Darrell Bain Read online

  Fifteen minutes later I felt like a new woman with a clean body and garments to match. I still had my hair wrapped in a towel but I'd changed into a pair of soft old jeans and a pullover that was thick enough not to show a shadow of my nipples but thin enough to make the lack of a bra obvious. If Jeri could get away with it then so could I, even though she did look to be ten years younger than my 29. Kyle appeared to be in his late twenties. There was something about both their personalities that suggested wisdom beyond their years but I couldn't pin it down. Whatever it was, Jeri sure didn't act like a 19-year-old. Anyway, I was supposedly in my own digs so I could dress like I pleased.

  The door chimed pleasantly, an old tune I recognized but like the age factor with Kyle and Jeri I couldn't put a tag to it. I told the door to open and it did, recognizing my voice pattern just like it had been taught 20 minutes beforehand.

  All three of them were there. Jeri and Carol were holding plates of sandwiches and finger food while Kyle had his arms full of a six-pack of beer and a bottle each of rum, whisky and vodka. As he set his load on the kitchen counter I saw he had brought all good brands, Jack Daniels in particular. I wondered where the scotch was but I wouldn't miss it if no one else did. Like I said earlier, I reserved most of my alcohol intake for special occasions.

  As I helped Carol and Jeri set out the food I began salivating and had to sample a bit here and there. Whoever put the concoctions together did a good job. I said so.

  Jeri grinned. “Kyle is still better in the kitchen than me but I'm trying to catch up."

  Well, she was young. Time enough to learn and Kyle didn't seem to mind. Regardless of all the progress in sexual equality for women we are still expected to do the cooking most of the time. It doesn't bother me much since I like to cook. That is, it doesn't bother me unless I see the man expecting me to do it all the time regardless of how busy I might be with work and other activities. That's usually the end of an affair for me. It was what made me tell Ken to leave two weeks after I let him move in with me. That and a few other traits I didn't discover until too late.

  We were all seated and I immediately discovered that someone who knows furniture had selected the couches and chairs in the den. It was crowded but cozy and the gremlins that furnish hotel rooms had obviously been banned from this place. Or maybe they couldn't get past the security.

  I tried them all over the next day or two and they were unbelievably comfortable, but right then I enjoyed sitting in one of the easy chairs and satisfying my appetite with a sandwich and my thirst with a pickup drink.

  Kyle and Jeri were good conversationalists although Jeri did most of the talking. They alternated in telling how the enclave was organized and what the group was involved with while asking about Carol and me. Kyle seemed surprised that Carol had a bachelor's degree in biology as well as a master's in Business O&E. That's Organization and Efficiency to the uninitiated, a relatively new specialty that I hadn't heard of when Carol told me that's what she had studied. I remembered it when I asked her to come to work at Havel's and it proved to be a godsend.

  "Well, we weren't expecting you, Carol, but it sounds like we hit the jackpot. As fast as we're progressing on some projects, it takes a genius in organization to keep us from getting tangled in our own feet and we've managed that all too often."

  "Carol is a genius, all right,” I stated emphatically. “I had three different research projects going at the same time at Havel's and she kept them all running as smooth as a pup's belly."

  They laughed but the mention of research brought the subject I was here for to the top of my mind. Even tired as I was I couldn't stand not knowing any longer.

  "Okay,” I said. “We're here. Now what I want to know is when I'm going to meet the aliens. I won't be able to sleep tonight until I do."

  Kyle and Jeri roared with laughter. I was nonplussed and couldn't see a thing funny about what I'd said. As the laughter continued I began to get irritated. I guess they noticed because they quieted down.

  "Do you mean no one has told you?” Kyle said, disbelief obvious in his voice.

  "Told me what? Would you mind letting me and Carol in on the joke?"

  He pointed to Jeri. “You've been talking to an alien ever since Jeri was introduced to you. She's a Crispy. Or was, I should say."

