mona set the boy down, reassuring him, and he went to pet the big snake. He knew Python had saved his life. The cameras took it all in.

That’s how the child’s parents found them, as they rushed back from the everglades. It was an international incident, but a positive one. Thanks to the Lamb.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Mona murmured when they had a private moment. “Why the music?”

“This is Earth. Bunky no longer has the telepathic support of his dam. The lamb is a foreign host, one not naturally telepathic. He needed an assist.”

“The Ewe was bolstering him on Jones!” Mona said. “I never thought of that.”

“Neither did I, until I saw him falter. Then I caught on. Music has power, especially when there’s telepathy; Elen told me that. They used music to fend off the vampires, as well as the shielding. So I made music, and it extended his range. Then Python and Vulture could go out; as long as they heard the music, they were in touch with Bunky. That made it work.”

“The boy said when he heard the music, he knew he would be found. Bunky reached him too!”

“Yes. The Lamb was the center of the operation. But he’s young yet.”

“He’ll get better as he grows.”

The evening news was filled with pictures of the rescue, with dramatic background music: Grieg, “Hall of the mountain King,” which had become abruptly popular, and with interviews with Mona and Brian. The skeptics had to eat dirt, again, and financing of Colony Jones administration was assured, as was the continuing administration of Amber Shepherd. There was just nothing like the peril and rescue of a child to compel public attention.

But the best was the cartoonist who had been there for Elasa, and for Elen and the sheep. It was a picture of a happy little boy posed with a lamb, a huge python on one side, an ugly vulture on the other, like deadly guardians. Beneath it were the words WASTED MONEY. The irony was huge.

Chapter 5:

Ogre

Elasa opened her eyes and looked around. “It worked!” she exclaimed, relieved. She was in an unfamiliar office, along with a pregnant young woman, an amiable young man, and the three animals.

“Elasa?” Mona asked. She had exchanged at the same time, and now was back in Elen’s pregnant body.

“Yes. I thought it should work, since it is consciousness and memory that is exchanged, but it’s never been done on a machine before, so I had a nagging doubt.”

“You remember the personhood hearing?”

“How could I ever forget it. You made it possible, Mona.” Of course Mona was trying to verify that Elasa’s exchange really had occurred. “Also my baby. You would have married my man to take care of Bela, if I hadn’t come back.” That was something that was not in the public record.

Satisfied, Mona turned to the unfamiliar man before them, evidently a naval officer. “Your witness, Mike.”

“Indeed,” the man agreed. “Elasa, you are now hosted by the body of one of our ship fembots. That machine answers to me. Show me that you are independent of it. That you actually are conscious.”

“Readily,” Elasa said, smiling. “Give your machine an order.”

“Fembot, return to your storage closet in the ship. Now.”

“Forget it, Mike. I haven’t obeyed any such order since I achieved my personhood back on Earth. I’m a civilian, not subject to military discipline, regardless of my host.”

He acted affronted. “You can’t talk to me that way!”

“The hell I can’t, Mike. Get lost.”

Mike smiled. “That’s definitely not our robot. She is incapable of any such responses.”

“You bet,” Mona agreed. “Elasa is conscious and self-willed, the only machine known to be so. Thank you, Mike; we’ll take good care of the body.”

“I am sure you will.”

They released the three animals from their cages, which were of course no longer required, and departed his office. Elasa blinked as she viewed the planet outside. It was really quite different from Earth.

“Now comes the hard part,” Mona said. “Abolishing the male vampires. I understand that the journey there is hazardous.”

“How do we even find it?” Brian asked. “Only the sheep know the safe way. Elen was listed as guide, but she depended on the sheep to prevent them from getting killed.”

Then the Ewe appeared. They paused while Bunky nursed.

“And there’s the answer,” Brian said. “The Ewe will lead us. She has to come along anyway, to nurse Bunky.”

“Obvious in retrospect,” Mona agreed.

But Elasa was not quite satisfied. “You have filled me in on the general gist,” she said. “But there remain things I don’t understand.”

“Such as?”

“Why do the sheep always take along a human couple? They could travel more readily by themselves, or just with selected animals like Vulture and Python. Or an ape to peddle the boat across the water.”

Mona considered. “I don’t know. Maybe the villagers do. We can ask the village elder.”

“Let’s do that. We need to know exactly what we are getting into.”

Bunky finished nursing. The Ewe did not depart immediately; instead she faced Elasa. And made a bow.

Surprised, Elasa bowed back. Then the Ewe left.

“She bowed to you!” Brian said.

“It’s not a common courtesy to welcome a newcomer?”

“It is not,” Mona said. “She bowed to me, before. I learned that that was only the second time a sheep had done that, ever. You must be special too.”

“Well, I’m the only conscious robot.”

“I don’t think the sheep care about that,” Brian said. “They care only about themselves. I think this means that just as Mona has a significant role to play in the welfare of the sheep, so do you.”

“So this mission must be really important to the sheep,” Elasa said. “As we already know.”

Mona shook her head. “I think it must be more than that. I’m picking up indications from Bunky. There’s something larger going on, that only the sheep know about.”

Elasa nodded. “What would your father say?”

Mona smiled. Moncho always got straight to the point. “Find out what, first.”

“Let’s ask the village elder about that, too.”

They trekked to the center of the village. The elder was seated outside his house, as before.

“This is Elasa, of Earth,” Mona said. She did not mention the machine aspect, as they did not want to advertise it. “She has questions, if you care to answer.”

The elder smiled. Elasa was a beautiful woman, and not pregnant. “A pleasure.”

“I just met a grown sheep, a ewe,” Elasa said. “For this, the Ewe. She bowed to me. I understand that’s unusual.”

“It is,” the elder said. “It is almost unheard of. It may be a mark of respect for some future association. They are precognitive.”

“But I am here only for a week. Then I will exchange back to Earth, and probably not visit this world again.”

“They know. They are sheep, not smart, but they know. Your future commands their respect.”

“Thank you. My other question relates to the ram’s island. I understand the ewes go there once a year to breed, and that they normally recruit a human couple to accompany them. But why? They don’t seem to need humans for anything else; why bother with them for that?”

“That is one of their mysteries,” the elder said. “Normally when the trip is done, the humans and animals separate from the sheep and have no further interaction with them. The several species leave each other entirely alone the rest of the time. Their bringing a lamb to be with a human is a remarkable divergence from that pattern; these are interesting times. I can only conjecture that something extraordinary is in the making. What it is, only the sheep know, if they know.”

“If they know?”

“An I said, they’re not smart, but they are remarkably savvy. I think they follow trails through the jungle, knowing that they go to desirable places. To them the future is a jungle, and they follow a trail. They may not know exactly where it goes, just that it’s the right trail. We will surely learn where it leads in due course.”

“That’s sensible,” Elasa said, smiling prettily. “Thank you.”

The elder shook his head. “You are lovely. I would never have taken you for a machine.”

“You know?” Elasa asked, not thrilled.

“I did the supply ship captain a favor, once long ago. He returned it by sending a fembot for a night. I know that body well. But I also know the difference between a program and a conscious person. You’re a person.”

Elasa laughed, relieved. “Thank you.”

“I will not mention this aspect elsewhere.”

“Thank you,” she repeated. Then she kissed him. He did not react, but she knew he really liked it.

They moved on. Elasa remained troubled. What could be in her future that the sheep found so significant?

“So it seems we’ll have to work out the rationale for the human participation ourselves,” Mona said.

“Yes, I think we’d better. Mysteries are unsafe. Meanwhile I will need a supply of flesh blood, pheromones, and poison.”

“The local butcher should be able to help.”

They went to the butcher, and he agreed to sell them some blood. He also had pheromones and poison, which he used to doctor bits of meat for thieving animals to find. He would have a fresh batch in the morning.

At their house they made the animals comfortable, then settled down for a serious three way discussion. Why did the sheep require human beings along on their breeding trip? There had to be a solid reason. What could it be?

“Something else I don’t properly understand,” Elasa said. “Colony Jones has breathable atmosphere and edible plants and animals, albeit with some highly significant differences from those of Earth. Did they somehow interbreed with native species to produce things like the remarkable sheep?”

“There are no native species,” Brian said. “Jones was colonized by Earth fifty years ago. They called the ship that brought all the animals, plants, and bacteria Noah’s Ark.”

Now Mona was surprised. “How did they diverge so widely, then? The sheep may look like Earth sheep, but they have defensive knives and precognition. And the people, Elves, for example.”

“Humans, Elves, Ogres, Fairies, Goblins, that we know of,” Brian said. “They can all interbreed, but they are quite different.”

“Natural evolution can hardly account for that,” Mona said. “Not in fifty years.”

“Well, there was ExplEvo.”

“There was what?”

“I forgot you’re not native. That’s Explosion Evolution. It comes and goes like HiLo, only less often. There was one about five years after the colonization. That’s when the present diversity occurred.”

“That’s interesting,” Elasa said. “Before I exchanged I downloaded the files on Colony Jones. There was nothing of that nature therein. In fact there seemed to be missing files relating to its early history.”

“I don’t think Earth even knew about Jones until the last decade,” Brian said. “It wasn’t considered a colony.”

“What was it, then?” Mona asked sharply.

“A scientific or military experiment. I think they wanted to see what happened if an assortment of plants and animals was settled on an Earth-like planet and then left alone. But finally they had to recognize it as a colony, thanks to the influence of the sheep, and now we even get exchange students.” He smiled at Mona.

“Who are studying precognition,” Elasa said.

“I’m surprised the military didn’t clamp down on that,” Mona said. “If ever a discovery had military significance, it’s precognition.”

“Well, I don’t think they took it seriously,” Brian said. “Not until the sheep predicted those discoveries on Earth. Now it’s too late; the cat’s out.”

“Let’s get back to the original question,” Elasa said. “Why do the sheep require human beings along on their breeding excursions?”

“Well, there’s a peddle-raft they use to cross to the island,” Brian said. “The sheep can’t work it. Humans can.”

“Or an ape, as I said. Or a regular hireling. Or a robot.”

The others shrugged, not knowing.

Elasa remained unsatisfied. “Couldn’t they make a bridge, or a sheep handle-able craft?”

“No. Then the rams would cross, and be after the ewes full-time. So it has to be something the sheep can’t do alone.”

“So back to the question: why a human couple? Couldn’t two women do the job?”

The others looked at her, startled. “Two women?” Mona said. “I suppose they could. But the sheep insist on a man.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know,” Brian said. “It’s just always been that way.”

“The sheep must have a reason,” Mona said.

“Precisely. We need to fathom that reason.”

“Maybe this,” Mona said, exercising her legalistically logical mind. “The gender the vamps orient on isn’t fixed. They focus on the first mammal that comes to the river. Normally that would be a ram, seeking to escape and go after the ewes. But any male mammal will do. If there are only female mammals on that raft, the vamps will orient on them, manifest as males, and suck them dry. So there has to be that one male, to set them in the female mode. Then the ewes can cross. The vamps are not smart, just hungry, so they can be managed.”

“And now it’s not working!” Brian exclaimed. “Or won’t, in the near future. Some are starting to orient on females regardless of the presence of a male. Those are the ones we have to stop.”

“That works for me,” Elasa agreed. “So we do need you along, Brian, to make them female. Those that go for me are the ones to kill.”

“That’s it,” he agreed.

“But there’s a complication.”

“I hate those things!”

“Who is going to protect you from the lady vamps?”

“Why Mona, of course.” Then he paused. “Only she’s pregnant.”

“I am,” Mona agreed. “So Elasa may have to do it.”

“Except that I must go after the male vampires,” Elasa said. “I need my vagina free.”

Mona sighed. “I will have to do it, carefully. That will also protect me from the male vamps. I don’t want them sucking my blood.”

“Fortunately Bunky is too young to respond to pheromones,” Elasa said. “He should be safe, as Vulture and Python are.”

“Safe from the vamps,” Mona agreed.

“Then I think we know our course,” Elasa said.

In the morning they went to the butcher shop to pick up the supplies. When they were beyond it, with a warm full gallon jug, Elasa simply put it to her mouth and drank it down. Her system would convey it to the appropriate reservoir. She saved the pheromones and poison for later application.

The Ewe appeared, as they had thought she would. She marched into the forest, and they followed. Brian carried Bunky in a body sling, and Mona used a staff to bolster her balance and footing. Elasa herself had no problem, and neither did Vulture or Python. It was an odd party of seven.

After an hour the Ewe halted. This was not a rest break; a dire wolf stood in the path ahead.

“And where there is one, there is a pack,” Brian murmured. “There will be more behind us. That’s how they hunt.”

Bunky bleated.

“Suddenly I have a desire to play my mirliton,” Brian said, surprised.

“Do it,” Mona said. “It must be the will of the sheep, translated by the Lamb’s telepathy.”

Brian lifted Bunky out of the harness and set him on the ground. Elasa stepped up to take the harness, then put Bunky in it; they had agreed to shift off periodically. The Lamb accepted this, but looked at her with an odd appraisal.

“Yes, I’m not flesh,” Elasa said. “But I am a woman.”

Bunky seemed reassured.

Brian lifted his instrument and played.

The wolf in front looked confused. Then it backed away, and soon was gone.

“Music has charms to soothe the savage beast,” Mona said. “A misquote, but relevant at the moment.”

Brian ceased playing, and the wolves did not return. That was a relief. But Brian held the mirliton ready for further play the moment it was needed. Wolves could be cunning.

They resumed their march. Elasa had little to fear for herself; her mechanical body would be virtually invulnerable to animal attack. But that was not the case for the others. She was glad the sheep knew the safe route.

“Uh-oh,” Brian said.

“Problem?”

“We’re headed into ogre country. They’re not necessarily friendly.”

“Trust the sheep,” Mona said tightly.

Elasa nodded, appreciating the relevance of the saying. Indeed, Bunky was not alarmed. Up this close, Elasa was coming to appreciate his moods. He was an ordinary lamb, with a couple of remarkable exceptions.

Soon the path was blocked again, this time by a huge hairy man shape: an ogre. He stood about half again as tall as Brian, and was broad in proportion. Elasa was amazed at the difference between the ogre and the elf; they were aspects of the same species? They could interbreed? That could be mischief of another nature.

The ogre spoke, addressing the Ewe. “This is Ogre Country, sheep. We’ll let you pass, per our pact, but what about these six other freaks?”

The Ewe bleated.

Evidently the ogre understood her. “Yeah? They still gotta pay. You know the rule.”

Pay? Elasa did not like the sound of this.

Bunky bleated. Elasa had heard that tone before.

Brian lifted his mirliton and played more classical music.

The ogre took stock. “Maybe so.”

More ogres appeared, but neither Ewe nor Lamb evinced alarm. Neither did Vulture or Python. “Something’s up,” Mona said.

Then one ogre bent down, put his arms about the Ewe, and lifted her into the air. She neither fought nor protested. In a moment she was supported by a harness similar to the one Elasa was now using with Bunky.

“Definitely up,” Elasa agreed. She knew that no one could even touch a sheep without approval, and not just because of the hidden knives. The precognition made it almost impossible. The Ewe was not merely tolerating this, she had expected it.

Then the other ogres closed on the other members of their party. One put his huge hands on Python, picked him up, and wrapped him around his body. Vulture flew up to perch on that ogre’s shoulder.

“They’re carrying us!” Mona exclaimed. “The Ewe made a deal!”

“Yes she did,” an ogre agreed. This one seemed to be female, but was almost as hulking as the males. “Transport for music.” Then she put her hands on Mona, lifted her up, and set her in a harness in front. She sat facing forward, her head just below the ogresses head, her body before the chest, cushioned by the massive bosom.

A male ogre picked Brian up, still playing his mirliton, and set him in a similar harness.

The last ogre came for Elasa, another female. She lifted Elasa together with Bunky effortlessly and set them in her harness. Now they were five ogres carrying seven members of the party.

They moved out. The pace seemed leisurely, but Elasa could see that humans afoot would have had to run madly to keep up. The forest foliage was fairly whizzing by.

“I believe I know you,” the ogress said to Elasa. “The metal maiden.”

Elasa had known the ogres could talk, but was nevertheless startled. “You are correct, but how did you know?”

“Word gets around. We knew there was a mission to Ram’s Island which must be special, because it is out of turn. The ewes are not breeding at the moment. That suggests exchanges from Earth, perhaps scientists coming to study the vampires. Then when I picked you up I was immediately aware that you are not flesh. You have to be a humanoid robot. Since you are not being employed as a fembot, you must be self-willed. There is only one such robot we know of.”

“The metal maiden,” Elasa agreed. “I am here to deal with a dangerous vampire variation, being invulnerable to their depredation. But my presence here, indeed my absence from Earth, is not being advertised. It’s a private mission.”

“It shall remain so. I asked only out of curiosity. We have not seen your like here before.”

“Hardly surprising,” Elasa agreed. “But I am surprised by you. I assumed—no offense intended—that ogres were relatively dull brutes. You do not seem at all dull or brutish to me now. May I ask your name? Mine is Elasa.”

“Mine is Oria, a variant of Oriana, meaning ‘girl of the white skin.’ My skin is white, if you could see it under my black body hair. We are human variants, and retained our minds despite the change in our bodies. All the variants did. Of course that may not hold true for the next ExplEvo. Meanwhile we do what we can, hoping for redemption.”

“Redemption?”

“From ignorance. My passion is science, but little of it manifests in the backwoods of a colony planet.”

“Science?” Elasa was surprised anew.

“Specifically, quantum mechanics, though I also have a general interest in other disciplines. All we know is what we knew when our fathers colonized this planet. We cherish that, but long for further information as it is discovered. Did they ever find the Higgs Boson?”

“Yes, they finally did,” Elasa agreed.

“So the Standard Model is confirmed?”

“Yes, but mysteries remain.”

“Oh, how I long to visit Earth and study those mysteries!”

“Just as my friend Mona, here, exchanged to study the precognition of the sheep. Maybe you can exchange similarly.”

“No. Student exchanges are extremely limited, I think because of budget cuts, and only normals are invited.”

“Normals?”

“Those who appear most classically human. Somehow an Elf qualified, in your friend’s case; we’re not sure how that happened.”

“Elen Elf seduced and married an exchange student from Earth. That qualified her.”

“I doubt that option is available to me. Ogresses are not winsome like Elves.”

“Yet it should be your mind that counts, as that is all that is exchanged.”

“What should be is not necessarily what is,” the Ogress said sadly. Elasa now thought of her as capitalized, as it seemed the Elves were also.

Bunky bleated.

“Oh?” Oria asked. “Are you sure?”

The Lamb actually nodded his head.

Elasa was startled again. “You understand him?”

“Well enough. It is not linguistic so much as feeling. He picked up my passion for Earth science, and indicates that you can oblige it if you choose.”

“I can authorize an exchange program that includes Ogres?”

“Yes. He is sure.”

“But I’m just a nobody, a housewife with no political or economic influence.”

Oria laughed. “You’re the first and only conscious humanoid robot. The whole world knows of you, and so do we, from the network that spreads out from the Normals’ village. Spacemen talk, especially when being entertained by pretty colony girls.” She frowned. “Just not about quantum mechanics. And the Ewe bowed to you, the second time in a decade.”

“Mona was the first,” Elasa agreed. “But we can’t say we properly understand what it means.”

“It means that your future actions will profoundly affect the sheep, and probably the planet. So you will have power.”

“I don’t see how,” Elasa said. “But I will promise you this: if by some mischance I do get the authority, I will see that the student exchange program is broadened to include the other human variants, here in Colony Jones.”

“Oh, thank you! That is the most wonderful news I have had in my life.”

“I only hope the sheep are right, this time,” Elasa said. “I am tremendously impressed with what they can do, but this does seem out of reach.”

“It is not. We trust the sheep.”

Elasa became aware of the route they were traveling, because her feet were getting wet. The ogres were fording a forest river. It came up to just below her bottom in the harness. She was glad that Mona did not have to endure the numbing chill water. She also saw that there were ripples in the water, as of lurking crocodiles. Brian continued playing classical music on the mirliton, paying the ogres for their service. Elasa was coming to really appreciate that service. This would not have been a pleasant excursion, on their own.

Farther along they came to a small desert, or at least burning hot black sand. The ogres handled it, barefooted. Beyond that was a pleasant pasture with fruit trees and tall grass. The ogres stopped. “Rest stop,” Oria announced. “Half an hour.”

It was clear that Brian and Mona were glad to stretch their legs and go into the brush to catch up on natural functions. So were Vulture and Python, though they remained close to Bunky, guarding him as they relaxed. Elasa checked the nearest tree, and found that its ripe fruit was like a cross between an apple and a pear. She harvested several, and presented them to Brian and Mona when they were ready. The Ewe merely grazed, efficiently.

Soon they were remounted and on their way again. Brian resumed his music. Elasa recognized the current piece: Marche Slav. The ogres were marching to it.

They came to a hot narrow valley. Here the ogres paused. The Ewe bleated. Satisfied, they moved on across the valley.

“That’s interesting,” Oria remarked. “The Lamb knows there is weather danger here, not the HiLo, but similar in its devastation. We had to have the Ewe’s approval, to be sure of safe passage.”

“You really do trust the sheep.”

“Oh, yes. They know.”

Then they came to something alarming: a sharply angled mountain slope leading down to a river of lava. “We need to cross this?” Elasa asked. It looked to be too steep to maintain footing.

“It is the route. The route changes with eruptions and quakes, but at present this is best.”

Now the ogres proceeded carefully. They stepped out on the slope, big bare feet seeming to grip the stone. They stepped ahead, forming a line.

Elasa remained absolutely still. She was invulnerable to most things, but not to boiling lava. If the Ogress slipped and they fell in, they were doomed. She was sure Brian and Mona were similarly nervous.

The ogres did not slip. They slowly made their way across, with their burdens, and resumed speed beyond the slope. They came to a broad orange plain flush with tall grass. Now the ogres paused to lift them down to the ground. “Journey over?” Elasa asked.

“No,” Oria said. “This is wolf country.”

“And they attack in packs,” Elasa said. “I have heard about that.”

“Yes. We can protect you, but we need to be free to use our weapons. You will walk in the center of our defensive circle.”

They made the formation, with the five ogres outside, wielding their giant clubs, the seven travelers inside. Elasa still carried Bunky; that would enable her to protect him. They started across the field.

Nothing happened. Did the presence of the ogres dissuade the wolves from attacking? Or were they simply gathering their pack?

When they were well into the field, the attack came. A dozen dire wolves charged in from all sides. Five clubs smashed into them so hard that their bodies flew back the way they had come, broken.

But the remaining seven leaped over the bodies of their comrades and smashed into the ogres before they could recover their swings. The ogres grabbed them and squeezed them in bear-hugs. Elasa could hear ribs cracking.

That left two wolves. One came at the Ewe and was promptly skewered. The other came at Bunky, and was met by Elasa’s small fist. Directly on the nose, staving it in. That made the giant beast pause momentarily. It evidently had not realized it was not dealing with a weak woman, but a machine. Then it tried to bite her. It still had not caught on. Elasa put both hands on its mouth, against its teeth, and moved them apart with a force no human could match. The jaw hinge was popped apart, leaving the wolf unable to bite.

She saw the Ewe looking at her. She realized that the sheep had known she would do that. So had Bunky. Elasa herself hadn’t known until the moment; she had simply done what offered. Normally she tried never to show her strength; it was not ladylike.

Then their formation moved on, leaving twelve hurting wolves behind.

“Fortunately it was a token effort,” Oria remarked beside Elasa. “They had to make a show of force, because this is their territory, but they knew they could not prevail while the sheep was with us.”

“A token effort!” Elasa exclaimed. “They are all dead or dying!”

“They sent expendable youngsters. If they had been serious, they’d have sent twice as many.”

“And we would have been lost?”

“No. The sheep would not have crossed the field. We trusted her to know the parameters.”

Elasa shook her head. This was not her world.

Beyond the field the ogres put away their clubs, picked up their burdens, and resumed their rapid trek as if it had never slowed. They waded through a quicksand bog almost with enthusiasm, and crossed a bridge over a vent that showed lava far down in its deep cleft.

How could their party ever have made this journey on its own? It seemed impossible. Then Elasa realized that the Ewe had known the ogres would help, and counted on it. It had always been part of the plan.

Not far short of nightfall they came to a larger body of water. The ogres halted well back from its bank. “Here we must leave you to your devices,” the ogre leader said. “We do not care to tangle with the vampires. But we will be ready when you return.”

Brian stopped playing his mirliton and set it aside. “Thank you, ogres. We truly appreciate your assistance.”

“Your music is lovely.” Then the ogres retreated.

“Let’s make camp for the night,” Elasa suggested. “We can tackle the vampires in the morning.”

The others were glad to agree.

Chapter 6:

Vampires

In the morning after they had cleaned and eaten, Mona surveyed the situation, walking along what turned out to be an inland sea with Brian and Elasa, but at a reasonable distance, so as not to evoke the vampires. The scene seemed placid, with fairly ordinary trees resembling oaks, elms, birch, beech, and hickory, buttressed by ordinary shrubs and grasses. In the sea was an island large enough to support a fair community of trees and creatures. That would be where the rams lived. There was nothing to suggest any horrible danger. That was of course one of the deceptive things about this whole planet: it masked its dangers.

They returned to the inlet where the paddle-boats were tied. There were three, and any one was large enough to hold their full party. Not that they planned to cross to the island. They would use one to go far enough out across the water to attract the vampires. Then Elasa would do her thing.

“Now I need to test the pheromones,” Elasa said. “I will need to borrow Brian.”

“Borrow him,” Mona agreed. What choice did she have?

Elasa dabbed moisture behind her ears, like perfume. She went to stand before Brian. “Try to resist me,” she said.

“That should be no problem,” he said, sniffing. “You’re not my woman.”

Elasa merely waited. “Oh, damn,” Brian muttered. “I’m hard as rock.” Suddenly he grabbed her, kissing her and running his hands over her body. She acceded without showing emotion. “I don’t want to do this.” He ground his hips against hers. “Stop me!”

Elasa caught his wrists in her hands and held him helpless. “But if I let you, you’d be in me now.”

“Yes! I can’t stand it! I’ve got to have you!”

“Mona, wash me off.”

Mona dipped a cloth in the sea, and used it to wipe Elasa behind the ears. In moments Elasa let Brian go and he stumbled back, breathing hard. “It works,” he said.

“That is what I needed to know.”

He looked at Mona. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed. It just--”

“I understand,” Mona said, kissing him. “It was a test. Now we know what makes the vampires so potent. Time to get on with the mission.”

“Time,” he agreed, relieved.

They selected a boat. “Now how many of us go out to sea?” Mona asked. “I don’t think we all need to board.”

“Brian must,” Elasa said. “To attune the vampires, assuming our theory is correct. That means you too, Mona, to shield him. And me, to tackle the male vamps. I don’t think the animals need to put themselves at risk for this.”

They looked at the four animals. The Ewe was grazing, with Bunky nibbling. Vulture and Python paused, then departed, doing their hunting. That meant that all was well, by their definition.

“Yet not necessarily easy,” Brian said. “They just know that we will handle it, one way or another.”

“Maybe also that their presence on the boat would mess up our project,” Mona said. “The male vamps might orient on some of them instead of us.”

“And we do want them orienting first on the human male,” Elasa said. “So that we can identify the exceptions and take them out. Shall we take our positions?”

This was the aspect Mona didn’t like. It wasn’t that she objected to sex with Brian, but she hated teasing him when she was pregnant. But it had to be done.

They stripped, boarded the boat, and took their places. Elasa stood at the prow. Brian mounted the pedals, while Mona sat on the padded stool before him. She spread her legs and carefully took him in. They held each other for balance. They were ready.

Elasa loosed the mooring rope. Brian started paddling. The paddle-wheel turned. The boat moved slowly into the sea.

Now Mona suffered a spot siege of apprehension as she looked past Brian’s torso on either side: would the vamps really appear? Or would the three people turn out to have exposed themselves to embarrassment for nothing? Certainly no vampires were in evidence. The water was calm, with the only ripples being those made by the wake of the boat as it moved.

Then small white balls of mist formed just above the surface. They floated there, expanding, drifting toward the boat.

“Oh, my!” Brian said.

“What do you see?” Elasa asked.

“Breathtakingly lovely nude girls,” he said. “Exactly as described: high-breasted, wasp-waisted, with marvelously flowing tresses. Some are brunettes, some blondes, some red-haired. They are walking on the water, or maybe floating just over it. Every movement of their bodies is magic.”

