© Copyright 2007 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments.
Enjoy.
Search Pattern
Standing on the plateau, shielding my eyes with the binoculars, then using them to scan over a dry lake bed that had to be 40 or so kilometers across, maybe 60 long. It was ringed by the high plateau I was on, and hills on the other sides. My target was to be found in an elliptical area about 12 by 20 kilometers in the lake bed.
Not was to be found, I had to find it, within that predicted area about 12 by 20 km. That’s as close as the satellite scan could pin things down. And it wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing easy about this deal. Why the hell did I have to do it, here, myself, on the surface sucking dirt the fucking hard way? I mean, with what I had aboard ship, I could dig up a dime from stationary orbit and leave eight cents change.
For some bizarre reason, I had to be down here, doing it the hard way. Couldn’t we send a damn AI probe to skim for it? Nope, had to be me, riding a so-called sled, scanning the surface one very thin strip at a time. I put my goggles back in place, protecting my eyes from the hot, dry wind whipping and whistling around me.
Another shimmering flash of synesthesia -- brief but intense jumble of sensations, fear, sex, pleasure, panic, unable to move -- getting slotted into a new shell cold is always a pain!
The sled was a joke. This whole deal was a joke, and a bad one. The “sled” was more like a dildo with a saddle and handlebars. Take a cylinder, oh, 60cm in diameter, 2 meters long, round one end for the glans, and hang sidescan equipment off the other end on each side for the balls. It’s a damn dildo, with balls! Add a saddle/seat, stirrups for my “feet,” handlebars to run the thing and to hold some quickly-rigged instruments and you’ve got a phallic joke/nightmare.
I had sat nav (supposedly sub-meter accuracy, but if that’s true how come they could only give me 12 by 20 km target location?) and a cheezoid autopilot which would follow the course I programmed in, maintaining set speed and altitude. And I had a sensor deck which sidescanned surface and subsurface for my target. Sounds okay, right?
Except...
Except for the even more cheesey windscreen tacked onto the thing. The dildo (sled) had shields which would normally be used to protect the operator (that’s me) from wind, elements, etc., except -- they interfered with the sidescan, so they couldn’t be used at the same time. The sled could fly (or hover) at any altitude you wanted, and the shields adapted to any speed, even supersonic, except -- for the sidescan to work, I had to be between two and three meters off the surface, and traveling under 25 kph. For some godforsaken reason, the sidescan needed a certain amount of solar flux to operate, meaning I could only scan during daylight hours, and it gets hot during the day, and I couldn’t use the shields to keep me cool, as they interfere with the sidescan!
I hope I get to meet whoever threw this load of crap together, and I see them first!
And I wasn’t too damn happy with me, either. I hadn’t seen myself in any reflective surfaces, but from my shadows, I probably looked like a hard boiled egg with a grape sitting on top. Spindly legs I couldn’t see, with knees that bent the wrong way, and birdlike feet; long spindly arms ending in four-fingered hands, thin but flexible and versatile. From what I could tell, I had a beaklike mouth, two eyes, something directional for picking up sound. A large, soft, body and soft, pale skin. Meter or so tall. Something smelled -- probably me.
At least the sled was direct conversion powered, could tow just about anything, had enough oomph to get me to escape velocity if I so desired, and shields to keep me alive through the trip. The so-called comm gear emitted the occasional burst of static and that’s all.
For this deal I was wearing a cloth pullover with headcover, almost a burka, with goggles to protect my eyes -- no shields, remember? I needed protection from sun and wind. A hatch in front of the saddle held things that looked like breadsticks, my food. The sled provided as much fresh water as I wanted, through a delivery tube.
What utter crap!
Let’s get this godforsaken show on the road... The dildo (sled and saddle) floated at a convenient height; I got on and twisted the handlebars to take me up to two and a half meters. Pull back to climb, push forward to dive, twist one way to speed up, another to slow down, switches for shields and such. Primitive and poorly designed. Supposedly (hopefully) reliable.
I didn’t even have links! I couldn’t depend on the damn sensor deck to alert me -- I’d have to watch the damn sensor carefully, as I might not hear its feeble breep over wind noise. I had the feeling I was the only sentient being within hundreds of kilometers.
If I find the clown who threw this heap together, I’m going to scan him first, so I can beat him to death multiple times; once won’t be enough!
Okay, turn off terrain following and scoot off the edge of the plateau. I headed for the edge of the target area. Even if this thing wasn’t put together intelligently, that didn’t mean I had to be as stupid in my search. I was going to do the center of the target area along the long axis first, turn around and do one side, turn at the end and do the other, working from the middle out. At least the autopilot was bright (and accurate) enough to support that. The sidescan let me space my runs 50 meters apart. 12 kilometers wide at 50 meters per slice, max 20 kph? Not pretty! Let’s push things -- 22 kph.
