“You’re a real puzzle, Kadar San. You’re always wearing an expression that makes me want to offer you a penny for your thoughts.”
I gave her a dumb, uncomprehending look. She giggled delightfully.
“It’s an old, old Earth expression,” she explained. “You look a little smug.”
Zentadon are not real good at repartee with the opposite sex out of breeding season. The Human part of me couldn’t help noticing that Gun Maid might make an excellent breeder.
“I will work on it,” I said. “A lowly Zentadon must never look … a little smug.”
“A Zentadon, Sergeant, would get along better if he hadn’t such a chip on his shoulder.”
There was nothing on either of my shoulders. Gun Maid giggled again.
“Another old, old Earth expression?” I guessed.
“Can’t you read my mind? You’re a telepath.”
I thought she looked worried that I might.
“Sens have an etiquette,” I said, not completely truthfully. “It would be like rape if I read your thoughts without permission.”
“Oh? But you’ll rape the Blobs and other assorteds?”
“When necessary. But with much less pleasure,” I replied, enjoying the exchange in spite of my suspicions.
A female medic came from the
Tsutsumi
to assist the team with hooking into the time-couch life support systems. “How do you stand those things?” she asked, shuddering. “They’re like … coffins.”
She administered hiberzine. The team began stripping off their uniforms and climbing one by one into their “coffins.” The medic came to me.
“I will pass,” I declined. “The hiberzine drug does not work on the Zentadon. I’m afraid your ship has an unexpected tourist for the next six weeks.”
Captain Amalfi blinked. “I always assumed hiberzine was created by the Zentadon.”
“It was invented by the Indowy to be used on humans and employed by Zentadon.”
“Uh…?”
“About four thousand years ago.”
“I thought we encountered the Zentadon less than a thousand years ago.”
“Elves,” I said mysteriously, “have always been around.”
Captain Amalfi frowned as the glass hood closed over him.
Most of the crew opted for VR — virtual reality — entertainment hookups which allowed experiencing all kinds of true-to-life adventures while they slept. Rather like dreaming, I assumed, only closer to real life. I wondered what program Gun Maid selected.
She stripped down to bikini underwear for the time-couch. No brassiere. Her near-naked body was slender and hard and brown as she settled in for the ride. I stood next to her couch as the medic attached her to IV’s, electric muscle exercisers, and vital organ stimulator feeds. Atlas, from his coffin, stared at me disapprovingly. Warm, soft padding flowed around her body, supported by hard memory plastic.
“Penny for my thoughts?” I asked.
She smiled. “Okay.”
“I was wondering how you’d look with a beautiful furry tail.”
She was still giggling when she went under.
C·H·A·P·T·E·R
TEN
S uspicion and mistrust blocked all doors wherever I went on the dreadnought during the long flight. I felt like a virus, isolated and impugned. I encountered walls of fear and apprehension whenever I released my Sen powers to explore. How could I really blame the Humans after the way we Zentadon had been used against them by the Indowy? And after the Homelander incident prior to departure? I felt the same kind of mistrust toward the Indowy. My own anxiety grew the closer we came to the dreaded Dark Planet and its latent social memories of the taa camps. Had I a choice, which Commander Mott assured me I hadn’t, I would have stayed on Galaxia and waited for the breeding season.
Sometimes, out of loneliness, I entered the Stealth, while Captain Amalfi and the team slept on. I stood by Gun Maid’s time-couch and watched as the VR she was experiencing animated her features. She must be having a delightful time. I experienced a surge of unfamiliar jealousy. I wondered what it
I gave her a dumb, uncomprehending look. She giggled delightfully.
“It’s an old, old Earth expression,” she explained. “You look a little smug.”
Zentadon are not real good at repartee with the opposite sex out of breeding season. The Human part of me couldn’t help noticing that Gun Maid might make an excellent breeder.
“I will work on it,” I said. “A lowly Zentadon must never look … a little smug.”
“A Zentadon, Sergeant, would get along better if he hadn’t such a chip on his shoulder.”
There was nothing on either of my shoulders. Gun Maid giggled again.
“Another old, old Earth expression?” I guessed.
“Can’t you read my mind? You’re a telepath.”
I thought she looked worried that I might.
“Sens have an etiquette,” I said, not completely truthfully. “It would be like rape if I read your thoughts without permission.”
“Oh? But you’ll rape the Blobs and other assorteds?”
“When necessary. But with much less pleasure,” I replied, enjoying the exchange in spite of my suspicions.
A female medic came from the
Tsutsumi
to assist the team with hooking into the time-couch life support systems. “How do you stand those things?” she asked, shuddering. “They’re like … coffins.”
She administered hiberzine. The team began stripping off their uniforms and climbing one by one into their “coffins.” The medic came to me.
“I will pass,” I declined. “The hiberzine drug does not work on the Zentadon. I’m afraid your ship has an unexpected tourist for the next six weeks.”
Captain Amalfi blinked. “I always assumed hiberzine was created by the Zentadon.”
“It was invented by the Indowy to be used on humans and employed by Zentadon.”
“Uh…?”
“About four thousand years ago.”
“I thought we encountered the Zentadon less than a thousand years ago.”
“Elves,” I said mysteriously, “have always been around.”
Captain Amalfi frowned as the glass hood closed over him.
Most of the crew opted for VR — virtual reality — entertainment hookups which allowed experiencing all kinds of true-to-life adventures while they slept. Rather like dreaming, I assumed, only closer to real life. I wondered what program Gun Maid selected.
She stripped down to bikini underwear for the time-couch. No brassiere. Her near-naked body was slender and hard and brown as she settled in for the ride. I stood next to her couch as the medic attached her to IV’s, electric muscle exercisers, and vital organ stimulator feeds. Atlas, from his coffin, stared at me disapprovingly. Warm, soft padding flowed around her body, supported by hard memory plastic.
“Penny for my thoughts?” I asked.
She smiled. “Okay.”
“I was wondering how you’d look with a beautiful furry tail.”
She was still giggling when she went under.
C·H·A·P·T·E·R
TEN
S uspicion and mistrust blocked all doors wherever I went on the dreadnought during the long flight. I felt like a virus, isolated and impugned. I encountered walls of fear and apprehension whenever I released my Sen powers to explore. How could I really blame the Humans after the way we Zentadon had been used against them by the Indowy? And after the Homelander incident prior to departure? I felt the same kind of mistrust toward the Indowy. My own anxiety grew the closer we came to the dreaded Dark Planet and its latent social memories of the taa camps. Had I a choice, which Commander Mott assured me I hadn’t, I would have stayed on Galaxia and waited for the breeding season.
Sometimes, out of loneliness, I entered the Stealth, while Captain Amalfi and the team slept on. I stood by Gun Maid’s time-couch and watched as the VR she was experiencing animated her features. She must be having a delightful time. I experienced a surge of unfamiliar jealousy. I wondered what it
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