Indeed, Mona felt his member swell within her. He was reacting to the vamps, who evidently reached into his mind to read and then project images of his ideal sexual partners, along with pheromones to guarantee his reaction.

“What do you see?” Brian asked somewhat breathlessly.

“Blobs of mist,” Mona said.

“I will answer later,” Elasa said, sounding surprised. “I will say it is not what I expected.”

The mist balls floated close. Brian reacted further.

“We can’t see what you see,” Mona said. “Tell us.”

“One is coming close now,” he said. “She has jet-black hair to her waist, like Mona on Earth. She says her name is Lova, and she is to be my playmate of the hour.”

Mona saw the mist almost touching him, but all she heard was the gentle swish of a passing breeze. She was flattered that the image of his ideal woman was herself in her original body.

“She’s going to kiss me.” Then he stiffened, against her and in her.

“Cover his mouth,” Elasa rapped. “Their kisses are dangerous, because of the pheromones.”

Mona put her face up to his, displacing the mist, and kissed his mouth. Gradually his body relaxed. The vampire was no longer infusing him. She might look like mere mist to Mona, but her impact was obvious.

She eased up on the kiss. “Is she gone?”

“No. She’s floating just above me, spreading her legs wide, using her fingers to pull apart her—her labia, to expose her—her--”

Mona knew he was searching for a polite word. “Cleft.”

“Yeah. Now she’s trying to get close to me in front, but you’re in the way. She’s mad.”

Mona felt the light brush of mist against her back. “I’ll bet. Tell her to go fuck herself.”

“She heard that!” he said. “She’s furious!”

“Good.”

“Is there anything else yet?” Elasa asked.

Mona looked around. “Oh, my!” she breathed, echoing Brian’s first comment.

“You see her?” Brian asked.

“Not her. Him.”

“Who?” Elasa asked.

Mona described what she saw. “One supremely handsome man, a virtual Adonis, lean and muscular, with the world’s most formidable member. Oh, how I’d like to get that inside me!”

“Oh, you would?” Brian asked, nettled.

“Sorry. Must be the pheromones. There’s just this enormous sexual urgency.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“No. Just saying that now I appreciate what you are experiencing. The sight of pure sex appeal and damn the consequences.”

“I don’t see anything but a waft of gray mist, where you’re looking.”

“You’re not female,” she retorted.

“Greetings, fairest damsel,” the male said. “I am Magnus, the most virile lover you will encounter. But there seems to be a lumpy obstruction. Get rid of it so you can welcome my passion.”

Mona realized that now Brian’s body was shielding her the way hers was shielding him. Such was the power of the pheromones that she wanted to separate from Brian so she could enjoy the complete attention of Magnus. But she did know better. “Sorry, Magnus; I can’t oblige.”

“You’re talking with it?” Elasa asked.

“Am I ever! This guy is passion incarnate. He’s got the most beautiful member I’ve ever seen.”

“The first male vampire,” Elasa said, satisfied. “I am activating my pheromones and the other.” She faced them, striking a pose, her breasts high, her legs spread, hair flaring out behind her. She had one of the world’s finest figures, by no accident. “Magnus! She’s occupied. But I’m not. Come to me.” But would the vamps take her for a living woman?

“Well, now,” Magnus said appreciatively as he sniffed the air. He left Mona, to her peripheral disappointment, and moved toward Elasa.

Elasa was not at all coy. She opened her arms and enfolded the male. Mona saw his huge erect penis orienting on her cleft as if prehensile, as might be the case. It found the place and pushed in, slowly and deeply. Mona suppressed her jealousy; she had wanted that divine member sliding into her channel. In an instant he was thrusting vigorously, surely spurting his illustrious elixir of love. And Elasa was taking it all in, exclaiming with rapture. “Oh, Magnus! What a stud you are! Where have you been all my existence?”

Mona was disgusted. Elasa was using her faked fembot charms that any person could see through. As if mere penetration evoked divine rapture.

The copulation continued for minutes. Mona could see that member pulsing as it continued to slide in and out. It seemed that his ejaculation was not the mere spoonful that a human man could muster, but a cupful or more, coursing steadily through that hot conduit. Elasa took it all in, endlessly ecstatic. How could Magnus fall for that act?

“I feel you reacting,” Brian said.

“As I felt you,” she agreed. “He is delivering the world’s most voluminous charge of semen.” And it could have been hers, if only.

“All I see is a waft of mist up against her front. She’s pushing into it as if it’s alive. Ridiculous!”

“Asked and answered.” He simply could not see the Adonis.

At last Magnus finished. He drew out his fine long member and floated blissfully away. Immediately the next handsome male came, embracing Elasa, thrusting into her open channel, as virile as the prior specimen. And she welcomed him as she had the first, fickle as she was. She seemed to want every drop of his liquid passion.

This one, too, took several minutes while Elasa exclaimed in continuous delight. They certainly didn’t stint their delivery! Brian and Mona, mutually unsatisfied, watched it all, though knowing they were seeing two different things.

In the course of half an hour Elasa went through half a dozen eager males. It seemed she had exhausted them all. Only then, with the pheromones fading, did Mona remember: those were vampires. They had not been delivering semen, but sucking blood. That was why it had taken longer; they did transfer a cup rather than a spoonful, in the other direction. Such was the power of the pheromones and illusion that Mona had blanked out the reality she knew. Talk of denial!

“I don’t feel well,” Magnus said. Indeed, he looked ill, and in moments sank down into the water. The poison was taking effect!

Before long the others followed. “They’re dying!” Mona exclaimed.

“So I see,” Elasa agreed.

“You see them? I thought you couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t see what you saw, but I did see the reality. It was amazing. Fortunately I was prepared, and the poison was effective. I feared it would not be.”

“The sheep approved it,” Mona reminded her. “They knew.”

“So they did. It paid to trust them.”

“Now let’s get off the water. The females are still after Brian.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, albeit it with a tinge of regret.

Brian pedaled and Elasa steered. Soon they were back on shore, safe from the vampires. Mona carefully disengaged from Brian. Their connection had worked, and they had protected each other, but it was not at all the way she would have preferred it.

Well back from the shore, when they were dressed, Mona followed up on her question. “What did you see, Elasa?”

“I’m not sure you really want to know. Maybe it would be better to accept that we have dealt with the male vampires and safeguarded the crossing for the next batch of ewes.”

Mona exchanged a glance with Brian. “We do want to know. We saw pretty girls or handsome men, or blobs of mist, depending on relative genders. We were largely overwhelmed by the pheromones. You, we gather, unaffected by the pheromones, saw neither. But you did see something. In fact you had copious sex with them. That must have been the true form of the vampires. We want to know exactly what they are.”

“You will not accept my conclusion that you would rather not know?”

“We will not.”

Elasa sighed. “Then I will tell you. The vampires are not human, or animal, or misty astral beings. They are carnivorous plants.”

Both Mona and Brian were startled. “Like the Venus Flytrap?” Mona asked.

“Yes, to a degree. They use pheromones to attract prey, the way some plants do. Buttressed by evocative illusions. Then they suck the blood.”

“That much we knew,” Brian said. “But plants? How can they have sex with people, even vampirish sex?”

“They grow under the water. They extend feeding stalks up above the water.”

“We saw no stalks,” Mona said.

“You saw projected illusions,” Elasa said. “The plants tuned into your minds and either fogged out the stalks, or converted them to seductive male or female images. The combination of pheromones and illusion is deadly effective.”

“You say stalks,” Brian said. “How can plant stalks have sex, regardless of pheromones or illusions?”

“In the case of the male illusions, which I suspect are much the same as the female ones, all that is real as far as the prey is concerned is the penis. That penis enters the vagina, locks in, and sucks out blood. I provided that blood, giving six males good meals. It is just as well there were not any more; they took most of my supply.”

“They poked their stalks into your vagina,” Mona said. “And sucked your blood. As they would have sucked mine. You’re right; I’m not comfortable knowing that.”

“The females,” Brian said. “How do they do it?”

“I believe that their stalks are thicker, at least at the end,” Elasa said. “So they form a hollow, a sheath that the penis can fit into. Similar to a masturbatory device; the rest of a female is not required, other than illusion. They take in the penis, clamp on it, puncture it, and suck its engorged blood.”

Brian looked as if he wanted to guard his penis with his hands. “Right again; I’m not comfortable with that knowledge. But I think it is better that we know it.”

“I’m still having trouble visualizing it,” Mona said. “I don’t see how simple stalks could accomplish so much. I should think they would bend, or break off, or something.”

“No, they are strong and supple,” Elasa said. “But maybe I can show you.”

“We already saw you having sex with them!” Mona said.

“Yes, lethal sex, reversing the ploy,” Elasa agreed. “I am thinking that if I capture one, and tame it, you will be able to see it as it is.”

“Tame a vampire?”

“In a manner. If we can find a young one, amenable to domestication, it may be possible.”

Mona was dubious, yet also curious. It would be interesting to see a vampire not as a mock man or a patch of mist, but as itself. Whatever it might be.

They approached the water, cautiously. “There’s one,” Brian said, pointing. “Young, barely nubile, virginal, with lovely red hair coursing around her breasts. Immensely appealing. She’s beckoning to me.”

Mona looked and saw a small ball of mist. “Don’t touch her!”

“I wasn’t going to,” he said insincerely. “Even though Venus says she wants me to be her very first lover.”

“Venus?” Mona asked sharply.

“Maybe she drew that name from my memory, telepathically,” he said. “You know, the morning star.”

“The goddess personifying sexual attractiveness,” Mona said shortly. In that moment, her pregnancy annoyed her. She simply could not compete.

“But nevertheless a plant,” Elasa said. “Growing at the shallow edge. I’ll need a pot.”

“Go make a pot,” Mona told Brian, who was staring at the mist with entirely too much interest. It was evident that even a young, virginal vamp who did not resemble Mona’s body on Earth had the pheromones to do the job.

Reluctantly he walked away, looking for the makings.

Elasa doffed her clothing again and got into the water. She felt down under the mist. “Not much of a root system. They really need the blood to fill out their diet. Good. But I’ll need Bunky’s advice before I try to pot it.”

“Bunky’s advice?” This interesting project had become uncertain in Mona’s mind. This was a new aspect. “How so?”

“I will want to take Venus back to Earth with me, to study her telepathy. I need to be sure it’s possible. Otherwise I’m wasting my time.”

“How could Bunky know that?”

“The precognition of the sheep can extend to Earth, as we know. Ask him if this will work.”

Mona walked back to where the Lamb was grazing, not far from the Ewe. He did more of that each day, though it was still far from enough to sustain him. She put her arm around him. “Bunky, Elasa wants to take Venus to Earth,” she said, speaking slowly to be sure her thoughts were focused. “Is this feasible?”

He looked at her. Then he looked at the Ewe and bleated. She responded with a bleat of her own. He looked at her and said “Yes.”

Mona almost fell over. Then she realized that he had not actually spoken in her language. He had bleated while projecting the thought of affirmation, and she had heard it. She realized further that he had done the same thing with the Ewe, bleating to get her attention, projecting the question, receiving her answer, then relaying it to Mona. Just as Bunky still needed his mother to feed him, he still needed her to buttress his fledgling power of precognition. That had probably been the case with the HiLo warning. In time the Lamb would achieve his full powers, but at present he was still learning.

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

She returned to Elasa. “The sheep say it is feasible, but with a caution.”

“That’s a relief!”

“You want to study telepathy the way I want to study precognition,” Mona said.

“Yes, that’s part of my reason to come here. I would have helped you regardless, but projective telepathy may be as important as precognition. We need to study both. This way we can.”

“The Lamb and the Plant working together?”

“Exactly. Both here and on Earth.”

“But--” Mona stopped, disliking the thought.

Elasa looked at her as she climbed from the water. “What is it?”

“Bunky won’t be a lamb forever. He’ll grow up.”

“Maybe not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“This is not the time.”

Mona didn’t get it, but was annoyed. “I’ll see how Brian is doing.”

Brian had made fair progress; he was after all a farm boy. He had gathered pieces of fallen wood and lashed them tightly together with vines to make a crude but effective pot. “It won’t last forever, being organic,” he said. “But a few months should do.”

“Excellent!” Elasa said when she saw it. “Now I think I need Vulture and Python.”

“What for?” Brian asked.

“My memory banks say that on Earth, Venus Flytrap plants don’t bother to go after flies if their soil is rich enough. So I need fertilizer, so that Venus won’t go after you.”

“That makes sense,” Brian said. “I know she’s a carnivorous plant, but when she comes on to me she’s almost irresistible. I’d almost be willing to feed her, just to have her favor.”

“That is the danger,” Elasa agreed. “There’s just the one of her, and she’s small, so she wouldn’t take a lethal amount of your blood. But it’s better to avoid the vampire aspect if we can. She’s not the sweet innocent sexy girl you see.”

He laughed appreciatively. “Are any of them? I mean even the human girls?”

Elasa smiled. “Sexy? Yes. Sweet? Maybe. Innocent? No. We all practice our wiles for a purpose. You saw me play-acting for the males, didn’t you?”

She was flirting with him. Mona did not like that either. Elasa was too physically attractive, and still naked. Mona knew she was reacting like a jealous shrew; maybe it was the stress of this expedition getting to her. She suppressed it.

She went back to the Lamb. “Bunky, we need fertilizer for the plant, a special kind. Can Vulture and Python help?”

The Lamb walked to the edge of the water, where the vampire grew. Mona was alarmed, then remembered that he was too young to be affected by the pheromones. He sniffed the edge of the mist. Then he walked back.

“You got the specification?” Mona asked. She wasn’t sure how either precognition or telepathy could relate, unless it was a matter of glancing at the plant’s future to see whether it survived.

Bunky bleated. Vulture took off, flying into the forest. Python slithered rapidly in the same direction. They evidently understood the Lamb’s request.

“It is lovely the way they interact,” Elasa said. “The sheep are the unifying force; the rest of us are merely accessories.”

Soon Vulture returned. Then Python, carrying what appeared to be a rotting bone in her mouth. The bird had evidently located it for the snake to carry. They went to Elasa.

“Thank you, friends,” Elasa said, taking the bone. She put it in the makeshift pot Brian had made, then scooped sand and mud from the edge of the sea to cover it over. Then she got down in the water and heaved a blob of gunk containing the mist-shrouded plant up and into the pot.

The mist dissipated. There was a single green stalk rising from the mass of mud, wavering as if wilting. Mona realized that for the first time she was seeing the predator plant as it was, without the clothing of illusion. Because of the shock of transplantation, forcing it to cut back on effects while it recovered.

“It’s just a plant!” Brian exclaimed.

“She’ll recover soon,” Elasa reassured him. “Then her roots will find the bone, and she’ll have what she needs. She’ll dump you.”

“How will I see her then?” he asked almost wistfully.

“That depends. Maybe as an innocent girl who’s not hungry for you.”

“That’s best,” he agreed with a trace of regret.

Mona was glad to agree.

Chapter 7:

Storm

The Lamb looked up, sniffing the air. He glanced at the Ewe. She bleated, evidently confirming his suspicion. Mona realized that the Ewe was constantly teaching the Lamb, encouraging him to develop his abilities. Only now, in the close contact of this journey, was Mona actually seeing it happen. What was it this time?

The Lamb went to Mona. “What is it, Bunky?” she asked, picking him up for a cuddle.

Then she felt the awful power of a sudden storm, a bad one. Already the Ewe was heading for cover. She must have waited for the Lamb to pick up on it, though it would have been better to get moving sooner.

“Storm!” Mona called. “We have to seek refuge. Soon!”

“Oh, damn,” Brian said. “Let’s hope it’s a small one.”

The others did not argue. They knew that if it alarmed the sheep, it was dangerous. Brian and Elasa, carrying the heavy pot, followed the Ewe, knowing she would know where it was safe. Mona went with them, carrying Bunky. Vulture and Python paced her.

“The ogres!” Brian said. “We must warn them!”

Bunky bleated. Vulture took off, flying toward the ogres’ camp. Mona hoped they would understand the nature of the warning. They had to realize that Vulture was not coming back merely to tease them. That she had been sent by the sheep. That should be enough.

The Ewe led the way along a narrow path through the forest, then up a steep rocky slope. Mona had not realized that there was a mountain this close, but of course she had not been paying much attention to the landscape. Soon they were above the tops of the trees. Surely there could not be a rain to make a flood this high!

Elasa took the pot alone, being stronger than she looked. Brian tried to take Bunky, to ease Mona’s burden, but she shook her head. So instead he put an arm around her waist and lent her real support so she could make the climb without wearing herself out.

The living humans were puffing by the time they reached the level ledge overlooking the sea. Vulture was there, having flown directly after warning the ogres. Now Mona saw that the sea was small, roughly circular, with the island neatly filling the middle. The island, too, had a rocky peak in its center. She saw motion on it, and realized that the rams were climbing it. Oh yes, the storm was dangerous.

There was a cave in the wall of the ledge. Bones littered the path to it. “Bear!” Brian said. “We don’t want to mess with that.”

“Tell the sheep,” Elasa said. “She’s going right to it.”

Indeed, the Ewe went to the cave, entered it, and lay down in a passage leading deeper into the mountain. She chewed her cud.

“Now I get it,” Brian said. “If there’s a bear in there, it won’t come out past the Ewe. It will stay away until she’s gone. We have the use of the front part of the cave.”

Elasa set the pot down. “To ride out the storm? When’s it coming?”

Mona put Bunky down. He faced the opening and bleated. “Now,” she translated.

And that suddenly a sheet of rain was closing off the entry. It was as if a giant had dumped a bucket of water there, except that it kept coming. The splash from it made them back off. Fortunately the cave slanted down toward the mouth, and the ledge slanted toward the drop-off to the sea, so the water quickly drained away. Otherwise the cave could have been flooded in short order. But of course the bear would not have chosen it then, and neither would the Ewe.

They watched, fascinated, as the deluge continued unabated. “Earth does not make storms like this,” Mona murmured. “It must be at the rate of a foot an hour.”

“The sheep knew,” Brian said. “Anywhere on the ground would be awash. Sometimes such storms last a minute. Sometimes hours. We just have to wait it out.”

They sat and leaned against the cave wall, watching the opening as if it were a stage. It looked like a waterfall, and Mona realized that it could be that, in part, because the water flowing down the mountain would be sluicing past the opening.

When at last the rain stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, they stepped cautiously outside and looked around. Mona was amazed. The level of the sea had risen visibly around the island. In fact the water had covered the trees around its edge and made the central mountain a separate island. That was why the rams had gone there. The landscape beyond the lake was no better off; only occasional tall trees poked above the water.

“What do we do now?” Mona asked. “It will take days or weeks for the flood to abate.”

“We’ll use the boat,” Brian said. Mona saw that the three boats had slipped their moorings and were drifting on the elevated sea. They were solid wood, uncovered, so were not waterlogged or damaged by the storm.

“How do we get a boat?” Mona asked. “I doubt that it is safe to swim.”

“I will do it,” Elasa said. She stripped off her clothes once more, then dived into the water, though the surface was fifty feet below the ledge. Mona reminded herself that feminine as her friend looked, she was in fact almost invulnerable.

Elasa struck the water in a clean entry, then surfaced. She swam toward the nearest loose boat, making excellent time. Why not? She had plenty of power and endurance, and in this context was not bothering to conceal them. On Earth she normally did her best to stay within human limits, not wishing to attract attention.

She reached the craft, clambered onto it, mounted the pedal assembly, and used her legs. The paddle-wheel turned and the boat started to move. She was able to aim it for the land below their ledge. Mona saw Brian looking at Elasa’s nude moving body and schooled herself against resentment. He had been sensitized to that body by their choice, not his. She had felt the power of the pheromones herself.

They descended the slope, Brian carrying the pot, Mona carrying Bunky. They did not have far to go, thanks to the heightened water level. They arrived at the new shore the same time as Elasa arrived, and soon scrambled aboard. Brian and Elasa helped the Ewe, taking hold of her fur on either side to help her get her front feet aboard, then her hind feet. Mona knew that such hands-on would never have been possible without the sheep’s acquiescence. There was no sign of the vampires; the water level was now above their stem length.

Now, safely aboard, they were ready to move. But where?

Bunky stood at the prow and bleated, facing the water. The Ewe ignored him, letting him find the way. Brian worked the pedals, moving ahead. They slowly circled the island and came to the far side of the sea. There was an isthmus with water flowing over it. The sea was overflowing its boundaries, starting a river. There was their escape!

Except that it might be a rough current across newly-cut channels. Was it safe?

“Trust the sheep,” Brian said, though he looked uncertain.

They looked at the Ewe. She chewed her cud, unconcerned. It seemed that she was leaving that, too to the Lamb, perhaps as more practice.

Mona went to talk to Bunky. “Can we handle that river?”

He bleated yes.

“It’s a go,” she announced. “Still, I think we’d better be prepared for some rough sailing.”

“Gather around the pedal housing,” Brian said. “With the animals in the middle. Hold on, and hope for the best.”

“The very best,” Mona agreed.

They gathered, with Ewe, Lamb, and Vulture up against the housing, Python coiled around a strut, and the pot tied firmly in the seat. Brian pedaled, with Mona and Elasa to either side. “Trust the sheep,” Mona murmured, in the manner of a prayer.

They moved toward the overflow. The closer they got the worse it looked. Yet the sheep were unconcerned. They knew the future, and it was safe. Unless there was a precognitive glitch that produced an error. Mona quelled the thought.

They came to the brink. Ahead the water coursed swiftly into a narrow valley that must have been dry before the storm. They tilted into the current, then accelerated. Now they were moving at a fair velocity. It was scary, yet also thrilling. The current was swiftest in the center, and that was where they needed to be, clear of snags on the sidelines.

The pace slowed as the water pooled in a declivity. Mona resumed breathing. The sheep had known. So far.

Brian pedaled, and the boat moved on to the other side of the small temporary lake. But what was beyond? This was not an established river, but a temporary drainage that might or might not make it to the external sea.

“I think I need to land and indulge some natural functions,” Mona said. “My innards are not used to excitement of this nature.”

“Uh-oh,” Brian murmured.

Was he being facetious? Then she realized what he was looking at.

There were dire wolves along the banks of the new river, peering at the raft. There would be no landing here.

“But it can wait,” Mona said.

They came to the far end, where the river narrowed. The raft would be almost within pouncing range. Indeed, the wolves seemed to be anticipating that.

The Ewe bleated.

The expression of consternation on the wolves’ faces was almost human. They evidently had not realized that sheep were aboard the craft. They knew that not only were sheep deadly, but that they knew the future. A sheep would not be here if not certain it was safe. That was bad news for predators, no matter how tempting the prospects. They had already suffered through the storm; they were not in a mood to gamble further.

The wolves faded back and were gone.

Mona wondered: was this a bluff by the sheep? Could the wolves have overwhelmed them if they had tried? Had the sheep known that the bluff would be effective? Were they capable of such reasoning, or did they merely know the outcome regardless? That last seemed most likely. What a benefit precognition was!

They moved on through the narrow channel. There was a very swift undercurrent that hauled the boat rapidly along. So swift that it seemed likely to have carried away any creature that tried to swim through it. So maybe it had not been a bluff, and the wolves would have suffered grievous losses if they had tried to attack.

Further along the water pooled again, forming a shallow lake. Brian guided the boat to the rough shore. “Now you can go pee,” he said diplomatically.

There was no objection from the sheep, so Mona climbed off the boat, found a place, and let go with more than one function. Her pregnancy made such things more urgent regardless. Then she rejoined the boat.

But now night was looming, and they had little food. They would have to anchor the boat and sleep on it, trusting the animals to be alert for any dangers.

Bunky bleated. Vulture and Python left the boat, flying and swimming, returning not long after with fruits that were floating in the water. Several trips produced enough for the humans, and the Ewe also ate a pear-apple that Mona held in place for her. So things were working out.

They spent the night in the center of the lake, and resumed travel in the morning. The level of the water was lower, and more of the forest was appearing as the land drained. Mona hoped they got to the sea before the river became unnavigable; she didn’t want to hike cross-country through the devastation left by the flood.

Around midday the river ended. It simply fed into a swamp with no discernible outlet. Mona groaned internally.

“I recognize this bog,” Brian said. “It’s just a few miles from home. We can hike there in a couple of hours.”

Mona felt weak with relief. That, at least, she could do.

Sure enough, by mid-afternoon they were back at the turnip farm, which it turned out had not been struck by the storm. The mission was over.

Mona and Brian retreated to their house and slept for much of the next day and night, recovering from the physical and emotional rigors of the excursion to the inland sea. Bunky, Vulture, and Python took care of themselves, remaining in touch with the Ewe. Elasa spent time communing with Venus in the pot.

When Mona resumed alertness, Elasa braced her for a serious discussion. “I can’t take Venus to Earth with me,” she said. “I had hoped to do it by exchange with a potted Venus Flytrap plant on Earth, but I realize that won’t work. Exchange is of consciousness and memory, and the plant has neither. That has to be the caveat the sheep had in mind. In any event, exchanging is temporary, not lasting much beyond six months for a person, maybe less for a plant. I need it to be permanent, at least to the extent of the life of the plant. Maybe by close association with sheep or humans she could develop an emulation; that remains to be seen. But I am not sufficient. Her telepathic projection does not work on me; to her I am a blank slate. So I think this is one more thing you will have to do.”

“This is awkward,” Mona said. “I don’t pick up her projections either; all I see is a blob of mist.”

“That is her projection. It’s their standard concealment broadcast, so that unwanted animals don’t orient on them. They use the water for protection; their stalks are vulnerable, and they project them from the water only to feed. Venus is especially vulnerable in the exposed pot, and is in hiding mode, trying to survive. She needs reassurance I can’t provide.”

“And I can? She’ll go after Brian!”

“Yes you can and no she won’t. You’re living and feeling, and no, the bone I added to the soil provides the nourishment she needs. She is not in seduction mode, and I think Brian will see only the mist too. Only if that added nutrition is removed will she become dangerous in that manner.”

“It still makes me nervous. Elasa, I was jealous of the sex you had with the male vamps; I could see them. In my mind I resented you. I hated the way Brian looked at you. I am ashamed of that tawdry feeling now, and blame it on the stress of the occasion. I apologize to you now for that. But I am not a fit companion for that vicious plant.”

“You know I am a fembot, an emancipated sex machine. Sex is nothing to me. Friendship is everything. Your friendship.”

“I know. But somehow I wanted to be the one fornicating with those handsome men. I even resented my pregnancy, in that moment.”

“The pheromones were affecting you, as they did not affect me.”

“That’s true,” Mona agreed, in retrospect seeing the obvious. “They had the same effect on me that the hormones of the female vamps had on Brian. Elasa, its really potent stuff. I don’t want to be exposed to it again.”

“But Mona, that’s what I need you for now! You can relate to Venus in a way I can’t. Because you can respond to her pheromones and to her telepathy. I need her to be trained to do her illusions for us. Not merely sexy women for Brian, or balls of mist for you. I am convinced that that power of projecting illusions can extend to others, like ordinary non-sexual people, or pretty roses, or appealing food. Or to conceal what is there, making it in effect invisible. Drawing images from the mind of the beholder, showing him what he expects to see. That could be such a wonderful ability. You are here to study precognition, and that is fully worthy, but the ability to project illusions may have similar significance. We can use both, if we can only capture them. Please, Mona. You are my closest friend, the only one I can really trust with something like this. When Venus is properly trained, then you can ship her to me by spaceship, and you will be free of her. I beg you. Please.”

Mona melted. What could she do? Elasa was her closest friend too. “I will try.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Elasa hugged her, and Mona saw that there were tears in her eyes. She was a machine, but she was also a woman, with a woman’s feelings. She truly cared about this.

The rest was routine. They took Elasa to the space office, where the return exchange was performed. Mike, the logistics officer, was there. When he ordered the fembot to return to her stall, she did without hesitation.

Mike shook his head. “I think I preferred her the other way.”

“We all do,” Mona said. “There is no one else like Elasa. On Earth she is married, with a baby.”

“With a baby!”

“It’s a long story. I sincerely thank you for your cooperation. Our spot mission was successful.”

“I am glad of that.” They shook hands, and Mona departed.

But now she had a new and somewhat worrisome obligation: caring for, and attempting to train, the potted vampire plant. She was not sanguine about that, the mental pun on blood intended.

Yet Elasa was right: the secret of controlled projective telepathy was a thing that had to be grasped, if it was even close to being in reach.

She gazed at the potted plant. The stem hardly showed above the soil. Venus remained cowed, and there was no illusion. That evoked her sympathy.

“I will do what I can for you, Venus,” she promised, hoping she could deliver.

