Spaceways - Purrfect Plunder Part 2

Nine times ten to the ninth possible solutions and permutations, I'm told.

Good for you, Sak. It'll keep your idle hands busy. Keep you off the streets." And Sakyo had made a pointed and thoroughly obscene physiological suggestion to his fellow Terasak- easy to say, difficult to carry out. Streets! Keep me off the ftainin' streets! Irsosha's ear-lobes-I'm beginning to think I'll never even see a street again! Heading for Bleak, for Irsosha's sweet sake! Bleakers wouldn't know a street if one jumped up and hit 'em in the a.s.s! Hmmm. Nine billion possible solutions and variations, hmm? So how come the captain's been chewing out those HRal for an hour and I've been working with this sistersellin' thing all that time and haven't even worked out one of 'em? He knew very well that he was quite alone. Nevertheless he glanced around furtively, as if to a.s.sure himself that no one was watching the sneaky action he planned. Then he tapped for calculator mode. He would divert a minute portion of SIPAc.u.m's electronic attention to finding one of the 9xl09 of the d.a.m.ned sphere's possible solutions. Why hadn't the latest revision of Rubik's Cube been enough for the d.a.m.ned 149 mathematicians, anyhow. Why had he picked this d.a.m.ned thing up, anyhow? And s.p.a.cer Coronet plunged on, seeking and following its cosmic corridors among stars thick as twinkling sand grains on a beach. "-in the double-d.a.m.ned triple-d.a.m.ned Special Hold with them anyhow," Jonuta was storming. "Is that understood?" Large-eyed, in good health complete with a few bruises, HRadem stared at him. It was not a spiteful or hi any way truculent stare. The HRal was much subdued and chastened. "Is that understood, HRadem? Acknowledge! You d.a.m.ned near cost me my ship, you rattle-brained mange-coated disgrace to your litter!" HRadem lowered himself to the deck-the floor of the captain's cabin-on his knees, in admirably liquid movement. He extended his arms before him, hands close together, backs toward Jonuta. Fingers curled inward to himself. Eyes down, ears down so flat they were all but invisible. "I am no sociologist and don't know your triple-d.a.m.ned flainin' HRal signals, you mange-ridden torture-happy meddler!" Jonuta snarled. "What the vug's that pose supposed to mean? You forgot how to talk?

You forgot how to say 'Firm, Captain-sir'?" "It is the same as the human hands-up gesture, and more," HReenee quitely told him, "Captain, combined with the human kneeling in abjection. It is the ultimate submission stance of a HRal and costs much, much face and pride. It is abdication and abnegation of pride. I would be shocked except that I too think it is justified. HRadem disputes nothing you have said and offers himself to punishment, claws turned to belly." "The h.e.l.l he does! Without a word?" 150 "Silence is part of the-the display, Captain," she said. "The h.e.l.l it is!" It was all Jonuta could think of. The words for Captain Jonuta were astounded, and fl.u.s.tered. He glared at HRadem. The HRal maintained his submissive "display." Ultimate submission. From s.a.d.i.s.t to slave, in one easy lesson-forty minutes of interrogation, explanation, and a.s.s-chewing. "Firm," HReenee said. "The h.e.l.l he does." Jonuta shot her a dark glower. He pierced her with a glare like a burr-bladed saber. "And you speak for him, do you?" "Of course," she said, in that continuing so-quiet voice. "He is the male. He is step-sib, and with me.

I am responsible." Her ears twitched and her eyes flared, shrank. "Oh! In that case-oh." She seemed to flow to her knees. She adopted the same pose as her step-sib. "Captain Jonuta is right to remind me. I offer a thousand apologies and a thousand p.r.i.c.ks accepted. With abjections." Reminded her? Jonuta kept his stare a mean one. "That's a lot of apologies, HReenee. And one h.e.l.l of a lot of p.r.i.c.ks!" She spoke to the deck. "It refers to our claws, Captain Jonuta. We possess two. In abjection, we turn them from you, toward ourselves.

