Kirlian Quest (37 page)

"No, you will not," she insisted. "The signs are on you. I
am
a nurse; I know the drug would kill you this time. Unless that last reservoir is tapped."

Herald sought more information from his host-memory. The Cluster array of sexual conventions was infinitely broad; almost anything could be encountered in mode and attitude. But the Jet practice turned out to be fairly conventional. Liaisons were normally for a period sufficient to bring a litter to functioning independence in society. But some associations were for life, and some were completely casual. Sex was recognized as a physical need, and it was expected that there be periodic indulgence, with or without formal contract, by mutual consent. It was always voluntary. The involuntary participation possible to Solarian females or Spicans of any gender was unknown among the Jets. Without the active cooperation by both parties, the act could not be performed at all. Sixteen's hesitancy was not based on sexual convention, but on the requirement that a given type of relationship, once established, not be distorted. At this stage it would be like sibling romance: possible, but socially awkward. He could alleviate that aspect by claiming prior misunderstanding, owing to his alien conventions. That much was true enough; he had not at that time had opportunity to delve fully into Jet belief and practice.

In summary: He could make love to Sixteen—more correctly, make sex—if she were amenable. But
would
she be amenable if she knew about his quest for Psyche? He doubted it. Yet he needed to survive, to pursue that quest. What was ethical?

Herald considered the alternatives quickly, and decided that he was justified in permitting a partial lie. "I was married," he said. "It was for life—but she was executed."

He felt the tremor in her little aura again. "Who? When?"

"The Solarian tuned to the Ancients. Just before I came here. The Amoeba bombed the site, and only Hweeh and a Qaval and I escaped."

"Then you are in mourning," Sixteen said. "I apologize for not realizing—"

"I need—to forget," he said. But to himself, the truth:
I will never forget
—
or call her dead!

"And the Amoeba followed you here," she said. "Oh, Herald, we must save you!"

"This is why I told you I needed no mistress. It was not a denial of you, but the memory of—"

"I understand!" she cried. "I did not know!"

"Therefore sex really can have no meaning for me, other than as a purely physical measure. I would not want you to think—"

"Understood." She paused a moment "I, also, have an unfulfillable desire."

"You love one who died?" A surprise! He had assumed, perhaps unfairly, that she was naive about serious love.

"Similar. I love an alien."

Herald was amazed. She spoke in the present tense, yet the only non-Jets to visit Mars recently were himself and his friend. "Not... Hweeh of Weew?"

"He healed me," she said simply.

Hweeh had healed her—when Herald himself had failed. So it had been the Weew's aura that made the conquest, not the Slash's aura. "Hweeh is a fine creature and a dedicated scholar. I doubt he is committed to a female of his kind. He told me he had no family, and has been completely immersed in his profession. The only reason he has not Transferred to Jet host is because he has information locked within his Weew brain that might not be available if he were Transferred away from that brain. We do not yet know the limits to such things, and could not take the chance. Once we gain that information, he will be free. He could animate a Jet host to be with you, if he so chose. Probably he does not know of your interest, so—"

"No. He has other business. He must help
you
. Do not tell him of my affliction."

Herald yielded. He was in effect lying to her about the nature of his own love, allowing her to think that it was hopeless. Now he had to honor her lie to Hweeh. "I will not tell him, until the Cluster has been saved. Yet he is not a slow-minded entity; he will surely know—"

"Unless I conceal it, as I have done hitherto," she said. "I will be your mistress
ad hoc
, making no other demand on you, that we may get you back to the site safely."

What more could he ask? Sixteen was actually a very attractive young Jet, with a reflectively shiny surface, elegant female curvatures, and a clever intelligence. It was not necessary to inform her that even if it were not for his continuing love for Psyche, who
had
to be alive somewhere, somehow, he would never be able to love a low-aura creature. Now that he knew that Sixteen had no romantic interest in him either, it became a business matter, justified by circumstance. "Then I see no barrier to proceeding." In fact, he could have saved himself the lie, such as it was.

"Then we shall proceed," she agreed. It was like turning over a manifest for shipped cargo. What a contrast to what he had known on Planet Keep!

Sixteen moved out, found a widening in the subgorge, and began circling. She jetted erratically timed gusts, and the code pattern of this quickly registered in the appropriate perceptive center of Herald's host. It was sex-beat, a signal as direct and compulsive in its fashion as a laser from the Amoeba. His body responded, metabolizing that reserve energy involuntarily. She had certainly been right about that. He had not suspected his host had so much power hidden away, or that it could be tapped in this fashion. Nature, as always, had seen most carefully to the preservation of the species.

He jetted forward to join the dance. He had a rough notion how this species mated, but this hardly mattered. As with most species, instinct governed the procedure. He guided into the same circle, but not precisely her track. His ring was offset slightly, so that the two circles crossed each other in two places.

 

 

They were on opposite sides: while Sixteen curved south, he curved north. As he veered east, she veered west, each crossing the other's track in the dust. But Herald was going faster, pursuing; with each complete loop he was farther along than she. Soon they were moving parallel: north together, south together. They almost collided at the two intersections, one crossing outward, the other crossing inward. At the north intersect she was barely ahead, and he inhaled the delightful gases of her jet; at the south intersect he led her, giving her a whiff of his own exhaust. The effect was highly stimulating for both.