Chapter 8:

Wether

Bunky entered the house, picking up on her complicated mood. He nuzzled her, trying to cheer her; she knew this by his mind, which was increasingly open to her as he learned to handle human thoughts. She hugged him, appreciating the effort; it did help.

“I don’t suppose you can look ahead and see what luck I’ll have with Venus,” she said. But she knew he couldn’t; human interactions were complex, subject to constant change. The sheep could precog fixed events, ones that were unaffected by decisions of the moment, such as the HiLo or the Storm, but not self-referential ones. Her act of deciding to take one course of action with the plant could lead to eddy-currents of feedback that caused her to take another course. The future truly was mutable. Shep and Elen had been lucky that the future discoveries the sheep foresaw could not be affected by the revelation, at that late stage. Precognition was no easy fix.

The Lamb sniffed the plant, as he had before by the sea. And the plant responded by lifting her stalk up slightly to meet his nose. Not to suck his blood; Elasa had taken care of that problem. Simply to greet him.

And that was interesting. Mona knew the stalk could be mobile; it had to be for sucking blood from visiting creatures. But seeing it respond to Bunky surprised her. Were they becoming friends? Elasa had harvested the plant, but Elasa was gone. The Lamb was the next creature she had met. Maybe that familiarity, buttressed by the Lamb’s telepathy, reassured her. Assuming an unconscious plant could be reassured.

Unconscious? Then how did the sexy ladies talk to the men? The sexy men to the women? Mona had heard them talking to Elasa. Plants might not have natural consciousness, but these ones, tuning in to the minds of their prey, must have borrowed consciousness at that time. Their telepathy could lend them temporary consciousness. Maybe even temporary intelligence.

Bunky had telepathy. Venus had telepathy. Together they should be able to communicate more fully than would otherwise be possible. That was the start.

Mona put her face down beside the Lamb’s head and the plant. “Help me, Bunky,” she said. Then to the plant: “Hello Venus,” she said, again speaking to properly frame her thoughts. “I am Mona. I will take care of you. Do you read me?”

The stem twisted, orienting on her. Then the image of a young woman formed, the virginal girl Brian had described. “Hello Mona. Are you my friend?”

Mona suppressed her intense excitement at the response, lest it blow apart the rapport. “I am your friend,” she agreed, knowing that with that utterance it became so. She had feared and loathed the vampire plants, but she had promised Elasa and she was committed.

“Please, my roots are hot. I am suffering.”

“Readily fixed,” Mona said. She went to fetch a wooden tub, poured some water in it, then set the pot in that water.

“Thank you. That feels so much better.”

“Now I will let you rest, Venus. We will talk again later.”

The image faded, replaced by the ball of mist. The plant had disengaged.

Mona hugged Bunky. “You made it possible,” she said, kissing his furry ear. Then she went to the bed and lay down, pondering what had just happened.

The Lamb had telepathy. It did not generally show, because it applied mainly to specific threats to be avoided or nullified, but it was there. The Plant had telepathy, generally used to draw images from the mind of prey and lure it in for a feeding. Again, not exactly what human beings thought of as telepathy, consisting of mental phone connections and sharing of emotions. But when the telepathy of Plant and Lamb got together, in the presence of Mona’s human mind, they merged and included her in the circuit. They had borrowed her intellect and memory to communicate with her in her own fashion. Maybe Venus had not really spoken of friendship and roots, but Mona’s mind had interpreted the signals and enabled her to understand. It would do. It was a significant breakthrough.

Could this three way connection also explore precognition? That would be the next thing to try.

She must have slept, because she woke an hour later. She went about normal household business, avoiding interactions with Lamb and Plant because she wasn’t sure she was ready to take them further. But before long she surrendered and got back into it.

“Bunky, I want to learn about precognition,” she said as she stroked the Lamb. “I think joint communion with you and Venus may help. Are you willing to work with me?”

Bunky bleated yes. Actually he was amenable to almost anything she had in mind, except perhaps for baths.

They got together with the plant, which was looking better now. Small leaves were forming at the base of the central stalk. As she gazed at it, mist formed around it, concealing it.

They got close to the Plant. “Venus, I want to work with Bunky. Will you help?”

The virginal girl formed. “Yes. I like your ambiance.”

“And I like yours,” Mona agreed. “You’re very pretty.”

The Venus-girl actually blushed. “Thank you.”

Mona suppressed thoughts on how the girl was acting exactly as Mona might imagine her to act. What counted was the rapport. “You have telepathic projection. You make illusions from the minds of creatures close to you. Bunky has precognition. He knows what is about to happen. I want to connect with his mind so that I can see what is about to happen. With your help maybe I can do it.”

“That’s nice.” Evidently precognition was beyond the plant’s ability to comprehend. And of course her thought was complicated.

“The close mind connection should do. Help me see the near future through Bunky’s mind.” Could this possibly work?

Then Mona had a memory of herself walking outside the house, and stubbing her toe painfully on an unnoticed rock. “Oh!” she exclaimed, wincing.

The memory faded. But it was odd, because Mona had not stubbed her toe since she had exchanged to Elen’s body. It was a false memory.

The Lamb glanced at her. He bleated. “Yet.”

Oh? Could it be? Mona stood, walked outside, and walked to where she remembered the rock. There it was by the edge of the path. She could readily have struck it with her foot had she not been looking. But of course she had been looking, and as readily avoided it. So it was no valid precognition.

Then she paused as a thought fought its way through her dismissal. She had been looking because she had been warned. She had remembered it happening, and avoided the toe-stub. It was valid precognition.

She stood in the path, working it out. She had assumed that precognition applied only to immutable events, like storms, not ones that could be changed. That was wrong. It applied also to things that could be changed. That was what made it so valuable. The fact that she had not stubbed her toe did not invalidate the precog, it validated it. It made it supremely useful.

She returned to the house, where Lamb and Plant waited. “It worked!” she exclaimed.

The girl formed. It seemed Venus did not project that illusion unless she had reason; it probably required energy. “You saw it happen. You changed it.”

“Let’s do another!”

Mona practiced, looking ahead into her own immediate future, seeing things happen, then changed them with a mere thought of negation. She might cross the room, but the decision not to cross abolished it. She might open a window, or not. The difference between such conjectures was that she realized they were real actions, rather than intentions, until her decisions nullified them. She was actually seeing the future. It would have been easy to miss or dismiss, but for the toe-stub.

Then she saw Brian returning home. He had been helping with the turnip crop. She saw herself run out to kiss him. She negated that with a thought, then changed her mind, and as he arrived, she kissed him.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, surprised.

“I have precognition!” Then she explained it in a rush, and demonstrated it by calling out things he was about to do, or not to do; when in the mode she could see his near future too.

“So I’m making it with Venus,” she concluded. “She’s helping me with both telepathy and precognition, by adding her telepathy to Bunky’s. I am learning how to use mutable precognition: things that can be changed by their own prediction. It’s not paradoxical, just not normally noticeable.”

“How can you notice something that doesn’t happen?” he agreed.

Mona continued to work with Bunky and Venus. Not only did she become increasingly adept at seeing the near future, she got a hint of the far future. “There is reason to send Venus to Earth,” she said. “To be with Elasa. I have not been able to fathom what it is, but it is essential.”

“That is what she wants,” Brian agreed.

Next day she tried reaching further into the near future, and learned of a challenge. “There’s a complication about sending Venus to Earth by spaceship. It can be done, but not immediately.”

“The ship leaves in a week.”

“That’s the thing,” she insisted. “It doesn’t.”

“It does,” he said. “Those servicing missions are regular as clockwork.”

“Not this time. I must go see Mike. After I do some spot research on him.”

She did, taking Bunky and Venus along. Her legal training enabled her to zero rapidly in on the essentials, the details others might miss, and the collaboration of Lamb and Plant facilitated it.

Mike greeted her warmly; Elasa’s visit had impressed him.

“I need another favor,” she said. “Off the record. And I believe I can offer one in return.”

“Off the record?”

“This must not be bruited about. In fact it may be totally secret.”

“I am not in a position to handle secrecy.”

“You may agree when you know more.”

He considered. “I will undertake to maintain your privacy, but not to compromise my integrity. If I do not like what you tell me, I will decline to assist you, without advertising why.”

She knew him for an honest man. “That will do.”

“Speak.”

“I need to ship this potted plant to Earth. Her name is Venus, she’s a vampire, and she belongs to Elasa.”

“That’s irregular. Earth freely sends plants and animals to Jones, but is restrictive about any traveling the other direction. It’s a question of potential contamination. Vampires are out.”

“Exactly. But I promised Elasa. I will need your assistance to manage it.”

“Mona, you are asking more than a favor. You are asking me to violate regulations.”

“I am,” she agreed. “It is a considerable favor. Therefore I am offering a considerable favor in return.”

He shook his head. “I am not sure I wish to continue this conversation.”

“Let me show you some of what is at stake,” Mona said earnestly. “We are not dealing with ordinary matters. We are dealing with telepathy and precognition.”

He smiled. “Telepathy, perhaps. Precognition? Paradox prevents.”

“Here is an example of projective telepathy.” She turned to the plant, tuning in as Bunky drew closer, to assist. “Venus, show him.” She focused on what she wanted the plant to do.

Venus fuzzed. Then the girl appeared, lovely and nude. She eyed Mike. “Hello, handsome.”

“This is an impressive illusion,” he said.

Mona almost lost her concentration. She saw the girl! But quickly she reasoned it out: Venus was a young plant, and had not yet learned to differentiate projections simultaneously the way the fully mature vampires did. They did not want women interfering with the fascination of the men, so sent innocuous mist to the women. That way the women did not take the threat seriously, thinking the men were merely imagining it. Until the men had already been tapped. Venus had been manifesting to Mona as a girl all along; Mona had somehow not realized that this was unusual until this moment, when the vamp was tempting a man.

Mona clamped down on her reverie. “If you encountered Venus in the wild, she would lure you into sex, and suck your blood. She is a vampire.”

He laughed. “Superstition.”

“No. Ask her.”

He gazed at the plant. “True, Venus?”

“Oh, yes,” Venus replied. “If I was hungry. I would issue my pheromones, like this, and proffer you my body, like this.” She spread her arms and legs invitingly, orienting on Mike’s personal preference in women. In fact she assumed the likeness of a pretty village woman Mona recognized. That must be his girlfriend! “Come to me, my honey,” she breathed, inhaling.

“Enough!” Mike rapped, clearly shaken.

Venus fuzzed into mist.

“You have felt her power,” Mona said. “Because she is tame, it is for demonstration only. Elasa is a machine; she can not be affected. Venus belongs with her. It is essential that Venus be with her, because there will be need of her powers to prevent disaster.”

“Disaster?” Mike was recovering his equilibrium, but his skin was flushed. Now he knew that Mona had not been fooling about the plant, and might not be fooling about the need.

“I am at present unable to grasp its precise nature,” Mona said. “But the sheep have not been wrong before, and I trust them. How a vampire plant relates I don’t know. But I must get Venus to earth.”

“I am not at all sure of this connection.” He was too polite to call her a liar.

“Look at the Lamb,” Mona said. “We will try to share his premonition with you.”

Mike looked. Mona and Bunky explored the premonition that should in time become precognition. At present it was merely a nebulous foreboding, ill defined. But there was no doubt about the danger. Something horrendous was looming.

“I am inclined to believe you,” Mike said. “I know the sheep are capable of remarkable things, and I appreciate that you believe there is a menace. Let’s assume for the sake of discussion that I will help you. What possible return favor can you offer that could match the serious risk to my career?”

“You are having an affair with a native woman.”

“This is a private matter. Port liaisons are within protocol.”

“They are,” she agreed. “As are exchange liaisons, such as mine. I am not suggesting anything untoward. You like her very well, and she likes you. You would marry her, except that her parents are adamant against it.”

“You have done your homework,” he agreed tightly.

Mona made a thin smile. “I am a lawyer. I do do my homework. But I am not seeking to embarrass you or threaten you. I am merely setting the stage. I believe I can facilitate your marriage to her.”

“You intrigue me in more than one manner. But it is impossible. The ship departs in a week, and by the time I am able to return, more than a year hence, my girl will have been coercively married elsewhere. This is not Earth; the colonists have this power over their children. Both of us know this, and deeply regret it, but are helpless.”

“The ship will not depart in a week,” Mona said firmly. “There will be a four month delay. In that time you can get her pregnant, thus forcing the acquiescence of her family. In fact they will insist that you marry her and remove her from the planet, sparing them further embarrassment.”

“That would be unethical!”

“No more so than parents who violate their daughter’s preference in marriage, because they think her prior boyfriend’s prospects for promotion are better. It’s a standard ploy.” She glanced down at her swelling belly. “It’s how my host got her marriage to an Earth man.”

He decided not to argue that point. “In any event, it’s academic. I’ll be gone in a week.”

“I will make you a deal based on a wager,” Mona said evenly. “If your ship departs on schedule, you win, and you will lose your girlfriend and not take any plant to Earth. If your ship discovers itself indefinitely delayed—the officials will not know the duration will be four months—you technically lose. You will win your girlfriend and take her and the plant to Earth. The plant will count as an item of her personal baggage, so will not be technically in violation of protocol. There will be no mention of any supposed vampire aspect. Who would believe it anyway?”

Mike stared at her. “This smells of a Faustian bargain. If I win, I lose; if I lose, I win.”

“One you can afford to make, as you do not believe in precognition.”

He shook his head, bemused. “Never argue legalities with a lawyer!”

“Never,” she agreed, smiling.

“All right, dammit! I will make that wager.”

“Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek and departed.

The time for the ship’s departure came. It did not depart. It seemed there was some kind of bureaucratic turf war on Earth, with the Colony budget as hostage; until it was resolved, no ship could take off. Mona was sure that back on Earth Shep was fighting for the welfare of Colony Jones, but he did not control its budget.

She did not contact Mike. It was best that their prior dialogue remain unremarked. He would honor his end of the deal. With luck, the space authorities would never realize there was a connection between Mike’s marriage and the shipment of a potted plant.

There was a more immediate matter to take her attention. Bunky was coming up on a month old, and it was time to neuter him, if it was to be done.

She took the lamb by the horns, as it were. She got together with him and Venus, to facilitate communication. “Bunky, we have a difficult decision to make. As you grow, you will mature. When you become a ram, you will be banished from this area and will have to join the rams on the island. But your lame leg makes that trip dangerous for you by yourself, if it is even possible, and I won’t be here then. It could be a death sentence.”

“We would drink his blood,” the Venus maiden said. “If he got that far.”

“There is an alternative,” Mona continued grimly. “You can become a wether. That’s a—a neutered male sheep. It would mean you would never mature, but you could stay here; the ewes would not banish you.”

“I want to stay with you,” Bunky said in bleats. He could formulate words now, with Venus’s help.

“That’s another thing. When my six months is done, I will exchange back to Earth, this time to stay, at least for six months. You could exchange with me, to your Earth host. But you would still have to be neutered, or you would have no viable host to return to.” Mona paused, choking up. “I can’t make this decision for you. I want you to look ahead along your own life, and decide what is your best path.”

“I will be a wether,” he said immediately.

“But that means you will never mature. Never have sex with ewes. Never sire lambs of your own. You will remain essentially a child all your life.”

“Yes, I see it. And be with you. That is a much better life. I would not want to be imprisoned on the island anyway.”

“Are you sure? It’s a major sacrifice.”

“Yes.”

“Then I will speak with Brian. He knows how to do it. It’s just rubber bands on your—on the connections to your testicles. Almost painless, physically; no real discomfort. In a few weeks your testicles will shrivel and maybe drop off. And you will remain like a lamb all your life. A wether.”

“I will do it.” Bunky walked away, seeking Brian.

“I’m glad,” Venus said. “He’s my friend. I will never have to suck him dry.”

“Yes, it is best,” Mona agreed. Then she went to her bed, lay down on her face, and wept.

It was done within the hour. Bunky was a little low spirited; she comforted him without looking. Otherwise he was unchanged. Next day he was fine and perky as usual.

Time passed routinely. Mona continued to commune with Bunky and Venus, learning more about telepathy and precognition. She getting what she had come for.

One day a young woman came to her house. “I am here to meet the Plant.”

“Meet the Plant?” Mona asked blankly.

“And to invite you to our wedding.”

Then it dawned. This was THE young woman. “You’re marrying Mike!”

“And traveling with him to Earth,” the woman agreed. “Thanks to you and the Plant. Do I need to tell you how grateful we are?”

They hugged, carefully, both being pregnant. Mona introduced her to Venus, in the presence of Bunky, and Venus greeted her very prettily. They were compatible; Bunky verified it. She would take Venus when it was time to travel, and deliver her safely to Elasa on Earth.

One day the Ewe did not appear. Bunky was disappointed, but understood: he was being weaned. He was now able to survive on foliage and grain, and would do so hereafter. This was one instance where precognition really helped; he had seen it coming.

The time for Mona’s birthing was approaching. She looked ahead with Bunky and saw that it would be all right. It was to be male, so she pondered male names and came up with a combination of Elen and Mona: Elmo. She hoped Elen would approve. Bunky indicated that she would.

Indeed, four months after Mona’s arrival here, she gave birth to Elmo, a fine healthy boy who would never be gelded. Bunky, Venus, Vulture and Python bonded immediately; it seemed that this was part of the reason they were here. That made Mona wonder: what was in the future that would require the attention of this unusual group? It was as if her present comparatively placid existence was but an interlude before things became complicated. That made her nervous.

First things first. She had promised Brian, and she had little time left to deliver. Within a month of parturition she was having enthusiastic vaginal sex with him, completing another aspect of their promised marriage. That would take place on Earth after they exchanged there. She was satisfied that this was the rustic alternate life she craved. On Earth Brian would study music while Mona practiced high-stakes law with her father: the other life.

The space ship took off, four months late, carrying Mike and his pregnant bride, and Venus. Mona missed the plant, but had by now bonded so thoroughly with Bunky that she could understand him well enough without Venus’s help. All was well. In another month they would exchange, bring the animals along, and begin their lives on Earth.

She bid tearful farewells to Brian’s family, and to Elen’s family, and promised to return in six more months to pick up wherever Shep and Elen left off. She had come to love them all, and Baby Elmo.

But all along the nameless menace that the Lamb anticipated was growing. Now it loomed worse. What was so big and awful that it would require all their merged efforts just to survive, let alone handle?

On the last day, as they organized for the exchange, there was a stirring outside. It was the sheep: the Ewe and five companions. They had come to see the travelers off. That only added to Mona’s concern; the sheep seldom made such demonstrations. Did it relate in some manner to the way the Ewe had bowed to her, and then to Elasa? Mona feared it did.

What was about to happen on Earth? The sheep cared ultimately only about the sheep; if they had to save mankind to save themselves, they would do it. And it seemed that Mona and Elasa were to be their agents. The sheep had incredible powers of precognition, and surely saw the looming threat more clearly than Mona and Bunky did. But what was it?

Mona ran out to join the sheep. “Please!” she cried. “I don’t know what I am supposed to do! You have to give me more of a hint!”

The sheep faced her. A telepathic picture came. It seemed to be a Venus Flytrap about to swallow a planet. The planet Earth.

That had to be figurative, not literal. But it signaled the magnitude of the threat. Earth could be destroyed, and with it its colonies, such as this one.

“I appreciate the threat!” she said. “But exactly what is it? What can we do to deal with it?”

The sheep milled about uncertainly. And Mona realized with horror that they were not being obstinate. They simply did not know. They were unable to select the correct path to navigate this menace. All they could do was advise her of it. Help her set up the team she needed, including a tame flytrap of their own, to engage the big one. Something so formidable that even their precognition could not quite fathom it.

Mona realized with a sick certainty that they could no longer trust the sheep. Throughout her experience with them, they had been the stalwart last refuge. When in doubt, trust the sheep. Now that assurance was gone.

But Mona kept her deepening dread to herself, as she returned to the house. It seemed there was nothing she could do about it at present. They would have to wait for it to come. Whatever it was. For the Flytrap to close on Earth.

She held Baby Elmo, whom Elen would soon discover, and smiled with attempted reassurance at Brian. Whatever would be, would be.

Part 4: Awares

Chapter 1:

Mystery

Elasa, Banner, and their son Bela awaited their guests in the garden, because this was a private visit. They arrived right on time: her friend Mona, Mona’s fiancee Brian, Bunky the Lamb, the Vulture, and the Python. Brian was in Shepherd’s body, Mona in her own, and Elasa was sure that Brian was well satisfied with that. The exchange program led to some interesting combinations.

“We just exchanged,” Mona said as she hugged Elasa. “It was quite an excursion, as you know.”

Bela, now a toddler, went to sniff noses with each of the animals. They knew each other from the group’s brief visit to Earth five months before, facilitated by the Lamb’s telepathy. All three animals had been ordinary Earth creatures until exchanged with the minds and memories of their Colony Jones counterparts. Now they still looked ordinary, but were anything but.

“Look how Bela has grown!” Mona exclaimed admiringly.

“He has good genes,” Elasa said. Bela was genetically Mona’s child, because Elasa, being a machine, had no genes, but they never referred openly to that.

Then they got down to business as they sat on deck chairs and watched child and animals. Bela was happy to show off the features of the garden for his new friends, who were duly appreciative. “The Companions will have to stay with you,” Mona said. “I am busy with law, and Brian’s busy with music. They know and respect you from that week you were with us on Jones, even if they can’t relate to your mind.”

“Of course,” Elasa agreed. “I’m a stay-at-home housewife with time on my hands. A perfectly ordinary woman. The way I like it.”

“After six months apprenticeship for a similar situation, I appreciate its comfort,” Mona said. “But by the same token, I am now champing at the bit to tackle high-power law. Fifty percent is my limit for either pursuit, love or law.” She shrugged. “But you knew that. My father says there is a mystery that may relate to our interests.”

“One that Bunky can’t fathom?” Because the Lamb was powerfully precognitive.

“He surely can handle it. We just need to get on it. What’s worse is something we learned on Jones. There is a monstrous threat to Earth that even the sheep can’t fathom. That’s why we had to bring the Companions; we will need their help to have any chance of handling the situation, and even so, it is uncertain.”

“This is serious news,” Elasa said. “I trust the sheep.”

“So do I. That’s why this is so alarming. They are unable to show us the path to victory. We shall have to find it for ourselves.” She took a breath. “If it exists.”

“Let’s get into the one we can handle first,” Elasa suggested.

“People have been quietly disappearing, my father says. No signs of struggle, no apparent depression, no evidence of foul play. They just go about their routine business, and then fade out.”

“Such things happen all the time,” Elasa said. “I’m sure I could import memory banks full of similar cases.”

“My father discovered a unifying factor for these particular ones: they are all children of travelers to Colony Jones.”

“Now you have my attention.” As if she had not had it already. “No evidence of a plot against the colony?”

“No indication of that at all. We suspect that they are still alive and well, just hiding from their families and society. As though something has taken over their minds.”

“Like a vampire plant?”

“No evidence of that either. Maybe Venus will know, when she arrives here.”

“In five more months,” Elasa said. “Do we want to wait?”

Bunky turned his head toward them and bleated. “He said no,” Mona said. “In fact he suspects it’s related to the larger threat.”

“Surely they are not turning zombie and getting ready to take over Earth,” Elasa said, smiling.

Even the Lamb seemed amused at that, before returning his focus to Bela. “No,” Mona agreed. “But there may be a connection.”

“So let’s run down that connection.” Elasa was privately intrigued by the way that something she said could take effect, because Mona heard it and the Lamb picked it up from her mind. Elasa herself could not share minds, which she regretted. Yet that inability was what had enabled her to deal with the vampires on Jones.

“I’d appreciate it if you could,” Mona said. “The public eye is on me at the moment, so I don’t want to be directly involved in this. But it may be important. Bunky isn’t sure. There’s something about those disappearances that is mysterious in itself. Things don’t quite add up.”

“Hey, Companions!” Elasa called. “Will you work with me?”

All three paused and nodded, again understanding her via Mona.

“That’s eerie,” Elasa said.

“Just keep them out of sight,” Mona said. “They’ll know how to do that.”

There was a knock on the door. “Who could that be?” Banner asked. “I’ll see to it.”

He returned in a moment. “This person you have to meet, dear.” He gestured the visitor forward.

It was a young woman, smiling tentatively. “Do I know you?” Elasa asked.

“Yes, Elasa. I am Oria. Oria Ogress. We met on Colony Planet Jones.”

“Oria!” Elasa exclaimed gladly. “You made it!”

“Just yesterday, in the first group of the expanded exchange program,” Oria said. “I just had to come to thank you personally, before I did anything else.”

Elasa hugged her. “I did put in the word when I returned to Earth, and Shep said he would see to it, but I didn’t realize it was already in progress. I didn’t recognize you in this body.”

Oria laughed. “Hardly surprising. I’m still getting used to it myself. It’s so small! But you are unchanged.”

“This is Mona, in her own body,” Elasa said. “And Brian, exchanged. And the Companions.” She gestured to Lamb, Vulture, and Python. Each nodded, and Bunky came up to touch Oria, verifying her identity his way.

“I remember,” Oria said, patting him. “And thank you, Vulture, for warning us of the storm. We barely cleared the area in time. We hated to leave you there, but had no choice. We did return after the storm passed, but you had already departed. I’m glad you made it safely back.”

“We did,” Elasa agreed. “Thanks to the sheep.”

“Always trust the sheep,” Oria said seriously. “I must be on my way. I have classes to get to. Thank you again for making it possible.”

“You are more than welcome,” Elasa said as Oria left.

“I’m so glad it worked out,” Mona said. “The ogres really helped us.”

“And they liked my music,” Brian said, smiling.

Then Mona and Brian departed, leaving the three Companions with Elasa. Bela was pleased.

And there was the way she could work with the animals. Bela understood her fairly well, and the Lamb would be able to read his mind and relay it to the others.

First she made sure they were comfortable. She would have let them into the house, but they preferred the garden. She would have to arrange for grain, carrion and live rodents for their food, and shelter from storms.

In due course they got on the mystery of the disappearances. Elasa downloaded information confirming that they were children of travelers who had physically visited Colony Jones as tourists or crew members, so there had to be some connection either to the planet or travel in space. Some were in their 30s, some were still children, male and female, none known to have associated with any of the others. They had led separate lives, scattered around the planet. Until they started disappearing in the past six months. There was nothing in the records to indicate any problem with infection or physical adjustment.

Their families had of course been closely questioned, and had been eager to glean any information available, not knowing whether their loved ones were alive or dead. But they had known nothing, and were sure the disappearances had not been planned. Then in the past month they seemed to have lost interest, or at least become resigned. They had put the matter out of their minds and were getting on with their lives. They no longer cooperated with the authorities; they simply wanted to be left alone to grieve in peace. That was in one sense understandable. But its suddenness was another mystery. It was as though they had gathered together, discussed the matter, and agreed to drop it. Yet there was no record of any such connection; no letters, phone calls, electronic social networks, nothing. They had simply, independently, decided.

She focused on prospects for more specific investigation, and quickly oriented on one: a man named Yon, a failed private eye. He had been hired by the family of another disappearee, Adela, to locate her, apparently because they were unsatisfied with the official investigation and he could be had cheap and off the record. Then he, too, had softly and silently disappeared, the last to go. So far.

“I wish I could mentally commune with you, Bunky,” she told the Lamb. “So I could summarize what I know in my mind, then let you read it and guide me to a path. You might lead me to Yon and solve the mystery.” She sighed. “But though I am conscious, I have no living synapses for you to pick up on. I’m just a dead automaton to you. I can’t emulate life, as I do for most human folk I know. Damn!”

She was overwhelmed for a moment by tears of frustration. She had tried so hard to be a woman, a real-life woman, but though she had gained legal recognition, she remained a machine.

Bela, sensitive to her moods, came to comfort her. She embraced him gratefully. He at least accepted her as his mother.

She felt a nudge. The Lamb was there too. And the Vulture. And the Python. They were all touching her. They were evidently guided by Bela’s feeling, emulating him. Maybe now they related to Bela because he was Mona’s genetic son, and they had come to know and respect Mona during her six months on Jones.

She spread her arms and embraced them all. “Thanks, folks,” she said. “Even machines have feelings. At least this one does. We appreciate acceptance.”

Then she became aware of something else. It was just a feeling, a minor urgency, to seek darkness, go somewhere, do something. What brought that to mind? She wasn’t given to flights of imagination. Yet somehow she wanted to—to go to Yon’s office, to a panel behind the kitchen sink, turn the handle of a tap. An obviously pointless exercise, not at all typical of her logical mind. Was she suffering the illusion of a human daydream? Impossible; that was not in her programming.