In the first HRooth Empire, death to offenders was meted out by the Talonist Prime. One thousand punctures, inflicted in manner prescribed and under supervision. Those who survived were allowed to go free. They had been tried, and judged, and received the Thousand p.r.i.c.ks. Having survived, they were free and absolved. More than forgiven. They had expiated and honor was returned." "This . . . barbarism is in the past?" "The Empire is long dead on HRalix, Captain Jonu- 151 ta. The custom is long dead. The phrase remains among us. And the posture of abject submission." "Are you telling me that you still-" "The phrase and custom remain, Captain Jonuta. As such a phrase as 'triple-d.a.m.ned' remains among the Galactics. Does Captain Jonuta believe in the power of G.o.d or G.o.ds to 'd.a.m.n' anyone so that he calls down such a curse?" "Oh." No, just a phrase. Figure of speech. We need swear-bys. I guess the HRal do, too. Jarps have theirs. No use telling these two so. I won't relent a morsel or relinquish one bit of this ascendancy I've gained over them-him. Just continue looking mean as ... as a demon . . . Jonuta stared at her. Kneeling, ears flat against bowed head, eyes invisible, hands down and out as if begging for shackles, fingers weirdly inturned. And he stared at HRadem: same pose. Jonuta did not feel like an emperor, HRooth or otherwise.

(Since the slightly growled First Letter, the 'HR' diphthong, and the th diphthong was each a single letter in their alphabet, the word "HRooth"

consisted only of three letters-HRal. It might be shown as Ruf. HRooth, however, was a better rendering, just as Hral would not be quite right.) "Oh,"

he said again. Having ranted so much, he was unprepared for absolute abject apology and submission. He was floundering, casting his line about for something approaching properly ritual-seeming words. "Well, I absolve both of you of the Thousand p.r.i.c.ks. But not of guilt. You have caused much, much trouble. Your wounds and bruises you gained yourself. Come to think, both of you did receive a few p.r.i.c.ks! A good thing for you that the hypodermic syringe Simura found and used wasn't loaded with something volatile, HRee-nee; deadly to your HRal physiology. 152 "HRadem: The prisoners are off-limits and we, uh, 'toy-with' only to some purpose. Information extracting, that sort of thing.

Necessities and sometimes vengeance. Not just for ... fun." Jonuta waved a hand in a rather helpless gesture. It was seen by neither HRal. "If I want anybody tortured, HRadem, I'll be sure to call on you." After a pause he added, "Don't hold your breath. I do not expect to, HRadem. Understood? Come on, you're among Galactics. Get your dam' head and ears up and acknowledge." Maintaining his pose, HRadem lifted head and, partially, the ears he had kept pressed so flat along it. "Acknowledged! Firm. Understood, Captain Jonuta! I am Captain Jonuta's guest, crew, and servant, Captain Jonuta!" Jonuta sighed. Booda's backbone, these HRal were even more alien and weirder than Jarps! "Up and out of here then. Uh, consider yourself a thousand times, uh, p.r.i.c.ked, and absolved. After you have found Shig and Kenowa, who are waiting for you, and have cleaned up the blood in the tunnel outside number four storage chamber. I do hope that is beneath your dignity, and I hope too that the stains have had time to get nice and dry and harder to remove! I wish to converse with Mranophel HReenee sa'fiel. Out!" "Captain!"