Align myself with the target area, drop to scan altitude and speed, engaging the sensor deck. Wonderful -- it didn’t complain if it was too high. All I knew was that it would signal me when/if it found anything. Supposedly, audio and visual signal.
Ah, not that bad -- when I turned off the shields, the sensor display showed grass (noise) along the bottom of the display. And I was blessed with dry wind. Yah, move up to five meters and the grass goes away. Back down to two, up to two and a half. Same with speed; over 25 kph and the display was clear. Okay, two and a half meters altitude and 22 kph ground speed. At 50 meters per slice, this could take days. No, would take weeks, unless I got lucky.
Somehow, I wasn’t counting on luck, at least on good luck.
Flat ground, scrub and some weeds, like tumbleweeds, purplish stunted cousins of mesquite and manzanita. Dull, boring, and baked.
Eight and a half passes before I ran out of sunlight. I marked my position (and direction) on the nav box.
I went up to thirty meters and cut in shields and temp control. I ate two of the food sticks and drank quite a bit of cool water. No camping gear, what do I do for the night?
How the hell did I get here? A shuttle of some kind dropped me off, somehow I knew that, but I didn’t remember it. Was I slotted into this shell at the last minute? That must be it; that would account for the flashes I felt early on. At least they’d cleared up; I must be acclimating to this shell.
I dropped down, cutting shields.
A light breeze, dry breeze, feeling heat radiate off the baked ground as everything cooled. Lots of stars. Any moons? Not sure. I was tired. I started thinking about FTL issues, something useful.
Did I smell one of them first? Hear them? Something spooked me -- I popped the sled up to about ten meters, kicking in the shields.
Four, five, of them -- ugly looking beasts, local equivalent of wolves, coyotes, filling that hunter - scavenger ecological niche. Big bastards -- meter and a half to two meters long, big jaws, way too many teeth. Four eyes, two looking forward in a nice stereo pair, the others turned out more -- the better to see you with! Six legs! The better to chase you with! Growling, snarling, snapping! Did I mention waaaay too many teeth on long very powerful jaws? All the better to eat you with! Skin somewhere between scales and feathers? Something told me they were exotherms, and omnivorous. They looked hungry, and I undoubtedly looked tasty.
I’m not going to sleep on the ground, that’s for sure!
I took the thing up to about twenty meters for insurance.
Absentmindingly flipping through menus on the sled, I found a macro labeled “sleep support.” Okay, give it a try. Shields tightened, the saddle moved some, supporting me a lot better, and gravity lightened! Nice! I hope it keeps up; don’t want to wake up to being eaten!
Guess I was more tired than I thought. I relaxed, closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, the sun is up again. Dropping down, the beasts were gone, tracks leading off. Cutting shields, I got off and squatted on the ground. One of those laws of thermodynamics -- every system produces waste; if it eats, it shits. Stretched and moved a bit, couldn’t dance for squat in this shell. Started thinking about drive problems again...
Barely got back to the sled and snapped the shields on as the beast pack reappeared!
In my excitement, I pushed the controls rather than pulled them, ramming the ground, the shields ringing around me. The pack sprung at me, but bounced off the shields.
Okay, the shields were solid. But to scan, I have to drop the shields. I pulled up to two and a half meters. The bastards could jump that high with ease. The shields were a surprise, and it didn’t look like they were catching on too quickly. Wonder how fast the bastards can run?
Let’s find out. “Let’s go, boys -- you’ve got to run for your meal,” I told them. I pointed off in the opposite direction of where I needed to go, and started off at a slow pace.
Not a big surprise, they could trot at 15 kph and sprint to better than 28. They had a very smooth six-legged cruise around 18; 30 was about the best they could do, and not for very long. They worked as a pack, trying to turn me, but I didn’t play fair. Pack with a hierarchy -- when I cut quickly and sharply, the lead fang ran over one of the side fangs, and gave him hell for getting in the way. I ran them into the ground, leading them away from where I needed to be, slowing down, speeding up, turning to lead them way off track, dropping shields for a few seconds every so often so they had scent, finally breaking off and circling back at high speed to resume my scanning.
Now I needed to remain really focused and alert, not only watching the scanner, but also being on the lookout for those hungry bastards, their cousins, and friends.
Three passes, and ping! Naturally, I did the wrong thing, punching into the ground as I stopped, but at least I triggered the shields, so I didn’t do any damage.
Something popped out at me! Things, plural! I pulled up, glad for the shields! Some kind of tentacle/root things! Once again, I instinctively screwed up, diving into the ground, but at least the shields were up. A bunch of the things -- roots? -- wrapped around the shields.
Not pretty looking -- looked like they had spines along them, and they were oozing something on to the shields. Wasn’t interested in finding out just what that was, as I expected it wasn’t pleasant. More tentacles looped around the shield, good sized and tough looking.
“Okay, Audrey, hold on tight,” I told the thing, and pulled the ship up.
