'One more question,' said Hal. 'What if a lalitha had more than one lover? Whose features would her baby have?'
'If a lalitha were raped by a gang, she would not have an orgasm because the negative emotions of fear and disgust would bar it. If she had more than one lover – and she weren't drinking alcohol – she would reproduce young whose features would be those of the first lover. By the time she lay with her second lover – even if it were immediately afterward – the complete fertilization would have already been initiated.'
Sorrowfully, Fobo shook his head.
'It is a sad thing, but it has not changed in all these epochs. The mothers must give their lives for their young. Yet Nature, as a sort of recompense, has given them a gift. On the analogy of reptiles, which, it is said, do not stop growing larger as long as they are alive, the lalitha will not die if they remain unpregnant. And so–'
Hal leaped to his feet and shouted, 'Stop it!'
'I'm sorry,' Fobo said softly. 'I'm just trying to make you see why Jeannette felt that she couldn't tell you what she truly was. She must have loved you, Hal. She possessed the three factors that make love: a genuine passion, a deep affection, and the feeling of being one flesh with you, male and female so inseparable it would be hard to tell where one began and the other ended. I know she did, believe me, for we empathists can put ourselves into somebody else's nervous system and think and feel as they do.
'Yet, Jeannette must have had a bitter leaven in her love. The belief that if you knew she was of an utterly alien branch of the animal kingdom, separated by millions of years of evolution, barred by her ancestry and anatomy from the true completion of marriage-children-you would turn from her with horror. That belief must have shot with darkness even her brightest moments–'
'No! I would have loved her anyway! It might have been a shock. But I'd have gotten over it. Why, she was human; she was more human than any woman I've known!'
Macneff sounded as if he were going to retch. When he had recovered himself, he howled, 'You abysmal thing! How can you stand yourself now that you know what utterly filthy monster you have lain with! Why don't you try to tear out your eyes, which have seen that vile filth! Why don't you bite off your lips, which have kissed that insect mouth! Why don't you cut off your hands, which have pawed with loathsome lust that mockery of a body! Why don't you tear out by the roots those organs of carnal–'
Fobo spoke through the storm of wrath. 'Macneff! Macneff!'
The gaunt head swiveled toward the empathist. His eyes stared, and his lips had drawn back into what seemed to be an impossibly large smile; a smile of absolute fury.
'What? What?' he muttered, like a man waking from sleep.
'Macneff, I know your type well. Are you sure you weren't planning on taking the lalitha alive and using her for your own sensual purposes? Doesn't most of your fury and disgust result from being balked in your desires? After all, you've not had a woman for a year, and...'
The Sandalphon's jaw fell. Bed flooded his face and became purple. The violent color faded, and a corpselike white replaced it.
He screeched like an owl.
'Enough! Uzzites, take this – this thing that calls itself a man to the gig!'
The two men in black circled to come at the joat from front and back. Their approach was based on training, not caution. Years of taking prisoners had taught them to expect no resistance. The arrested always stood cowed and numb before the representatives of the Sturch. Now, despite the unusual circumstances and the knowledge that Hal carried a gun, they saw nothing different in him.
He stood with bowed head and hunched shoulders and dangling arms, the typical arrestee.
That was one second; the next, he was a tiger striking.
The agent in front of him reeled back, blood flowing from his mouth and spilling on his black jacket. When he bumped into the wall, he paused to spit out teeth.
By then, Yarrow had whirled and rammed a fist into the big soft belly of the man behind him.
'Whoof!' went the Uzzite.
He folded. As he did so, Hal brought his knee up against the unguarded chin. There was a crack of bone breaking, and the agent fell to the floor.
'Watch him!' Macneff yelled. 'He's got a gun!'
The Uzzite by the wall shoved his hand under his jacket, feeling for the weapon in his armpit holster. Simultaneously, a heavy bronze bookend, thrown by Fobo, struck his temple. He crumpled.
Macneff screamed, 'You are resisting, Yarrow! You are resisting!'
Hal bellowed, 'You're damn shib I am!'
Head down, he plunged at the Sandalphon.
Macneff slashed with his whip at his attacker. The seven lashes wrapped themselves around Hal's face, but he rammed into the purple-clad form and knocked it down on the floor.
Macneff got to his knees; Hal, also on his knees, seized Macneff by the throat and squeezed.
Macneffs face turned blue, and he grabbed Hal's wrists and tried to tear them away. But Hal squeezed harder.
