“It is to be expected,” answered H’lim looking at Abbot, who had come alone. “You did understand my message? I have the first sample of genuine orl blood for you.”
Abbot turned away and Titus knew he was only pretending to examine his mesh installations. “Have you tried it yet?”
“Yes.” H’lim’s tone was curiously flat. “Andre insisted. It was a great trial to conceal.”
H’lim’s goggles angled toward Inea and Titus said, “She’s seen the worst. She won’t be offended.”
H’lim turned to study Abbot’s back. “You know, don’t you, Titus?”
Overwhelmed with sympathy, Titus asked, “You’ve never had to use cloned blood before, have you?”
“I thought I was prepared-after what you and the humans have been supplying me.” He met Titus’s gaze steadily. “I wasn’t.”
“Mihelich-”
“I managed to choke it down without letting him see how– inadequate-it was. At least it was orl, and that helps. I feel better than I have since I woke.”
Neutrally, Abbot asked, “It’s that much different, orl?”
“Yes!” With an eloquent shrug, H’lim apologized to Inea for his vehemence. “I hope it will help you as much as it does me. Here.” He went to the kitchen counter where a large barrel-Thermos sat, the spigot thrust out over the sink. Titus caught the hard glitter of barely suppressed esurience in Abbot’s eye as they both converged on H’lim.
He took down two glasses, gorgeous examples of the unique lunar product. They were beautiful enough to have been exported to Earth rather than consigned to lunar use. It was cheaper to manufacture glass here out of rock and solar power than to lift it from Earth. And it was cheaper to recycle wash water than to use disposables. Titus realized he was dwelling on the economics of lunar life to avoid admitting his own eagerness for the orl blood. “H’lim, have you any idea if this might be harmful to us?”
Filling a glass with the thick, purple-red fluid, he answered, cross-matched as best I could. There doesn’t seem to be any gross incompatibility. But I’ve hardly started my analysis.“ He handed a glassful to Abbot and turned to fill one for Titus. ”It might, however, prove unpalatable.“
As H’lim handed Titus his glass, Abbot sniffed and then tasted his, expression unreadable. The fumes invaded Titus’s head, seeping through his brain and triggering responses he’d never felt before. His hand did not want to bring that glass up to his lips, but his hunger demanded it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abbot’s hand trembling, his face chiseled from granite as he tilted the glass. A distanced part of himself admired his father’s self-control, knowing full well what this experiment was costing Abbot and knowing also that the Tourist could not have resisted the chance to taste orl, however artificial.
Titus closed his eyes and tilted the warm fluid to his lips, touching it with his upper lip before sipping. The texture was wrong, the smell was wrong, but it wakened a searing hunger. His lip arched to let a drop past. It was dead, flat, like all reconstituted blood. But that was familiar, and his throat closed willing around the first runnel of the strange stuff.
He swallowed again, the odor filling his nose. On the fourth swallow, his gorge rose. Simultaneously, he heard Abbot stagger to the sink, and bend over retching, coughing, fighting for breath. Seconds later, Titus shoved H’lim out of the way and joined his father, tied in knots. His brain seemed on fire and he needed to scream but couldn’t.
Abbot’s knees buckled, and from somewhere Titus found the strength to grab him around the waist as together, almost in rhythm, they emptied themselves convulsively of every last drop of the foreign substance. As H’lim stood helplessly aside, Inea turned on the water to wash the stench away.
She made them rinse their mouths out with water, which almost triggered more retching, and said to H’lim, “I guess that experiment was a failure.”
This jarred him into action. From somewhere, he produced a blood pressure monitor and a body fluid specimen collector. Pushing the two down into chairs, he administered a very thorough, very competent medical once-over sampling tears, saliva, blood, sweat, and vomitus while demanding an exact description of what had happened.
In the end, it appeared that Titus had swallowed more than Abbot before experiencing the rejection, and the two rejections had been different.
“My eyes are still burning,” said Titus, “and my head feels full of hot coals.”
“My stomach,” said Abbot. “I’ve never had such cramps.”
H’lim pondered for a moment, then speculated. “Abbot, perhaps it’s just as well that you tried it unenergized at first and that caused you to reject it. It could be wholly incompatible with your metabolism. But Titus-you seem to have had a central nervous system reaction. Nutrient had begun to pass into your blood before you rejected it.”
“Those are the worst poisons,” agreed Titus. “I probably swallowed more than Abbot because I’m used to the flatness of uninfused chemical.” He glanced at Inea. “It’s a hellishly difficult thing to learn to tolerate.”
Abbot climbed to his feet. “Some difficult things are worth doing,” he observed, “and some aren’t. Thank you for the instructive experience, H’lim, but I won’t try it again.”
“Wait until I’ve done some more tests,” protested H’lim. “I can tolerate human blood. Certainly you can-”
“If you clone an orl, I may consider trying it again.” With that Abbot was gone.
Titus glanced at Inea. “Maybe we should have tried to infuse his first?” Could I order her-even to feed Abbot?
H’lim said, “No, I don’t think so. He might have drunk more, and it might have poisoned him.”
“You think I’m poisoned?” The way his head felt, Titus could easily believe he was about to die the final death.
“Your genetic makeup is very different from his. I think there’s something in orl blood that your body is equipped to use, but that you’ve never encountered before.”
“You mean that I’m more luren than he is? I don’t think so. He’s much older, has fewer human ancestors.”
“Yes, that much is immediately evident. But the interbreeding has selected for different factors. It will take some time, but I can determine if orl blood is really a poison for him-or for you for that matter.”
“Interbreeding,” said Titus heavily. “Just why is that even possible?”
Ignoring Titus’s direct question, as always, H’lim mused, “Perhaps I can filter out the incompatible factors for Abbot.”
“It wouldn’t be worth the time,” said Inea unexpectedly.
“Why?” asked H’lim blankly.
“Haven’t you figured Abbot out yet?” she asked. “It’s not the blood that nourishes him, it’s the subjugation. He is a vampire, not a luren.”
H’lim frowned. Titus, unsure if it was in disapproval or disagreement, changed the subject. “Inea’s got a good point. We don’t have time for pure research. You not only have to do this in odd moments stolen from Colby’s work, but you have to hide it from everyone looking over your shoulder. Between the limited time and the risk, I think your better investment would be your booster. If that works on Abbot or on humans to stimulate blood and ectoplasm replacement, it would be acceptable to Abbot and would let us survive.”
“Time,” said H’lim heavily. He toyed with the specimen kit. “Do you know if you’ll be getting a shipment soon?”
“No. If any convoy does get through, though, I’d expect some of my supplies to be on it.” Connie is that good.
H’lim seemed skeptical, but he said, “Since the booster was designed for orl, the two projects are related. I’ll pursue both goals simultaneously. It’s not as difficult as it sounds, you know. I’ve made orl for use in medical testing. The genetics is flexible and the blood composition can be altered to mimic that of diverse peoples.” Staring at the Thermos, he lapsed into the luren tongue.