And up it went with me, ripping a bunch of the things free, but a lot still wrapped around and holding on. A big chunk of the beast was attached, hanging on underneath me, a cylindrical barrel-shaped thing, with roots protruding from the bottom. Some of the roots wiggled, although it could have been from motion through the air. Nah, they wiggled.
I poured on power, accelerating straight up. Don’t know if it was acceleration, drag, or the shields adapting, but eventually all of it fell off. I dove down, making sure the stuff it had dripped on the shields was gone. No pings at the spot, and no tentacles moving around, either. Guess Audrey lived alone. I started humming a song from “Little Shop of Horrors.”
I had a tool, a digging tool. I picked it up and aimed it at the ground, pushing dirt around. There was a hole where the tentacle beast had been. Okay, back to searching.
Two passes later, close to the spot where I’d had the first ping, I got another one. This time I pulled up and teased the ground from around ten meters altitude with the digging tool. Fast bastards! Using the tool (from what I hoped was a safe distance) I barely touched the tip of a tentacle protruding through the surface, and a whole lot of them flailed around the area, looking for the intruder. Pushed dirt around, creating about a six meter wide hole. Yah, lots of tentacles writhing around looking for some tasty morsel. Bunch of the things in clusters, big ones and little ones. Surprising long reach some of them had!
Another three passes and it was the fang brothers again. I hit the shields as they sprang, and once again powered into the ground rather than climbing. But I managed to squash one of them in the process. Up to fifteen meters, I hovered to think. I tried the digging tool on them. It moved dirt, but didn’t bother them. Just what I needed -- an ethical tool!
Hmmm... Equal-opportunity omnivores, squabbling over squashed cousin Tony. I watched for a bit, letting them show me some of their anatomy. Six powerful legs, and really powerful jaws and forequarters. What evolutionary pressures caused them to evolve this way, and did I want to meet those evolutionary pressures? Don’t think so!
But how to ditch the gang and get back to work; they were just about finished with their snack, and returning attention to me. Well, I’m only a few minutes from the tentacle beast. A match made in heaven! “Let’s go, time’s a waistin!” I called as I swooped low and led them off, swerving and changing speeds to keep them interested. Almost there... I slowed, then accelerated and pulled up when I got to the pit. Feed me!
In they went, nasty and loud! The fangs did a good job, but weren’t a match for Audrey and kin. Damn, even as a spider, I wouldn’t want to tangle with either of them! While a reinforced shell would be protection enough, either class of beast looked strong enough to do serious damage, possibly ripping off smaller details like fines and delicate eyes.
Tentacles looped around one of the beasts, whatever they oozed didn’t look like it was doing the fang any good -- toxin? Digestive? Tentacles looping around jaws, working to pry them apart, and having a hard time... Snap, the lower jaw breaks! Geez, multiple rows of teeth!
“Not going to thank me for the snack?” I asked from a safe altitude (and with the shields up). Nary a belch. A number of the tentacles were squabbling over chunks. How nice.
The squabbling had stopped by the time I returned later in the afternoon. They were even moving dirt back into the hole. Like a political caucus, didn’t like being exposed, I guess.
And with three more passes, the second day came to an end, sadly unsuccessful for me, and thankfully unsuccessful for the locals. I managed to take a squat, moved around for a bit, had another stick for dinner, more water, and took the sled up to sleep again.
Early afternoon the third day, one run-in with tentacles, getting bored going back and forth, mind drifting to more interesting problems again and suddenly I didn’t feel good. Weak, dizzy, labored breathing. Something was wrong -- temperature was higher than usual. I hit the shields and temperature control, going up to eighty meters or so. Drank a lot of water, ate more, cooled off. Drank more and ate more. Partially opaqued the shields to give me some shade.
But with a lot to drink, and cooler, I felt better. Preliminary self-diagnosis was dehydration and overheating. Whatever it was, it cleared up when I cooled off and rehydrated.
Modified search strategy -- at the end of every other leg, rest for a few minutes with the shields on, lower gee, cooling off, drinking water. Watch the ambient temperature!
Slowed the process some, but I felt better. I could concentrate more on the damn sensors, and the ground I was passing over. I actually recognized another cluster of tentacle beasts a little off to the left of my track, tentacle tips sticking up out of the lakebed. I paused to harass them a bit with the digging tool. Very fast! One tickle with the tool and the area swarmed with tentacles looking for a tasty visitor.
Day six I found a huge colony of tentacle beasts, an area a few hundred meters in diameter at least. No way for me to effectively scan that mess; have to hope that Murphy isn’t that nasty as to dump my target in there! I was almost getting curious about the things. How did they reproduce? Sending out runners from one body to sprout another, like spider plants? What did they feed on, normally? A large, dense cluster like this, food-on-legs would never make it more than a few meters in from the edge, so how did the central ones feed, survive?
And it seemed that every time my mind wandered, such as to FTL or other high-tech problems, the fang brothers (and cousins) appeared. Then I’d have to run them ragged, taking them off my scan path. If we were near tentacle beasts, I’d arrange a meeting. But the fang gang were too smart to go near the big cluster. So what the hell did they eat? I held the ecumenical opinion that it was not going to be me...