HRadem acknowledged militarily, and flowed to his feet, beautifully, acrobatically, and flowed to the door of Jonuta's cabin. He turned, bowed, and glanced at his step-sib-flattening his ears again, Jonuta noticed-and redshifted. HReenee remained in the position of the Thousand p.r.i.c.ks. "Is all that bullsnot you told me true, HR-oh do get up out of that ridiculous position! That's a posture demanded by males who hate females," he said, without 153 having heard of the Knormen of Kaor. "I most certainly do not hate females!" She lowered her hands to a more natural position; she raised her head and partially elevated her ears, which were in truth no more than four sems long and not pointed. Smaller ears than Jonuta's. It was just that they were differently placed, and so emphatically mobile. And erectile. She did not, however, rise to her feet, which were bare as it pleased her. Her pupils were large. "It is all true, Captain. Merely part of our culture. I perceive that it is alien to Captain Jonuta, and not comfort-lending. There are customs of the Galactics that are as alien to us, Captain Jonuta, and several that are difficult." "How did the HRooth Emperors tell the HRal to return to using the personal p.r.o.noun 'you' for their imperial selves?" "The HRooth Emperors certainly did not, Captain Jonuta!" "Um. Well, I am not a HRal and not an emperor, HRooth, Root, or otherwise. Stop referring to me as Captain Jonuta, HReenee. And rise. I mean get up. I am not going to subject you to the Thousand p.r.i.c.ks." She flowed to her feet. Interesting! Beautiful. And interesting how much more beautiful it was when she did it, than when HRadem had. "You have twice come to my aid and rescue, Captain Jonuta." Her voice was softer than soft, with that HRal quality of throatiness; a sort of bubbly throatiness. Almost a purring tone. Jonuta would never refer to it as such. He was not an ape. HReenee was not a cat. "You did very d.a.m.ned well for yourself meanwhile, HReenee." She looked down, but her shoulders showed her pride. 154 "First," he said, "you fought and fought well to save yourself. Then, secondly, a thing alien to us. You fought to save your step-sib. You went in quest of that fight! The female going to the rescue of the male." "Yes. We are HRal, Captain, not Galactics." "I am Jonuta. And yes, I remember twice coming to your aid and rescue. For my ship, HReenee! I recall knocking you the vug out of my way, too. I a.s.sure you that I hit hard because I was furious with you at the time, not because I couldn't have shoved you less forcefully." "I felt it. I remember. I noticed. I would come to your aid, Ca-Jonuta." She was looking at him now, ears up and pupils huge. An alien, fresh out of Daktari, Coronet's cybernetic physician. Clobbered, raped, clobbered, stabbed, manhandled, and clobbered. And dressed down! "But you would not need my aid,"

she added. Ritual, Jonuta thought. Ritual fencing, HRal style. The words are in my language, but we're really talking HRal. Jigging around, verbally playing, fencing. Does she expect me to agree with that, or play at modest argumentation: Oh me oh my no, I might need and welcome your mighty, aid, puma. Panther. Lynx! To h.e.l.l with that. "Probably not," Jonuta agreed, because he was Jonuta. He met her huge-pupilled gaze. Golden as a yellow sun at mid-distance, those eyes; black as starless s.p.a.ce out Carnadyne way, those big round pupils that could also be small slits. He wondered, fleetingly, if the HRal could control the widening and closing of their pupils. She shared that gaze for a time, wondering at whatever she was wondering about him, and then she nodded. "You know that I know your idioms, your slang. Beyond that, I am a student of language. Languages. They fascinate me." 155 He knew that she was leading them up onto something. He went along; he nodded. "Pos. Yes." "And you are sure that you absolve me of the Thousand p.r.i.c.ks, Jonuta." "Pos." She is playing with me, now. What game? "I am grateful." He saw an odd little shudder go through her, like a frisson of excitement. "But you will not deny me one, twice-brave twice-rescuer? From the brave alien who twice carne rushing to my rescue at peril to himself-and so competently!-may I not have one p.r.i.c.k, Jonuta?" He looked at her, and his surprise was mild enough so that he was able to show none of it. Her eyes were glowing deeps, looking out at him from her soul, ready to swallow him in those dark, dark depths. He saw it plainly: an aura of loosely-curbed sensuality about her, simmering, needling only his response and an instant of properly-applied heat to make her boil over. With the tiniest of smiles Jonuta walked over to hold a hand over the rheostat.