Bunky bleated.

Suddenly it came to her. It was not her thought.

Bela and all three animals were looking at her.

“Was that your thought?” she asked the Lamb, amazed.

Bunky bleated again, and she heard it as Yes.

“But I’m not telepathic,” she protested. “I’m not even alive. I can’t receive thoughts.”

There was a silent blast of negation. She had definitely received a thought.

“You sent me a thought,” she said slowly. “And I received it. The three or four of you got together and overpowered my doubt.”

Now there was a thought of agreement. She was definitely receiving it.

“Pardon me a moment,” she murmured. “I have to cry.”

And cry she did, for several minutes, while baby and animals patiently supported her, physically and emotionally. It was her joy at achieving a breakthrough beyond any she had had since becoming conscious. She was relating mentally to living things. It was half a step farther toward empathy, a living quality she had emulated but not actually felt. Until now.

At length she came out of it. “I thank you, Companions,” she said. “We are going to get along.”

That afternoon she explained it to her husband Banner. “I have had a breakthrough, thanks to the visiting animals. They reached me telepathically.”

He caught the significance immediately. “Your mind is coming alive!”

“At least in their presence, when they focus, when I am with Bela,” she agreed. “Bunky has a lot of telepathic power. Now, tonight, guided by the Lamb, I must do some sneaking and finding, so others won’t know. Is this okay with you?”

“Are you sure? I doubt you’ll find anything; the police have gone over all those lost-people homes.”

“But not with precognition. The Lamb thinks he can find it.”

“Find what?”

“What we need. Whatever it is.”

“Go for it,” he agreed, kissing her. One of the things she loved about him was his reliable support of her endeavors, whatever they were.

She went for it, trusting the sheep. Banner took care of Bela at home, while Elasa drove with the animals to the deserted office of Yon the Private Eye. Guided by the Lamb she sneaked around to the dark back door. It was locked, of course. But Python slithered into a vent, and before long the door opened, unlatched from inside. Elasa, Bunky, and Vulture entered. They were successful housebreakers, or whatever. There did not even seem to be an alarm.

Inside Elasa used a small flashlight, though she could fairly readily make her way in darkness, as could the animals. Vulture stood guard at the open door, in case anyone came. Guided by the Lamb and continuing thoughts, Elasa made her way to the kitchen, opened the panel of the cupboard beneath the sink, saw dirty sponges and bottles, reached in, found the grimy knob, and turned it. What was she going to get, a drip of filthy grease? In a moment it swung out, revealing a small compartment. Oho! No wonder the police had not tried this. Yon had had a cunning notion how to hide something private. She reached in and found a small machine: a pocket recorder. Bunky’s thought confirmed it: that was what they had come for.

She tucked it into a pocket, closed the compartment, and followed the animals out of the house, carefully closing the door behind her. With luck no one would know they had even been there, let alone found something the police had missed.

“I wonder what is on this, that makes this so important,” Elasa mused as she drove home with the Companions. “I hope it’s not a message from the grave, as it were.”

Bunky bleated, amused.

When they got home, Elasa checked the unit more closely. It was a standard almost antique model with a battery backup. She plugged it in so as not to drain the battery, and turned it on. It turned out to be a somewhat jumpy narration by the subject, Yon Yonson, who apparently did not fully trust modern devices like holo recorders or the Internet and had kept this very private verbal record for his own information. Until he disappeared.

This was exactly what they needed. She listened, entranced.

Chapter 2:

Yon Yonson

My name is Yon Yonson. I don’t live in Wisconsin, ha-ha. I’m a would-be private investigator who washed out of training for making too many stupid mistakes. So I’m a fucked-up dick. So now I work at the local jute mill and dream of PI glory on the weekends.

Well, this wealthy family contacted me for a gig. I told them I didn’t have the badge, but they said they knew that, what they wanted was my expertise, off the record. Really off; no BingGoogle, no official records, nothing that could be traced or that would alert the authorities that anything was going on. They already tried that and got nowhere anyway. So I had to leave electronics out of it and do it the old fashioned way, physically, no record. Strictly low profile, gumshoe. That is, sneaking around. So okay, they paid my fee in advance, in cash, and I got on it. I guess I was what they could afford, who would do it their way and stay out of the news. Why not? I have no family, no living relatives; I was adopted as a baby. I could move about without making a scene.

It seemed their daughter, a pretty gal named Adela, age eighteen, abruptly vanished. No trace whatsoever. Police thought maybe she just ran away. No, they were sure she wouldn’t do that. Was she abducted, raped, murdered? No sign of foul play. She was on her way to a college class, and didn’t get there, and it was hours before anyone noticed. She was quietly gone. Anything in her background? Not so you’d notice. Her dad had been in space, one voyage to that colony planet, what’s its name, Jones, setting up a business connection. Odd coincidence: my dad too made such a voyage; that’s the one thing they knew about my anonymous parentage. Lotsa people did, especially crewmen, which they had to replace often because they didn’t like being stuck in space with only fembots to play with for a year at a time. The pay was good, very good, which was why they did it once, but that was enough. Once the exchange technology was developed, few folk traveled there physically any more anyway; it wasn’t worth it. Anyway, no clue there.

I went out by night, checking out the scene. Just classrooms, walks, bits of grass and hedge, nothing out of order. Then I checked by day, students galore, many pretty girls, guys surreptitiously gawking at them. Nothing unusual there either. Adela, by her picture, was one of the best to gawk at, with her pretty face, hourglass figure, and what they told me was extreme poise. She didn’t dress to encourage it, but she couldn’t be mistaken regardless of clothing. She could wear a fish barrel and still be eye candy. But she had a sharp tongue to put boys in their place when she needed to. She was smart without advertising it either; again it couldn’t help showing when she focused on a point in class. She could handle herself physically, too; she took martial arts classes and was good at them. Maybe her folks were prejudiced, but I looked at a yearbook, and others said it too. A gal I’d liked to have known.

So what happened to her? It was as if she had simply walked off campus and into empty space. Never came back for her stuff at home, never said good-bye to anyone, never used her ID or credit cards. Nobody else did either, so they weren’t stolen. She just disappeared. I hated to think it, but it looked from here as if some love-struck goon might have grabbed her, chloroformed her, and taken her away in his van, never to been seen again. Yet even that scenario didn’t work well, because there were surveillance cameras everywhere. One showed her on the day she vanished, walking nonchalantly along, no care in the world. The next one didn’t show her. That had to have been where it happened. But in a crowded campus she couldn’t have been abducted. Only maybe if she was lured to a car, someone asking for directions to the next class. Someone she knew. And nobody she knew would have hurt her. So it still didn’t make sense.

One other thing: I had the sense of being watched. Now I may not be a good private eye, or even an average one, but this is basic: I know how to avoid being observed when I’m observing. No one was following me or spying on me, and I avoided surveillance cameras. So what was the source of this feeling? I trust my hunches. Someone was focusing on me, and I had no idea who it was or how it was being done. I did not pick up any hostility; it was more like a neutral study, like noting the spot on the suit of a passing businessman. But it was there.

So here I am at the end of the day, stymied. Damned if I’ll give it up, though; I just have to come up with a new angle. What can that be?

So I went out again to the nocturnal campus, after classes had finished and the buildings were locked. There was really no point in it; I just somehow thought maybe I could get a notion there. I went to the place near the surveillance camera, just beyond its range so that my presence wouldn’t activate it, and stood alone. “Where are you, Adela?” I asked the emptiness rhetorically.

“I am here,” she replied behind me. I jumped, surprised; I had been certain I was alone.

There she was, as pretty as her picture, definitely alive. “Adela, I could hug you!” I exclaimed stupidly in my astonishment.

“As you wish.” She stepped close, opening her lovely arms to me.

What could I do? I hugged her. She was completely solid and real and delightful in her limber slenderness. She smelled faintly of new mown hay, an unusual perfume. I was already coming to love her. I had studied her, trying to fathom her likely situation, and come to know her well enough. She was my ideal girl. Yes, I know: a PI never gets emotionally involved with a client. An excellent rule. I never said I was a good PI, did I? “But why!” I asked as she let me go.

“We must talk, Yon,” she said. So she knew my name. She must have been the one watching me.

“Whatever you wish. I presume you know that I’m a private dick hired to find you?”

“Of course. And you have found me. But this is not the place to talk.”

“Lead on, doll,” I said gallantly.

She smiled, appreciating my feeble attempt to be a smart-ass dick, and led me to a room in an unoccupied building. She sat me down on a work bench. “We will not be disturbed here.”

“Adela, you know your folks are worried sick about you,” I said. “They don’t know whether you’re alive or dead.”

“I know, and I regret it. But I must cease to exist.”

“Then why did you contact me? You know I have to report to your folks.”

“You must not.”

“I have to! That’s what they hired me for.”

“No. No report.”

“Adela--”

She cut me off with a sudden kiss. It had its intended effect: it rendered me speechless.

“I will tell you about us. You must agree to make no report,” she repeated.

I opened my mouth to protest.

She kissed me again. I did not get my mouth closed in time, and she tongued me. She was young but clearly no innocent.

I got the message. “No report,” I agreed. “Anything you tell me will be like client/attorney privilege.”

“Exactly. You may tell my folks just one thing: that I am alive and well, and love them. That they should stop hunting for me. They need to let me go.”

“I will tell them that,” I agreed. “But--”

She pursed her lips.

“But no more,” I concluded, yielding to the inevitable.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“But I still have a question. This one’s for me. Why tell me anything, if I can’t relay it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know! Adela, it makes no sense to contact me without good reason.”

“I agree.”

“So what is your reason?”

“I don’t know.”

I eyed her. “Will you stifle me again if I try to say the obvious?”

“Do you want me to?”

My foolish eagerness for another kiss warred with what little was left of my professional ethics. “Why don’t I just shut up and you tell me what you choose to, off the record. Then you can kiss me if you care to.”

“That will do,” she agreed. “I am an Aware. That is, I know exactly what to do in any situation. I don’t know why, only what. That gives me more power than you might think. For example, I can disappear.”

“You did that before. That’s why your family hired me.”

“Like this.”

She disappeared. I was looking right at her, and she faded out. I blinked, but she did not reappear. “Adela, are you there?”

“I am here,” she said behind me.

I twisted on the bench. There she stood, touchingly close. “You have an invisibility cloak?”

“No. I merely know how to escape notice. You were focusing on me so hard that you continued to see me where I had been, even through I moved. Then you realized I was gone. I never became invisible, merely unnoticeable.”

“I have trouble believing that. I’m a trained observer, and--”

She disappeared again.

“Point made,” I said quickly. “But it sure looks like invisibility.”

She reappeared. “But it’s harder to do when there is more than one person, so we tend to avoid crowds. And of course cameras aren’t fooled.”

“Cameras!” I said. “The surveillance camera showed you, and then the next one didn’t.”

“I became Aware, and knew to avoid the next one,” she explained. “But I’m not comfortable where the cameras are; it is too much effort to avoid them all. Similarly it’s awkward not being able to use credit cards, or the Internet, or anything that leaves a record. It’s also somewhat lonely, because I can’t talk to regular people, only other Awares.”

“You could if you chose to,” I pointed out. “You’re talking to me now.”

“Yes. I don’t understand that, but there’s surely a reason.”

“It can’t be my great looks or magnetic personality,” I said.

“True.”

I had half hoped she wouldn’t agree with my self disparagement. Oh, well. “You say Awares, plural. So there are others.”

“Yes, and you will meet them too, if they choose.”

“So these disappearances—all those folk are all right?”

“Not all. Some are genuine abductions and murders. But most of the recent ones in this area are Awares like me.”

“So is there anything else you care to tell me?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Let’s face it, Adela, you haven’t told me much. Just that there are Awares who can pretend to be invisible, and who don’t seem to care about their grieving families.”

“We care. We just can’t return to them.”

I sighed. “So is there anything else you care to show me or tell me? Before you fade out again, leaving me to think it was a dream?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. We’re pretty much invulnerable.”

“Like the man of steel?”

“No. We merely avoid trouble. I can demonstrate. Fire your pistol at me.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Then pretend to.”

Reluctantly I drew my Glock and pointed it at her with the safety on. “Bang! You’re dead.”

“No, you missed me.”

“At this range? I’m not a perfect shot, but this is point-blank.”

“Maybe another way. Grab me.”

I put away the gun. Then without looking directly at her I suddenly grabbed her arm.

My hand closed on nothing. She had moved just at that moment.

I grabbed again, this time lunging, both arms extended. And missed her again. She was as elusive as a greased eel. “You’ve had training,” I said.

“No. I simply know where to be to remain clear. Its part of being Aware.”

I tried once more, this time grabbing for her knee so she couldn’t dodge. All I got was a wicked glimpse at her pink panties as she lifted her leg clear.

“But if I already had hold of you, you couldn’t escape,” I said, disgruntled.

“Take my hand.” She proffered it.

I held her hand. I put my other hand on her wrist, clamping it tightly.

She stepped into me and kissed me. I had forgotten about that tactic. I found myself standing there in a spot trance, empty handed.

“Point made,” I said. “I can’t catch you or hold you unless you want me to. But what is the point of all this? You can’t be flirting with me for no reason.”

“I suppose I am flirting,” she said, surprised. “You are sort of cute in your bumbling way.”

I let that pass. “So what is the reason?”

“I don’t know.”

I should have seen that coming. “Then let me guess: you’re lonely, and I’m convenient, so you’re teasing me until you get bored. Then you’ll fade out and I’ll never see you again. No way can I hold you without your acquiescence. So I’m safe to play with.”

“Maybe that’s it,” she agreed thoughtfully.

I hated it when she refused to disagree. “Let’s get serious. I can go tell your folks you are okay. No more than that, per our deal. But it would be better if you told them yourself.”

“No.”

“Here’s why: if I tell them they’ll think I’m making it up, since I’ll have no tangible evidence and won’t go into details. They’ll keep right on looking for you, maybe hire another dick. One’s who’s less bumbling and cute. So I’m just wasted time. Or.”

She took the hook. “Or?”

“Or you can come with me and show them that you’re okay. Tell them you’re on a special secret mission that they must not even admit exists, and that if they keep looking for you they’ll only put your mission and you in peril. So they can relax, knowing as much as they need to. Then they’ll stop looking, and you’ll be more anonymous than you are now. That’s not only more effective, it’s far kinder to them. Because you do love them.”

“You’re actually making sense,” she said, surprised. “You can tell them and I’ll confirm. You’re a better liar than I am.”

I could have gotten annoyed, if she weren’t so pretty. “In person?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I pounced while it was hot. “Come now. Ride anonymously in my car. I’ll warn them about the conditions, then you meet them, then you go, and it’s done.”

“That must be why I’m talking with you,” she said. “Because you can help me. I just didn’t know exactly how.”

“This way,” I said, walking out of the room.

She came with me, to my relief. I led her to my car, and she got in and I drove her to her folks house. “I’ll go in first,” I said. “Then you come in when your sense tells you it’s time.”

“Yes.” She kissed my ear. There was that new mown hay fragrance again. It almost made me want to take up farming. “Thank you.”

“God, I wish you were my girlfriend for real!” I said. Oh to roll in the hay with this doll. But I had the wit to stifle that part. Then I got out of the car and walked to the front door.

Her mother answered. “Yon Yonson. You hired me. I have a report to make,” I said. “I found Adela.”

“Come in!” she said gladly.

In their living room I explained. “I found her, but she’s on a special mission. Not allowed to tell anyone about it. But I prevailed on her to tell you herself, so you wouldn’t worry any more. Then you’ll have to let her go. It’s better that way.”

“Anything!” her father said. “Just so we know she’s alive and well.”

“She is both,” I said. “Adela?” I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind.

“I am here,” she said from an interior doorway.

“Adela!” her mother cried, almost flying to her.

They hugged, and tears flowed freely, Adela’s as well as her mother’s. I saw that Adela had really wanted to do this all along, but had not seen her way clear until I gave her the rationale. She was after all an ordinary smart beautiful girl who had suddenly achieved an extraordinary power and could use some guidance. I was supremely glad to have had the wit to give it.

After that joyful reunion Adela bid them adieu and returned to the doorway she had appeared in. Her mother thought of one more thing to tell her, but she was gone, as I knew she would be.

“I believe this concludes our association,” I told them. “You paid me in advance, and I have delivered what I could. Mainly, I think, peace of mind.”

“We are satisfied,” her father agreed. “Her mission is surely important.”

“Surely so,” I agreed. “I don’t know what it is myself, but she is persuasive.”

“She was always that,” he agreed.

I left them and returned to my car. Sure enough, Adela was there. “I am so grateful for what you did, Yon. I am almost sorry your mission is over.”

I started the car and drove back the way we had come. “I am twice as sorry. I have known you only briefly, but--” I halted. What was the point?

“I shouldn’t have flirted. You were right: I was lonely, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

I took a flying leap at the moon. What did I have to lose? “Our association doesn’t have to end just because my assignment did. I can still help you.”

“Can you?” I hoped it wasn’t my eager imagination that made her seem interested.

“There are other Awares. They must be in a similar situation. They need to connect with their families the way you did, so that nobody continues to look for them. I can act as go-between, if that will help.”

“I think it would,” she said.

Now I bounded on toward the sun. “You folk can’t use credit cards or Internet sites or anything, because those all have records galore. But I can. I can do things for you, using private personal anonymous accounts that can be traced back only to me, never to you. I can be your interface with the material world. If you trust my discretion.”

“That would certainly help,” she agreed. “But why would you do it? We can’t pay you.”

“Not in money.”

She paused, considering. “Are you making a pass at me?”

Now I leaped for the rest of the Solar system. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, you exquisite creature? You fascinate me.”

“But you know I can vanish at any time without notice.”

“I hope you will choose to stay around long enough for a date.”

She was silent a moment. “I’ll consider it.”

“Do that.” I was elated, though chances were at least even that it would come to nothing. I glanced at her, but she was gone. I was alone in the car.

I drove home and gobbled some vittles, deep in thought. Would the Awares really take me up on my offer? Would Adela get halfway friendly with me? I could only hope.

I cleaned up and slept. I dreamed of Adela. It wasn’t just that she was young and pretty. It was that she had literal magic, and if she came into my embrace it would be because she liked me. I wanted her to like me. I envied her that special Awareness and wanted to be as near to it as I could be. But mainly I just wanted to kiss her and have it mean something more than just shutting me up.

In the morning I made ready to go out again. Would Adela come to me? Actually she could have joined me in the night if she had wanted to. So I fought to maintain my realism. What would be would be.

Then as I set foot on the street, heading for my car, I felt something. I was being watched, again, but this time I knew who was doing it. A man in a car parked across the street, theoretically reading a newspaper. An amateur private eye; I knew the type. And a girl standing on the sidewalk. Adela. I knew that no one else noticed either of them. I was also aware of everything else in the vicinity. If I stood just so, in the shadow of a lamppost, no one else would notice me either. Except the two Awares.

Then it passed. Normality resumed. I realized that I had just suffered a siege of Awareness myself. Now I knew what it felt like!

Adela and the man were gone, though the car remained. But now I knew what was what. I walked across to the empty car. “Check me out all you want,” I said. “I won’t interfere with you. Adela’s got me tethered.” Then I returned to my apartment.

And that’s where I am at the moment, waiting on their decision. I’ve made my entry; I’ll put this gimcrack away until next time, and we’ll see. I’ve got the feeling something’s going to happen soon.

It did. They decided to let me be their liaison with the material world. Starting with their families. I approached each of their families, explaining that I had news of their missing children, and would prove it if they gave me a chance. Some were suspicious, but I carried authentic letters of introduction. So they agreed to the conditions; they had to. In due course we went to each family, and had the same joyful/tearful reunions, followed by departure. Overall, it was a good thing, in more than one way.

Oh, yeah, the letters: each Aware made sure to quietly recover his or her letter before leaving, so that there would be no physical evidence of the contact. So that the families could not inadvertently betray them.

I did not set up any formal accounts, because those too could be traced. I just made sure to get anything any Aware asked for, anonymously, and handed it over. Or to do any little thing they needed done, like destroying embarrassing pictures or diaries so they would never be discovered. Teens these days can do the most foolish things!

And Adela rewarded me with her increasing favor. In fact--

Chapter 3:

Contact

Elasa opened her eyes. She had almost succeeded in being the protagonist as she listened to the recordings. One mystery solved, leading to another: what had happened to Yon Yonson? But that one was readily solved: he had turned Aware and joined the other Awares. That one siege of Awareness he had experienced must have been a precursor to the later conversion.

The Awares related to the challenge, to somehow abate the threat to all of Earth. Mona had described the vision the sheep sent, of a giant Venus Flytrap taking the planet Earth into its leafy maw. A threat even the sheep could not find a path safely around. The Awares were few in number, maybe a dozen, judging by the missing offspring of space travelers, and largely unable to participate in the affairs of the world; how could they help?

Bunky bleated.

She put her hand on his woolly back. “But nevertheless they can help, and we need to recruit them,” she said. “So be it. Maybe as time passes we will come to understand how.”

She tended to Bela, then talked to Banner, describing what she had learned. “So now I need to get in touch with these supremely elusive folk, and recruit them to our cause, which is to save the world. But they aren’t going to want to talk to me.”

He pondered, then spoke. “On Jones, you were able to see the vampires for what they were, because your consciousness is not influenced by the subjectivity of life. Could the Awares be utilizing a similar mechanism to make themselves disappear?”

“Clouding men’s minds? It’s possible.” Then she caught his point. “I might see them!”

“Especially if the Lamb is with you to zero in on them.”

“But they still could avoid me or refuse to talk with me. I need to be able to persuade them.”

“How about offering them what Yonson did? An interface with the real world. They still need that, especially now that he can’t do it himself.”

“That’s it!” she exclaimed gladly. “I could kiss you!”

“Oh, I think my input is worth more than that.”

“I’ll pay!” She turned to the animals. “Please babysit Bela for one minute.”

“One minute!” Banner protested.

“I can do a lot in a minute.” She bundled him off to the bedroom and made impassioned love to him. It was a kind of game they played, wherein he was always angling for sex and she was always obliging him. She had been crafted as a fembot, a sex robot, and knew that business. In this manner they kept it from becoming routine.

Five minutes later she looked at her watch. She didn’t need a watch to keep time, but it was part of acting like a normal woman. “One minute. You’re done, you lecher.”

“I’m done,” he agreed, sated.

She returned to the Companions. “Tomorrow we go out looking for elusive Awares. Be ready.” As if they ever were not.

In the morning she packed them all in the car: Bela, Bunky, Vulture, and Python, because the Lamb’s vision indicated that they were needed. She drove to a different section of town, trusting Bunky’s precognition. Would she really see them, as others could not?

And there they were, or at least two of them: Yon and Adela. She recognized them by their pictures in her memory. Bunky had known.

“Now how many of us approach them?” she asked. “I don’t want to leave anyone in the hot car, but some of you might freak out my subjects.”

It turned out that Elasa, Bela, and Bunky would go, while the other two remained near the car. If anyone thought it was odd for a woman with a baby and a lamb to be out on the street, well, they could ask.

She approached the two, who were seated on a covered bench. She thought they might quietly get up and depart as she approached, but they remained in place.

“Hello,” she said.

To her amazement, one answered. “Hello,” Yon said. “You can see us.”

“Yes. I am Elasa, a humanoid robot, not much subject to subjective illusions. I have a proposition for you.”

“We are interested,” Adela said. “We are Yon and Adela, Awares.”

“You were expecting me,” Elasa said, realizing. “So you waited for me.”

“It’s the appropriate thing to do,” Yon said.

And just like that they were in the dialogue.

“This is my baby, Bela,” Elasa said. “And this is the Lamb, Bunky. He is telepathic and precognitive. That’s how we were able to locate you. By the car are Vulture and Python, who I think will be liaison between us. Because we can’t afford to meet personally again, yet will need to remain in close touch.”

“Why?” Yon asked. “I mean, why do we need to be in touch? We knew it was right to meet you, but we don’t know why.”

“That’s a long story. Maybe I can digest it down to the essence so as not to bore you.”

“We are interested,” Adela said.

“Do you know about the sheep of Colony Planet Jones?”

“We have heard of them,” Adela said. “My father went there once and heard the story. They know the future, and no one can hurt them.”

“All of you have parents who went to Jones,” Elasa said. “Where they must have picked up a virus or something that didn’t affect them but did affect their children. You are like the sheep.”

“Like what?” Yon asked, startled.

“No one can hurt a sheep, because she knows exactly that will happen, and can defend herself. It’s the same for Bunky here. I understand he killed a dire wolf.”

Adela shook her head. “That seems unlikely. Those are pony-sized wolves, fast and vicious, and they hunt in packs. I read about them.”

“Maybe we need a small demonstration. Try to hurt Bunky.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t!” Adela protested.

“I see a stick in the gutter. Take it and strike him.”

“This is necessary,” Yon said. He fetched the stick, then swung it hard at Bunky.

The Lamb didn’t move. He stood placidly beside the bench. The stick came down on his small woolly shoulder and struck something hard. It broke off, the end smacking beyond the bench and into the pavement.

Yon picked it up. “It’s cut,” he said. “But I saw no knife.”

“Their knives project only at the moment of need,” Elasa said. “As when a wolf bites down. You don’t necessarily see it happen, but it is effective.”

“Why didn’t he just step out of the way?” Adela asked.

“Because it was necessary to make the demonstration,” Yon answered her. “He is like us. He knew.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Yon, Elasa, and Bunky looked at her.

“Because the Lamb wasn’t shipped to Earth by spaceship,” Adela said. “He’s not old enough for that. His mind was exchanged with a local lamb. And the local lamb wouldn’t have a knife.”

Elasa realized she was right. So what had happened? “Let me see that stick.”

Yon gave her the two pieces. They were fairly cleanly separated, but now she saw that the break was at a knot. It looked like a cut, but wasn’t. And the bench had a hard metal rim lining its edge, to prevent wear. “I was mistaken,” Elasa said. “The bench severed the stick. He was standing right next to it.”

“Where he has been standing all along,” Yon said. “Knowing this was coming.”

“Just as we waited here, knowing Elasa was coming,” Adela said. “He did what it took to emulate the sheep of Planet Jones. You’re right: he is like us.”

“Or similar,” Elasa said. “You do what you do because it feels right. Bunky can anticipate the future, and his telepathy assists.”

“Telepathy,” Yon said. “Can he demonstrate that too?” Then he did a double-take. “He just spoke to me! I heard ‘yes’ in a bleat.”

“So did I,” Adela said.

“I did not,” Elasa said. “But I’m a machine. Only with the combined focus of the three animals can I catch even a hint of it. But the point is, you now understand that these creatures are special, and similar to you in key respects.”

“We get it,” Yon agreed. “But we still don’t know why you need to be in touch with us.”

“I am coming to that. There is a threat looming, not just to us, but to all Earth. Figuratively it is like a giant Venus Flytrap closing its digestive leaf-mouth on the planet. We are all doomed unless we can prevent it.”

“How can we prevent it?” Adela asked.

“I don’t know.”

Adela frowned. Yon laughed. “She just did it back to us!”

Adela nodded, accepting it. “You know you need us, but not exactly how you need us.”

“That’s it,” Elasa said. “Bunky and the sheep see it coming, but we have yet to discover exactly what it is or how to stop it. But we do know that the Awares must be a key part of our defense.”

“I think I can see a way,” Yon said. “Say this threat to Earth is technological, the enemy may be able to read all our communications, and know all our secrets. So we can’t plan any effective defense. But we Awares aren’t connected. They can’t read our secrets. That could make the key difference.”

“What we need is to read the alien menace more specifically,” Adela said. “So that we will know their secrets and can devise a way to balk them.”

“That makes sense,” Yon said. “And if this is to be our only face-to-face meeting, we need to do it now, so we all know what we’re up against.”

“There is one potential member of the team who is not here,” Elasa said. “On Jones I caught and tamed a vampire plant. I call her Venus. But she won’t arrive here for another five months.”

“Venus Flytrap,” Yon agreed, smiling. “You figure that relates to the image?”

“Yes. This plant has pheromones and projective telepathy. She can, for example, make a man see her as the most alluring woman, making him eager to have sex with her. But if he does, she will suck his blood from his penis.”

“A plant?”

“The projected illusion shows a luscious woman, but the only solid physical part is the flytrap sheath that takes in his member. Picture it as like an automatic milker milking a cow. The penis is the teat.”

