From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 112 / 1026 [ Planetfall: Doubts Abound ]
Date: 1 Jul 1996 14:53:23 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
Lines: 411
Message-ID: <4r8op3$run@news1.halcyon.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: coho.halcyon.com
Noren, Lothess 15, 1026
A shout erupted from the laboratory prep room, "Dammit! No!,"
followed almost immediately by the clatter of metal upon a hard
plastic floor. "Nyss?" Nance shouted, running into the lab. "Are
you okay?"
P'nyssa looked up from where she crouched, picking up a small
collection of metallic pointers and tweezers and the like. "Yeah,
I'm okay," she replied. "Dammit, Nance, I'm a total klutz today.
I can't turn around without knocking something over, and I don't
even have a tail as an excuse."
Nance nodded, bending down to help her pick up the tools.
"Nyss, as your personal assistant, as well as your best friend, I
think you've been working too hard. Do us both a favor and go take
a break."
"I appreciate it, Nance, but I don't..."
"Hush," he said, leaning over and kissing her forehead. "Get
out of here, Nyss. Seriously. At the moment, nobody's critical,
and nobody's going to die if you're not here. I understand the
Terrans just opened up a place called 'Rosie's,' some kind of bar.
Go rest. Please?"
She sighed, weighing her choices. "And what if I don't?"
"I'll kick you out of here on your ringdamned ass."
It was the answer she had expected from him. Nodding, she put
down the tray she held and stood up. "Okay, I'll go."
She walked out into the hot, blazing sun of Battia II. So
far, the summer had proven to be very warm, but the breezes that
came down the mountains kept it from being oppressive. The
humidity was a little lower than she was used to, which helped.
She found the place Nance had mentioned.
From the outside, "Rosie's" (the quotes were very visible on
the sign, as if they held some import to the Terran) was built with
a distinctly different architecture from the usual plastic tenting-
in-the-round.
A dark green rectangular tent with an elevated, 'A'-frame roof
was held down in the dusty soil with long, manila-colored ropes.
The tent billowed in the wind, and the cloth it was made of had a
coarse, visible square weave. Despite the cloth construction, the
door was made of wood, with a metal screen "window" for an insert.
The sounds of loud rock-and-roll came from within. Her assessment
was that this place was a replica of some cultural or historic
artifact, and had obviously been patterned on something that had
existed long before anyone had heard of 'taurs.
Anxiously, P'nyssa approached the door and pulled it open.
The springs creaked noisily, and some of the patrons (not, she
gratefully noted, entirely human) turned to look at her. She shook
her head, wondering where all her courage had vanished too.
The floor was wooden, as was the bar to her left. Also made
of steel piping and wood were the antique-looking tables and chairs
scattered about the room. If a corner of the room had been
reserved for a dance floor, P'nyssa couldn't see it. A box in one
corner blared rock music at a barely tolerable volume and P'nyssa
reflected that had never before heard music so poorly reproduced.
She hoped that the poor reproduction was a deliberate part of the
ambiance.
She found her way to the bar, looking around at the glass
shelves arranged in front of a mirror and covered with an
intriguing array of exotic liquors and other intoxicants in glass
bottles. Some of the labels were positively lurid.
P'nyssa looked for a bartender, and found her. She was
surprised to find a Terran Neorat instead of a Human. "Hi!" the
Neorat said, meeting her glance, "What'll you have?"
"Uhm..." P'nyssa thought. Unlike Ken, she had never really
had a taste for alcohol. "What's mild?"
"Mild?" the Neorat bartender replied. "Hmm." She rested a
finger against the distinctive, cone-shaped muzzle in a gesture of
concentration. "Depends. We've got wine, which you can mix with
fruit juices or carbonateds to make a cooler." She grinned. "On
the other hand, if you're going to be a while, I make a good
margarita."
"I thought those had whiskey in them." P'nyssa didn't have
much experience with intoxicants, and some that she had had been
with somewhat self-destructive intent. She knew enough, however,
to know that the word "whiskey" was reserved for more powerful
blends of liquor.
"Only one shot. It comes with lots of juice and ice, though,
so like I said, if you're going to be a while it's a good thing to
cool you down on such a hot day."
"I'll try one."
"Good choice. You won't regret it." The Neorat vanished down
below the bar for a moment, returning with a large plastic scoop
full of ice. The sounds of pouring, blending, and chopping came
from the rear counter, but P'nyssa's view was obscured by the
Neorat's back. Eventually, though, she turned a dropped a centaur-
sized ceramic mug in front of her. "All that?" P'nyssa asked.
"How much is alcohol?"
"This much," the bartender replied, holding up a single shot
glass. P'nyssa had seen Ken down nearly a dozen of those of
whiskey when playing drinking games with Centaurs. He nearly
always got sick after that. Why he thought such games were
worthwhile was beyond her. She could understand his interest in
sadomasochism far easier.