Meanwhile he held his gaze on the lean, leggy HRal with her large smoldering eyes. The rheostat responded to the blotting of its photosensor by obediently dimming and pinkening the righting until he dropped his hand. By then the cabin glowed dully with a sort of lambent twilight. It held, ruddy, almost pulsing. His striking a pose was unconscious, for he was a dramatic man. "With a woman as s.e.xy as you, HRee-nee, it might well be a thousand p.r.i.c.ks, after all." "So long as they are all yours, Jonuta," she purred. 12 Her eyes remained fixed on Mm while the deeply pink twilight darkened and softened her face in an enhancement of the sensually smoldering effect. And while her hands moved in purposeful, easy gestures. Perhaps it was a typically HRal act and perhaps it was merely that of many aroused women in many places: her clothing fell from her as if banished. She was not Kenowa. Her long and lithe body was carved and curved for economy and supple swiftness, with no hint of Venusian luxury. Yes, there was one. Her mound was clearly a dramatic swell, a beacon to his eyes. The fact that her fur sleeked all around it but left that mound of her s.e.xuality bare and pink made it twice as exciting. She was not only not Kenowa, she had less breast than any woman he had ever seen under such circ.u.mstances, and he was a man who liked and appreciated and preferred definitely bilobate bosoms. Yet there was beauty, exciting and arousing beauty, in the nipples that erupted from her sleek short coating of fur. They looked congested and a deep wine red, in her arousal and in this lighting. And below that were what seemed meters and meters of slim legs. Jonuta was a man who could strip swiftly without appearing hurried. This time, however, he let her see 156 157 that he rushed, and deliberately he left his clothing in a bedraggled pile where it fell. The eyes that surveyed his rangy nakedness were the dark eyes of a sensuous creature, a loving creature greedy of caresses and glowing with seduction. He saw that they were expectant, those eyes, but not in the way of a woman who pa.s.sively waited for a man to make love to her. Her eyes were as greedy and aroused as his, and they promised no pa.s.sivity. I may get myself clawed this time, he thought, moving to her. It occurred to Jonuta then that he didn't know whether the HRal kissed or not. With the thought came realization that he did not care. It didn't matter. If the HRal did not kiss, this one would be kissed. If there was no response, he could live without it.

What would it be like, to take a nipple into his mouth while his nose was pressed into sleek close-lying fur? What he did discover about the HRal, as he slid his hands up her upper arms, was the heat. Was she feverish? Had he heard that these felinoprimates had a higher normal body heat than anthroprimates?

He was sure that she was degrees warmer than he, and it wasn't just in the upper arms he cupped in his hands, either. Her hands had moved onto him at once. Lower, just atop his hipbones. Once again there was that febrile warmth, far beyond even an overexerted human. There was nothing of pain in it. It was not that kind of heat. It was wonderful, definitely sensuous, the warmth of her hands on him, of her under his hands. Of her entire body, now pressing with strength against his. He felt the strength and braced one foot back a bit, with gladness. She was writhing very slowly, in a languorous sensuousness. Rubbing against him, twisting her shoulders and moving with undulant rolls of her hips, 158 rubbing, gliding against him. Caressing Mm with her litheness and that soft sleek fur. He felt the buds of her nipples and the startling fur-less pressure of her pubis against his. Her hands roved restlessly, never still. Caressing him in a ma.s.sage of his blatant masculinity that was almost worshipful. They were not kissing and he didn't care. This was far more than a hug, far more than an embrace. This was nothing they would do before others, hi public. A kiss would have been less blatantly want-filled, gamic. Her constant esthete's movements, her rubbing, all-body caresses saw to that. Caressing him with her hands, caressing him with her fur, caressing him with her. Pressing close, trying to melt her body into his with her heat, to meld their bodies together into one. Jonuta stood with eyes closed, concentrating on feeling. One foot remained braced back against her insistent all-body burrowing. There was pleasure in stroking fur, or soft feathers or a silken or velvety fabric, or a softly furry animal. And there was of course a different sort of pleasure in stroking a woman, feeling the warmth and the curves and gentle indentations of her. Now he revelled in the combination! A womanly body sheathed in soft down like short strands of silk- and radiating warmth beyond that of any woman he had ever touched! What softness, what warmth-and what enthusiasm, in her rubbing, her burrowing against him, her writhing. Then she was pressing harder against him, grinding her hips almost fiercely in rhythmic, ineff ably seductive movements. Seductive? Beyond that-hers were wanting, demanding movements! Her hands roamed and rubbed his small, tight male b.u.t.tocks with obvious pleasure. While his own hands stroked heated down, he was 159 very aware of the wonderful firm bareness of her pubis, pressuring not just warmly but hotly against his erection. He felt only that hot mound, no opening or dampness. He had noticed that its lips were tight-pressed, like lovers, so that they did not look like lips at all but were a swollen mound down there with a tight thin line down its center. He had caught himself wondering momentarily-with alarm-if she might be virginal, when he remembered. No. She had been raped, and had told Kenowa that she had not been virgin so that it "was not as bad as it might have been." (It had not been as bad for her rapist as it might have been, either. He had died without even having completed his use of her, but at least he had not been tortured .