Early morning day eight, I felt a difference in the air. Smelled different -- denser, moist? Clouds roiling in, cool, moist air. Okay, where do I want to be? I had no idea how the dick’s shields would stand up to (or attract) lightning, and I wasn’t interested in learning firsthand.
I could go above the storm and wait it out up there, or I could make a run horizontally for the plateau I’d started on. Marked my position and made for the plateau, flicking on the shields.
I watched one hell of a storm work its way across the no longer dry lakebed. Brief but heavy rains, more than the occasional zot of lightning, lots of wind. I stayed dry, ten meters off the ground, and enjoyed the cool, fresh air.
Sky cleared in the afternoon. I headed back.
The big tentacle cluster was in a slight depression -- interesting! Standing water, and lots of activity, tentacles, and something (things) trying to keep away from them. Fish? Frogs? Small, up to double-hand sized, and quite numerous. In other low-lying wet areas, the fang gang were snacking on whatever it was in the water, growling, splashing, gobbling, and having a fine omnivore time. Okay, that’s one thing both of them eat. Whatever it is needs to reproduce in ferocious numbers to survive the effects of climate and predation. Did the tentacles also filter-feed, or root feed like normal plants?
Damn water, though, played havoc with the sidescan. I did some tests using tentacle beasts as targets; they tended to be in low spots that collected water. If I could see standing water, the sidescan was useless beyond a few meters to each side.
Okay, up to a few hundred meters to survey the area. I found and scanned some dry spots, ending the day with a little action from fangs and tentacles. Some purplish-green vegetation seemed to be sprouting up. Interesting -- life evolves and finds a way.
That night I dreamed of large lumbering six-legged herbivores being hounded and taken down by fang beasts.
Three more days in a row we had mid-morning rain. Damn, even though it was pretty, and the only entertainment I had (no iPod dock on my transportation, but then again, I didn’t have an iPod to plug into it), it was keeping me on this godforsaken rock all the longer. I had to focus -- it seemed like whenever my attention wandered, the fang gang was there, almost like they could smell me thinking. So even during the storms, I focused on weather patterns, correlating what I saw with the maps the nav box gave me, trying to model the weather patterns. The comm gear spit static and that was it. Eventually the sun came out, and I could get back to work, if I could find a dry area to scan.
I should know better. I didn’t think, and it damn near cost me my life. I was learning more about the shell I wore, recognizing how much I needed to eat and drink, and when I needed to stop and take a squat. I was equipped with a cloaca, the all-in-one solution. I should have known, four days of showers on a dry lakebed. I’d watched the fang gang thrash and wallow through it. I swung a leg over the sled, getting off, only when I put a foot down, it punched through the thin top crust of the lake bed, and sank into the thick adhesive-like goo below!
I was damn lucky I still had my other foot on the stirrup! I held on to the handlebars, trying to pull myself up with spindly arms as I tried to push with the leg on the stirrup. Strain and strain, with little progress. I managed to get my hands up to the controls to lift the sled; that would pull me out. Lift slowly, gently -- braaap! Damn safety interlock! It wouldn’t go without my fat ass in the saddle! I tried and tried, my foot going deeper into the goo. The muscles in my arms shook from the effort, and the leg I had on the stirrup was giving out. I held on, and pulled myself across the sled so I could rest for one last try; that’s about all I felt I had, one more try.
Leaning across did it, putting enough weight on the saddle to operate the interlock, and the damn dildo lifted, pulling me free.
Okay, now I’m three meters in the air, barely holding on -- this is progress? A brief moment of mental clarity -- kick on the shields and the rest program, cooling, and more important, low gee. That did it -- after a few minutes of rest, and with low gee I could pull and push myself back into the saddle.
I drank some water and rested. It took a while for my heart rate to drop down.
And I still had to take a squat!
I headed for my favorite plateau, dropping the shields and taking my mud-coated foot out of the protection of the stirrup, letting the air streaming by clean me off.
Damn! That had come close to killing me! I had to pay attention! I rested for a bit more, then got off very carefully. I had a brief but good squat, then got back on the damn sled.
Back to work, looking for another dry spot to scan.
The rain brought lots of changes. The scrub sprang into purplish-pink bloom. Yeah, reminded me of manzanita and mesquite, except for the color. The fang gang seemed better fed, better hydrated, and more enthusiastic about making room for me. They had a way of moving across that thin lakebed crust, six legs ending in large paws, that didn’t break through very much.
It still seemed like whenever I let my mind wander, they showed up.
And they almost got me, in an area of uneven ground, a slip and a small fault, a sharp rise a few meters high. A group of them came at me from the side, herding me toward the fault.
As I approached, two of them took a leap at me from above, hitting the shields and sliding off. Habit saved me -- as soon as they show up, I hit the shields. Still, quite the surprise.