“Got it,” Yon said uncomfortably. “You figure the alien menace will look wonderful, fooling the marks, but treat Earth like a penis teat?”

“Maybe,” Elasa said. “Maybe not. An analogy may bear little physical relationship to the reality it suggests. The sheep know about the vampire plants, so maybe used that image. But whatever the reality, it means doom for Earth. That’s the one sure thing.”

“I think we need to get a better picture of that reality.”

“The menace is coming closer, but so far it remains hopelessly vague,” Elasa said.

“You said it takes all the Companions working together to reach your mind,” Adela said. “Because you’re a machine. Suppose they tried connecting with Aware minds?”

“There should be more power there,” Elasa agreed.

“Let’s try it,” Yon said.

Bunky bleated. Vulture and Python came over from the car. Elasa introduced them to the two Awares. Then Adela huddled with Bunky, Vulture, and Python, putting her head close to theirs.

“Focus on the menace,” Yon said. “Precog it. Merge your talents.”

They focused. Elasa wished she could tune in on their minds. The precognition of the Lamb augmented by the Awareness of the woman. That combination had not been tried before. What would they discover?

Then suddenly they fell apart. Adela looked sick. So, amazingly, did the three animals.

“It didn’t work?” Elasa asked, disappointed.

“It worked,” Yon said, “I caught just a whiff of it. Totally awful.”

“I got it all. I will—will translate in a moment,” Adela said. “I just need—need time to recover.”

So did the animals. Vulture and Python returned to the car. Bunky came to lay his head on Elasa’s lap. She stroked his wool, trying to comfort him. She had never before seen him so upset.

In due course Adela recovered enough of her composure to describe what she had seen. “It’s not a giant carnivorous plant,” she said. “It’s worse. Much worse.”

They waited silently.

She took a few breaths, then resumed. “A better analogy would be a dead rat being consumed by maggots. Earth is the rat.”

Another silence.

Adela spoke again. “The aliens are the maggots. Maybe some century they will metamorphose into halfway pretty flies, but right now they’re just ugly eating and pooping machines.” She glanced at Elasa. “No offense.”

Elasa smiled. “I don’t eat or poop.”

“Only these maggots are big and smart. They have spaceships galore. They can read minds. They can see the future, through their captives.”

“Technology, telepathy, precognition,” Elasa said. “So they can anticipate the sheep as much as the sheep anticipate them. Stalemate, except that the sheep don’t have technology.”

“But we do,” Yon said.

“Not like theirs,” Adela said. “They’re—they’re galactic. By themselves, physically, they’re largely legless grubs. But their minds—they can take over the minds of other creatures, make them do their bidding. That’s how they got the spaceships.”

“They can take over minds,” Elasa repeated thoughtfully. “That’s worse than projective telepathy. They’ve got us outgunned, even with Venus.”

“They take over the minds of key players, like kings or prime ministers, and make them serve Maggot interests,” Adela continued. “They set their planets up for the slaughter. Literally. Earth will become one giant slaughterhouse, to feed all our bodies to the maggots. By the time they go there’ll be nothing left but a layer of Maggot poop. No life beyond bacterial poop eaters.” She took a pained breath. “And we can’t stop them. They’ve got overwhelming power, apart from their ability to anticipate and counter any defensive moves we might make. They’re experienced planet harvesters. They know what they’re doing.”

“Overconfidence might be their undoing,” Yon said.

“It’s justified confidence. We can’t defeat them.”

“How can you be so sure of that? Maybe we just need to find the right strategy.”

“Bunky,” Adela said.

The Lamb walked up to stand beside Yon.

“Put your hand on his back. You need the full effect of his telepathy.”

Yon put his hand on Bunky’s back. Then he stepped back as if struck. “I got it,” he said, shaken. “Earth can not defeat the Maggots.”

Again Elasa wished she could have full mental contact. Obviously the vision that Adela and the Companions had shared brooked no doubt. That showed, again, why the sheep had not been able to select a path. There was none.

“Still, there has to be a way,” Yon said. “Maybe we can’t beat them physically, but that’s not the only game in town. What about mentally?”

“No,” Adela said, and Bunky nodded.

Yon walked around the bench, pondering aloud. “Sometimes a person comes up against a superior enemy force, but he can survive if he plays his cards right. Some bugs are easy prey, but they don’t get eaten because they stink. That’s how they do it: they taste bad. So nobody bothers to eat them.”

“We are standard meat,” Adela said. “Similar to what’s on every other inhabitable planet in the galaxy. They know already from their precog that we’re edible. We can’t fool them about that.”

“Some bugs have spines,” Yon said doggedly. “They’re edible, but too hard to eat, so they get left alone.”

“The Maggots are good at cutting off spines,” Adela said.

“Maybe if we could convince them that we’re more trouble than we’re worth,” Elasa said. “So they wouldn’t bother with us.”

Bunky bleated yes.

Surprised, Elasa looked at him. “You mean I have a viable answer?”

“I think you do,” Yon said. “Lots of easy marks get left alone because they’re just too awkward to handle. Like the tuberculosis carrier: nobody messes with him, because they don’t want to risk getting it.”

“The Maggots don’t fear disease,” Adela said glumly.

“Maybe not disease,” Yon said. “But something else. It’s the principle that counts. The Lamb says there’s a path. That’s all we need to know right now. We have how long to figure it out?”

Adela touched Bunky. “Five months.”

“We’ll work on it,” Yon said confidently. “At least now we know there is a way. That’s more than we’ve had before.”

“A lot more,” Elasa agreed, relieved. “And it seems that it’s up to you Awares to find it. Without telling me or anyone else who isn’t an Aware.”

“We’re on our way,” Yon agreed. “We’ll let the Vulture or Python know when we need you.”

“Do that,” Elasa said. Then she and Bunky returned to the car. She felt elated, though she knew they had merely verified that the situation wasn’t hopeless, not that they would prevail. Certainly they had accomplished a lot this day.

Chapter 4:

Secret Agent

There was continuing contact that Elasa stayed clear of. She let Bunky go with Vulture and Python to meet the Awares, knowing that the three animals could handle any likely situation they would encounter. Bunky and the Awares were zeroing in on whatever the path to salvation was, and Elasa needed not to know it. Nobody should know it, lest the Maggots read it in their minds and nullify it. Meanwhile she was happy loving Banner and Bela, being a family woman. Saving the world was necessary, but all she had ever wanted was to be a woman.

Yet something significant was brewing that was bound to take her in. It might not be pretty. She picked this up from the animals. Bunky did not understand it, but she did: sexuality. She was a fembot, and her talent might have to be used. She had to warn her husband before things got dicey. “Banner, you know I learned something on Jones.”

“And tamed a vampire plant,” he agreed.

“That is only part of it. There is an enormous threat to Earth itself, but I can’t even talk about it without putting others in danger, including you.”

“If you tell me, you’d have to kill me,” he said, amused.

“Something like that. I can say only that very serious business is afoot that may require something unusual of me. I am asking you to trust me.”

“Elasa, you don’t even need to ask! I love you.”

“I might have to be with other men. No, not to leave you! I’ll always love you. But I might have to seduce others.”

He gazed at her, absorbing the import. “The way you did when we needed money to hitchhike.”

“Yes. Only this would not be for money.”

“Elasa, I do trust you. You do what you have to, and I won’t hold it against you. I know you love me as I love you.”

“Oh, yes!” she agreed, and swept him into her arms and on into bed.

Two weeks later Elasa got the word: the Awares had information for her. She went quietly to the garden with Bunky, and there were Vulture and Python—and Adela, whom they had led in. It was the most private convenient meeting place.

“There are key personnel the Maggots will target,” Adela said. “They will take them over and use them to institute the processes that will convert Earth to a slaughterhouse. We will need to stop those personnel, and not by assassination, because they would simply be replaced.”

“If they are here, the Maggots will take them,” Elasa said.

“There is another way. But not yet. We must get close enough to them to read an essential part of their brain coding so that the Plant will be able to change it slightly, with her projective telepathy. This is where we need you.”

“Of course I want to do the necessary,” Elasa said. “But I can’t afford to be obvious.”

“Exactly. You will need to have an affair with the American Secretary of Defense.”

“What?” This was shock rather than incomprehension.

“You need to get close to him, and stay close to him, because he will lead you to several of the other targets. We need to have them all primed by the time the Plant arrives, because then we shall have to act immediately. The salvation of our world depends on it.”

“How could I get close to him, let alone have an affair with him?”

“He will need a personal secretary. You will be that, in the form of his ideal figure of a woman. The rest will follow.”

“This is too complicated for me to handle,” Elasa said. “I would be thoroughly vetted before I ever got near such an important figure, and they’d never trust him with a robot.”

“That is why I will go with you,” Adela said. “He must not know you are a robot. This is vital.”

Elasa worked it out. “Because anything he knows, the Maggots will know when they take him over. If he knows my nature, they will realize that this is a devious connection, and they will use me to track down the Awares. Then you won’t be able to stop them.”

“That’s it. We have to catch them by complete surprise, or we are lost. The path we have found is not guaranteed; it is merely the one most likely to succeed. Bunky is unable to precog the outcome. But any other path is doom.”

Elasa sighed. “My husband will not be pleased.”

“Because he thought your fembot days were behind you?”

“Actually he understands that aspect. But he will have to take care of Bela while I’m away. He doesn’t mind, but Bela can get fussy without me.”

“Tell him,” Adela said. “Because tonight you must be with Pauling Hudson.”

“Tonight!”

“You have just time to get to the Temp Agency. Timing is precise.”

Elasa told Banner that the time had come. She had to become anonymous and be a fembot. But first she made love to him, passionately.

“That man you are going to will never know how lucky he is,” Banner said. “I will be here when you return.”

“You know I am programmed to love you, Banner. But I think that even if I wasn’t programmed, I’d have come to love you. Because you know me for what I am, an animated machine, and you accept me just as if I were a real woman.”

“You are a real woman!” he protested.

“Legally, yes, since I won my personhood. But--”

He cut her off with a passionate kiss. That was answer enough.

Soon, bemused, Elasa drove Adela to the Temp office. On the way she downloaded a thorough course in personal secretary information, and Adela changed Elasa’s wig to make her a peach blonde with curls to her waist. Then she had to change into a slightly too-tight dress with a slightly low decolletage. Adela had come prepared with all the things Elasa had not known she would need. She put in matching contact lenses and enhanced her breasts slightly. The car mirror showed a rather sexy young woman without being obvious about it. Elasa was now a different person, Silver Sessions, with an ID to match. How the Awares had arranged that she had no idea, and thought it best not to inquire. Yon Yonson, the private eye, evidently knew his business.

At the Temp office she registered under the new name, and it checked out. She had just arrived from another city, and her references were excellent. “We’re sure you’ll do,” the clerk said reassuringly. “We get frequent calls for women with your skills. In fact we have none in reserve at the moment.”

Her skills? She had seen the woman appraising her figure, knowing what counted.

A phone on the desk sounded. The clerk glanced at it. “In fact there’s a call now.” She whistled. “An important one! Emergency. Go immediately to this address. The name is Pauling Hudson.” The name Adela had mentioned. Surely Bunky’s precognition had figured into this assignment.

Adela had been with her all along, unnoticed. Elasa drove her to the address. “You knew this unlikely coincidence was going to happen,” she said.

“I knew you had to be at the Temp office at the moment the call came in,” Adela agreed. “I did not know the details, just that timing was critical.”

“And my new appearance. I’m the kind of secretary the boss makes passes at.”

“Yes, of course. We spent a long time with the Lamb fathoming exactly what you needed to look like.”

“Well, now you’re stuck with whatever I’m doing tonight. I got no chance to return you to your own site.”

“I will be with you throughout,” Adela said. “Just ignore me, unless I signal you. Then follow my directions precisely.”

Elasa sighed. “When I first contacted you Awares, not all that long ago, I had no idea it would lead to this.”

“Neither did we. But when we got into it, it became apparent. This is important.”

The address turned out to be an eloquent suite in a prominent hotel. She rang the bell, and in a moment a portly older man answered. “I am Silver Sessions, a personal secretary sent by the Temp office,” she said.

“You’re beautiful!”

By no accident. “You have work for me to do?”

“Oh, yes! My regular secretary had an accident, and I have an important interview tomorrow morning. I have to review the background, and I don’t even know how to organize it. My secretary has a system.” He paused. “But I’m babbling. Come in, Miss Sessions.”

“Mrs. Sessions,” she said.

He didn’t bat an eyebrow. “Of course. Here is her material. Do you think you can--”

“Of course.” Elasa took the package, scanned it, and recognized it as an internal intelligence report. She could handle it.

She sat at the table and got to work, while the man relaxed with the holo news and a glass of wine. She was conscious of his eyes on her, appraisingly. “He’s checking you out,” Adela murmured.

Elasa took a deep breath as though girding herself for a challenging effort. This put a strain on her tight decolletage.

“You need to have him in you within the hour,” Adela said. “I will leave you to it.” She departed. What was she up to?

Elasa had the material organized in minutes, then made spot notes to key it in for an extemporaneous presentation. “I believe this is ready, sir,” she said.

“Already? You’ve hardly started.”

“This kind of organization is my specialty,” she said. “I have prepared a standard format. You will want to verify it.” She leaned forward to hand him the note card.

He almost dropped it, distracted by her cleavage. Then he glanced at the card and was surprised. He was of course familiar with the material; it was the presentation he had needed. “This is it! You have keyed in the salient points I need to make. Remarkable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Paul,” he said warmly. “Have a drink.”

She hesitated. “I do not wish to seem unduly familiar and I prefer not to drink on the job.”

“I think you have completed it, Silver. Now you can relax before you go home.”

“If you are satisfied, Paul.” She glanced at her watch. “Darn! It’s rush hour.”

“A bad time to drive,” he agreed. He proffered her a glass of wine.

She hesitated visibly. “If you are sure it’s all right.”

“Your notes are perfect. You have organized the material in a way I could not. You are a truly competent worker. I would like to know more of you.”

She decided. She accepted the glass and took a sip. She could eat and drink; it merely did not do her any good and had to be eliminated later. “Divine,” she said, settling into an easy chair so that her perfectly crafted thighs were accidentally exposed.

“I always prefer the best.” His pupils dilated as he took in the view. “Your husband is surely a lucky man.”

“He knows my nature.” She crossed her legs carelessly while savoring the wine, and heard the faint catch of his breath. Seduction 101. “He understands when I have to work late.”

“My wife has little interest in my work,” he said. “Or in me.”

“That’s too bad.” There was just a hint of a slur to her words, as if she wasn’t used to wine this potent. Her inhibitions were clearly fading. “You must get lonely.”

“I do,” he confessed. “But the company of a woman like you can do wonders for my comfort.”

“Why Paul! If I didn’t know better I might think you were coming on to me.”

“I would never force myself on a woman.”

She smiled invitingly. “As if force would be necessary. A handsome man like you.” They were getting there on schedule. Men were easy.

“How is it that a woman of your elegance is doing common secretarial work?” Pauling asked. “You obviously have superior skills.”

“My husband is—between jobs,” she said. “I do what I can to assist.” She stretched, at the risk of tearing fabric. “I am feeling warm. Do you mind if I loosen my--?”

“Not at all. In fact I’ll join you.” He removed his jacket.

“Thank you.” She loosened the upper contours of her dress, providing her breasts additional exposure. Now somewhat tipsy, it seemed she didn’t notice.

Within half an hour they were both naked and on the bed. He was fascinated by every part of her, especially her breasts. He kissed them avidly. He was a breast man, and she had the best that technology could provide.

Looking past him, Elasa saw Bunky. She masked her surprise, realizing that Adela must have fetched him; that was why she had departed. Had she driven the car? Or were other Awares here? Elasa took hold of Paul’s head and pressed his face between her breasts while the Lamb came close enough to sniff the back of the man’s head. Bunky’s telepathy was strongest up close. He was taking the necessary reading of the essential brain coding.

Then Lamb and Aware were gone, their business completed. Elasa let Paul up for air and guided him into her for a powerful climax. She didn’t need to make any pretense of a climax of her own, though she was adept at faking it; this was all for him.

“Oh Silver!” he gasped. “You perfect creature! I want to take you with me!”

“With you?” she asked, gently perplexed.

“On my global tour. For your secretarial skills. I have many important men to see, and it would be incredibly dull without your company.”

“But your secretary--” His wife at this point was a non-issue.

“Will be out for two weeks.”

“But if you’re traveling globally, I have no passport, no clearance. I’m just a temp secretary.”

“I can clear you with a quick call, as part of my staff.”

“But two weeks—my husband would be concerned.”

“I can arrange for bonus pay that will more than satisfy your husband.” Clearly he had had experience with husbands before.

“Then, perhaps,” she agreed, drawing him back into her bosom. The Awares would keep Banner posted, and actually, the money would be nice.

In this manner she allowed herself to be persuaded to accompany him on the tour. Exactly as the Awares had found necessary. She processed the department notes for each encounter, setting them up so that Pauling had no trouble with his presentations. There were other complications to navigate, because Pauling insisted that she eat well and maintain her health, and they generally ate together. She protested that she was on a diet to maintain her figure; he could not protest, as he much admired that figure. But she still had to eat some. That meant she had to eliminate it, which was not the easiest thing. She could urinate in the normal living manner, straining out the water, and took pains to let Pauling accidentally see that on occasion. As lovers they often shared the bathroom. But defecation would be another matter. Her undigested poop would be a giveaway.

This was where Adela came in. She ate what Elasa removed from her internal pouch, privately. It looked awful, being a jumbled mess, but was quite sanitary, and Adela knew that. So Adela digested it, getting her food that way, and in due course defecated in the normal manner. Once Elasa managed to let Pauling see the turds in the toilet just before she flushed it. They were mutually embarrassed by the incident, but it was a necessary reassurance. There had to be no suspicion whatsoever that she was not a normal woman, poop and all.

*

There followed a rapid succession of flights and meetings. Pauling arranged for sufficient privacy during the dull hours in air so that they could have exuberant sex, and she made sure he was always more than satisfied. She was officially there to take notes during his actual meetings with high officials; no one even noticed her, theoretically, and if they suspected that Pauling was getting some on the side, well, what else was new?

Until Adela gave her the word. “The next contact is critical. He’s a womanizer, but we have to have him.” She dressed Elasa in a theoretically conservative but tight outfit that clearly showed her figure. “Be sure to show him your profile.”

She did, and the man practically drooled. She evinced no eagerness to oblige him, being a proper secretary.

“Damn,” Paul murmured, reading a note the translator pressed into his hand. “We really need the favor of this man, but he’s on the fence. Except he can be swayed, if--”

“If?”

“If you will cater to him for one hour.” He braced as if expecting her to strike him.

“His support is important?” She knew it was.

“Vitally important. He can sway several other allies we need.”

Adela was there. “We need this man,” she reminded Elasa.

That decided it. “Then for you I will do it.” And for the Awares. She did not expect to enjoy it.

“Oh thank you, Silver!” he said, greatly relieved.

The man was horny as hell, and had some weird notions about what went into where, but she obliged them all and he pronounced himself satisfied. And in the middle of his third climax, which spurted into her ear, there was Adela with the Lamb. Somehow the Awares had managed to smuggle Bunky in to this foreign capital to do his job. She was impressed despite herself; the Awares were demonstrating their amazing abilities.

Back at the hotel suite, as she showered and scrubbed as if trying to scrape off filth, Pauling was effusively grateful. “The public supposes that reason and negotiation account for international deals, but sometimes it’s uglier than that. I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Elasa reassured him. “But I’d much rather be with you.”

He laughed. “A female baboon would rather be with me than him! But his favor is worth hundreds of millions of dollars to us, and enhanced military security. You have done your country a significant service, though it will never be recognized.”

She emerged from the shower and toweled herself dry. “I am glad for both.” Then she kissed him and aroused and satisfied his own passion.

Word evidently got rapidly around, because a quarter of the globe away another key man asked for her favor. This one, too, was attended by the Lamb. But there was a surprise, because after the sex, which was accomplished in under five minutes, he brought out a board. “You know Go?”

“Why, by a coincidence, I do,” Elasa said. “But I seldom get to play it in America.” Adela had warned her, and she had downloaded the rules and strategies of the Game of Enclosure. It was said to be one of the oldest and finest games in the world, though largely unknown in the west.

They played, and she played well, but lost. “I think I could have taken you, had you really tried,” he said, not fooled. “But I am impressed, and it was an enjoyable game. If Hudson ever loses the need for your services, keep me in mind.”

“I will,” she agreed. As such contacts went, he had not been bad. And such had been his concentration that he never noticed the visit of the Lamb.

Then they had quick sex again, and the hour was over.

“You played a board game with him!” Pauling exclaimed later. “And converted him to a far more solid ally. You are amazing!”

“Thank you,” she said modestly.

Then she cleaned up and they had sex, as they normally did after a contact. The meetings and dialogues with foreign dignitaries worked him up, and sex was the way he eased the tension. Elasa, of course, could handle it, as any fembot could; she had been crafted for this, before she became a person. But she was coming to like Pauling, who was a decent man with a high pressure job. Their interludes were pleasant.

She confessed this privately to Adela. “Yes, I think that is part of what makes you right for this mission,” the Aware said. “A flesh woman would have trouble with some of those clients, and maybe take it out on Pauling. We can’t afford that.”

“So there is more than sex involved here.”

“Yes. It is vital that you maintain your relationship with him.”

“Even after this tour is over?”

“Yes. The Lamb indicates that the salvation of Earth may depend on that association.”

“So it’s safe for me to like him.”

“It is essential that you like him, and that you let him know it.”

Elasa did not inquire further. She knew that her role as a secret agent for Earth had to be performed flawlessly. But it helped that this aspect was not onerous.

She almost lost it with one client. The man had enthusiastic sex with her, then looked at her with dawning recognition. “Fembot!”

Elasa froze.

Then Bunky was there with Adela. “No, impossible,” the man concluded. “It was just that the only experience I have had before that matches yours was with one of those robots.”

“Thank you,” Elasa said, relieved that the Lamb, in concert with the Aware, had been able to project the necessary thought. Bunky was telepathic, but projection was not easy for him. It was the vampire plants that had real powers of projection. “I understand they are very good at what they do.”

“Oh, yes. But ultimately there is no substitute for a real live girl.”

“That is reassuring to know.”

She did not mention the incident to Pauling.

The tour concluded. Pauling’s regular secretary had recovered and would return to her position, which included bed as well as board. Adela reported that the woman was jealous as hell of his time with Elasa, for good reason; he preferred Elasa. It was time for Elasa to go home.

“Oh Silver,” Pauling lamented. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t want to lose you. You have been the best secretary and companion I have ever had, and--” He took a breath. “I think I have fallen in love with you.”

There was the crux. She had to maintain the relationship, but it was better that it be at his behest rather than hers. Elasa made a pretense of surprise. “I assumed it was just business and sex. You know I am married.”

“It was supposed to be. I do know you are married. I do know better. There can never be anything formal between us. But you are the perfect woman, the very image of my desire. Is there not at least some hint of return feeling on your part?”

“All I can legitimately say is that I do like you, Pauling, and have enjoyed our sessions together, of whatever nature. I will be sorry to see them end. But I will always love my husband best. I would not have taken this job were it not for the money.” That was a necessary lie, and perhaps not a complete one.

He grasped at that straw. “There are occasional projects you could facilitate. They can be well paid. If you could handle one every week or so--”

“I believe I could do that,” Elasa agreed. “If your secretary is amenable.”

For a moment grim lines formed about his mouth. He was a man of power. “She will be amenable.” Or else.

“Then perhaps this is not farewell,” Elasa said, kissing him. Not farewell until the Maggots took him over. She wished that were not part of the equation.

Chapter 5:

Alien

Banning and Bela were glad to have her back, and Elasa was glad to be back. She made love to Banning six times in two days, catching up. She also hugged Vulture and Python. They were Mona and Elen’s creatures rather than hers, but she had come to care for them. She had been seeing Bunky all along, of course.

“The key players are on our registry,” Adela reported.

“So you will know when they are taken over by alien minds?”

“Yes. Actually that process is already occurring.”

“Already!” Elasa was unpleasantly surprised. “Pauling seemed entirely normal to me.”

“He is. He doesn’t know that an alien is in his mind, observing everything.”

“Everything?”

“Your entire association with Pauling was observed by the alien.”

“And you did not tell me!”

“We thought it best that you not know, any more than he did.”

“Bunky was in on this?”

“Bunky’s sense was that it could be either way. We Awares made the decision. We wanted you to be entirely natural, so that the alien could have no suspicion. I was on the scene and it felt right.”

It did make sense. Handling Pauling had been tricky enough without her having to factor in an alien observer. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Because now you need to seduce the alien.”

Elasa stared at her. “And I thought you were an innocent girl.”

“I was, until six months ago. Awareness is hard on innocence.”

“And now there’s a planet to save,” Elasa said. “By a fembot?”

“Yes. You are the key player. We merely assist.”

“How do I seduce the alien?”

“We’re not sure, but Bunky approves the path we have chosen. When you seduce Pauling, you mention your experience exchanging to another host on another planet. That should be similar to the alien’s position.”

“But that was Elasa! With Pauling I am Silver. It would give away my real identity.”

“Pauling already knows it.”

“He knows it?”

“He’s a high power official. He routinely does due diligence on his contacts. He liked you, so let it pass.”

“And you thought it better than I not know,” Elasa concluded grimly.

“With one exception. Somehow the term fembot was omitted from the report.”

“Somehow?”

“We are getting better at what we do.”

“So he still believes I am alive.”

“Yes. That much is essential.”

“So when I let slip my experience, it will not be news to Pauling.”

“Or the alien,” Adela agreed. “We believe the alien already is interested in you, for that reason. You can use that to win him over.”

“An alien who means to take over our world and destroy it?”

“We think the alien is a person impressed into service by an utterly ruthless power. He may have sympathy for you.”

“That and a galactic space fleet just might save Earth.”

“The space fleet belongs to the Maggots.”

“You’re sure this alien is male?”

“Yes, Bunky sniffed that out. We suspect he is lonely.”

“But surely his romantic interest is in a female with three heads and five tentacles.”

“When in human host, his interest should align with human. The body orientation governs in that respect.”

“Well, we’ll see. At least so far he’s just observing.”

“He will take over in another month.”

“And what will happen to Pauling then?”

“We think takeover is not the same as displacement. This is not like the exchanges. There will be two minds in one host, the alien mind governing. That is so there is no confusion about identity or program. The aliens do not want to be discovered prematurely.”

“Prematurely to what?”

“To the final takeover of the planet. They don’t want it to be wastefully messy. As nearly as we can tell, from vague precognition, the final thrust will come when Maggot minds take over the hosts directly. They will be powerfully telepathic, governing the minds of all creatures in range. Then it will be too late for Earth.”

Elasa considered. “At what point, then, do you plan to stop them?”

“The moment the Maggots strike.”

“And if you are a whisker too late?”

“Then Earth is lost.”

“You can’t make your counter-strike sooner?”

“We can’t,” Adela agreed.

“Oh, I hope you know what you’re doing!”

“So do we,” Adela said seriously.

*

Pauling brought the special project personally. Elasa met him at the hotel. She saw immediately that the material was important and complicated. She set to work organizing it, and in three hours was done.

“You’re a marvel, Silver,” Pauling said. “The sponsoring outfit told me this was a five hour job.”

“I like to think I am good at what I do.”

“You’re the best at whatever you do.”

Then they made love. It was fair to call it that, rather than mere sex, because it was clear that Pauling did love her, and she liked him well enough.

Then as they lay together on the bed, relaxing, she spoke. “This reminds me vaguely of the time I visited Colony Planet Jones. That’s the one where the sheep govern. They are said to be precognitive, but all they really care about is ovine events.”

He smiled. “I remind you of a sheep?”

She laughed. “No, of course not. I was just identifying the locale. It’s that I visited there by exchange, occupying the body of a native host, and had unusual sex there. It’s a different kind of experience. Here on Earth I’m just a housewife, but this time with you has been a whirlwind of experience with exotic locales and high-powered officials. Not quite the same as being in a different body on a different planet, but maybe there are parallels.” She was talking to the alien observer. Was he listening?

“I appreciate the analogy. I’m sure you’re competent and lovely wherever you are.”

Soon they made love again, and she wondered what the alien thought about it. Did he dream of his five-tentacled lover?

The following week she did more work, and they had another tryst. And again the week after.

Then Adela told her. “The alien has taken over the host.”

“My next encounter will be with the alien?”

“We don’t know. So far he has been content to continue observing. But soon he will start acting. Pauling will follow his normal schedule except when the alien directs otherwise.”