. . toyed with.) Now Jonuta could feel the fact that her entire body was atremble, quivering with the excitement of desire. He heard her soft throaty voice, moaning brokenly. Still she seemed trying to writhe and push herself right into his body, through it. The small nipples against his chest and abdomen were larger, growing into hard tight knots of erection. Mounting physical excitement sent quivers through them both. She eased her movements again, varying them. Now she writhed very slowly. Rubbing his body with hers, and with her hands. It was an intensely sensuous, even licentious experience. How ridiculous, for this seemingly total esthete to have been onboard the ship of the determinedly ascetic Pentamahomet Ramzi! He moved his head, lowered his head at last, and went in quest of her mouth. Her little "whwhhherrrl?" sound was short-lived as he captured her warm mouth with his and closed off its sounds. Her lips were neither compressed nor really open when that kiss began, but they were soft, slightly 160 parted, welcoming. And then they were opening like a flower under his mouth, against his mouth. His hands slid possessively over her while he tasted her lips and sweet tongue, and her hands were possessive, too, in delight. Quite of a sudden, blissful tingles of pure s.e.xual excitement flowed through her being as he crushed his mouth on hers, hard and hungry, open and possessing, while he let her feel the urgent strength of his moving hands. Booda, her heat! Flames of desire were surely crackling visibly about them, he thought, and they were only kissing, embracing! While she made little humming noises into his mouth, her hand inveigled itself between their bodies to find the hard strength of his s.e.x.

She stroked it, caressed it and its pendants, cherished it with her hand while the other rubbed, then clamped his b.u.t.t while his mouth cherished hers. The prolonged rubbing, pressuring embrace, the lengthening and deepening kiss, and now the smooth gliding of her hand on his erection combined into a feeling of urgency that very nearly made Jonuta miss what he was feeling, what he was hearing . . . She was purring! How wonderful, he thought, that they retained that ability while they moved their way up the scale of intelligence, ended the entrapment of the sense of smell that kept lower animals on all fours, increased their intelligence more and more, became erect bipeds, their mouths changing so as to form speech, those ancient paws becoming hands with a thumb to work against the fingers . . . and all the while they had retained that marvelous ancient trait beloved of all humans: purring! He did not think of the drama or cliched tradition of what he did then. He thought only of urgency and need, insofar as he was capable of thought. 161 Scooping her up easily with his hands under her b.u.t.tocks so that her intense heat was clamped against him, almost burning, he moved carefully to the bed with a shuffling gait that bore her backward to where he wanted her-and where he a.s.sumed she wanted herself, and him. And she squirmed against him, and returned his kiss whether it was a custom of her kind or not, and purred all the while. Both of them grunted when the backs of her legs thumped the bed and they toppled, he on her. Quickly he relieved her of weight by getting bis elbows under him. And abruptly she was groaning, moaning, while her writhing took on a different aspect-she was struggling! Astonished, he kissed her, and felt his lip bitten. "Uh!" A single slightly curved claw had just sprung out and p.r.i.c.ked his b.u.t.tock. Not quite understanding what was happening but feeling pain and knowing a swift rising surge of anger, he swept a hand back to grasp the wrist of her offending hand. As he swept it around, feeling her strength and knowing that seemingly liquescent or not her muscles were powerful, he caught her lower lip with his teeth and held it. He smacked her arm and hand down onto the bed and shifted suddenly, just in case, to protect his crotch from her leg. Finding her other wrist with his hand, righting it, gaining hold, he forced it too down beside her head. Then he released his teeth's grip on her lip and raised his head and upper body above hers. Her eyes stared upward, very bright. She was panting, with a flare of her small nostrils. Her ears were back. "What the h.e.l.l?" She blinked, as if returning from a trance-or the grip of gamic excitement-and stared up at his face. 162 "What the vug happened? What did I do? Suddenly you're fighting!" Again she blinked, and frowned. Her ears moved up, back, not in unison. He felt the tensing of her arms against his grip, their relaxing under his strength. "You . . . don't want me to-that isn't the human way?" "I-we-Booda's b.a.l.l.s, are we talking about a cultural difference, and me all het up with an erection to my chin?