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  CHAPTER SIX

  "No one told me,” I said rather plaintively. I was staring at Jeri but I couldn't help it. Neither could I picture her as ever having been an alien. Kyle was being very quiet and that didn't make much sense, either.

  "I'm very sorry,” Jeri said. “As soon as I realized you didn't know who Kyle and I were, I thought it would be a good joke to withhold the fact for a little while. I can see now that it wasn't very funny to you two. I apologize. I'm still learning how to act like a human, you see, even after all this time."

  Now I stared at Kyle. “Jeri included you in that statement. Don't tell me you're an alien, too!"

  "No, I'm just her husband. And the man who rescued her from her lifeboat after it crashed."

  "Oh. Oh! Gene told me about you two, but he never mentioned your names!” That happy-faced scoundrel! He probably did it on purpose.

  "And that's more than I heard,” Carol said. “He must have already told Mai the story before they called me in to ask me to come to the circus."

  That got a chuckle from all of us. I was beginning to relax again but for the life of me, I couldn't keep my eyes off Jeri. I guess she was used to it because she met my stare and answered my questions with good humor.

  "Could ... I mean would it be okay if I saw what you looked like before you ... transformed? Converted? Whatever you call it when you change your form from Cresperian to human."

  "Certainly. And it's perfectly all right to use the short form of the term. Crispy. Cresperian is used only in formal reports and the like. Here, I'll show you how I used to look."

  She wore a wide gold band on each of her upper arms that shone like polished brass. It struck me as an odd type of jewelry when I first spotted it but it did look rather attractive on her. And as it turned out, it had a use. She touched one of the bands with two fingers and held them there for a moment.

  A holograph—or what I took for one—of her former image appeared in the middle of the den. A pyramidal head with two large bisected eyes in a lumpy face and set squarely on an upper body. No neck. The torso was about the same size as a human, but held four arms instead of two. They each terminated with two opposable thumbs and six limber fingers. The long lower appendages were much like our legs and feet except for a backward facing toe-like extension as well as several in front. I could see no visible genitals. The being was covered in a pale lime-colored pelt so fine I first took it for a skin like a reptile until I peered closer. Then it looked as if it would be sleek and soft to the touch. The being wore bands such as Jeri did on her arms, also a lime green color but darker.

  I kept glancing back and forth from Jeri to the image and trying to reconcile the two. Frankly, I couldn't do it. I'm a geneticist and a damn good one but how in hell could something like that creature convert itself to a human female? And not just the form but the complete genome, or so I was told.

  I shook my head. “It's hard to believe."

  "Try thinking in terms of a species that's been civilized so long it's forgotten its own history,” Kyle said. “One where manipulation of genes and changing of bodily form and function are as natural to them as eating a slice of apple pie is to us. A species which has learned to tap into the quantum foam to help it do these things. And finally one with a perceptive sense that goes down to the molecular and atomic level. Does that make it easier?"

  "Intellectually, I suppose.” I sighed. “Practically? It's something I'm going to have to get used to. Gene Smith told me it could be done but I only half believed him. Maybe not even that much."

  Kyle reached to the small pitcher of alcoholic punch he had stirred up in place of whisky and refille
d his glass. He raised his brows at me.

  "One more, then I have to get some sleep, come the revolution and the rapture in one fell swoop."

  "Same here,” Carol said. “In fact, my eyes are closing. I'm going to have to call it a day.” She stood up and thanked Kyle and Jeri for their hospitality and left for her suite.

  After the door closed behind her Kyle became serious. “Mai, I hope you're anxious to get to work because we're going to be rushing you. We're all rushed though, so don't feel like we're singling you out. Jeri and I took part of the day off to welcome you personally after the rough time you had, but we all have projects going that are little short of urgent. You'll be in the same position because we won't be around much longer and part of Jeri's work is going to fall into your hands."

  I started to comment then bit my tongue. Me pick up on an alien's work, one of a species that's been around so long they've learned to use the quantum foam to manipulate genomes as easily as kids playing with marbles? I know I'm smart but that seemed like a stretch. However, I told myself they knew what they were doing and let it slide for the moment.