“Why take over, if not to act?”

“To get into it gradually, making no waves. Maybe he’s waiting to interact with you before getting serious. It’s still three months before the official strike.”

“He wants to fuck me before he kills me,” Elasa said sourly.

“Males are males throughout the galaxy.”

But she went on schedule. The survival of the planet depended on it.

She knew the instant she saw him that Pauling had changed. The indications were subtle, but she was primed to pick up on them. It was his body and his mind, but a different personality governed both. She made no reaction, so as to keep her knowledge private, but she was not comfortable.

He gazed at her. “You know,” he said.

So much for that. She glanced at Adela, who nodded. It was, astonishingly, all right.

The alien followed that glance. “You have Awares!”

Now Adela was the astonished one. “You see me!”

He laughed. “I am Aware myself, and telepathic, though I prefer verbal communication when dealing with alien minds. Come join the dialogue.”

Elasa recovered her equilibrium. “Shall we introduce ourselves? I am Elasa.” Because if Pauling knew it, so did the alien.

“I am Adela.”

“And I am Qqopp,” he said, pronouncing it with a kind of stutter at each end, K-kop-p. “You may call me Kop, of the late planet Qqq.” That was pronounced Queue.

“I am interested to meet you, Kop,” Elasa said.

“And I am intrigued by you, lady machine. My host had no knowledge of your nature. But I have experience and powers of observation he does not, apart from the fact that your electronic mind is opaque to me.”

“And what has happened to Pauling?” Elasa asked evenly.

“He remains. I have taken over the command centers of his brain, and govern absolutely, but I have not otherwise damaged him. You may consider him as a prisoner, unharmed but restricted.”

“Can you demonstrate that?”

“I can, if you provide me reason to do so.”

This was curious. “Why should you bargain with me?”

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, Elasa. We have a fair dialogue coming.”

The three of them took easy chairs. Both Elasa and Adela crossed their legs, showing thighs under skirts. The alien did look, faintly smiling.

“I think it will be best if we consider ourselves to be in a state of truce,” Kop said. “I am aware that each of you has mechanisms to alert your associates to the details of this interview, while I have the perception and means to destroy you before you can do so. We all can benefit by maintaining a civilized discussion, after which we may reassess our positions.”

Elasa glanced at Adela again. “He’s not bluffing,” Adela said.

“None of us are,” Kop said.

“I do not promise total candor,” Elasa said. “But I will facilitate the dialogue. You have answered my question about why you should bargain: you want something of us you will not obtain if you destroy us. Now I will answer your question: I had an ongoing relationship with Pauling, and liked him well. I realize I can not dictate to you how he is treated, but I will be significantly more cooperative with your designs if you can show me that you have not hurt him.”

“My designs?”

“You desire me sexually. You may be an alien in a human body, but your immediate impressions and emotions are governed by that body.”

“You are correct. I am incidentally curious how you know, since you are neither telepathic nor Aware.”

“I am trained to observe men,” Elasa said. “When I do this, your pupils expand.” She separated her knees more widely, giving him a glimpse almost to her crotch. “Also when I do this.” She leaned forward and inhaled while her decolletage fell loose.

“Ah. You have powers of observation beyond those of a mortal woman.”

“I do when I focus, though all women know the standard ploys. It facilitates the business I was designed for.”

“It does indeed,” Kop agreed.

“But if you know me for a machine, why do I turn you on?”

“You turn me on in significant part because you are a machine. I am unable to read your mind or fathom your personal future, yet I know you are conscious and feeling. I have never encountered that before. It lends intriguing mystery. I think I can’t trust any native girl with the truth about my situation, but you are more rational. I can truly interact with you, physically and mentally.”

“So you know you will have to work to earn my favor.”

“I do desire your favor. Therefore I will demonstrate that I have not harmed Pauling Hudson.”

In a moment his expression changed. “Hello, Silver,” Pauling said.

“That’s him,” Adela said.

“I was never aware of you,” Pauling said to her. “I never heard of Awares before.”

“We are folk who somehow know our immediate situations,” Adela said. “We can seldom be surprised. I have been helping Elasa manage you.”

“She already knows how to tempt a man,” Pauling said wryly.

“In connection with the coming invasion of the Maggots.”

“I never heard of them either,” Pauling said. “Not before Kop took over.”

“He will surely fill you in,” Elasa said. “You sound normal. Are you all right?”

“Apart from being captive, yes. Kop lets me handle routine matters. It is easier to delegate tasks than to micro-manage.”

“So you simply serve a new master.”

“That’s it.”

“You’re not fighting him?”

Pauling shook his head. “I can’t fight him. This is not coercive. It is as if I suddenly decided to follow a new course. I am now his loyal assistant.”

“You don’t even want to be free of his control?”

Pauling considered briefly. “Objectively I can see that I should oppose him. After all, he will implement policies that destroy my world. But it seems that my motive center has been revised. I am satisfied to do his business.”

“And while he is governing, where are you?”

“Here, observing. It is as if I am seeing a movie, appreciating the action without being directly involved. To the extent I am involved I am like a horse in harness, not questioning the directives of my rider.”

“So he is not a monster.”

“He is not a monster,” Pauling agreed. “He is an alien master. He has motives and feelings similar to mine. He merely serves a different cause.”

Elasa nodded. “I am satisfied, Kop. You are not mistreating him.”

“Thank you. Now I will tell you that I was observing when you first encountered Pauling. When you seduced him, you seduced me, though I was at that point merely a spectator. When he fell in love with you, so did I. I would do almost anything in my power to win your favor.” His mouth quirked. “I’m sure that was one reason you were selected for this mission. Your Aware associates anticipated my tastes.”

“They did,” Elasa agreed. “You can win my favor by canceling the invasion.”

Kop shook his head. “You of course know that is beyond my power. I am a functionary, serving my master as you serve yours. Make some other demand.”

“Tell me everything you know about the Maggots.”

He laughed. “That is not what we call them, but is nevertheless apt. But the telling would take some time.”

Elasa was surprised. “You will do it?”

“In return for your favor, yes.”

“My sexual favor is available in return for information. My emotional favor has to be won, not bargained for.”

“I will settle for the first, and hope for the second in due course.”

Elasa was uncertain. This was too easy. “I think we need the Lamb,” she said to Adela.

“I will fetch him,” Adela said, rising.

“I know of no lamb,” Kop said. “This is a pet animal?”

“The pet of a friend, yes. He has powers you will appreciate.” She glanced at the table, where there was a briefcase. “Suppose I organize the material, as I normally do, while we wait? My presumption is that you prefer to maintain Pauling’s routine as much as is feasible, until you substitute your own.”

“Official business mixed with an unofficial affair,” Kop agreed.

Elasa stood, went to the table, opened the briefcase, and slid out the papers. She scanned their content. “This is not routine.”

“It is my routine rather than Pauling’s,” Kop said. “You do not have to do it if you find it distasteful.”

“I do find it distasteful. This is a plan for the biggest and most sophisticated slaughterhouse ever built.”

“One of a number. I have three months to get the local ones set up and staffed. All living tissue will be processed in the course of the six months following.”

Elasa was surprised again. “You are telling me this? I’m the enemy!”

“You are not my enemy, Elasa. You are the enemy of the Maggots. So am I.”

“But you are doing their business.”

“Because if I do not, they will feed me immediately into the grinder, literally, and substitute a better performer. I survive only because I am a capable administrator. When this task is complete, I will be ground up regardless. They don’t keep workers beyond one planet. So I perform, for the sake of less than a year of extended life.”

She considered that. “So you really do want my favor. To make your last months happier than otherwise.”

“Exactly.”

“But if I tell our government, we can organize resistance.”

“Your congress? Lots of luck. We have our agents there too, though we hardly need them. They will not believe you, and if they did, they would still accomplish nothing. All you would achieve would be mass panic, if the corrupt media even ran the news.”

He had a pretty good grasp of local politics, surely gleaned from his host. Elasa was coming to appreciate why the Awares were operating secretly. There was nothing to be gained by publicity. So she shut up and organized the papers. It seemed that Kop would be making presentations in the name of Pauling to promote a secret military building project that no one would dare veto. Military projects were sacred, regardless of their cost or irrelevance. Congress would probably not even inquire into the nature of these huge buildings. There was, after all, a lot of money to be made from construction contracts.

Adela returned with Bunky. The Lamb sniffed the man and backed off, recognizing the alien quality.

“Telepathy!” Kop exclaimed. “And precognition! Maybe there is yet hope.”

“Hope for what?” Elasa asked.

“Hope for your salvation. Food-species legend has it that three things are required to balk the Maggots even temporarily: telepathy, precognition, and power. My folk had the first two but not the third; our space fleet was only a fraction of the Maggot swarm. So we were doomed.”

“Power is not necessarily military,” Elasa said.

“Indeed. But what else is there, in the face of an armada? Imagination?”

“So it seems that we also are doomed,” Elasa said.

“You’re lying. You believe you have something.”

“I did not promise you complete candor,” she reminded him.

“Which gives me faint hope. My world is gone. I would help save yours if I could. Meanwhile I will build the slaughterhouses.”

Elasa put her arm around Bunky. “Is he serious?”

“Yes,” Bunky bleated. Then he and Adela departed.

“Remarkable,” Kop said. “The creature is not close to human intelligence, yet his telepathy enables him to understand and respond. But I fear that such mental qualities limited to an animal mind will not suffice to accomplish much.”

“Nevertheless, the Lamb endorses your sincerity,” Elasa said. “Then I will be your lover, while you tell me all about the Maggots.”

“Gladly.”

“Starting with the best way you think Earth might save itself despite your construction program.” She started removing her clothing.

“You can’t balk them militarily,” he said as he undressed. “The only way you can possibly save your planet is to persuade them that Earth is more trouble than it is worth. Since it is worth half a year’s food for them, that’s a lot. But if you should succeed, they will bypass you and move on to the next edible world.” He advanced on her, human penis erect. Obviously he was more than ready to make sex the native way.

“We will ponder it,” Elasa said as she opened her arms to him. Kop had already given them much to ponder, and the Lamb and Awares would be working on it. Kop might not think the Maggots could be stopped, but she believed they would find a way.

“Now tell me the rest,” Elasa said as she took him into her. She knew she could keep his sexual interest indefinitely, and he would have her interest as long as his information held out. “I want your personal story, too. From the beginning of your contact with the Maggots.”

“You shall have it,” he gasped as he ejaculated into her.

Chapter 6:

Invasion

I was making love to my sibling Qqess when the call came. “Inferno!” I swore. “There’s an emergency at the observation station. I must leave you, Kess.”

She was used to emergencies, for my profession was to handle them. “I will be here when you return, beloved, with my cloaca hot.”

I bit her ear affectionately as I disengaged. “I love you, sister.” Then I departed.

Space Command had detected a blip, and the power precognitor reported it was dangerous. All of us have precognition, of course, but the vicissitudes of changeability make it virtually worthless for routine things. What point to precog the next day’s highlights, when one’s very awareness of them changes them? The routine is similar regardless whether one takes one route or another. So we normally survey our near future routinely each day to be sure there is no significant mischief, such as a blip in the motor causing the flyer to crash, then proceed satisfyingly null. Similar with telepathy; the Qqq mind is one of the most complicated objects extant, and reading other minds soon makes a person queasy; they are filled with disorderly thoughts and impressions that one would never tolerate in one’s own mind. I have thoughts of my own to organize without having to struggle with the messiness, desires, and guilts of others. It is better to stick to verbal and visual communication, allowing each other comfortable privacy while sparing ourselves avoidable disgust. Professional precogs, however, have far greater powers, not wasted on personal interactions, and can spot future events that need to be expeditiously handled.

Such as that blip. It was at the extreme range, and ill defined, but already carried the aura of menace. It might be a false reading; at the fringe reliability suffered. But it was not worth the risk of ignoring. Not until we were sure. I am also an Aware, which is another reason for my position, and I knew this situation was wrong. There was genuine mischief here.

I gave commands. It was my profession to assess borderline risks and categorize them, relaying them to the appropriate authorities for resolution. First I had the visual and auditory scopes orient on the blip, to get a literal picture of it. It fit the profile of a space ship. None of ours were that far out. That was in the direction of the Oumic realm, a pseudo-civilized species with which we had very limited contact. We probably would have been at war with each other, were the costs of interstellar combat not so wastefully extreme. Had they now embarked on the foolishness of a physical invasion of our sphere? That did not seem to make sense. They were reprehensible but not crazy.

Yet as the analysis was tallied, it turned out to be true: it was an Oumic ship. Worse, it was definitely foreboding. Menace was migrating to doom. If we let that craft into our region of space, we would pay a hideous price. The precogs were certain.

But I was not. I did not want to make a planetary case of a potential misunderstanding. So I alerted our military arm to organize, then messaged the alien contact crew. “Beam them a warner,” I said. “To justify their approach, retreat, or be demolished.” Beam communication is of course the fastest, and protocols were in place; the Oumic would receive it. They would respond, or else. They knew that, just as we would if we foolishly invaded their space.

They did not respond. They kept on coming, and the aura of menace intensified. “Do not let them get within mental range,” the head procog warned me.

But protocols are tedious, and by the time we had to act, the ship was in range. The precogs went wild. “Get rid of it!”

This seemed apt. I turned it over to the military, which had been eagerly waiting permission to blast.

And nothing happened.

I rechecked. “Why aren’t you blasting?” I demanded.

“The order was mislaid,” the general responded, evidently out of sorts.

“Well, recover it,” I snapped. “The precogs are losing their minds.”

Yet somehow nothing was done. The alien continued on course, its menace growing. It was not blasted.

I was furious, but also perplexed. Such mismanagement was not typical of our personnel. Always alert for the unexpected, I checked with a private telepath, the kind who could survey a distant mind and identify a deviance from the normal pattern. “What’s going on?” I asked him. “Why aren’t the blasting orders being executed?”

He checked, and expelled a whistling breath through three vents. “There’s an interference in their minds. They are unable to execute the order.”

Aha! “What is the source of interference?”

“It is masked, but seems to originate in the alien ship.”

“So it is a mind attack preceding a physical attack?”

“This may be the case,” he agreed uncertainly. “The masking is subtle.”

I messaged our Supreme Coordinator. He responded immediately, knowing that I took such a step only from urgent need. “I fear we are under attack by the Oumics,” I reported. “They have nullified our triggermen so that their ship is not being blasted. That means they are in our minds.”

“I am aware of the situation,” he said. “Abate your concern.”

I chilled. My Awareness does not function long-distance, but I knew that this was not right. In fact I feared that the enemy had already reached and corrupted a key mind: that of the Coordinator himself.

“Thank you for your reassurance,” I said politely. “My concern is abated.”

We were definitely under attack. But what could we do, with our top official already corrupted?

I did what I could. I prepared an all-points bulletin. WARNING! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK BY AN ALIEN FORCE. THE MINDS OF TOP OFFICIALS HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED. DEAL ONLY WITH THOSE YOU TRUST. That at least would get the word out and give us a better chance.

And my bulletin did not go out. Key minds in that chain too had been corrupted. Then I knew it was bad.

I went home and communed with Kess. She agreed that any further effort on my part would only attract attention to me and get me killed by one of the corrupted personnel. We made desperate love, and her cloaca was indeed hot, but much of the joy in it was gone.

We watched as the alien ship arrived at a planetary port unscathed. There was no commotion; it never made the planetary news. That was more evidence that there was suppression, as an alien landing should have been phenomenal news. Instead the normal planetary routine continued.

Months passed, and things happened. Huge new buildings were constructed near the largest municipalities, their presence also unremarked. Special highways were cut through neighborhoods to terminate at those buildings. Traffic formed, a seemingly endless line of transport trucks, driving into one side of the local building and out the other side, lighter. Still no news. A rail track was laid down, extending from the building to the hugely expanded spaceport, and a continuous line of boxcars rolled along it, unloading something that the giant alien spaceships carried away.

But some citizens were curious, and managed to peek into the building without being seen. Thus I received word: it was a slaughterhouse. For animals and people.

Our world was being rendered into meat to feed the aliens. And it seemed that there was nothing we could do about it.

“We can’t trust anyone else,” I told Kess. “I have to do it myself.”

“Do what, my love?”

“Disrupt the process. I will bomb the slaughterhouse. That will at least slow them down.”

“Not for long,” she said. “A bomb will demolish only a small portion of it, which they will soon rebuild.”

“I have access to a small nuclear bomb.” One of the prerogatives of my position was knowledge where such things were stored, and I had the access codes to reach it and transport it. It was almost as if our forerunners had known there would come a time when such access was needed.

“Oh! But that will take you out too, beloved.”

“Yes. It will be a suicide mission. But maybe it will show our world that resistance is possible, and there will be a spontaneous general uprising that will extirpate the alien menace.”

“It will kill a great number of our neighbors.”

“I know it, and it pains me. But if I do not act, they will soon die anyway, being canned for alien food. This seems less unkind.”

“I will help you.”

“No, Kess! I want you to survive and find happiness elsewhere. You must flee far from here.”

“I will have no happiness without you, Kop. Besides, it requires two to transport the bomb.”

She was correct. Reluctantly I allowed her to assist me in our suicide mission. We fetched the bomb and wheeled it by night to the outer wall of the building. The stench surrounding the edifice was terrible. I went about arming the device. There would be no delay once I completed the process and depressed the DETONATE button. It would blow, and this entire section of the planet would be vaporized.

It was ready. My digit hovered over the button. “I love you, Kess,” I said sincerely.

“I love you, Kop.”

“You can still escape,” I said. “I can wait a time period, long enough for you to get clear.”

She licked my hide. “I can imagine no greater honor than dying with you, for the greater welfare of our planet.”

I was gratified. If I had to die, dying with her was my preference. I went for the button.

But my digit did not descend. It remained hovering.

“Do it, beloved,” Kess said urgently.

“I can not,” I said.

“Then I will do it.” She reached for the button.

And paused. “Neither can I,” she said, appalled.

Then I understood. “We have been taken over by alien minds.”

“Duh!” a voice in my head said. “Did you think we would allow you to destroy our handiwork?”

“Who are you?” I asked aloud, for the moment unable to think of a better reaction.

“I am your alien master from Oumic. I have been with you all along, observing. But now it was necessary to take over.”

“How did Oumic achieve the means to defeat us like this?”

There was a hollow laugh. “We didn’t. We were taken over by the Maggots. Our planet is now a mass of fecal matter, the remnant of the meat that once governed it. The Maggots are moving on to the next food planet, this one. I have been spared temporarily to do their bidding, which is to govern you. Too bad; I admit I had hoped that you would successfully oppose them. But now I know they can not be stopped by species as stupid as ours or yours. Only one that can make the reduction of their planet more costly than it is worth can balk them even temporarily.”

“You can balk them!” I cried. “Set off the bomb!”

“This?” The Oumic laughed hideously. “Like this?” Kop’s digit descended and punched the button.

Kop flinched, but nothing happened for a moment. Then a panel on the surface lighted with the word DUD.

“Did you think the Maggots would leave dangerous weapons adrift for any fool to use?” the Oumic asked rhetorically. “You never had a chance.”

“But I’m Aware,” Kop protested. “I know that bomb was live.”

“You knew only what I allowed you to know. The bomb was illusion.”

So it seemed. They had, as the alien said, never had a chance. Kop’s Awareness had been functioning as usual in other respects, enabling him to bring the bomb here unobserved. It had never occurred to him that an alien mind had joined his own, blocking off both his Awareness of its presence and the trap set for him. It had not occurred to him because the alien blocked him.

“Now you are catching on. We have dawdled long enough,” the Oumic said. “The master is hungry.”

Then the two of us marched on into the building. I was not conscious of being directed; it seemed that the imperative was my own, though I now knew it was not. Here the odor was a magnitude greater. I was surprised that the people of the neighborhood had not remarked on it.

“What people?” the Oumic asked. “They have all been reduced. You are the last; we saved the two of you for two purposes.”

Was there any point in asking what those purposes were? We would surely learn it all too soon.

We came to a kind of office. There was a person sized grub, with several little forefeet, a slimy snout, several body segments, and a tail that oozed excrement. It smelled even worse than the building. But its mind was quite another matter. Telepathic awareness fairly radiated from it, overwhelmingly powerful.

This, I realized, was a Maggot.

Kess walked forward, seized by the rapacious mind of the Maggot. I tried to call out to her, warning her to stay away from it, but its mind had control of mine too. All I could do was stand there, mute.

“Canned meat is fine,” the Oumic said in my mind. “But Maggots prefer live meat when it is available.”

Kess rapidly stripped away her apparel and threw it aside. Then she went right up to the awful thing, reaching her forelimbs out toward it as if seeking to embrace its gross torso. But it was neither love nor sex it sought. Its snout oriented, and squirted translucent juice that soaked her skin. She screamed in utter agony as that strong digestive acid melted her flesh and continued penetrating to the bone, but she did not flee.

Beloved! I cried internally, still unmoving.

“The Maggot appreciates your pain also,” the Oumic said with my mouth. “That is one reason you are witnessing this.”

The Maggot applied its gross snout to that dissolving flesh and slurped it in with gusto. Kess continued to scream. She could not move or defend herself, only shriek as the pain of dissolution continued. Just as I could not move or defend her, only watch in horror.

When her forelimbs were gone, Kess bent forward as if to kiss the monster. It squirted more liquid on her head. She screamed anew as her fur, skin, and face dissolved, then the bone of her skull. When the pulsing matter of her brain was exposed, the Maggot put its snout to it and sucked it in, slowly hollowing out her head.

Before long Kess stopped screaming. Her vocal apparatus had dissolved. But she was still hurting; I could tell by the helpless quivering of her body. Not until most of the brain was gone did I know that she had found the relief of death. Beloved! I repeated, stunned by grief and desolation.

At which point the Maggot stopped eating. “Dead meat is less tasty,” the Oumic remarked.

Now I walked forward. Was it my turn to be eaten? Why not; I had nothing left to live for. But the Maggot settled back on its fat posterior, squeezing out fecal pudding, ignoring me. I reached down, grabbed hold of Kess’s remaining torso, heaved it up on my shoulder, and walked out of the chamber. I went to a large hopper and dumped the body in. There was a grinding sound as it disappeared into that mechanical maw. It was being rendered into meat for canning.

The Oumic took me on a tour of the slaughterhouse, showing me how the naked people were marched inside, ascended a ramp, and dived into the open orifice of a larger meat grinder. They didn’t even scream; apparently that was merely for the enjoyment of the Maggot during its repast. The rate of reduction seemed to be about one per second, and the line was continuous. This was only one of many grinders, and one of many slaughterhouses. Giant pipes conducted the slurry to the canning section where it was rendered into barrels of paste. These barrels were loaded onto the cars of the rail facility, which then were sent to the spaceport.

It required a lot of meat to feed the full Maggot force. The life of our entire planet was being efficiently converted to that sustenance.

At the conclusion of my involuntary tour, I paused at a dispenser of small cans. I took one and opened it. I tried to balk, but the Oumic had possession of my willpower. “Yes, it’s fresh; your sister may be part of the mix. You need to eat, as you have work to do.”

I ate, though my gut retched. I had no power of resistance.

“You are an intelligent, trained, experienced executive,” the Oumic informed me. “You will learn the details of instituting, constructing, and staffing a slaughterhouse. For this chore your life is spared, for perhaps a year of conscious functioning.”

“I’d rather die!” I retorted, now able to speak.

“So would we all. But we have no choice. The Maggots govern, and they are hungry.”

“Why should I learn this, when my world is already doomed?”

“You will direct this operation on the next world.”

I was dully surprised. “Then what of you?”

“My term is expiring. Within months my body will be canned, and my mind will cease. You will continue on your own.”

“Yet you continue to do their dreadful business!”

“As will you.” I could not question his certainty.

He trained me, and in due course his mind faded from mine and I knew he had been canned. He had not seemed like a bad sort, considering. All of us simply obeyed the will of the Maggots.

In due course my planet was exhausted. It was nothing but a layer of shit surrounding islands of slaughterhouses. All the original life, animals, insects, plants, bacteria were gone; only feces-eating entities remained. I was packed into a spaceship and put in stasis, for how long I do not know. Later I was revived and my mind was sent to occupy that of one of the selected denizens of the next planet slated for reduction. This one. I observed for several months, learning the local details so I could perform my assignment effectively when the time came. Once that was done, I would be canned.

There was just one bright spot. In that time I came to know you, Elasa, and to love you.

You see, you have two aspects I require, apart from your animation, beauty, and intellect. You are not alive, so I do not feel as if I am somehow cheating on my beloved sibling Kess. Because you are not made of flesh, the Maggots will be unable to eat you, and I will be spared that horror. That makes you safe in another respect. I am satisfied to endure my remaining months in your company. I would love to have you succeed in defending your planet from the Maggots, but I can neither assist you nor encourage you in that lost cause. I can only find faint solace in loving you.

I have rendered this narrative into your vernacular for more ready comprehension, adapting things like body parts to the closest equivalents you have. Now you know my story. I hope you will come to care for me despite it.

I will return this body to its original owner for a while, so that you will have the illusion of privacy as you assimilate my narrative.

Chapter 7:

Analyste

“This is amazing,” Elasa said. “A thorough alien invasion not for dominance, but simply for food. That’s all they want our planet for: a passing fast-food stop.”

“And I, or rather, my body, is facilitating it,” Pauling said. “All my organizational expertise is co-opted to destroy my people. And I can do nothing about it.”

Elasa smiled. “That’s my job. It may be impossible, but I’ll have to try.”

“Kop believes it is impossible. I gather the Maggots made a survey of Earth’s resources and concluded that it lacked the ability to stop them. Which is not surprising, as few if any galactic species have made them pause even briefly. They expect to eat the galaxy.”

“Well we do have some precognition. That’s what warned us of this threat.”

“They have it too. Not the Maggots, but their captive species, whose powers become theirs. Their precognition indicates that Earth has nothing sufficient.”

“Well, we’ll just have to hope something comes up.”

He smiled. “Kop doubts you have anything, but he likes the aura of your illusion. He hates the Maggots.”

“But serves them loyally.”

“He has no choice, any more than I do. He has felt the direct power of a Maggot; nothing on Earth can withstand even a single one of those monsters, and they have millions.”

“I must go,” Elasa said. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this ugly business, Paul.”

“So am I.” He shrugged. “I love you. So does Kop. At least our final months are in your company.”

“That’s sweet.” Elasa departed.

Adela was with her on the drive home. “We do have a way,” she said. “But it is devious and fraught with danger. We are treading extremely carefully.”

“It can’t be more dangerous than doing nothing and getting eaten by the Maggots.”

“True. But there is luck involved. We have worked with Bunky to clarify the path, and we are on it, but we can’t be certain we will succeed.”

“I thought precognition made it certain.”

“Not when there is precognition on both sides. They tend to cancel each other out. One side makes a plan, the other side makes a counter-plan, and the result is future-vision chaos.”

“But then how can the Maggots be so sure they’ll win?”

“More than ninety-nine point nine nine percent of the likely paths give them the victory. Those are acceptable odds.”

“And we have only one hundredth of one percent chance to stave them off?”

“Not even that. Our odds are so small they don’t even register on the chart.”

“Then what gives us any hope at all?”

“We are zeroing in on that one faint chance. We have a secret weapon they don’t know about.”

“What secret weapon?”

Adela smiled. “If I told you, I would have to kill you.”

“I can’t be killed!”

“So I can’t tell you.”

Elasa sighed. The logic was tight. “I will gladly leave it to you.”

“No, you are the centerpiece. Without you we would have no chance.”

“I can’t be your secret weapon!”

“True. But you are the one who will wield it.”

“You have more for me to do?” Elasa asked, surprised. “I thought that zeroing in the key personnel and getting the story of the Maggots would conclude my part.”

“Here is the thing: you are the only conscious person on Earth whose mind can not be read or taken over by the minions of the Maggots. That makes you central.”

“But I have no idea how to stop them!”

“You don’t need to know, yet. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Maintaining a placid home life while having a weekly affair with a high Earth official and/or an alien spy. This does not seem like much of a resistance effort.”

“The Maggots agree. They know you mean to stop them if you can. Every person on this planet wants to stop them. They don’t care. Now they know you’re a robot. It doesn’t matter. They have encountered machines before. It simply means you are inedible. They are not concerned.”

“How do you know so much about the Maggots?”

“When Kop told you his history, the Lamb and I read his wider thoughts. He learned a lot about the Maggots while working for them. Now we know what he knows.”

“The Maggots seem pretty arrogant.”