d.a.m.n! Not usually, no-I've never had a claw run into my a.s.s before." "I did that? Oh, I'm sorry! You see we-I-" She turned her face aside and he saw the quiver of her lip. "I'm going to let go your wrists and flop here and, uh, talk awhile," he said, and did that. He learned. Yes, this was their pattern, although she had found the long standing and embracing and then the kissing as extra exciting, as exquisite as he had. Beyond that-yes, what she had done had been pure HRal. No matter what had taken place before, no matter that two HRal had long planned an a.s.signation or traveled to it; in the end, a woman of HRalix was possessed. Subdued and possessed. Yes, occasionally lovers or mates agreed that it would not be so, on such and such an occasion. But Jonuta had not mentioned that, and naturally it had not occurred to her. "Naturally," he sighed, and tugged her warmth against him again. His hand moved to her loins.

She stared at the ceiling of his cabin. Not guilty, not ashamed, but hardly happy. "Star-cross'd," he muttered, "but only temporarily!" Females were not exactly dominant among the HRal, he learned-though sometimes they were, in some relationships-as Galactic women were, he remembered to remind himself-but they were ascendant. A woman had ascendancy over the man, on HRalix. HRadem was 163 HReenee's companion, not she his. He was subject to her desires, not she to his. He was her step-sib, and he was entrusted to her. That was why she had rushed to his rescue, then aborted the rush to prowl, to wait, to stalk rather than charge in and be taken or worse. Yes, women fought, on HRal.

Fought for the family and males and self. Oh, of course the males did too.

Most of them . . . did not women fight, among the Galactics, when there was danger or challenge or other necessity? (Well, yes, he admitted-sometimes. He perceived that somehow the HRal had not spent millennia teaching their females to be weak and quiescent and in need of protection.) Of course most males were bigger and stronger. But a woman had the same swiftness, the same teeth, the same claws, the same intelligence-and often considerably more viciousness, particularly when it was her self or her family that was threatened. Of course primitive HRal females had remained with the nest, the offspring, while the male hunted and brought in the food. She was often needed on the hunting too, however-or plain wanted to be included, and insisted. And certainly no HRal woman was so arrogant, primitive or otherwise, and so devoid of pride and consideration as to charge the male with both providing food and sole defense!

(After all, HReenee's att.i.tude clearly said, and Jonuta made a diplomatically noncommittal noise.) Defense was her charge, her responsibility, in his absence. And often when he was present. Why, he might be wearied from the hunt and a whole family might be wiped out if a hunt-weary male had to undertake to defend alone against a sudden attack! And thousands of years had pa.s.sed, and many things had changed. But not completely. Not so drastically as to result in a race of weak females! A woman of the HRal was no weak child, to have to be defended and in consequence to have to obey orders and follow specific 164 demeaning rules governing her behavior and appearance! For one thing, the proud women of HRalix still "demanded" that a male prove Ms strength by subduing her, taking her. If that was ritual, very well then, it was ritual. A woman need not defend with all her strength, after all! HRalix had progressed to industrial societies, and then technological ones, although no, they had not got into s.p.a.ce at the time the Galactics "discovered" them. There were other priorities, in a culture in which men and the fighting/exploratorial instinct did not dominate utterly. (Besides, there were frequent truculent displays, on HRalix, but few wars. Technology had not progressed so rapidly as it had on Homeworld, old Urth, where it was spurred by war and its constant threat. The HRal had sense enough to utilize the ritual of warlike displays-and sense enough to back off. Territory was of course to be defended, but expanding it was not all that important.) The pretense of force continued in the home, A HRal woman still "demanded" a strong lover, who had the power to take her. Not that she need resist all that hard, if she was truly receptive . . . Regaining some strength of will now, HReenee said, "I was truly receptive-you must have known that! Nor was I resisting all that hard.