Now his host was restored to full vigor. Logic said he should break off and jet home instead of wasting any of that valuable energy in sex. But if nature left the replication of the species to individual logic, fewer species would exist in the Cluster. He could not break out of the pattern; this was no intellectual or moral consideration, but plain physical compulsion.

The two circles drew together, tugged by the interactions at the intersects. Herald's intake and jet angled to match the curvature of that pattern; Sixteen's did likewise. They spun together, like planets in tight orbit about a mutual focus, each absorbing the other's jet trail, reprocessing the gas, concentrating it. Some fresh thin Martian air entered, for this was no perfect seal, and some exhaust escaped, but the percentage of recycled molecules rose steadily.

This was feedback communication, independent of intellect. LOVE her molecules said; LOVE LOVE his own replied. LOVE LOVE LOVE the message came back, amplified. Yet it was no single molecule, no single concept, but an orchestration of enhancement. From the intellectual to the physical, the meaning amplified, merging so that the originator could not be distinguished. The experience was tremendously exhilarating.

Abruptly the concentration reached the critical level. Herald's chemistry reacted, sending out a cloud of reproductive molecules. These shot through Sixteen's system, returning to him, and back to her again. Around and around they went, some being lost to the atmosphere of Mars with each circuit, others combining with molecules released by her body. The billions became millions, then mere thousands. At last they all vanished, and it was over. If any had lodged within her tube, those merged motes would remain and grow, nourished by her system, and she would have a litter. If not, the experience had still accomplished its purpose, for Herald was now full of energy. Nothing like sex, in any species, to invigorate the male!

They organized for the return trip. Sixteen gave him the drug, and it seemed to have no effect. But he knew this was because he was already jetting strong: the drug would merely maintain this level longer.

They zoomed out of the subgorge, into the main crevasse, and on to the east. They were now halfway around the planet from the excavated site; it was as easy to proceed forward as back. Perhaps they would discover the Ancient artifact on the way, but even if not, they had found out much about the Ancients anyway.

 

* * *

 

"The survey confirms your conjecture," Hweeh said when Herald came out of the lapse his drugged journey had brought him to. "It was the action of the Ancients that eliminated competitive species throughout the Cluster. Analysis suggests these eliminated species could have been non-Kirlian. Apparently the Ancients retained power only long enough to ensure that virtually no non-Kirlians survived in this section of the Universe. The Jets were a special case; they were low-Kirlian sapients. They at least had the potential to develop into full Kirlians. So they were isolated, not destroyed. Had they developed into full-Kirlian creatures, they could have broken out. That was the intentional design of their prison. Then their conquest of the Cluster would have been in accord with the Ancient program. The Jets did not develop far enough in this respect, so other Kirlian sapients took over instead. The Ancients, by this means, transformed this Cluster from mixed-sapience to Kirlian sapience."

"And died out before their project was complete," Herald said. "They had it all: a Kirlian Cluster, and the ability to preserve their culture from Spherical regression."

"Obviously that was related," Hweeh said. "Non-Kirlians could not avoid regression without galaxy-destructive expenditure of energy, because they could not Transfer. Even
with
Transfer, a certain amount of regression continues, and the temptation to use energy unwisely remains. Two Wars of Energy prove that. But it must be possible to abate regression, since the Ancients did it,
had
to do it, in order to conquer the Cluster. If only they had bequeathed us their secret! But now we have another problem."

"The Amoeba," Herald agreed.

"That too. I was thinking of something more personal."

Herald considered. "Was I vociferating while unconscious?"

"It was not necessary. It was obvious how Sixteen brought you back safely. The medic knew it at a glance. Your reproductive reserve was depleted."

"She volunteered it!" Herald said defensively.

"How could she do otherwise, given the need, and in the presence of your aura?"

"She was not overwhelmed by me," Herald said. "I never made an advance to her. My interest is in—" But then he remembered his promise to Sixteen.

"I am not a fool," Hweeh said with considerable justification. "You told her of Psyche?"

"I had to. I think Psyche is a Kirlian Ancient."

"As I thought. I can guess what Sixteen told you."

Herald was silent, realizing that something was wrong. Hweeh was not normally so peremptory.

"She claimed to love another, one unobtainable," the Weew continued inexorably. "The complement to your own situation, that she had just learned about. Were you not suspicious?"

"Hweeh, you make it difficult for me."

"I made it
easy
for you, hoping you would find distraction. But I had not anticipated this aspect. You put her in an impossible situation. She could not intrude upon the prerogatives of the recent dead; that is part of Jet culture. Neither could she let you perish, though it was your own neglect that put you in that danger. So she had to fashion a story acceptable to you, on very short notice. She may even have told you she loved
me
. Not so?"

Herald surrendered. No wonder Hweeh had acquiesced so readily to the unlikely geographic quest. He had wanted to get Herald's mind off Psyche. But the arrangement had fouled up. "I promised not to tell."

"She made you promise, so that you would not have occasion to ascertain the truth. She does not love me. I am an alien creature, physically repulsive to her in that connection. She thought
you
healed her, and were declining credit. She loves
you
. But to ease your mind, she lied to you, demeaning her own feeling."

Suddenly Herald saw it. "You are not the fool;
I
am," he said. "I should have seen it! I thought I was lying to her—"

"Were you?"

"I told her my wife was burned."

"She was, Herald. I witnessed it."

"But she didn't die! Her aura lives—and I shall find it!"

Hweeh was silent a moment, searching for a way to put the matter delicately. "Herald, did you love Psyche at first meeting?"

"No. It took time to know her."