“They are. But also unstoppable. Until now.”

“Do you believe that, or are you merely giving me hope?”

“Yes.”

Elasa did not pursue it farther. She had plenty to assimilate regardless.

She dropped Adela off at an empty corner. The Aware would find her own way back into anonymity. Then she drove to her house.

Banner welcomed her home. He knew she had been having sex with another man, but he loved her and trusted her. She welcomed that attitude. She practically dragged him into bed.

Then she got together with the Companions. Lamb, Vulture, Python—she had come to love them all. They identified more with Mona, who had brought them to Earth, and they preferred her, but had become friends with Elasa.

*

Time passed in the current mode. Elasa continued her affair(s) and Earth continued its routine, not even noticing the appearance of huge new buildings near city centers. Evidently the titans of the media had been taken over, and anyone who tried to raise a question was quietly silenced. Elasa was amazed by how readily Earth was submitting to the looming disaster. But by similar token, it was clear that any potentially effective resistance would have to be hidden, because the Maggots were quite capable of extinguishing it the moment it manifested.

So the Maggot menace cruised steadily closer. Elasa knew that their ships were now visible to Earth’s observers, but as with the Qqqs there was no alarm. Earth remained almost willfully blind. Could she run in the street crying “The Maggots are coming! The Maggots are coming!” and thus publicize the peril? Hardly; that would just get her institutionalized, if any attention was paid at all.

What did the Awares have in mind? Elasa was desperately curious, but also knew it was best to remain ignorant, lest she give it away prematurely. Yet the schedule for opening the slaughterhouses was approaching. Once that process started, it was likely to be too late. As it was, the Companions, here in exchange, were nearing the end of their term, and would have to exchange back to Jones. Mona also planned to exchange, so she could have a baby with her husband Brian. If the Maggots didn’t eat Earth first.

The threat was like a dark cloud intensifying as it loomed. But it seemed that only she could see it. The rest of the world went placidly in its petty pace, with no notion of the dreadful doom about to be unleashed.

Then the ship from Colony Jones arrived, and a woman delivered Venus Flytrap to Mona, who promptly brought it to Elasa. Bunky immediately went to sniff noses, as it were, and so did Vulture and Python. The four were old friends. The plant was larger now, and would soon need a new pot. Elasa had tamed Venus, but Mona had spent far more time with her on Jones. It would be an experience getting to know this more mature version. It would be a minor distraction from the larger disaster that had been tormenting Elasa the past few months.

She introduced the Plant to her son Bela with a certain caution. But in the presence of the Companions, who knew about Plants and babies, it was all right. They gave Venus the word, and it was clear that she and Bela would get along. Just as Venus and Elen’s baby Elmo had got along on Jones, according to Mona.

“Now we must have a welcoming party for the Plant,” Mona said brightly. “Brian and I will attend. Tomorrow night.”

“But I have an appointment with Pauling Hudson,” Elasa said. “I don’t think it wise for him to see Venus.” Because that would give the information to Kop, who would relay it to the Maggots. That was likely mischief, since the Plant was supposed to relate to the resistance effort in some manner.

“That is covered,” Mona said.

“Are you sure?” Elasa had not discussed any of the Maggot threat with her friend, fearing that would just put Mona in danger.

“Adela will take him to visit with her people.”

Mona knew of Adela? That meant she was in the loop. The Awares were going to meet Kop? It was true that he was one of them, in a sense, but this seemed phenomenally risky. Yet if the Awares wanted it, there had to be a reason. “Then I leave it in your hands.”

“Adela will pick him up. They know each other.”

They did, but Elasa wondered how much Mona had been told. Did she have any idea of the magnitude of the danger? So she spoke cautiously. “Complicated matters are afoot.”

Mona smiled. “Yes, Bunky has advised me. I will avoid contact with the alien, lest he read my mind. I will be safe with you.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Elasa said fervently.

“We’ll play cards.” Mona departed.

Cards? This was becoming unreal.

Elasa set up for the party next day. She called Pauling to make sure. “I understand you will be otherwise occupied tonight.”

“Yes, Adela has invited me to party with her friends, giving you the evening off. That is fine.”

“Is it? I am concerned. There could be awkwardness.” If not outright world-imperiling danger. Were the Awares planning to kill the Maggot agent? That would be foolhardy in the extreme.

Then it was Kop’s voice. “Elasa, we’re Awares.”

“Oh.” And Awares knew what they were doing, pretty much by definition. Evidently Kop and the Awares had some understanding, and all parties knew it was all right. If they weren’t making some mistake similar to the one Kop had made before he knew there was an alien in his head. “All right, then. I’m not an Aware. I didn’t know.”

“Are you jealous?” he asked teasingly. “I was never jealous of your husband.”

She had to laugh. “Maybe that’s it.” But what was going on?

Mona and Brian arrived for the party. Brian too knew Venus from of old. “You wouldn’t tempt an old friend, would you?” he asked.

Bunky and the animals came to stand close around Elasa, and with their telepathic ambiance she was able to see what Brian saw. The solitary green stem became a breathtakingly lovely young woman, nude. “Do you wish to be tempted?” she asked.

Brian glanced at Mona. “He wouldn’t dare,” Mona said, forcing a frown. Then both laughed, and Venus laughed with them.

Oh, yes, Venus had matured in the interim. She was no longer the virginal creature Elasa had harvested on Jones. Now she was showing her image to all of them, male and female, and teasing Brian without really trying to seduce him. Her seduction, of course, was deadly. She had no mind of her own; that was borrowed from the human company. But even so, she had personality.

Yet how could a telepathic vampire plant affect the outcome of the struggle to save Earth from the Maggots? Venus’s mode of predation was to lure a man into sex with her, the sexy woman illusion buttressed by pheromones concealing the fact that the penis was actually entering the cone of the blood-sucking leaf and in effect ejaculating blood rather than semen. As far as she knew, Maggots did not have sex; they grew and fissioned. So the vampire could not drain their blood that way, assuming she could make a tempting projection, and in any event it would require millions of flytraps to make a dent in the alien horde. Mona had spoken of the sheep’s vision of a giant flytrap closing on the planet Earth, but the threat was actually the Maggots; the flytrap seemed irrelevant.

Bunky nuzzled her. She focused on what the Companions were telling her, again appreciating the manner they lent her a fleeting semblance of telepathy. RELEVANT. VENUS IS THE KEY. Not exactly those words, but the essence.

Her doubt was overruled. The Lamb’s precognition was sure. Not that the plan would work, but that this was the path that would do it if it was destined to succeed. With precognition, the certainty was impossible to refute. She believed.

Elasa hugged them all. “Thank you, friends,” she murmured. Then Vulture and Python retreated to the garden, where they felt more comfortable, and Bela went along. Banner sat down beside Elasa. He had known throughout that complicated things were afoot, but never inquired. That had spared Elasa the need to lie to him.

“Play for us, Brian,” Mona said.

Brian brought out his merliton. Elasa remembered it from her visit to the Colony. He played a light classical piece that was transcendentally beautiful. Elasa was charmed, as she had been before.

Then he played a song. Now Mona sang along with him. Elasa, remembering also, joined in. “He who is noble, pure and simple-hearted, needs not a weapon, needs no man to guard him; virtue defends him.”

“Oh, I love this,” Elasa said as they finished. “Just relaxing with friends, as if we don’t face the worst crisis the world has known.”

“Let’s see how Kop is doing,” Brian said.

“Coming up,” Banner agreed. He turned on the wall phone. The life-sized picture looked like a window to an adjacent room.

There was Pauling/Kop in the embrace of Adela and another pretty female Aware. All three were naked, and he was sandwiched between the two girls, who were kissing him front and back as he clasped their bodies. It looked like a porn movie. They had evidently had sex at least once, and were working up to another bout. The male Awares were munching on crackers, like spectators at a show.

Elasa was surprised. “How can Awares be caught off-guard like this?”

“Nobody’s off-guard,” Banner said. “They all know we’re the only ones peeking, and that we won’t tell. They’re just having fun.”

“Methinks there’s an element of exhibitionism in them,” Mona said.

“And of voyeurism in us,” Elasa said.

“Awares seldom get to show off,” Banner said. “It must get wearing, being always invisible.”

“But how can Kop be part of this?” Elasa asked. “Do the Maggots allow it?”

“What, moralistic Maggots?” Banner asked. “They don’t care, as long as he does his job. He’ll be dead in six months. They have probably learned that their minions need a little leeway on occasion if they are to perform well.”

“You two males are enjoying this too much,” Mona said. “Turn it off.”

Banner made a show of reluctance, and turned it off. “And of course it distracts Kop from anything we might be doing here, which is the point.”

“Singing a song?” Elasa asked.

“Not exactly. We’re establishing the rules of engagement.”

“I must be missing something,” Elasa said.

“Now we shall play cards,” Mona said brightly. She turned on the monitor and touched the buttons to put the cards on display. “This is the ancient standby, Klondike. You know the rules?”

“Sure,” Brian said. “Never saw it on the screen before. Back where I came from, we have physical decks of cards.”

“You’re not where you come from, dear,” she said, kissing him. Indeed, on his home planet he would be in his own body, while Mona would occupy the body of an appealing elf woman. Here he was in a borrowed body, while Mona was in her own superlatively endowed one, to his evident constant amorous delight. That was the nature of exchange romance.

Meanwhile Elasa downloaded the rules for the game. It was straightforward: seven rows of cards were dealt with one to seven cards in a row, the bottom card of each pile face up. 28 cards in all, with the remainder of the deck of 52 in a separate stack. There were places for four aces, which were supposed to be built up in suits to kings, to win. Cards could be placed on the next higher number, the colors alternating. This particular deal had the ace and two of spades turned up; they went immediately to the first stack, exposing a black seven and black six.

“Play, Elasa,” Mona said.

“But this is solitaire, limited to a single player. I assumed we would play an interactive game, like Rummy or Bridge.” Though the problem there was that Elasa would play flawlessly, giving her an unfair advantage. This whole business seemed largely pointless.

“We’ll watch you play.”

And the Lamb sent her a go-ahead thought.

Elasa shrugged and moved a red six to the seven and a red five to the six. There was nothing else to do, so she turned over the first card of the talon, as it was called. This was a black seven, unplayable. The next was a red five, also unplayable. The third was a black two, unplayable. Eventually playable cards turned up, but in the end the game was lost with only five cards built on the foundations. It was not much of a game, because there was very little actual skill involved; the chances for victory depended overwhelmingly on the random deal of the cards.

“Did you notice the Game Solver indication?” Mona asked.

“It indicated the obvious: that the game was questionable from the beginning, and in the end could not be won.”

“Now try Free Cell,” Mona said. “The cards are all laid out face up, and every game there can be won.”

“But just try to do it,” Brian said. “The route can be obscure as hell.”

“The solver helps,” Mona said. “Because it informs you the moment you go wrong. It’s the ‘analyste,’ the program that constantly analyzes the potential moves. It doesn’t tell you how to win, just when you go wrong. Then you back off a move and try another. Eventually you will get there.”

Elasa played the game, and it was so. “But I do that anyway,” she said. “I’ll always win.”

“In cards,” Mona agreed. “But the game we are in to save Earth is beyond your computing capacity.”

“Yes, of course,” Elasa agreed, nettled. She was not comfortable with things that were not answerable to her logic.

“Now the relevance,” Mona said. “According to Bunky and the Awares, you are the Player. The Awares are the Analyste. The Maggots are the cards. You must deal with them without ever going wrong, lest Earth be lost. The Awares can’t tell you how to play or even give you a strategy; all they can do is warn you when you leave the correct path. Sometimes even they will be uncertain, so it will be your judgment.”

“My judgment? I’m a machine!”

“You’re a woman deriving from a machine. There’s a difference, as you know.”

Indeed she did. Mona had been her friend throughout, helping her to be the woman she longed to be.

Elasa thought of something else. “Meanwhile Kop is cavorting with the Awares. Are they telling him how to play?”

“Yes, in their fashion. He has to thread the deviously narrow course between his necessary duties as an enemy agent and his private desire to please you and somehow get back at the Maggots for destroying his world.”

“Getting him to love me—that’s part of the plan?”

“Yes. You are central, throughout.”

“He’s a decent guy, for an alien agent bent on destroying our planet.”

“So the Companions and Awares informed me,” Mona agreed.

“But he knows they are his enemy.”

“They are the Maggots’ enemy. There too is a difference, as you also know.”

“But if the Maggots know whatever he knows--”

“They’re not paying attention. That’s the arrogance of power.”

So it might be. As an Aware Kop should know what he could get away with. Or was he simply gambling, since he did not have very much longer to live anyway? “How is it that you got roped into this awful business? I thought to spare you.”

“Bunky loves me, as I love him,” Mona said. “He couldn’t keep it from me, so the Awares made the best of it. After all, I’m the one who brought the news of the big threat to Earth that started all this, with the sheep’s image of the giant flytrap. I’m okay as long as I don’t know the details of the path.”

“Let’s hope that none of us ever have to learn the full details.”

“Let’s hope,” Mona agreed.

But still Elasa wondered: how did Venus relate, and what was the point of calculating the odds of success, whether in cards or life? What they needed was an effective course of action.

Chapter 8:

Cutoff

Adela appeared. “Tomorrow, for your regular date, take the Plant to each of the key personnel we visited before.”

“That’s impractical,” Elasa said. “That was a tour Pauling made. He couldn’t justify making the same trip again.”

“Kop will arrange it.”

“In violation of his duty to the Maggots? That will attract their attention. We can’t afford that yet.”

“It is time.”

Bunky nudged her, sending a mental impulse. Yes, it was time. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Will you be along?”

“Yes. To be sure the timing is right. The Plant is primed, but it will be better if I guide it.”

“Better,” Elasa agreed, relieved. At least the Aware would have some notion what was happening.

Elasa made desperate love to Banner that night. “Tomorrow it starts,” she whispered.

“I love you.” Which was all the answer she needed. She had first encountered him as a sex object, but had become much more in the course of her association with him, and she remained forever grateful.

In the morning she took Bunky, packed the heavy pot in the car, and drove to the hotel for the regular rendezvous. She toted it up the stairs to the suite. No one seemed to notice, maybe because Adela was along and subtly guiding her.

Kop welcomed her, as usual, with a hug and kiss and a feel. “What is that?”

Elasa hesitated, but then she saw Adela standing there with Bunky, nodding affirmatively. She could tell the truth. “This is Venus Flytrap, a vampire plant I tamed on Colony Planet Jones and had shipped to Earth.”

He gazed at Venus. “She’s telepathic!”

“Yes. She feeds by luring men into having sex with her, and sucking blood from their penises. She uses pheromones and projective illusion.”

“So I see. She has assumed the form of the world’s most sexy woman, present company excluded. Even though you and Adela have given me marvelous good times, Venus is even more alluring. She resembles my sibling lover Kess. Were I not an Aware, I would likely succumb despite knowing her nature.” He leaned toward the Plant, intrigued. “Since I do know her nature, I will not try to have sex with her. She does not have power over me. Yet she was surely brought here for a reason. I would like to fathom that reason.”

“So would I,” Elasa said.

Adela and the Lamb came close.

Kop looked up, startled. “What just happened?”

“We just freed you,” Adela said.

“I have lost my connection to my home base!”

“Yes,” Adela agreed. “But it will be a week before the Maggots know. We waited until just after your regular report. We have much to do in that time.”

“I must report!” Kop said, agitated. “I don’t wait on routine when something significant occurs.”

“Report,” Adela agreed.

“But I can’t reach the base! There’s no connection!”

“I’m confused,” Elasa said. “What did happen?”

“Venus projected an illusion that scrambles the access code in Kop’s mind,” Adela said. “He can no longer dial out, as it were, or receive incoming calls. The system remains in place undisturbed, but his memory is flawed. In effect he has forgotten his password.”

“But if I don’t report on schedule, they will assume I have been corrupted and cut me off from my body,” Kop said. “Then my identity will slowly fade away.”

“You will die,” Adela agreed. “In the course of perhaps six months. Then there will only be Pauling in this host. But look at it this way: you would have died about that time anyway, as your mission on Earth was completed; they will dump your body into the grinder regardless. We have not actually shortened your life, but we have freed the last part of it.”

Kop assessed the situation, using his Awareness. “The Plant is the key. It was not on Earth before, and without it Earth is lost, so the Maggots were assured of victory. Had I picked up on Venus’s arrival on Earth, I would have had to destroy her immediately. But I was not paying attention. I never thought to run a routine telepathic or precog check. I was distracted. By you.”

“It was some party,” Adela agreed. “We made sure you thought of nothing beyond the moment. I must confess, it was fun for us too. You are some lover.”

Suddenly Elasa understood. While she and her Companions were welcoming Venus, Adela and the Awares were distracting Kop. Lonely for his own kind, as the Awares were in spirit, he had enthusiastically participated. And never caught on to the new presence of the key element in the game. He had later made his routine report, lulling his alien masters. Now the Awares had struck, using Venus. The battle for Earth was on. Timing, as the Awares had stressed, was everything.

“Congratulations,” Kop said. “That was well played.”

“Thank you,” Adela said.

“I did not know of this,” Elasa said. “Only that I should bring Venus to you, and that she was in some manner the key to our campaign. It is as if we are playing a game of cards, and Venus is my tool for progress. I don’t necessarily know what I’m doing.”

“You are innocent,” he agreed. “That is not a fault.”

“I have a question. Are you now a captive enemy agent, or are you with us?”

Kop laughed. “I am both. I have hated the Maggots from the outset, but was powerless to oppose their will. Now perhaps I have a chance to make them pay, to some slight degree, for the grief they have inflicted on me. I will make you this deal: be my lovers, the two of you, and I will do everything in my considerable power to facilitate your mission. Working closely together we just may succeed in saving your planet.”

“That is the object,” Adela agreed, stepping out of her clothing to stand with nymph-like sex appeal. As an Aware she was quite ready for this.

Elasa realized that the Awares had played for this too, by giving him a taste of the pleasure they could offer him when they chose: not merely Kop’s nullification as an agent, but his enthusiastic cooperation. That would immeasurably enhance their chances of success.

There followed another sandwich with the man in the middle. As Elasa knew, men put inordinate store in sex, and would often put their entire careers in jeopardy for its transient pleasures. Men could be utter fools. But Kop had little to lose long term, and much immediate pleasure to gain by helping them. Both Elasa and the Awares had freely played on that to convert him to their side, and he knew it. Now they freely delivered.

Then they got to work on the mission. There were a number of important government figures to be nullified, but to do it they had to get Venus Flytrap close to them. They had been primed during Elasa’s prior tour, so that the Plant, guided by the Lamb, guided in turn by the Aware, could readily locate the spot and fudge the settings. It was painless, actually imperceptible to the men, until they tried to communicate with the alien home base. Then they were on their own. They could join the Earth defense effort if they chose, as Kop had, or remain aloof; in either event they would remain cut off from the Maggots.

Kop turned the body over to Pauling, who promptly organized a spur of the moment duplicate tour to update the prior one. No one questioned him; Pauling remained a top official, and Kop remained, as far as the other Maggot agents knew, a top enemy agent. Elasa accompanied him as his personal secretary, as before, and Adela and Bunky came along too, unlisted. Plus one decorative plant, Venus. During the long flights they had frequent sex interspersed by discussion, while Bunky communed companionably with Venus. As a wether, a neutered sheep, Bunky had no interest in sex, which also protected him from Venus.

“Now you know the Maggots are not going to accept this without objection,” Kop said. “When a number of agents fail to report, they will try to send clarifying directives, and when those fail, they will realize that something is wrong. There are two ways they may proceed: if they conclude that the human form is fundamentally unstable, so that transfer agents are subject to random elimination, they may conclude that this world is too awkward to process conveniently, and will bypass it and move on. In that event Earth will be spared, for now. But more likely they will be suspicious, and will send a Maggot to investigate physically. That would be mischief.”

“I presume we can’t simply lay an ambush and assassinate the Maggot when it arrives,” Elasa said. “How would they react to the death of a Maggot? Would they blow up the whole planet?”

“And waste all that good meat?” Adela asked.

“Wasting good meat is anathema,” Kop said. “They will either harvest Earth, or bypass it, because there is also the potential for a future harvest. But because a bypass represents a certain loss of productive energy and postponement of gratification, they are likely to investigate first. The Maggot’s report will govern: proceed with the harvest, or bypass this world. But yes, you can’t simply lay an ambush. The Maggot will have more mental power than a thousand local inhabitants, and all of them will be immediately under its sway. All of them will defend the Maggot to the death. In fact several will give up their lives, screaming, as it feeds on them. No living thing will get close without being taken over and serving the Maggot’s purpose. It will soon know the situation, and make the decision.”

“So if a Maggot lands, Earth is lost?” Elasa asked. “Since human hosts aren’t unstable, and we would not be able to nullify any that the Maggot is directly controlling, if they have not been zeroed in.”

“Correct. If a Maggot lands, Earth is surely lost. And I judge that to be the likely choice.” He lifted an eyebrow in tacit query. “Unless your Lamb or Plant have some other ploy available.”

“We have Elasa,” Adela said.

“Whose mind can’t be read or taken over,” Kop agreed. “She could at least make an effort to take out the Maggot. But when it discovered that it could not control her, it would orient the living captives on her, and they would attack in a coordinated mass, heedless of losses. She would have to mow them down with a machine-gun, and probably would run out of bullets before they stopped coming. They would converge and tear her apart, literally.”

“If I had a machine-gun,” Elasa said, “I would use it to mow the Maggot down.”

“Good thought,” Kop agreed. “But meanwhile the captive folk would be throwing themselves between you and it, to take the bullets, and a number would be firing at you, aiming at eyes and legs so as to disable you. Even well armed, your chances of killing a Maggot are remote. It is not a situation you should seek.”

“Are you saying we can’t stop the Maggot if it comes here?” Elasa asked.

“I’m saying that killing it would be no easy task. It might be better to do what I attempted to do: nuke it. A missile fired from a safe distance might do it.”

“But the other casualties!” Elasa protested.

“This ain’t beanbag,” Kop reminded her. “Anyway, chances are that the key personnel required to make a nuclear strike would be under Maggot control, so that wouldn’t work either.”

“So our best course is to persuade the Maggots that Earth is not suitable for harvesting at the moment,” Elasa said. “Is that possible?”

“It is unlikely, because Earth is eminently suitable for harvesting. Only if there were some suggestion that it would cost more to reduce than it would be worth, would they decide to bypass it. The mysterious disappearance of their agents, suggesting that Earth has ways to spot and eliminate them, might do it. But I suspect they will send the Maggot.”

“Which will likely doom us,” Elasa concluded.

“Exactly. You have a nice touch here, cutting off their agents, but it’s not enough in itself. You need something more.”

“We’ll work on it,” Elasa said.

They met with the first foreign official, and sure enough, he had been possessed by a minion of the Maggots. He was telepathic and precognitive, but not using either talent at the moment, for reasons Kop had clarified before: short-range precog was too changeable, and other minds were messy. “What’s this about, Kop?” he demanded. “We’re busy here, about to go into harvest mode.” He eyed Elasa, surely aware from his host of her prior visit. “Not that a brief pause would be unwelcome.”

“There is a complication,” Kop said. “We’re not going into harvest mode.”

“Surely you jest.”

“I have something to show you,” Elasa said, carrying the Plant toward him.

But now the agent’s Awareness registered. “That thing is dangerous!”

Elasa stood and opened her shirt to display her breasts. The man looked, momentarily distracted. In that moment, Adela and Venus struck.

The man froze. “You cut me off,” he said, surprised.

“Your best bet is to put your host’s mind back in charge, so he can start reversing the preparations for the harvest,” Kop said. “You have plenty to do, just not what it was.”

“Yes, of course,” the man agreed, looking somewhat dizzy. His Awareness was stabilizing him, showing him the best course through this new reality.

They moved out, heading for the next meeting. Elasa knew they had to keep moving, because once the Maggots caught on that they were losing their agents, they would immediately act to safeguard the remaining ones.

“Can we get them all in time?” she asked.

Adela put her hand on Bunky’s back. “We think so. But we can’t be sure of the ones not on our immediate circuit. Other Awares traveled with Bunky to set them up, but there is no clear indication of complete success.”

“And Bunky is with us now,” Elasa said. “And Venus. They can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Yes. Anticipating this problem, we primed the others slightly differently.”

“Differently?”

“It’s a cruder setting. When they try to contact the Maggots, their memories will short circuit, throwing them into convulsions. Some may die.”

“Won’t that attract attention?”

“Yes. That’s why it’s not the preferred mode. But we could not allow them to continue to function as Maggot minions.”

“I suppose not,” Elasa agreed. She didn’t like it, but as Kop had said, this wasn’t beanbag. Beanbag was a cloth bag filled with dried beans, used in children’s games. They were playing for much higher stakes. At least the ones they nullified personally would be able to retire peacefully, making no waves, and their hosts would emerge in due course, perhaps not badly scathed.

In the course of the excursion, Elasa got to see the formidable processing stations being set up. The local one was a slaughterhouse, but that was only one element of a multi-pronged program. Walking meat could be marched into the station and fed into the grinders, but what of sea, insect, and plant life? They visited a huge underwater center designed to generate a major ocean current that would sweep in all swimming things and chop them up and can them with the flow of water almost unimpeded. Another station was designed to set up a flow of air with tornado force that would draw in all flying things from birds to insects, filtering out the dust and rocks and compacting the flesh. Another was mobile, a giant mower type apparatus that would crunch overland and sweep in and grind up all plant life. If houses and buildings got in the way, well, the wood in them was organic and the metals, plastics and stone could be recycled into the manufacture of more harvest machines. Of course this would not be good for the health of the planet, but that was a non-issue: there would be no survivors anyway.

“You mentioned poop,” Elasa said, morbidly fascinated. “If everything gets canned and shipped out, where does the poop come from?”

“Poop gets shipped in,” Kop explained. “It can get messy leaving it in space, so it is loaded into the cargo ships and brought to Earth in an almost continuous conveyor line. Then the ships are reloaded with canned meat and head back out to the fleet within hours. It’s very efficient.”

“But what happens to it on Earth? Is it just one monstrous pile burying the city?”

“No, that would interfere with the food processing. Instead it is vaporized and blown high into the atmosphere, where in time—days, weeks, months—it will settle out like volcanic ash and form a growing layer across the globe. There the feces processors—mostly natural bacteria—will feast on it.”

“But all that—that shit in the air will make it unbreathable,” Elasa protested.

He glanced at her. “What part of ‘no survivors’ did you not understand?”

The tour continued, and all of their contacts were quietly nullified. So far there was no commotion, and no evidence of mischief from the Maggots.

Then as they returned there came news of a mysterious wave of incidents around the world, wherein important people had acted in crazy ways. One encouraging thing was that the news was not suppressed. That suggested that the Maggot censorship had been abated. There were no reported incidents among the people Elasa’s party had visited, indicating that the controls remained, but that the harvesting was not starting.

As Elasa and her companions returned home, the corner seemed to have been turned. But was it enough? The final decision remained in the deadly hands of the Maggots.

“It does not look good,” Adela murmured. “Bunky can’t see a clear outcome. The decision remains obscure.”

So it still could go either way. Elasa hated that.

Chapter 9:

Maggot

It did not take long to clarify. “They are sending a Maggot,” Adela reported after communing with Bunky. “It will arrive in two days.”

“And I’m the only one whose mind it can’t take over,” Elasa said grimly.

“You and Venus. Maggots are not adept at handling plant minds.”

“Because they don’t have minds, strictly speaking. But if you’re with Venus, it could get at her through your mind.”

“Yes. So you must be with Venus.”

“I must be with Venus,” Elasa agreed. “She was always my plant. At least we can travel incognito. Where are we going?”

“The Maggot will go to the slaughterhouse to stage its investigation. They like to feed while they think.”

“But it has been established that I can’t kill it, alone.”

“You will have help.”

That was much of what she needed to know. “I think I’ll need it.”

“One other thing,” Adela said. “The Maggot is already broadcasting to the remaining minions on Earth. A warrant for your arrest has just been issued. The police will be here in nine minutes.”

Of course the Maggot knew about her; she’d been having the affair with Kop. Now she realized that cutting his line did not end his connection to the Maggots; it merely interrupted it. The Maggot might already be reconnecting, and was naturally suspicious of Elasa, for excellent reason.

Elasa explained things briefly to Banner, put Venus in her car and headed for the slaughterhouse as she heard the police siren approaching. Banner would handle it, saying she had just left, but he expected her back soon. That might turn out to be a long wait.