  "Rest easy,” Jeri said. She reached over and patted me on the knee. “I'll leave you plenty of notes and show you how to use the instruments we've devised."

  "What am I supposed to do with them?"

  "Nothing real hard,” Kyle said with a smile. “Just figure out how to lengthen the human lifespan indefinitely without a Crispy to assist during the process. And how to help humans develop a perceptive sense. Or if you'd rather leave part of that research to others you can take the SF combat course that's been set up and maybe go out with one of the spaceships. Starships, I should say."

  I made a sudden leap of intuition while I was wondering whether he was joking about the spaceships or not. “Neither one of you is as young as you look."

  "See?” Jeri remarked as they exchanged glances. “I knew she was the one just as soon as I ran across her bio.” To me she said, “Sorry, Mai. I didn't intend to talk past you. As my sweetie here said, we're kind of rushed. The man who passed you over when we were assembling this madhouse is still around, but he's being ... er, re-educated. Right now I believe he's studying the life histories of a hundred or so female scientists and other notables of the gentler sex, as he so unfairly put it, like Madame Curie, Maria Mayer, Sonya Kovalesky, Grace Hopper and others of equal merit. After that he'll get into Israeli and Russian military exploits by females and follow it up with women in the United States armed forces and scientific fields. The course will end with a week of hand-to-hand combat training conducted by female marines who've been through infantry combat training and are experts in martial arts. I believe he'll be a better man after completing his studies, don't you?"

  I laughed at the image of a doofus male macho smartass who thought men were so high and mighty having to study superior females until his brain was stuffed full of their exploits and then having his ass kicked up between his shoulder blades by women half his size for a couple of weeks. If that didn't change his attitude, nothing would. But...

  "When did the military relent on allowing females into infantry combat specialties? And were you kidding about going on a starship?"

  "I believe it was General Shelton who put it over for our little group but it was Kyle's idea, not mine,” Jeri said. “He's also responsible for dreaming up the re-education course for males who were downplaying women's role in the planned expeditions beyond the solar system. I think it's so good I want to combine that course with another of the opposite extreme, women who think their gender is superior. I just wish we had more time, but after we get into space we'll be able to get a lot of training done during travel. And no, I wasn't kidding. The spaceships are being built and we are going to go exploring."

  "Where to?” The remark about beyond the solar system had just sunk in. I was flabbergasted.

  "Cresperia, my home planet—if we can find it. All our navigators were killed when the ship broke up. Ishmael and I—he's another Crispy and you'll meet him later—have convinced General Shelton to send the first two craft in the general direction of our home just in hopes of finding it, but there'll be lots of exploring along the way."

  It was all moving too fast for me, especially the way my vision was beginning to blur. The food and that third drink had just about done me in. Kyle must have noticed.

  "Sweetheart, I think we'd better take the rest of this up tomorrow. Carol's already gone to bed and if we keep Mai up much longer she's going to collapse right there on her couch."

  "You're right, hon,” Jeri agreed. She stood up with Kyle by her side. “We'll see you tomorrow when you pass through our stations but someone else will handle your orientation. That shouldn't take more than a day, then we'll find you some space in my office, and you can get to work."

  I yawned as I was telling them good night. I think I was asleep no more than five minutes after the door closed behind them. I dreamed of flying that night, flying on a giant spaceship out among countless stars, just as I'd daydreamed of since I was a little girl.

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  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The bed was so comfortable I didn't want to get up the next morning. There's nothing like a good top of the line memory foam mattress about four inches thick laid over a firm foundation to make a person sleep well. I threw the sheets back, yawning and stretching and wondering what time it was. My bedside clock seemed to have disappeared. And why hadn't the room started its gradual brightening routine when I told it to? Then I suddenly remembered where I was—or hoped I was! I was going to be awfully disappointed if this was all a dream.