"It's very dilute, then," P'nyssa said.
"Yup. Drink it slow and you'll never feel a thing."
The music subsided gently as the hour waned, and it took
P'nyssa slightly more than an hour to finish the drink the Neorat
had poured for her. The crowd, meanwhile, flowed and ebbed. A few
remained as the hour passed, and P'nyssa enjoyed herself watching
them, especially the pair in the corner playing darts.
"You look familiar."
The words came from behind her, which startled her
momentarily. She turned around and found the Neorat leaning on her
elbows staring across the bar at her. "I do?"
"Yep," she replied, nodding briskly. "It's the white."
P'nyssa touched the albino fur that ringed her eyes with one
mitten. "Lots of Tindals have these."
"Not on this trip. Just two that I know of."
P'nyssa decided to take the initiative and introduce herself.
"P'nyssa Traken."
"Zaid Kincaid."
"Zah...?" She hadn't quite caught the name right.
"Zah-eed," the Neorat replied.
"It's very beautiful." The words seemed to startle the
Neorat, and she immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to surprise
you."
"You didn't," Zaid replied. P'nyssa was curious as to why
Zaid said something that, even had she not been a telepath, was
clearly a lie.
"Tell me something," P'nyssa said. "What's it like being a...
uhm... a Neorat on Terra?"
Zaid shrugged. "It's not much different from being something
else somewhere else, right?"
"But don't you still get looked down on a lot?"
"You mean, unlike your egalitarian Pendorian system?"
P'nyssa smiled. "Something like that. I understand that
Neorats and Katckins still have some major civil rights problems
back on Terra."
"Nothing we can't handle," Zaid replied. "I suppose it's the
same thing as different races had a millennium ago. They just
don't see the similarities because we're furry. You know, separate
but equal has to be the case when we're talking about furtraps and
drying chambers."
P'nyssa nodded. "We have tried, on Pendor."
"And you've had some interesting failures, too," Zaid replied.
"The Ssphynxes didn't do so well, as I remember."
"I'm too close to Ken Shardik to be an impartial observer. I
think he did everything he could. The fact that it took them a
century or two to feel comfortable in public again was an accident,
and if it happens again, we'll live with it."
Zaid nodded. "My turn to ask a question."
"Feel free," P'nyssa said. Her mind was already calling up
the standard answers to the standard questions of what was it like
to be Ken Shardik's lover, what was it like to be a Telepath, how
did she function with such weak arms.
"Have you ever had to kill someone?"
P'nyssa blinked, surprised. "I don't understand the
question."
"It's something about the way Pendorians think that's always
bothered me. I guess the fact that I've got your ear makes me bold
about it. On the one hand, you're all so cautious about your own
lives, constantly updating your cybernetics and all that stuff,
ensuring your longevity, stuff like that. On the other hand,
you've got a social structure that advocates such an absolute sense
of morality. Pendorians are either on or off. Dead or alive. But
at the same time I've never met a Pendorian who's killed. I would
think that by now someone in this party has had an opportunity.
Maybe I should talk to your husband, er, I mean, coimelin."
"No, that's okay," P'nyssa said. "I doubt you'd get much of
an honest answer out of him anyway."
Zaid grinned. "So, have you?"
"I...." P'nyssa sighed. "Yes, but not in the manner you're
looking for. I'm not into emphasizing our cultural morality,
although I could do it if I needed to."
"Come on," Zaid said. "I'm tired of standing up. Let someone
else pour the drinks for a while. Let's find a table and talk.
Wanna beer?"
"Another one of these would be better," P'nyssa said, playing
with the straw in her now empty mug.
Zaid giggled. "You like those, huh?"
"Well, it made me feel warm, but not very drunk."
"That happens if you drink it slow. One more coming up. Find
a seat somewhere."
A few minutes later Zaid joined P'nyssa at the table. "So,
you said 'yes,' but you didn't seem to want to discuss it."
"It's nothing to really discuss," P'nyssa sighed. "It
happened nearly a thousand years ago anyway. I was on Terra,
visiting a hospital as part of some medical seminar. There seemed
to be a big deal about my not being human, something about how
could I present anything of value and why there wasn't a human
keynote speaker for the Pendorian contingent."
"You killed someone in a hospital?"
"More like 'turned off,'" P'nyssa said, sighing and staring
off into the distance. "He was a young boy, about fourteen or so.
Far gone in his illness and couldn't communicate, but as a telepath
I could hear him. And he really wanted to just... let go. Just
let it end. He was in a lot of pain, and I could see a DNR on his
status sheet. So I just..."
"Turned him off."
"Yes," P'nyssa said. "It was probably the most painless
moment he'd had in weeks. I felt bad about it for years
afterwards, though. I wouldn't let Ken take me to Terra." She
smiled and sipped at her drink. "I still hope I did the right
thing."