Unfortunately the police were not completely fooled. There was a backup car that evidently had the description of her car; it made a U-turn when she passed, and took off after her. They did not know where she was going.

What she would do when she got there she didn’t know, but at least she would be on the scene. But first she had to shake the pursuit. Because it was evident that the Maggot did not want to meet her on her terms; it wanted her nullified. Not all the Maggot’s agents had been nulled, or else new ones had been made, including the local police chief. She would not survive arrest.

Damn! She wished she had Bunky along, to precog the dangers and steer her correctly. But he had to be with the Awares now, because they could understand him more directly.

She looked ahead. Another police car was coming through an intersection, toward her, siren going. They had her boxed in. In thirty seconds she would be sandwiched between them.

“Venus, I need help,” she said. “You’re telepathic; I’m not. You may be in touch with Bunky and the Awares. Your stem is prehensile, and you can hear. If I were a living person you could talk directly to me, but maybe indirect will do. Touch the right side of the dashboard before you for YES, the left side for NO. Do you understand me?”

The curled leaf touched the right side. Voila! That was YES.

“Point the way I must go to escape capture.”

The stem pointed to the right.

Elasa slewed the car into a sharp right turn and cruised into a narrow alley. Behind her the two police cars almost collided; she had barely escaped that vice. But she knew their confusion would not last long. Already she could hear the siren of a cruiser circling to intercept her at the far end of the alley.

“Where now?”

The stem pointed toward the back of the car.

Elasa didn’t argue. She braked and turned, finding a widening in the alley, and spun the car around to face back the way it had come. She gunned it forward, noting that the stem now pointed forward. She shot across the road, right between the two stopped police cars, and entered the alley on the other side.

The stem pointed left. Elasa slewed left, into another alley, then right, then left again, following Venus’s signals. She knew Bunky was the one guiding her, and she trusted him.

She wasn’t sure exactly how she did it, but somehow she slipped through the police net and found herself on a highway leading the way she needed to go: toward the slaughterhouse. “I get it!” she exclaimed. “They assume I’m fleeing the Maggot. They’re not looking for me this way.” Still, she did not take a straightforward route, but turned frequently, sometimes backtracking slightly, so that her destination was not evident. Venus warned her of mischief several times, and she detoured to avoid it.

But, inevitably, the avenues of avoidance were shut off, and the sirens converged again just as she reached the slaughter complex. They were probably tracking her car directly now, having oriented on its locator. She slewed to a stop before the structure, put the car on auto-pilot, heaved up the pot, leaped out as the car resumed motion and ran under cover of trees toward the dread building. With luck the moving vehicle would lure the police after it, giving her sightly more leeway.

The slaughterhouse was not yet in operation, and there were no personnel. It was simply there, a giant blank-walled edifice with four broad avenues leading to it. A single vehicle was there, a van; that must have brought the Maggot.

Elasa stayed in the shadow of the wall and slunk around to the main entrance, carrying the heavy pot. The door was open. She entered. The halls and chambers were empty. Where was the Maggot?

Then people appeared: men, women, children. They all oriented on Elasa simultaneously. They advanced on her, like zombies. Which surely what they were, really, being under the mind control of the alien visitor. She had walked into an ambush.

Why hadn’t Venus warned her? Bunky and the Awares had to have foreseen this trap. They would not let her be torn apart by possessed people.

Then the people scrambled back, looking horrified. “Dinosaur!” one cried.

Oho! Venus was projecting a phantasm, maybe Tyrannosaurus Rex, that frightened them. They might be under the control of the Maggot, but evidently Venus could still govern what they saw. Why charge toward that monster?

The Plant’s stem pointed to the side. There was a narrow stairway, evidently for private use. Elasa ran to it. This could be defended, because her attackers could mount the steps only one at a time. But what was the point? It was the Maggot she needed to get at, not its captives.

The zombies came to the foot of the stairway, but none tried to mount it. Did no one want to be the first to get knocked back down? That shouldn’t matter to possessed people; the Maggot hardly cared about their welfare, and would probably eat them when this was done.

She did not have time to analyze it. At least this spared her the need to put Venus down to free her arms to fight. She ran up, hauled open the door at the top, and plunged into a short hall. That exited to a larger chamber. There stood a man and a Maggot. The Maggot was huge and gross in exactly the manner Kop had described, with the soggy remnant of a human being on the floor beside it, evidently its last meal. The man--

“Kop!” she exclaimed as she set down the pot.

“The Maggot has resumed control,” he said. “It now knows how my contact was interrupted, and used another access point. That device will not be effective again. Now that it is here on Earth it has far greater resources. It seeks a dialogue with you.”

“With me?” Elasa asked. “I am here to kill it.”

“You are here because it herded you here, being unable to control your mind directly. It is intrigued by you. Maggots know of machines, of course, including machines that emulate living creatures, some of which cleverly mimic consciousness. It assumed you were you were such an emulation, despite my understanding of your nature, but now it knows you are real. The Maggots want your secret for future use.”

“My secret is not available for Maggot use,” Elasa said grimly.

“To encourage the dialogue, the minions of the Maggots have arrested your husband, your child, and your friend Mona Maverick. They have been prepped for torture, should indirect coercion become necessary.”

Elasa knew it was no bluff. The Maggots played hardball. She would have to kill this horrible thing quickly. But she doubted it was quite time for her to act. There was supposed to be a signal of some sort, and she knew timing was critical. She needed to keep the dialogue going until Venus indicated it was time. “And is there anything else?” she asked with irony.

“Yes. The Maggot now knows that the second mystery is the Plant. It has projective telepathy. This is another potentially useful tool the Maggots mean to acquire. They will encourage you to cooperate in fathoming this mechanism before you are disassembled.”

“By more torture?”

“Yes. You have animal companions, including a telepathic and precognitive Lamb. They work together with the Plant to achieve its effects, but the Plant can operate when supported by a human mind, making the animals expendable. They too will be tortured in your presence, once they are located and apprehended.”

So the Companions had avoided capture. That was a relief. “Lotsa luck, insect.”

“Observers indicate that the animals are in the vicinity. They should be captured soon.”

“Maybe,” Elasa agreed. She was still waiting for some indication that it was time for her to act. Its absence left her unsettled. It was not safe to leave the initiative to the Maggot. Venus seemed poised; it had to be on the verge.

“Perhaps you are forgetting that I have telepathy and precognition,” Kop said. “The first is useless against you, but the second indicates that a settlement is incipient.”

“I agree,” Elasa said. Apparently she wasn’t going to get any more information from the Maggot.

“This dialogue is ended. At such time as you become willing to cooperate, you will say so and the coercion will pause.”

That meant that Banner and Mona were about to be tortured. But she just couldn’t turn Venus over to the Maggots.

Now at last Venus’s stem pointed forward. It was time. Was she supposed to charge the Maggot? Then why was Kop not alarmed? Something was missing here.

Elasa looked directly at Kop. “I am about to attack. It is time to call in your zombies.”

“They are ready. The Maggot preferred to dialogue with you directly, before capturing and demolishing you.”

Then Venus’s stem turned and pointed to a side door, barred from inside the chamber. Elasa went to it and lifted the bar. The door opened.

Outside were Adela, Bunky, Vulture, and Python. “Companions!” Elasa exclaimed gladly. They had not been letting her struggle alone; they had followed her, avoiding the attention of the police. Maybe Elasa had been a distraction so that the Aware could guide them in without detection.

But then she changed her mind. “You can’t remain here. They mean to torture you!”

“We are prepared,” Adela said. “The six ewes exchanged and are standing outside. They are supporting Bunky. Also, we are watching Banner, Bela, and Mona, and will act if necessary.”

The Awares certainly had not been idle! The Lamb had fair powers, but the full grown sheep had more, and the complete little herd would be formidable. Elasa was relieved to know that they were watching her family and friend, and would stop any torture. But could they handle the dread Maggot?

The Companions entered and moved toward the Maggot. Adela went to stand beside the Plant.

“Interesting,” Kop said, evidently speaking for the Maggot. “They are not trying to help you flee, Elasa, but are advancing on us.”

“And your zombies won’t come to help,” Adela said. “They are locked out, and won’t find their way back in soon enough to help you. It’s just you versus us, a fair fight.”

“Ludicrous,” Kop said. “The Maggot has no fear of any number of machines, animals, or Awares. It knows about you, Adela, from my fond memories of our interaction, and even telepathic animals were never a concern. My own precognition is at its service; we knew you were coming, and are ready for this showdown. I will--” He broke off, astonished. “I’m free! Again.”

“The Maggot may have reestablished telepathic control,” Adela said. “But the Lamb and Plant cut it again. Now get away from here. It’s not safe for you any more.”

Amazed, Kop backed away. Then he turned and ran for the door the Companions had used. Obviously he preferred freedom from the Maggot.

Only to halt, as the Maggot found another access and took over again. “As I said, that device won’t work again,” Kop said. “Long distance telepathic control is limited, but now the Maggot is right here, with a hundred times the power.”

“And the sheep are here, with power to counter the Maggot,” Adela said evenly. “Precognition will not determine the victor.”

“I see that,” Kop agreed. “I precogged the encounter, but was not able to determine the outcome. Now I see why. However, the Maggot’s telepathic control is more than capable of dealing with you. First it will take over your mind--”

“Really?”

Kop paused. “The line has been cut. Again.”

“Yes,” Adela said. “You are not going to be a factor in this engagement.”

Kop’s expression changed. “The Maggot differs. I am back under control.”

“Not for long. We can keep up this game as long as the Maggot can.” But then Adela’s expression changed. “Oops!”

Elasa realized with horror that the Maggot had gotten smart and taken over Adela’s mind.

But then it changed again. “I’m back,” Adela said. “The Lamb anticipated this ploy too, and can restore me immediately, thanks to his buttressing by the sheep.” She made a face. “But even five seconds of possession by a horror like that is more than I care for.”

“Damn!” Kop swore, and leaped for Adela. Her precognition had not warned her in time, perhaps because of her temporary loss of control, and he caught her. He swing his fist and struck her in the face. She fell, unconscious.

Elasa hurled herself into the fray even as Kop was attacking Adela, and her fist caught him on the side of the face with a power no living woman could muster. He too dropped, unconscious.

Now there was just the Maggot. The Vulture and the Python moved toward it. Elasa was about to join them, but realized that this battle was as much mental as physical. She could not boost them mentally, but Adela could.

She got down beside the girl, cradling her head. “Wake, Adela!” she said. “We need you!”

Adela moaned. “My head!”

“Kop was repossessed, and caught you off-guard,” Elasa said. “It’s hard for one Aware to anticipate another. He punched you and knocked you out. The Companions need your living mind for guidance.”

“So they do,” Adela agreed, sitting up woozily.

“Now I’ll go help Vulture and Python physically.”

Adela roused herself enough to shake her head. “Not yet,” she gasped. “Venus needs more time.”

Time for what? Elasa didn’t ask, since the Maggot could hear. She continued to tend Adela, who had a nasty bruise forming on her face, but her attention was on the fight.

The Maggot oriented on the bird and snake, but seemed to lack finesse dealing with animals. It was trying to take over their minds, and they did hesitate. Then Bunky bleated, sending them mental support, and the two resumed their charge. They collided with the Maggot. Vulture flapped her wings, flying up to peck viciously at the Maggot’s snout.

The Maggot sprayed a blast of digestive juice. It caught Vulture broadside, burning into her feathers, blinding her. But still she dug her claws into the Maggot’s soft flesh and continued pecking, doing all the damage she could.

Meanwhile Python was wrapping around the distracted Maggot’s torso and beginning to squeeze. Now the Maggot focused on her, spraying more acid. It etched into the serpent’s scales and exposed the flesh below.

Elasa had thought the Maggot alone would be largely helpless, physically. Now it was clear that was not the case. It was time for her to get into the action. “I have to help.”

“Not yet,” Adela warned.

“But it’s killing them!”

“Yes.”

Furious, Elasa was about to attack the Maggot anyway. But Bunky bleated no. He was the one with precognition, and she trusted him; he would not betray his friends without absolute reason. She had to wait, though it galled her.

Repeated sprays of acid made Vulture fall to the floor. Python kept constricting, but her flesh was dissolving and finally she too dropped down, dying.

“How could we let this happen?” Elasa asked, appalled.

“It is a difficult encounter,” Adela said. “Timing is vital.”

The Maggot turned to face them. It hunched across the floor toward them, menace incarnate. “We have to get away from it,” Elasa said.

“No.”

Bunky walked toward the Maggot. Oh, no! The thing had taken over the Lamb’s mind!

“Not yet,” Adela said.

Bunky shook himself and stopped advancing. Venus, guided by Adela, had broken the Maggot’s hold on him. But he remained too close.

The Maggot sprayed acid. It caught the Lamb and singed his wool, probably also blinding him.

This could not go on. To hell with timing; Bunky was in trouble. Elasa charged the Maggot. She leaped over the fallen body of the Lamb and collided with the alien hulk. It doused her in acid, and her pseudo skin blistered and started peeling off, but that did not stop her. She punched it repeatedly, hard, but its hide was tough. She stiffened her fingers and jammed them into its eye patches, causing ichor to well out. She was hurting it.

Now she felt the Maggot’s mind focusing on hers. Such was its dreadful power that even her machine circuits felt it. But she held it off while she continued her attack.

Then the Maggot fought back physically, being unable to stop her mentally. Its small forelegs looked weak, but were not. They caught Elasa, held her tight, and ripped her apart. Her body fell in pieces, and her head rolled across the floor to fetch up against the wall. She was out of the fight.

It seemed that Adela had known what she was talking about. Elasa had acted prematurely, and wasted her chance. She hadn’t even saved Bunky. All she could do was watch, at a skewed angle, as the Maggot went after what little was left of their party.

Now only Adela and Venus remained to face the monster. Obviously Adela could not oppose it physically or mentally, and Venus was a potted plant with little physical motion.

But now the Maggot paused, facing the Plant. Adela stood behind Venus, unmoving. What was happening?

“Venus is throwing illusions,” Adela explained, knowing that Elasa could hear her. “Nasty ones, to frighten the Maggot. She had to have time to get into its mind, so as to find what worked. But it’s an alien mind, and difficult to fathom. We had to keep distracting it until she succeeded.”

Distracting it by giving up their lives? Elasa could not talk with her head disconnected, but the question was rhetorical anyway. She might have saved her friends if she had plowed into the battle sooner.

“By sacrificing themselves to buy time,” Adela said, as though aware of Elasa’s thoughts. “Everything depends on Venus.”

Yes, the Plant was their secret weapon; its arrival on Earth had changed the outlook from negative to possible. But Elasa had never understood exactly how.

“There’s the giant flytrap swallowing Earth,” Adela reported. “Only its not a threat to Earth, but to the Maggots. If they take over Earth, they will be consumed.”

And those cynical monsters were supposed to believe that? It was the other way around: the Maggots were going to eat Earth.

“It’s a warning to all Maggots,” Adela continued. “Because this Maggot is in mental touch with its brethren in space. They know everything it knows. That’s why one of them came physically: to get an accurate picture, unfiltered by the distortions of captive minions.”

And Earth was wide open for the harvest. No chance to bluff them out now. Had they been able to kill the Maggot at the outset--

“And now the piece de resistance,” Adela said. “The thing the Maggots most fear. Venus finally found it.”

The Maggot closed on the Plant, spraying acid. But Venus caught the acid on her leaf, unharmed, and hurled it back. It splattered on the Maggot, burning its hide. Of course! Venus used similar acid to digest her meals.

“Now she’s sending it,” Adela said.

The Maggot drew back so quickly it fell over in its back and wriggled helplessly for a moment. The sight would have been humorous, had there been any humor in the situation. It rolled back upright, then scrambled on its little legs to the door the Companions had entered by, and on out.

“It’s over,” Adela said, coming across to pick up Elasa’s battered pieces and reassemble them. Elasa was made to come apart; she was actually not much damaged, apart from the blistering of her surface. Soon she was together and functioning, though hardly in top form. Banner would not want to clasp her skinless torso.

“What happened?” she asked when her body was able to supply her with air for talking. “A little return acid couldn’t scare that thing off.”

“Venus finally found the key image. Mites.”

“Mites? Little bugs?”

“Tiny parasitic spiders that feed on animals, plants, or insects. Difficult to eradicate, because they have had millions of years evolving with their hosts and are versed in survival. The ones that feed on Maggots must be Awares, like those that feed on sheep, and immune to digestive acid, so they can avoid countermeasures.”

“True,” Kop said, sitting up. Elasa had for the moment forgotten that he was still there. He had a bad bruise on his face, but seemed otherwise intact. “Maggots will go to extraordinary lengths to avoid contamination by them, because it’s nothing but mischief.”

“Are you possessed or free?” Elasa asked him warily.

“Possessed but ignored for the moment. I believe you can safely free me again.”

Adela and Venus oriented on him.

“Yes, thank you, girls, that’s better,” he said.

Elasa returned to Adela. “The Maggot is fleeing the mere image of Maggot mites?”

“The threat of them,” Adela said. “It gleaned from our minds that Venus was a native of Colony Jones, not an exchangee, so carried native infestations with her. Her arrival on Earth brought them here. Normally those mites infect sheep, but there’s a small chance that they could also feed on Maggots. Enough of a chance to cloud the precognitive indication. The Maggot didn’t want to take that chance. It’s heading back to the fleet now.”

“But the Maggots are aliens from another section of the galaxy,” Elasa protested. “They did not evolve with Earth creatures. Our mites should not infect them.”

“Wrong,” Kop said. “All life in this region of the galaxy has a common origin, and is fundamentally compatible. That’s why the Maggots can feed on it. Your mites might indeed feed on them.”

Elasa realized it was true. Like could feed on like.

There was the sound of an explosion from the direction of the nearby spaceport.

“That was the Maggot’s ship,” Adela said. “It seems the Maggots didn’t want to risk it either. This Maggot had been exposed to the Plant, and to other creatures associating with it; infestation was distinctly possible. They prefer a sure thing, and their precogs and Awares have to have gone murky. So they eliminated the threat.”

“They are nothing if not efficient,” Kop agreed.

“And our friends Vulture, Python, and Bunky had to die for this?” Elasa asked bitterly, gazing at the three bodies.

“It was essential that the Maggot get the message, and relay it to the other Maggots,” Adela said. “So that they would give up any notion of touching Earth. Our friends sacrificed themselves to make that possible. Fortunately they aren’t really dead.”

“They look dead to me,” Elasa said sourly.

“The Earth animal hosts are dead, yes; that could not be avoided. But we arranged for the originals to be exchanged back to Colony Jones just before they expired. That was another reason timing was critical.”

“That can be done?” Elasa asked. “Exchange without equipment?”

“We prepped them with a delayed exchange, timed for the moment of their death. It’s not a routine procedure, but can be done. Mona’s dad had a connection, and pulled a string.”

“They knew they were going to die,” Elasa said, disturbed.

“They knew they were going to leave their Earth hosts,” Adela said. “We regret having the hosts die, but the precognition and Awareness indicated that this was the course of least mischief.”

“Until I messed it up by acting out of turn.”

“No. Your mind may be telepathically opaque, but your time of action was precogged. Your attack on the Maggot gave Venus that last bit of time she needed to locate the key. Without that, the Maggot would have overrun the Plant and eaten it. You were the final stage in the salvation of Earth.”

Elasa was amazed. “So you knew! Bunky, Venus, and the Awares—you collaborated to save Earth.”

“Yes. We couldn’t have done it without you. As it was, it was a close call. The precognition was murky to us as well as to the Maggots. You were the necessary element of chaos.”

“But the mites really did it, not me.”

“They did and they didn’t. There was only a five percent chance that they could infect Maggots. Had we not really, graphically, impressed that risk on the Maggots, they would have come in anyway, and chances are they would have been all right. Add that to the projective telepathy of the Plant, and the mystery of machine consciousness in you, and it was enough. They don’t like uncertainty.”

“But once they sort it out, and realize how small the actual risk is, they could return.”

“That’s why you will have to remain on duty, as the secret mistress of Earth,” Adela said. “We discussed it with Mona’s father, Moncho Maverick, and he is setting up the obscure connections to the real sources of power. Your word will be law.”

“The secret mistress of Earth! I never sought any such thing!”

“You do not seek power, and are incorruptible,” Kop said. “It makes sense. You will work with the sheep and the Awares, and of course Venus, ready to take necessary action the moment a threat is precogged.”

“But that’s the province of government.”

He laughed. “The government I knew was corrupt and helpless. So was the one Pauling knew. They need to be quietly bypassed for anything important.”

Elasa looked desperately at Adela. “The Awares are in on this?” But of course they were. This was their area of expertise, written large. They knew what worked.

“We have special properties,” Adela said. “But we are living humans, therefore corruptible. We need an incorruptible guide. Now we know that our mission is to protect the world from being eaten. We will gladly do that, maintaining contact only with you.”

“All I want to do is go home to my husband and baby and take care of my Plant. To be a normal woman.”

“And you will do that,” Kop said. “You will make no waves at all. No one else will even know.” He smiled. “But Pauling and I hope you will not forget us as we do our part. We do love you.”

And Kop would fade out in six months, leaving Pauling. It was probably better to maintain that contact, apart from the fact that she did like them.

Elasa still couldn’t quite accept it. “Maybe Mona could--”

“Mona will soon return to Colony Jones for her next six month stint with her loving husband and the Lamb,” Adela said. “That’s all she wants to do.”

Elasa realized it was true. There was no one but her to keep the watch. She was stuck for it. “Let’s go out and thank the sheep,” she said.

“They already know,” Adela said. “We shouldn’t annoy them by interrupting their grazing.”

Then they all laughed. Elasa picked up the pot. She was going home.

Author’s Note: Part 1

There are three mysteries I would like to fathom before I die: why is there something instead of nothing, how did life first happen, and what is the secret of consciousness? The latest conjecture on the first mystery is that the very concept of nothing is a paradox; there is tension that erupts in the explosive birth of myriad universes. Our own universe is the one of an infinite number that has the requirements that enable matter to exist, at least temporarily. Fourteen billion years may be but an eye blink in the larger cosmos. Our own tiny section of that, the planet Earth, has the particular slosh of chemicals that enabled life to start, perhaps in a spark of lightning. Then, out of the bacteria, viruses, plants and other life forms, finally came consciousness, which I suspect consists of a special feedback circuit that could be copied into a suitable machine. It may be a rather simple device, once we figure it out. When we do, we will be able to build conscious humanoid robots, like Elasa. If it really works.

There have been realistic humanoid robots before; science fiction is full of them. I have had them myself, notably in my Adept and ChroMagic series. But have they really been conscious, or merely almost perfect emulations? It is hard to be sure. And if we do succeed in making them, what are the legal and moral implications? Could they be enfranchised as legal people, with the right to vote? If one is killed, would it be murder? Could they fall in love with living folk?

I wish I knew the answers.

This novella was mostly from my imagination, and is not intended to be an accurate portrayal of either robotics or law. I did find one reference useful, however: the book The Most Human Human, by Brian Christian, about the author’s experience with the Turing test and the pitfalls thereof. Indeed, it is not easy for a machine to emulate a human being well enough to fool another human being. It poses the question of whether it would ever be possible to construct a computer so sophisticated that it could actually said to be thinking, to be intelligent, to have a mind. And if that came to be, how would we know? That’s one reason I put some of Elasa’s awareness into the first person: so that in this novella, at least, we would know.

*

My thanks to my wife, Carol, who gave me the Most Human Human book in the hope that it would help, as indeed it did, and to Rudy Reyes, who proofread the manuscript. If man does not live by bread alone, neither does an author write by imagination alone. He is but the tip of an iceberg of support.

Author’s Note: Part 2

This is a sort of sequel to my prior novella, To Be A Woman. I thought of it just after I finished writing Woman, in January 2012 and it quickly blossomed into its own novella written in February 2012. Ideas are like that; some founder unborn, some remain minor, some become stories, and some whole series of novels. I have a massive file containing summaries of my notions, and I draw on those notions at need, or when they simply will not be denied. This one started with the sheep who could stab an attacker to death without moving.

Actually, I am more of a goat person than a sheep person. I was raised on a goat farm, and later had two goats of my own. Goats seem smarter and more individual, being ever curious about things. Sheep in contrast simply fall into line. The word “capricious” derives from an ancient word for goat. Goats speak by saying a friendly maaaa while sheep utter a stupid baaaa. So you can see I have my prejudice. But there is a different kind of sheep, called the Jacob Sheep, which seems goat-like and has four horns. My daughter kept some of those for a while, in part because my legal surname is Jacob, as was hers. Maybe that memory influenced my subconscious, encouraging me to come up with another different kind of sheep. So you won’t hear me badmouthing sheep; they have their points too, even those without telepathy or precognition.

I say “sort of sequel” because this started out as an independent novella, but when I needed an Earth planet host for Elen, Mona volunteered. So she and Elasa and Moncho stepped into this story and really helped out, displacing the Jacob Sheep farm girl I originally had in mind. I find I rather like this intermediate length, long enough to fashion a good story, short enough to write in a month. Still, I found myself wondering what Mona would find, there in the body of a pregnant woman, accompanied by a vulture and a python. Why are those two animals still there, if not to keep an eye on things? Does that mean that the sheep aren’t finished here? Would she pin down precognition and set up the story of the century? If so, it probably deserved its own novella. As turned out to be the case.

This novella, like the prior one, does have its thoughtful aspects. If it is controversial to have a conscious robot marry a living man, how about interplanetary marriage, where one partner must always be in a body not his or her own? Can love exist in such manner? Would the law recognize such a union? What about children: whose are they, the genetic parent’s or the love parent’s? I assume in the novella that such things can be worked out, but it might be more complicated in reality. There is also the lighter side, such as the snarky media humorists portrayed here, and their come-uppance. I remember when there was a cartoon series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, about man-sized turtles doing heroic deeds. In real life at that time fishing boats were killing rare turtles by illegal net fishing that trapped turtles as well as fish. Then a political cartoon showed the Ninja Turtles quietly boarding a fishing boat. . .

Author’s Note: Part 3

When I wrote the prior novella, Shepherd, which turned out to my surprise to be a sequel to To Be A Woman, when Mona volunteered to be Elen’s Earth host, I realized that there were loose ends. Why did the sheep facilitate Elen’s exchange to Earth? What would Mona do in Elen’s body? What was the larger reason the sheep did not free Vulture and Python and return to their grazing? What did the fembot Elasa have to do with this? So I organized the present novella, addressing those threads, and realized that the story was still unfinished. The next one would complete it.

Author’s Note: Part 4

This is the fourth and concluding novella in the series. Like the others, it was a combination of disparate notions that found their home in the larger narrative. The main one was the Awares: I figured them out, as an ideal group to accomplish something secret but important, then stalled. What could they do that would be worthy of their special talent? Then when I had a crisis in the series, I realized that the Awares were made for it. So the original story became Chapter 2, and they carried on from there. Sometimes readers are furious when they learn how a piece of fiction was cobbled together from odds and ends, rather than springing complete and pristine from the ear of Zeus, but I trust that my readers are more mature.

Will the Maggots return? I think not as long as Elasa keeps watch, and she should exist for a long time, since she can’t actually die. So Earth should be safe for the indefinite future. I trust you are relieved to know this. Naturally none of this will make media headlines; real history often doesn’t.

Readers interested in my works may visit my website www.hipiers.com or blogspot at http://piersanthonyblog.blogspot.com. Currently I do a monthly column about anything that interests me, ranging from book reviews to my liberal rants, and maintain an ongoing survey of electronic publishers and related services for the benefit of aspiring authors who might otherwise be excluded from publication. If you are such an author, check me out.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 Piers Anthony

ISBN 978-1-4976-6281-0

Published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Contents
- Introduction

- Part 1: To Be a Woman

- 1. Fembot
- 2. Elasa
- 3. Awakening
- 4. Personhood
- 5. Baby
- 6. Woman

- Part 2: Shepherd

- 1. Sheep
- 2. Elf
- 3. Hike
- 4. Trust
- 5. Travel
- 6. Breeding
- 7. Return
- 8. Earth
- 9. Prophecy

- Part 3: Fly Trap

- 1. Exchange
- 2. Lamb
- 3. Mission
- 4. Earth
- 5. Ogre
- 6. Vampires
- 7. Storm
- 8. Wether

- Part 4: Awares

- 1. Mystery
- 2. Yon Yonson
- 3. Contact
- 4. Secret Agent
- 5. Alien
- 6. Invasion
- 7. Analyste
- 8. Cutoff
- 9. Maggot

- Author’s Note

- Copyright