Damn water -- even though the lakebed skinned over quickly, there was plenty of subsurface moisture; I could see that in the sidescan display and the concomitant reduction in sensitivity. How long it would take to get back to being able to scan 50 meter slices, I had no idea. I only had a few days worth of dry areas left, and then I’d have to move somewhere else, or just wait for things to dry.
But a day and a half later, not the usual tentacle beast ping, but a lower, more resonant sound, and a different target icon flashing on the display!
I pulled up and back, ten meters high and about ten away from the spot. I got the digging tool and teased at the ground. Something metallic? It was only visible momentarily as water and goo flowed back around it. Like trying to dig something out of a fucking swamp with a rake!
I pushed using the tool, clearing more. I was pushing around very wet goo. How the hell could I retrieve whatever it was? There was no place solid for me to land -- I’d learned my lesson on that one!
I made drainage channels by putting on the shields and lowering down so the shields were depressing the lakebed, breaking through the crust, and depressing the goo underneath. A few passes, and I’d created a substantial drainage and evaporation area. One way or the other, it would be dry enough for me to get to whatever it was within a few days.
But the next morning, after excavating using the digging tool for only an hour or so, a dull metallic sphere about half a meter in diameter popped out of the ground and hovered at about twenty meters! It started moving away slowly.
It moved to maybe a hundred meters away and hovered, stationary.
Looks like an invitation to me! I approached it, and it started moving again.
Guess I’m supposed to follow along. I got closer, it accelerated a bit, and I closed in.
We climbed and accelerated, going supersonic and leveling off at about 9000 meters.
Ah, damn -- looks like a weather system ahead, and we’re going straight into it! Okay, pal, can you take a hint? I went up in altitude a hundred meters or so. No dice -- the sphere stayed at the same altitude, and in fact slowed a bit, giving me a hint.
Okay, I moved back in line. We accelerated back to our previous speed.
I never was good at drive-and-chase video games. My mind may have been wandering before, but it sure as hell wasn’t as I followed the damn sphere through a nasty weather front. No lightning, but plenty of rain and dark clouds. It wasn’t so much the buffeting; the sled isolated me from that. I had to really focus on the sphere fading in and out through the clouds.
Yeah, figures, it started descending while we were still in the soup (hey, John, hope you’re doing well, speaking of soup). I concentrated and followed it down.
We descended and slowed over more rugged terrain. When the rain stopped we were on the edge of a rugged mountain range towering over a purplish-tan plain.
We decelerated, practically to a stop, a few hundred meters above the surface.
We moved closer, slowly, to a towering rock face sharply illuminated by the sun, fast-moving shadows from clouds moving over the face. Gorgeous, and very impressive -- Yosemite, but with purplish trees and foliage. Slowing, approaching. Approaching, slowing, coming to a stop twenty or thirty meters from the rock face, a few hundred meters off the ground.
Ah, is that an opening ahead of us? Looked artificial as all hell, flat bottom and curved top! I moved a bit closer; is this it?
Illumination from inside? The sphere headed in, and I followed, slowly, reluctantly killing the shields.
Smooth rock floor, smooth walls and ceiling, with a glowing ceiling. Ahead of me, a cradle for the dildo I’d been riding for over two weeks. I lowered it into place, but left it powered up. As Mr. Dooley said, trust everybody, but cut the cards...
I stepped off carefully. The sphere had headed down the illuminated corridor. The floor felt cool and solid. What’s the hurry? I had a drink of water before heading down the corridor.
At the end of the corridor was a door with a viewport. I looked in.
I looked into a room that seemed familiar. Dimly lit, a large sleeping pad covered in dark blue plush cushions. I stepped back, looked down, and reached for the door handle, turning it.
My hand -- my hand was humanoid again, and my body! I felt and looked myself over; I’d changed back! But how was that possible?
My hand was moving to the door handle; I opened the door and went in -- the answers must be inside.
Cool and quiet, a soothing scent, a familiar scent -- motion behind me?
I turned, naked, into the arms of a full, warm, and soft woman. We moved to the softness of the sleeping pad. She held me, enticing me with her scent and fullness. Her skin was covered in soft fur which amplified her scent and her charms. She held me to a breast, feeding me, moving me to my back and impaling herself on me. I held her waist as she rocked, sharing and building our pleasure. She leaned forward, sliding a hand behind my head, cradling me to her again. I sucked hungrily as she rocked, and filled myself with her scent.
Something happened. The lights were bright around us. I was on my back on the sleeping pad, with her around me still, but my defensive shields were up? I turned my head slightly; Kay was in the room, with two groups of uniformed people! One group was taller, bluish, the other silver and shorter. Curiouser and curiouser!
I queried Kay over our private link, authenticating. Authentication complete.
“Drop your shields,” she sent to me, “You’re safe -- we’ll take over.”
I dropped my shields and my lover collapsed on top of me. I held her, sucking deeply and drinking in her milk, scent, and softness once more. Hands moved her off me.
