Concepts blossomed in Peters’s mind. “We are not custodians of Makers in the sense I believe you mean—”
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ander Korwits pronounced a word, and two Grallt women came in, escorting a ferassi girl who could not have been over sixteen years old. The girl was short, dark-haired, and amply endowed, with the high taut breasts of the post-adolescent; she was also totally nude, with not so much as foot coverings. Her escorts—guides? captors?—stopped and urged her forward, and she stood, head erect, feet slightly apart, hands at her sides, an expression of mild apprehension on her face.
Alper Gor made a minimal gesture toward the girl. “So, ze Peters, we agree that you and I seem to be of the same species, based on external examination. It remains to prove that conclusively.”
“I don’t understand,” Peters said softly, although he thought he might.
Alper Gor nodded. “There is only one test available to us that will determine without ambiguity whether or not we are the same species,” she declared, and indicated the girl again. “Impregnate this female.”
“No,” said Peters.
“Do you doubt your ability to do so? If so, it casts doubt on your assertions,” Luter Ander observed without emotional content.
“Not in the least.” Peters looked from one woman to another and made a disgusted grimace. “My objections, if such they may be termed, are of an ethical nature.”
“How so?” Ander Korwits asked softly.
“Bah.” He gestured at the girl. “There she stands, brought here by a pair of servitors like a slab of meat for a meal, bereft of the least scrap of clothing to add either dignity or interest to the occasion, not comprehending what her purpose here is—”
“She knows very well what her purpose is,” Alper Gor observed, a certain dryness breaking through the otherwise emotionless statement.
Peters nodded. “So her expression and posture tell me, and it makes it worse, not better.” He caught the attention of the Grallt servitor nearest him. “I wish to tell her something. Translate precisely.”
“Yes, ze.” The woman nodded deeply.
Peters addressed the girclass="underline" “For personal reasons of my own, not any deficiency of yours, I must reject your services. You will not be disciplined for what may be seen in some quarters as a failure on your part, and in fact you have not failed in any way. Go and seek what happiness may be available to you.”
The woman waited until she was certain he had finished, then spoke to the girl in a low voice, leaning over slightly to do so. The girl’s face didn’t change expression until the end, when she looked directly at him for the first time and nodded, still patiently apprehensive.
Peters nodded back, then addressed the woman again: “Take her back to her quarters, and give her whatever reward may be suitable for good service. I meant what I said about discipline or punishment; if anyone suggests such, refer them to me.”
“Yes, ze.”
He folded his arms and sat, stonily regarding the group, as they collected themselves and left. The woman he’d spoken to looked back for a moment past the edge of the door panel, then nodded again and followed her charge into the corridor, and Peters turned to deliver a challenging look to the three women.
“Your ethical objections, if such they truly are, are clearly deep-seated, but they make no sense to us,” Ander Korwits remarked. “Do your traditions not teach that visitors should conform to the customs of their hosts?”
“They do, but consider the incident from my point of view for a moment.” Peters indicated the door with a wave. “That individual is, to my eyes, barely distinguishable from the unfortunate inhabitants of the slave quarters aboard the pirate vessel we defeated.”
“Ridiculous. The girls are well treated,” Alper Gor stated. “Certainly I recall my time in that service as one of enjoyment, even adventure.”
“The girls we found aboard the pirate ship were physically healthy. Emotional health is a quite different question.”
“Indeed.” Alper Gor leaned back in her chair. “In any case, the question of your species remains unresolved. Can you suggest how to proceed?”
“The basic concept is sound, but at the minimum I insist upon an adult who comes to the situation willingly, and with some enthusiasm for the project. Any of the three of you would serve, if you wished to do so.”
That surprised a whuff! out of Luter Ander, who broke her composure to smile and say, “Not I, I’m afraid, at least not if the object is pregnancy. I am beyond my time.”
“Are you? That surprises me, and is disappointing,” Peters told her. “You certainly don’t seem old enough to have lost enjoyment of the procedure. At the minimum I would be attempting to satisfy the desires of an adult, instead of indulging childish whims.”
She laughed, shortly but with genuine amusement. “I thank you for your compliment, ze Peters, and I find myself with more appreciation of the concept than I would have expected, but I must remove myself from consideration in this case.” When she spoke without affectation her voice was a clear contralto like cool smooth velvet.
“I genuinely regret that,” he said, and added enough shoulder motion to his nod to convert the gesture halfway into a seated bow.
“I find that I do as well,” she said on a wistful note. “But my two younger associates must be the favored subjects. Surely one of them will be willing to essay the experiment.”
A long pause ensued, during which the two younger women held one another’s gaze and Peters regarded them with a thin smile, arms folded. At length Ander Korwits said, “Do you have a choice between the two of us? Alper is somewhat the elder.”
Here’s a story I ain’t never gonna tell, Peters thought. Ain’t nobody goin’ t’ believe it anyways. “Any preference is so slight that it would disappear instantly if one or the other of you evinced a desire to pursue the experiment itself, rather than a simple wish to determine the outcome,” he said. “Purely from personal inclinations based upon aesthetics, you would be my choice. On the other hand, Alper Gor and I have already performed what might be considered the earliest stages of the procedure, with results that must be at least provisionally regarded as satisfactory; that might be a deciding factor.”
“So essentially you have no preference,” Alper Gor noted. Both women had lost their distant looks; she regarded at him with an expression that was half interested smile, half wry amusement. “That isn’t greatly complimentary to either of us.”
He spread his hands. “I will instruct you in male-female relationships at no extra charge: a woman is most attractive to a man when she appears to find him attractive. The principle was elucidated to me by my father’s father, and while my experience is neither protracted nor universal I have never found it wanting in applicability.”
“So the true root of your fastidiousness is vanity,” Ander Korwits interjected.
“Precisely correct. In the case of the young girl, the notion of engaging in actions which are different only in degree, not in kind, from those of the dar ptith is repugnant; it wounds my self-esteem. In the case presently before me, I wish assurance that your desire to proceed is not motivated by a sense of obligation or necessity, but rather derives from appreciation of my sterling personal qualities. ‘Vanity’ accurately characterizes both instances.”