Not for a-" He shut off a potentially ruinous insult by cupping his hand down over her mouth (and feeling her tense, instantly). "No, oh no, you did not, and obviously I can overpower you, and did. I had both your hands. But then I stopped, because I do not rape, HReenee-I do not have to-and had to learn what was wrong." He lifted his hand. "And nothing was." 165 "True. Nothing was. But I am no HRal, and did not know that. I knew only that suddenly you were resisting, and it seemed serious." She heaved a long sigh, and stared at the ceiling of his red-glowing cabin. "So now what dp we do, with our cultures having got in our way?" "We start all over," he said, and with a downward glance, "but not from ground zero!" And he bent his head to see how she liked his mouth on her nipple. She liked it. Her writhing and her sounds told him that. Then she did, and asked a question. He adjusted his position as she did hers, and two mouths were busy t.i.tillating two nipples while something akin to sparks of pleasure jumped through the squirming interspecific couple on Jonuta's bed. Their hands roamed, and his moved to her mound. He felt her shudder, felt her swift intake of breath when he tickled a finger inside.

Fantastic heat greeted that incursion, and he knew he'd never cease marveling at it. She meanwhile was releasing his nipple to throw back her head and gasp out excited breaths of impatient desire and need. He remembered HRal custom.

"Seek not to break free," he snarled in mock melodrama around her nipple, "else I bite this morsel from you, wench!" He was wise enough to add a reminder: "And keep your talons sheathed!" At the same time his entire arm was moving-and he let her feel his teeth on her nipple. He pumped, pumped. Automatically her hips were arching eagerly, tautening those perfectly formed thighs into muscles like steel rather than liquid. Her frenetic movements also offered the mossy base of her belly and child-naked plumpness of her mound. And she was tugging at him, moaning and purring all at once, tugging, hunching. Her hand grasped his erection and tugged urgently. 166 "Mount me! Mount me!" "Another time," he murmured, swiftly moving and tugging her to him. "Now just-in you-uh!" His gasp and wide-eyed look of shock came from the intense liquid heat into which he thrust. He shuddered, feeling as if his favorite parts might well melt in that cloying hot pudding. Then she was cleaving to him, enwrapping him with her arms, her long legs swinging up and over him, locking to keep him seated in her, deep in the fantastic alien heat of her, and it was all he could do to move in a way that was ancient to both their races. Around him twined the lithe-limbed body of a dancer-or a panther on the prowl. Lynx, he thought. A hyper-sensuous, lean, hyper-sinuous lynx . . . with a fever of about thirty-nine degrees! And aloud, gasping, he muttered, "Lynx!" She chuckled, catching the reference.

"Gorilla," she chuckled throatily, "big raping overpowering gorilla! How strangely cool you feel inside of me-and how good, good!" Of course he did, he realized, pumping against the pressure of her clasping legs. Of course he felt cool, because she was so very hot around his slicer. A new experience and pleasure for both of them, then. Never had he pushed into such heat! And if she had felt within her anything so cool before, surely it had not been alive! He was very much alive. And so was she, gasping and squirming, clamping down, straining to hold him well up inside her simmering heat, crooning and twitching in boiling pa.s.sion with her legs high on his back. Both of them shivering and thrusting, writhing and gasping, straining against each other with the lovely bubbly sound of her purring seemingly all about them as they sought to meld thek bodies, soaring high while 167 Coronet soared through airless s.p.a.ce faster than any bullet had ever sped. She seemed insatiable, omnivorous, jerking with great throbbing spasms of exaggerated s.e.xual ecstasy.