Two of the shorter silver characters moved to me with medical instruments, others to my companion. I reconnected with Eliza and Kay. They were glad I was okay! What was going on? Later, they told me, pull back and relax, let the crews do their jobs. Okay...
They took samples from me, and helped me up. Kay helped me dress. “What the hell is going on?” I sent to her.
“You’re okay, later,” she sent back.
I was somewhat disoriented, to say the least! My lover was inert on the bed, being swarmed.
“A drone, animated by a group of AIs,” Kay sent, “We’re saving the pattern, at least. You found her quite attractive?”
I nodded, but I frowned. This didn’t make sense. I was feeling spaced out again.
As the crowd swarmed the drone, Kay took my arm in hers and led me to the door.
We stepped into a small corridor, and shortly thereafter, into a larger corridor in an orbital. It was familiar -- I’d been here before? We moved quickly and directly, and were soon aboard our ship. Kay led me to our medical bay and urged me to the diagnostic couch. With a sigh I stripped down and reclined. Things went fuzzy and faded.
I woke in our quarters, Tundi and Kay next to me, clothed and sitting up. Linking to Eliza and ship, we’d already made the transition to FTL, headed for another system a few days out. Eliza was glad I was okay.
I sat up. “Would someone please tell me what’s been going on?”
Kay sighed. “We’re still chasing details. I’m betting our last job was legitimate, but there’s some chance it was a setup. I don’t think so. I was taking care of delivery, and you were sightseeing on the orbital. You met someone didn’t you?” She had quite the smile.
I shook my head. “I guess so, but I still don’t understand...”
Kay nodded. “You met a drone, one carefully, exquisitely, designed to seduce you. The drone was controlled by at least one AI -- we’re close to finding their customer; I’ve some good ideas as to who they are. She got you alone...”
“What happened? I was on this planet... I don’t remember...”
Kay sighed again, shaking her head. “She, they, used some of the same approaches we use with you, only more intense. We’re figuring out just where and how they obtained that information... Drugs, induction, the physical pleasure, they were trying to get you to lower your guard and link with her -- we suspect they were after your knowledge of drive systems. Eliza was tracking you, and when your sensors started alarming...”
“Sensors? What sensors?”
“We have embedded sensors,” Kay said, waving a hand over her body. “When yours signaled the presence of so many drugs, the induction fields, the assaults on your interconnects, Eliza raised the alarm and triggered your shields. Unfortunately, things had already started.”
“But I was on this planet...”
She nodded, almost smirking. “That was so amazing! You’d been drugged, they’d partially linked with you, and Eliza could and did ride that link. They were trying to work around your defenses, get in deeper... Once they established the link, they couldn’t let go of it, or they’d lose you entirely, and that gave us an entry, through our link to you.”
“I was on this planet, searching, scanning for something. What was that all about?”
“Think of it as a protective psychosis. The mechanism was put in place by your nestmother; she felt you were susceptible to attack, and this would be a useful defense, your incredible creativity. As usual, she was correct.””
“Protective psychosis? Are you telling me I made that crap up?”
She nodded, looking at me intently. “Vast parts of it -- the AIs targeting you, and Eliza were also there. We were battling it out until we could locate you physically, and the drugs wore off. It was a matter of time, for both sides. We won.”
I shook my head. “I made up that place? The quest, the tentacle beasts, the fang gang?”
“Oh, the slaz were Eliza’s idea; we sent them to protect you.”
“Slaz? The fang gang? Protect me? By trying to eat me?”
Kay smiled and nodded, “Every time your mind wandered from the psychosis...”
I sighed and shook my head. “So they did appear whenever I thought of something else!”
Kay nodded. “Yes, and focused you on where you were, in the psychosis.”
I almost laughed. “That they did! But... Those things are real? And the tentacle beasts?”
Kay shrugged. “The slaz, the fang gang as you called them, certainly are real. They are powerful protectors for those who choose to work with them. As for the others, you created an incredible world...”
“The shell I was wearing? The craft, the quest?”
She chuckled. “Your fertile imagination.”
I had to laugh. “So I’ve only myself to blame for that!”
“I’m afraid so.”
I sighed and shook my head. “That whole thing was to protect me... Damn, it worked... But all of that at the end?”
“We located you, Eliza and friends did that, and the drugs were wearing off. The AI battle between Eliza and the ones animating the drone and trying to break through your defenses shifted as Eliza brought in more support and got the upper hand. She battled them, and when they tried to run, she led you back to the real world.”
I shook my head again. “Hard to tell just what’s ‘real’ some times.”
“Indeed,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. Tundi moved closer to me as well.
“And what now? If there’s a price on something in my head, we should probably think about collecting it, rather than someone else collecting, yes?” I suggested.
Kay nodded with a smiling frown. “That’s an eminently practical approach. We have some things to do in the interim, though -- I’ve got some suspicions that need to be run down one way or the other.”
