The suits, for a start. Unless some happened to be stowed temporarily in the bows, he would be making no space-walks. Superluminal communication equipment was gone — no chance of sending a fast message of distress. Two of the three exit locks were on the lost section. One lock was left, unless you counted the hatches in the stern of the ship as possible improvised access points. What else? Much of the ship’s computer equipment. And every cubic meter of cargo space.
Whatever they might find in the Anfract or on Genizee, not much of it could go back to Sentinel Gate aboard the Gravitas. A Zardalu, if they managed to snag one, would have to travel in the general passenger quarters along with the rest of them.
Nenda grinned to himself as he imagined Quintus Bloom’s reaction to that. Bloom and Glenna Omar were safe enough, because they were in passenger quarters, up close to the bows of the ship. But the first sight of a live Zardalu ought to wipe that sneer off Bloom’s face.
Louis was no less exhausted than ten minutes ago, but he was suddenly on top of the world. They were alive! They had come through the Maw in a closer scrape than anyone in recorded history. They still had a functioning ship. The problem of working them out of the Anfract and all the way back home was the sort of challenge — Atvar H’sial had been quite right — that Louis absolutely thrived on. And just ahead, no more than a few hours travel even at subluminal speeds, the forward screen showed a bright marigold disc.
They were heading for Genizee’s sun. For Zardalu. And — just maybe — for Darya Lang.
The thought processes of a Cecropian can never be mapped precisely on to those of a human. Atvar H’sial, if pressed, would have explained that thought was conditioned by language. Human language was coarse, crude, one-dimensional, and incapable of subtle overtones compared with pheromonal speech. How could a poor human possibly be expected to express or to understand the nuances and shades of implication which were so natural to even an infant Cecropian?
The problem was nowhere more acute than in conversations with Glenna Omar.
The raw facts were not in dispute. During the hiatus Louis Nenda and Glenna Omar had spent many hours together, locked away in a single chamber. They had surely occupied themselves in the bizarre human mating ritual.
But had the ritual been successful?
Atvar H’sial struggled with the primitive human tongue, and tried to ask her that question. Success in this case had nothing to do with procreation, the production of another generation of humans. It was rather an outcome-defined success, wherein two results had to be achieved simultaneously. First, the obsession of Louis Nenda with the human female Darya Lang had to be broken. That was unlikely to occur in a single other mating. Second, therefore, as a prerequisite of the first the willingness of Glenna Omar to continue a close interaction with Louis Nenda had to be established. The interaction must continue until that first outcome was absolutely guaranteed.
Atvar H’sial could have expressed all that, including the subtle interaction between the first and second desired outcomes, in a single, short burst of pheromones. Instead she was obliged to structure her thoughts in cumbersome human sentences — and then, no less a problem, to interpret Glenna Omar’s response. Once again, Atvar H’sial mourned the loss of her slave, J’merlia.
It did not help that much of the ship’s computer storage, including the on-line dictionaries and thesaurus for human speech so painstakingly developed by Atvar H’sial, had been chewed up in the Maw. What was left as backup was a mangled remnant, and she was not sure how to make use of it. To make matters worse, Glenna herself was languid, yawning, and apparently half asleep. When Atvar H’sial, laden with translation equipment, entered the boudoir, Glenna was consuming a great lump of sticky sweet confectionery. She was smiling to herself, a far-off dreamy smile of satisfaction. The passage through the Maw and the subsequent fate of the ship apparently worried her not at all.
Atvar H’sial unfurled her antennae in frustration as she sought to frame the first question.
YOU SPENT MANY HOURS IN YOUR QUARTERS WITH LOUIS NENDA, WHILE THE SHIP WAS TRAPPED IN THE HIATUS. CAN YOU DESCRIBE TO ME YOUR EXPERIENCE DURING THAT TIME?
Glenna had talked with the Cecropian a dozen times since the Gravitas left the region of Sentinel Gate. Repeated experience had not made Glenna feel fully comfortable. You had to face facts. Chatting about your sex life with what was, when you got right down to it, no more than a smart monster bug was never going to equate to drawing-room conversation.
“I’ll talk about my feelings, if you like, so long as you don’t want physical details. A lady has a right to privacy. You want me to describe what sort of time I had?” Glenna thought for a moment. “It was a total blast.”
Not a promising beginning. Blast = explosion, discharge, detonation, fulmination.
WAS THERE AN EXPLOSION WHILE YOU WERE WITH LOUIS NENDA?
“An explosion! There were half-a-dozen of them — on both sides. I know that off-worlders are supposed to be something special, compared with the men on Sentinel Gate. But nobody ever told me to expect anyone like Louis.” Glenna smiled, arched her back, and stretched tired arm and leg muscles. Her worries about privacy were disappearing. After all, the Cecropian was Louis’s partner. She must already know what the man was like. A maniac. “It was awesome.”
Awesome. The word was not even given; was it the same as awful = dreadful, terrifying, appalling?
“He was amazing,” Glenna went on. “An absolute animal.”
Animal = wild beast, brute, less than human, lower life form.
LOUIS NENDA WAS LIKE A WILD BEAST WITH YOU?
“He certainly was. Over and over. Want to see the tooth marks? I’d think we were all done, but then something would get him going again.”
Going = leaving, departing, exiting.
And tooth marks. That needed no dictionary. Louis Nenda had attacked Glenna Omar, and departed.
As Atvar H’sial ought to depart. But it was not the Cecropian way to give up unless there was no other alternative. She needed Glenna Omar, to immunize Nenda from the Lang female. She dug in, ready for a long effort at persuasion.
YOUR EFFORTS ON MY BEHALF, NO MATTER HOW FRUITLESS, ARE TO BE COMMENDED…
Louis Nenda, monitoring everything on the damaged ship, was listening to Glenna and Atvar H’sial with six different kinds of satisfaction. He could have given the Cecropian the use of a decent dictionary, but why spoil the fun? It would make no difference to the final result. Atvar H’sial was persistent. She and Glenna would sort out their misunderstanding eventually, provided they kept talking.
As for Glenna’s comments…
It was no surprise that Louis had had the time of his life. It had left him drained and half-dead, of course, but that was the way a fantasy ought to leave you. A native Karelian like Louis Nenda might, in his dreams, meet and take to bed a woman from one of the richest worlds of the Fourth Alliance, a beautiful woman with long, supple limbs and skin so soft and creamy that you felt it would bruise at a touch. In your dream world the lady might even fake pleasure. But for her ecstasy to be genuine, for her to say afterwards to a third party that it had been wonderful — that went beyond fantasy. It was so improbable, it must really have happened.
Quintus Bloom’s intrusion, coming when it did, made Louis want to turn around and strangle him.