'You... can't do... this!' said Macneff, wheezing. 'Can't... impossi–'
T can! I can!' screamed Hal. 'I've always wanted to do this, Pornsen! I mean... Macneff!'
At that moment, the floors shook, the windows rattled. Almost immediately, a tremendous boom! blew in the windows. Glass flew; Hal was hurled to the floor.
Outside, the night became day. Then, night again.
Hal rose to his feet. Macneff lay on the floor, his hands feeling his neck.
'What was that?' Hal said to Fobo.
Fobo went to the broken window and looked out. He was bleeding from a cut on his neck, but he did not seem to notice it.
'It's what I've been waiting for,' Fobo said.
He turned to face Hal.
'From the moment the Gabriel landed, we've been digging under it, and–'
'Our sound-detection equipment–'
'–caught the noise of the underground trains directly below the ship. But we dug only when the trains were moving through so the digging would be covered up. Normally, a train would go through the tunnels every ten minutes. But we routed them through every two minutes or so and made sure that they were long freight trains.
'Only a few days ago we completed filling the hole under the Gabriel with gunpowder. Believe me, we all breathed easier after it was done, for we'd feared we might be heard despite our precautions or that our shorings might break under the great weight of the ship. Or that, for some reason, the captain might decide to move the ship.'
'Then you blew it up?' Hal said dazedly.
Things were going too fast for him.
'I doubt that. Even with the tons of explosives we set off, they could not damage too much a vessel built as solidly as the Gabriel. As a matter of fact, we did not wish to damage it, for we want to study it.
'But our calculations showed that the shock waves going through the metal plates of the ship would kill every man in the ship.'
Hal went to the window and looked out. Against the moon-bright sky was a pillar of smoke; soon, the entire city would be covered with it.
'You had better get your men aboard at once,' Hal said. 'If the explosion only knocked out the officers on the bridge, and they regain consciousness before you reach them, they will press a button that will trigger an H-bomb.
'This will blow everything up for miles around. Its explosion will make your powder charge seem a baby's breath. Far worse, it will release a deadly radioactivity that will kill millions more – if the winds go inland.'
Fobo turned pale, though he tried to smile.
'I imagine our soldiers are on board by now. But I'll phone them just to make sure.'
He returned after a minute. Now, he did not have to make an effort to smile.
'Everyone on board the Gabriel died instantly, including the personnel on the bridge. I've told the captain of the boarding party not to tamper with any mechanisms or controls.'
'You've thought of everything, haven't you?' Hal said.
Fobo shrugged, and he said, 'We are fairly peaceful. But, unlike you Terrans, we are really 'realists.' If we have to take action against vermin, we do our best to exterminate them. On this insect-ridden planet we have had a long history of battling killers.'
He looked at Macneff, who was on all fours, eyes glazed, shaking his head like a wounded bear.
Fobo said, 'I do not include you in the vermin, Hal. You are free to go where you want, do what you want.'
Hal sat down in a chair. He said, in a grief-husked voice, 'I think that all my life I've wanted just that. Freedom to go where I wanted, do what I wanted. But, now, what is there left for me? I have no one–'
'There is much for you, Hal,' said Fobo. Tears ran down his nose and collected at the end.
'You have your daughters to care for, to love. In a short time, they will be through with their feeding in the incubator – they survived the premature removal quite well – and will be beautiful babies. They will be yours as much as any human infants could be.
'After all, they look like you – in a modified feminine way, of course. Your genes are theirs. What's the difference whether genes act by cellular or photonic means?
'Nor will you be without women. You forget that she has aunts and sisters. All young and beautiful. I'm sure that we can locate them.'
Hal buried his face in his hands, and he said, 'Thanks, Fobo, but that's not for me.'
'Not now,' Fobo said softly. 'But your grief will soften; you will think life worth living again.'
Someone came into the room. Hal looked up to see a nurse.
'Doctor Fobo, we are bringing the body out. Does the man care for one last look?'
Hal shook his head. Fobo walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder.
'You look faint,' he said. 'Nurse, do you have some smelling salts?'
Hal said, 'No, I won't need them.'
Two nurses wheeled a carrier out. A white sheet was draped over the shell. Black hair cascaded from beneath the sheet and fell over the pillow.
Hal did not rise. He sat in the chair, and he moaned, 'Jeannette! Jeannette! If you had only loved me enough to tell me...'