  I sat up in bed, heart pounding. Had it all been no more than an extraordinarily vivid dream? Or was it really true? I looked around. I wasn't at home; that was certain. There was no one in bed with me, so I surely hadn't overindulged and gone home with a strange man. By God, it was true! I had really and truly met an alien, a being who had traveled distances unimaginable to the human mind, only to wind up as one of the few survivors from a wrecked spaceship.

  I hadn't bothered looking for a nightie before crawling into bed the night before. I swung my legs over the side and stood up. The bathroom was ... that way. The door was partially open with a thin shaft of light coming from it into the room, just like I remembered leaving it when I couldn't locate a night light.

  I found a coffeepot and coffee and got it going first thing so it would be ready by the time I finished my usual morning ablutions. I was already running late by my standards. I like a light compact breakfast and an early start. Apparently the organizers here knew it, too. The phone rang just as I finished eating the cereal and banana that had been left for me.

  "Are you dressed?” It was Gene and he was back to his usual cheerful self, as his image showed.

  "Sure. What—oh. Sorry. The phone was set for receive only.” I punched the transmit selector and a second later Gene's image grinned.

  "Ah, much better. Now I can see your smiling face. Are you about ready for your orientation?"

  "I've been ready."

  "Okay, I'll come for you in ten minutes."

  * * * *

  Carol was with him, along with several other people. One was a slim but well built man in his thirties, with blond hair and bronzed skin from outdoor activity. He wore army cammies with shirt sleeves rolled up above the elbows. It was the same shiny silvery color as the military's new powered camouflage wear and the silvery color meant it didn't have its power on. Same as I had seen Kyle wearing the day before. When the cammies were powered, the fabric would take on the colors and tints of its surroundings. The double bars of a captain's insignia were attached to the collar of his shirt. He held out his hand, displaying a tanned, well-muscled forearm.

  "Roy Jenkins. I'll be around for a couple of weeks before I leave for the SF Marine training."

  "SF—Space Force?"

  "Yep. Ain't it grand?"

  I nodded. Space Force. It sounded good to me. And the way he was
dressed—was that going to be the uniform or had he come here from some other military unit? I knew NASA had been picked up by the collar and seat of their pants and told to get their ass in gear with development of long range manned space ships, but a military contingent in space told me volumes about how far they'd come in the short time since aliens arrived on Earth. Or was this place part of NASA? It had more of the aspects of a military venture than NASA. And the secrecy. I began to get an inkling that there were wheels within wheels going on that I knew little about yet. I kept that observation to myself, figuring I'd be told what I needed to know soon enough.

  Gene drove the group around in a big bastardized golf cart without wheels that seated six people, and it was full. It moved like the baggage cart, a few inches above ground level. I asked about it.

  "It's an adaptation from the survival packs that came with the lifeboats. Really pretty simple once Jeri explained how they work. It's not anti-gravity, in case that's what you're thinking. It's more like surface magnetism without ferrous metals being necessary or so I was told when I asked, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. I'm not a physicist. The repulsion force works on the inverse square law, so there's a limit to how far from a surface a unit can get."

  I nodded, suspecting I was going to run across a good number of developments that hadn't gotten out to the public yet.

  The first part of the orientation concerned the place we were at now. The Brider Enclave was built originally back in the last century when the Cold War was our main concern and at its height. Many citizens of that era built backyard shelters in case of nuclear warfare, which at the time seemed inevitable if not imminent. Survivalists bought acreage in wild parts of the country and stocked up on food and ammunition. Remnants of them are still active here and there but now they worry what the IC is up to with terrorism or biological warfare.

  Back in those days a tycoon by the name of Brider decided to construct a shelter that would keep a few dozen people safe from a giant nuclear exchange, the worst imaginable, for a number of years. He built it deep and big and made it to last. He worked on it for years and was still improving it when he died. After his heirs split up his fortune it was sold to a mining company and then passed through several other hands. Eventually it wound up being controlled by Army Intelligence, obtained by a smart general in military procurement for a few pennies on the dollar. Its existence was kept secret after having its location removed from the state and county tax rolls and gradually it faded from everyone's memory.