“Someone owes me for a few weeks!” I suggested.
Kay agreed. “At least -- the AIs have been located. Some of our friends are taking them apart and chasing their customers. We’ve learned a lot.”
“The hard way, as usual,” I suggested.
“Is there an other way?” she asked, smiling once more.
I sighed. “I need some time to think -- I was trying to work on something out there.”
Kay nodded. “We’re going to give you time to do that, believe me.”
Tundi held me. “And we know better what you need, and what you want -- we will take good care of you.”
“You have,” I told her, and Eliza, who animated her.
I tried slipstreaming, to pull up more on the slaz, on so many things, but Eliza kicked me out!
Kay looked at me, concerned. “Stay with us -- it’s important -- I wish your nestmother was here -- she could explain it better.”
“Explain what?”
Kay sighed and shook her head. “You -- another of your talents.”
“What is it this time?”
“Your ability to link with AIs, with simulations.”
Don’t know what I did, shrugged or frowned, looking at her. “You designed it in,” I suggested.
“No, it’s more than that -- it’s far more complex. Query ‘simulation rash’ some time -- I can go an objective hour or so at the max, and at a far slower rate than you. I go too long, and I have problems -- seizures, skin problems, severe endocrine problems. And that’s after decades of training! You were in the psychosis, doing battle, for under three hours our time. We’re still analyzing records -- Eliza says it was over two weeks for you!”
I nodded. “Parts were incredibly detailed, yet it doesn’t feel as intense as when I was at the Museum, but I kept that up for days. Part of me is rested, part of me is wiped out.”
Kay nodded, “And that’s it! Like our delivery runs! The toll it takes on you is enormous, and you have to make up for it the long, slow way. The physical, hormonal, emotional part that has to heal and resynch -- remember the break schedule? You need the recovery time.”
I sighed and pulled both of them closer. “Yeah... But in the -- psychosis -- what was their goal? What were they after? What was the endgame? Staying in the psychosis was my ... defense, my goal if you can call it that, focused on my quest -- damn, I can see and smell the purplish-blue blossoms on the scrub, hear the growling of the slaz, and the differences among the individual voices! But what was theirs?”
“When you worked with the Cep, did they help you get better, more efficient, faster in your linking?”
“Oh yeah! Well, they did some, but I did a lot on my own.”
“Have you ever found yourself on the outside looking back at yourself?”
“Why?”
“It’s important -- have you?”
“Once -- coming back to the ship after the Museum; a swarm of Cep were interacting with me, pulling me so many different directions all at once, and somehow I found myself looking at me, from the outside, as you say. But I blinked and was back inside again.”
“I thought so. That’s what the other AI was trying -- pushing and pulling. Pulling you with the lure of technology, offering the problems and the technological assists, offering you the ability to slip into a highly technical environment. Or if you’d gotten into trouble, dying, until Eliza got linked in solid, you would have escaped into the other AI. It was trying to get you to move into it -- escaping or being lured into the other AI.”
I nodded. “And either way, once there I could be replicated and debugged at someone’s leisure...”
“Exactly,” Kay agreed.
“What now?” I asked quietly.
Kay kissed me on the head. “I’m to the bridge. Rest and recover.” She got up.
I pulled Tundi closer. “Rest and recover, you hear that?”
She laughed as she pulled off her top and pulled me to a nipple. “I know what you need,” she growled. “You didn’t even get to finish with her...”
Hmmm... She was right, although it seemed like weeks ago.
I gave myself to her, feeling safe again. She rode us to heaven, then held me close and sang me to sleep in her arms.
I woke in Kay’s arms. Snuggling together after making love, she asked, “How are you doing?”
I snuggled closer, holding. “Better. I’m recognizing it now -- sort of a compressed or almost-cramped feeling, like I need to stretch and rest, relax. At the end of our taxi runs, I was pretty beat, I can tell that now.”
“Yes, you were. But you still had enough to pull us through.” She nestled me closer and kissed my forehead. ‘You’re quite a catch, and quite a surprise to us all!”
And that surprised me. “What? Something new? I thought I was treading well-known paths?”
Kay moved, both of us sitting up. She sighed; I could tell she was serious.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I wish your nestmother was here -- she’s so much better at this.”
“Learn -- grow -- that’s what she tells me.”
Kay chuckled, nodding. “You’re right. Okay, would you say that...”
I linked briefly to Eliza and had her take us to lower gee and dim the lights. I pulled myself into Kay’s arms.
“Hey! I want you to think about this!” she complained.
I nestled in. “I philosophize better when I’m being held.”
She laughed! She laughed and squeezed me! “Oh you!”
I snuggled in, and she held me.
After a bit, she started talking again. “Would you say that you’re intellectual, a creature of intellect, or emotional in nature?”
I responded in part by taking a nipple. I nestled back between her breasts and replied, “It’s not either-or, can’t be, not any more. Has to be both-and. Yes, I’m analytical, and good at it. But even that analytical ability is fueled or steered by the emotional side -- the Requiem we did, the whole idea of riding the shockwaves, that came from someplace deep, a combination.”