"Only you can judge," Zaid said. The comment sounded more
flippant that P'nyssa would have thought appropriate for the
discussion, and she gave Zaid a curious stare.
Zaid returned the stare, then blushed and turned away.
P'nyssa felt no animosity from her, only a strange blend of
confusions. "Zaid?"
"Sorry," the Neorat replied. "I'm just thinking."
"Why did you ask me that question?"
"Because... I had to kill someone once myself. A human, and
it was the kind of situation Pendorians talk about when they're
talking about their guns."
"Rape?"
"Something like that. I guess I'll never know if he was going
to rape me, or kill me. But I killed him first. Broke his neck,
even."
"Well, I've only heard just a little bit of the story, but it
sounds to me like you did what you had to do."
Zaid nodded, sipping from her beer. The label on the side of
the bottle read "Battia II Beer." P'nyssa gestured towards the
bottle and asked "Who's making that?"
"Oh, one of the technicians from Moscow. Guy named Anthony."
P'nyssa nodded. "Is it good?"
"Not bad," Zaid admitted. "A little full-flavored."
"I wouldn't know. I don't drink beer." She found that the
second margarita had affected her far more than her first. Worse
than that, she was starting to realize that her monogamy was
getting to her. She found herself stealing glances at Zaid and
wondering what this fascinating alien would be like in bed. And,
even more, she felt... entranced by her companion's exotique.
"Zaid," she said. "I was wondering if you have someone who
would... miss you tonight."
Surprised, Zaid stuttered, "Um... No, I don't. Not really. I
mean, I don't think so."
"You don't think so?"
Zaid threw her hands up in the air. "I've never had an offer
like that before."
"Never?"
"I mean, I've never had sex with a female. I've never even
had sex with a non-Neorat!" she whispered. Her whiskers drooped
slightly. "I don't know if I could."
"Anyone can," P'nyssa said, smiling. She recognized that her
judgment was slightly impaired, at least as far as her inhibitions
were concerned. "It's if you think you might like it that's
important."
"I don't know..." She looked aside for a moment. "Miss
Traken, I really appreciate the offer, but I don't think I could
right now. I don't want to."
Disappointment swept P'nyssa. She had so wanted to seduce
Zaid, and now she'd blown it. She felt like blaming the alcohol,
but reminded herself that she knew better than that. "Okay," she
smiled, hiding her feelings underneath. "But if you ever change
your mind..."
"Yeah, I know." Zaid took a sip of her beer. "So, can I ask
you another question?"
"Go ahead," P'nyssa replied, girding herself for another weird
question. But this time Zaid asked, "How do you function without
fingers?" And for the rest of the night, she asked all the usual
questions.
- - -
P'nyssa walked back into her tent around midnight and
proceeded to pour herself into bed. A figure under the covers
already stirred and looked up, blearily. "Hi."
"Hi, Aaden," P'nyssa said, slumping down against her pillow.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. "Whew," he said.
"What have you been drinking? You smell like Ken after a night at
Rocchodain."
"I feel like it too, only I don't think I'm gonna get sick,"
she giggled. Then she frowned. "Aaden, am I a good person?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Well," she said, "I was with someone earlier. Real pretty
girl named Zaid. And we were sitting in that place called
'Rosies,' drinking stuff. She had beer, I was having...
margaritas, I think they're called, and I tried to seduce her. I
didn't do a good job--"
"Because you were drunk," Aaden interrupted.
P'nyssa nodded. "Because I was drunk, but for a few seconds I
felt really bad because she turned me down. It was like I expected
her to say yes just because I'm, well, P'nyssa Shardik. I just
feel like there's this thing underneath my consciousness, you know,
this egotistical monster that's just as bad as Ken's can be."
"P'nyssa, some people just aren't interested in women." He
chuckled, and she giggled along, at what was quickly becoming a
very important and personal joke between them. "Some aren't
interested in Tindals. Maybe she gets turned off by doctors. I
don't know."
"That's not the point, Aaden. I can handle rejection
gracefully. This time, though, I didn't."
"Did you let her know how disappointed you were?"
"No," P'nyssa said. "But..."
"No 'buts,' Nyss," Aaden replied. "Listen, you know alcohol,
along with being an intoxicant is also a depressant. I don't think
you have much to worry about. As for your feelings, well, maybe
it's better that you know they could be there, rather than letting
them sit under the surface forever."
"I know," P'nyssa said. "But I..."
"Come on, Nyss. Come down here and get some sleep."
"Okay," she said, pouting. She slid into bed, curling up
into a little ball. For a moment, the tent was silent. Then,
Aaden turned over, wrapping himself around her, kissing the back of
her neck and throwing his right arm over her midsection, cupping
one breast.
She reached up and touched his hand. "Aaden?" she said.
"Hmm?"
"Thanks. For everything."
--
"Journal Entry 112 / 1026 [ Planetfall: Doubts Abound ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Redistribution of
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