In the five years since they had been rescued (it sounded so much better than “abducted,” the ever-cynical Ruslan thought) from Daribb, both young survivors had matured mentally as well as physically. Pahksen was now taller than Ruslan. With access to proper nutrition for the first time in his life, the once lanky adolescent had also filled out considerably. While still subscribing to a certain degree of the guardedness that had initially defined him, thanks to Ruslan’s efforts and the unending kindness of the Myssari he had mellowed from his feral hunter-gatherer days on Daribb. As for his younger counterpart…
If Ruslan and Pahksen were minor celebrities within the Myssari Combine, Cherpa was all but venerated. Wherever they went, every local desired to be recorded in her company, or touch the famous auburn follicles that had grown out (though not to knee length this time), or listen to her distinctive human laugh. Something about the melodious sound, so different from the far more subdued Myssari vocalizations of amusement, struck the humans’ hosts as irresistible. Ruslan quite understood. The girl’s laughter had nearly the same effect on him.
As had Pahksen, she had also matured physically. Her physical transformation was a wonderment to the Myssari, who knew of such changes only from the recordings they had salvaged from now-uninhabited human worlds. While many of those historical records featured perfectly preserved three-dimensional reproductions, they could not in any way begin to match the reality.
Yet always lurking in the background was the insistence of the Sectionary for Human History and Culture that the resurrection of the species be initiated. Twice a year Ruslan had to go, with Kel’les and Bac’cul and Cor’rin by his side, to plead before Yah’thom’s contemporaries that the time had not yet arrived for natural reproduction to commence and that instigating it via artificial insemination of surgically removed eggs and sperm would likely have deleterious effects on the pair of progenitors. Each time, he and his friends managed to persuade the senior scientists to postpone said proceedings for another half year.
Such efforts could not succeed forever, he knew. Through their extensive research into human affairs, the Sectionary knew as well as he did when young humans reached sexual maturity and became capable of reproduction. Only his insistence that rushing matters could result in permanent psychological damage managed to sustain an increasingly tenuous status quo.
It helped that while the relationship between Pahksen and Cherpa had improved since their removal from Daribb, it gave no indication of edging toward intimacy. Ruslan often thought that the two youths had little in common besides their humanity. That could still change with time, he knew. While Pahksen was now in his early twenties, Cherpa was only sixteen or so, their exact ages being unverifiable. Though the young man’s interests had broadened upon his arrival on Myssar and his exposure to Myssari civilization, none appeared to include romance. This simultaneously puzzled and relieved Ruslan.
Of course, it could all change tomorrow, he told himself. A touch, a glance, a spark, would be all that would be necessary to light the fuse. Then—fireworks. The Sectionary would be pleased.
Today, however, was all about unvisited islands, warm water, and exotic flora and fauna. Velet was a popular getaway among the citizens of Pe’leoek, but at this time of the year it ought not to be crowded. He told himself the day trip was for Pahksen’s and Cherpa’s benefit, but in reality it was as much for him as for them. As ever, the oceans of Myssar continued to remind him of the slightly less salty seas of Seraboth.
They dispensed with clothing as soon as they arrived. Neither of the two youths had been inculcated with anything resembling a nudity phobia, and the few locals who saw them regarded the naked bodies no differently from when they were clad. To the enchanted Myssari, both genders of the famous human survivors appeared equally exotic.
Cherpa was first into the water, splashing and laughing, trying to catch the spongy, nearly transparent bubble-like forms of startled basetch as they rose from the disturbed surface and tried to drift out of her way. Pahksen entered the shallow turquoise sea more deliberately, projecting a dignity that was heartfelt if somewhat misplaced. Seated on the beach of bright pink and green olivine sand, a contented Ruslan leaned back on his elbows and looked on. Beside him, Kel’les had lowered his body down into the center of the tripod formed by his legs. Ruslan smiled at the sight. No matter how many years he lived among the Myssari, he would never be able to think of a squatting individual as anything other than a triangular head in a basket.
“They have adapted very well as they have grown.”
Ruslan glanced at his friend. “The young always have an easier time of it.” He indicated the only other pair of human shapes on Myssar. Both were taut of body and sleek with youth. “Pahksen knows more about your technology than I ever would, and Cherpa speaks better Myssari than—well, than most Myssari.”
“She has a natural feel for linguistics,” Kel’les confirmed. “Did you know that she now speaks the major Vrizan and Hahk’na dialects as well?”
Ruslan’s eyebrows rose. “I knew she was working with Vrizani. I didn’t know she had been studying Hahk’nan.”
“Oh. I hope I have not spoiled a surprise.”
“I don’t think so.” Ruslan turned his gaze back toward the water. The glare moderated accordingly. The aging lenses of his eyes had been replaced by Myssari technicians several years ago. He could override their programming by simply thinking about it. Experts at rejuvenating their own bodies, the Myssari considered the devising of replacement parts for humans an engineering challenge. His left hip was artificial as well, a perfect reproduction built up of calcium- and phosphorus-based organosynth compounds. The resulting construction fooled not only his brain but his circulatory and nervous systems as well. Young and healthy, Cherpa and Pahksen had not yet required any such surgical interventions.
Kel’les gestured toward an irregular object lying on the sand nearby. “Despite her increasing maturity the female still maintains possession of the effigy.”
Ruslan regarded the doll. “It’s all she has of her childhood. Probably a gift from one of her parents. I never asked.”
“Nor will I,” Kel’les admitted. “As you know, the Myssari hold personal privacy in high regard.”
For other Myssari, Ruslan thought. Not so much for valuable specimens.
“Your love of immersing yourselves in water continues to astonish us,” his minder continued. Given the Myssari body design, all angles and awkwardness, Ruslan understood their innate hydrophobia. Myssari physicality was admirably suited to numerous activities, but swimming was not among them. They were the antithesis of streamlined.
“I regret to say that the General Sectionary’s impatience continues unabated.”
“With regard to what?” Having heard the declaration many times before, Ruslan was sure he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Kel’les’s mouth.
“I think you know,” his minder continued, confirming all suspicions. “It concerns the matter of commencing human repopulation through natural means. With each half year that passes, the forces clamoring for intensive cloning are strengthened. This is especially so since the female has reached reproductive status.”
It was too beautiful a day and setting to serve as a slave to the inexorable. “Surely we can put off the Sectionary for another year or so.” Something small, green, and many-winged landed on his right big toe. He brushed at it idly and it flew off on a complaining whistle.
“I was told you would say that.”