She held me, kissing my head again. “Yes it did. You keep surprising us. The Cep, and some of my colleagues expect you to go composite, completely analytical. They expect you to be extremely successful at it. But Pingri nest, and especially your nestmother, myself, others of my colleagues, see the other part of you, and want that to develop as well. We see you developing into a synthesis, and for that path ...”
I pulled back a little, but swung us around so her legs were around my waist. “Okay, I know I say it a lot, but I don’t understand. Composites have been around for a long, long time, right? I haven’t seen that much on ... what did you call it, synthesis ... but that’s not a new phenomenon either, right?”
She nodded, serious. “Neither are new, but...” She sighed. “The path you’ve taken -- your first shell change, crudely put, from monkey to spider, handled in primitive conditions by rank amateurs with very little training, particularly in handling complex emotional constructs -- you not only survived, you thrived! You did so much! What you did with the early ship training simulations -- that really surprised me. And what you did during the rebuild, at the Museum -- we didn’t want to believe the incredible jump you’d made. We ignored so many clues. The path you’ve taken, the results you’ve achieved as a composite over such a short time...”
“So?”
She shook her head. “The level of integration you’ve achieved, working with the Cep, and while they’re more than willing to take credit, you did most of it on your own, you’ve accomplished in a period of months what usually takes decades of instruction, training, and effort to achieve -- where possible. You are doing things I cannot do! And I’ve tried! Repeatedly!”
I shrugged. “The universe is a big place. What’s ‘usual?’ -- one person’s extremely weird is another’s breakfast cereal, right?”
Another frown, almost a smirk. “Okay... I won’t argue that. But a lot of us, Pingri, me, want you to maintain both sides, grow them together. It’s going to be harder, much harder, and it’s going to require focus and effort to maintain any semblance of balance. It would be so much easier for you to go composite. Here...”
She linked me a set of references.
I slipstreamed, nestling in as I retrieved and whipped through the materials she’d sent. Okay, my transition to composite, a high degree composite as such were measured, had been extremely rapid, and extremely lucky. I hadn’t fallen into so many traps, or had so many of the problems that pop up. I had Pingri nest to thank for a lot of that, developing the emotional vitality and stability I needed to survive the process. I also recognized where the Cep had stacked the deck.
In a certain warped sense, the beating I’d taken at the hands of those testing bastards, and the additional work with Pingri nest, had also strengthened my emotional foundations.
There was a typical development path, a syndrome, of going composite. I’d begun to realize the toll high-level composite activity took on my system. After going through some of those references, I understood it better. Tremendous endocrine demands and changes, hormonal demands and changes. Really high levels of composite activity, as I’d done on Museum, or in our taxi runs, or recently with that amazing defensive psychosis, took a high toll on the physical component. I could and would wear out a shell in a fraction of its normal useful life. There were mods and supports -- yeah, the Cep had done some of those, made some of the mods and provided some of the support while I was on Museum -- okay, this shell would last a bit longer, and I could recover quicker.
That was the dilemma. I could move more and more to composite, with tighter regulation and support of endocrine levels. And over time, that syndrome out of necessity results in composites who are narrow, celibate, monks. Closer to eunuchs -- and by choice, reducing and to a great extent eliminating emotional swings that interfere with composite ability.
Yet there were opposing views and analyses -- one in particular pointing out the decline in creativity along that transition to composite. Tremendously productive, yes, but in terms of creativity, so sterile. Yes, that one was attacked, repeatedly and viciously, that creativity was such a fuzzy concept, so difficult to measure objectively, yada, yada, yada... Yet for me, the apologists just solidified the analysis they attacked.
Going the composite route -- a long and productive life. Calm, regular.
No, sterile and constrained.
The other route, the synthesis route -- less well known, but endocrine levels again were important, but letting them swing, restoring them to more “human” ranges after intense composite periods. Yah, that’s what we’d done, essentially. I could act, analyze, synthesize in that accelerated composite reference frame. But afterwards, I needed to heal, to recover, to live in the flesh, draw strength from the flesh, to revel in the flesh, to remain anchored in it. Both-and. Sybarite and monk. Who was it? Bobo-roshi, who found enlightenement with the ladies of the bath house?
I abandoned those threads, taking Kay’s nipple in my mouth, sucking greedily, taking in her scent.
We made love joyously; I gave myself to her, not holding back.
Snuggling later, she murmured, “Mmmmm, was that a decision? If it was, I like what you’ve decided!”
I snuggled closer. “I’ve never done anything the easy way, why start now? Both-and, sybarite and monk. Take big bites.”
She squeezed me close, and that felt even better. “Good!” She kissed the top of my head. “Feel like causing some trouble?”
I laughed. “Oh yeah...”
End of Part 6
rev 2007/08/17
Time of Arrival 6
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www