He had no need to wonder about her. With her c.l.i.toris bared by a feminine form of circ.u.mcision, she purred and quaked and literally screamed through three o.r.g.a.s.ms that he knew of. (And, she eventually told him when talking was possible, two others as well; they were merely not quite so seismic.) What a wonderful race of people these HRal, to make sure that their women were not only readily orgastic but multiorgastic! She murmured and urged, and it was not in his language and he did not care. The sounds were beautiful, even the growly ones. In HRal and in Galactic she told him that she loved the coolth and near-hardness of his muscular thighs, flexing between the soft down coating of hers. Her head jerked back and forth in a complete surrender to uncontrollable desire and joy. Her hips lifted, lifted, jerked at his. Then he was shuddering hard, groaning loudly, straining to impale while she purred "Yes!" in HRal, again and again, and then he was spending himself within grasping heat that felt boiling. He sagged briefly in weakness, being held and crooned to, gasping, regaining strength . .. and dragged himself to pump more, thrilling her all over with a post-climactic energy few men possessed. It could not be sustained. He sagged again and they held each other while their breathing returned to something approaching normal. He knew her comfort in nudity and noted now her openness in talking. He did not hesitate to tell her how cold his slicer felt once it left her furnace, depleted. With a throat-deep chuckle she reached over to warm it for him. 168 They lay and fondly fondled, and talked, a man and a woman/a HRal and a human. And fondled and murmured, and one thing led to another and then to another. It was not that he had much to prove, to him or to her. He was genuinely continuingly excited. Nothing with HReenee was sameness. All was new, different, exotic with this more-than-s.e.xy, sensuality-doting member of an alien race. And yes, she responded to his finger-tweezing of her lower nipples, too. He was far from regretting her lack of b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And two things led to a couple more . .

. Then she made a sort of yowly-snarly sound and thrust and snarled deep in her throat, ears back and eyes huge, and pounced from his bed. In the dimness of the deep pink lighting, he did not hesitate. He swung legs and body and pounced after her. She was crouched in a corner, her furred back to the wall of his cabin. Almost, he took her menacing stance seriously. Almost. But no; she had gone HRal again. Knowing he knew, she expected him to respond as HRal.

He did; he feinted at her neck with his left hand and while she (pretended to) snap at it, he used his right to grasp her wrist. He twisted, forcing her to turn, bending the arm up behind her and reaching around to find and pinch a mid-row nipple. At the same time he deep-voiced the order to give it up, and kneel. She did. She went not only to her knees but to her hands as well, and she peered back and up at him, hot-eyed. The movement of her upthrust hips was almost serpentine in its fluid sinuousness, and was pure lewd invitation. The game of pursue-and-subdue was over that swiftly. He smiled, just a little. He did not have to be reminded further that she had previously said "Mount me!"

and that he had promised: "Later." So later has come sooner, he mused, and this tune 169 I even had to "overpower" her. Good for both of us! Next time I'm d.a.m.ned if I don't prepare in advance and see how she likes being tied-and yes, I think I'll just mention a little thing or two to Kenowa too, concerning HRal, and HRademl He dropped to his knees behind her on the floor of his cabin. It was the fluid movement of a man in the prime of condition, and yet he knew that to a HRal he must seem awkward, A smile came to his sensuous mouth at the snug way her small b.u.t.tocks fitted into the hollow between his hipbones. Grasping her with a deliberate roughness, he glided once more into incredible simmering heat that made him gasp and bite off an outcry at the shock of it. "Purr, or suffer a thousand p.r.i.c.ks," he snarled, but she had not needed the urging. This time he pleased her more, doubly: he was rough with her, HRalishly reminding her that he was "worthy," and he was far longer reaching o.r.g.a.s.m. He could not have enjoyed it more, but had anyone been scoring o.r.g.a.s.ms it was HRal nine, Galactic two. 13 At the time Jonuta sped Coronet out into the pa.r.s.ec abyss from Front, he had information concerning Fran-jese-TGO "maneuvers" between Franji and Bleak's star. The vicinity of such activities was no place for a self-employed entrepreneur wanted as badly as Captain Jonuta. Accordingly Captain Cautious had aimed his s.p.a.cer almost due "north" of Front, in the general direction of the. Carnadyne Void but many degrees "east" of it. Then had come the C! distress call. Cheerfully, perhaps perversely, Jonuta had ordered another course change. Coronet fled directly toward that eerie starless "swamp in s.p.a.ce," dimmed by dust and gas (and some little debris) called the Camadyne Void. Qalara, after all, was only a hop and a skip and a subs.p.a.ce jump "left" and a bit "north." Next, to the dismay of his crew, he had decided to turn about on a course "southward," to Bleak. There was no up or down, north or east, left or right in s.p.a.ce.

Distance and dkection were measured in degrees, and by distance between stars-living or dead- along with identified, charted objects or phenomena. Yet there had to be maps, just as there had to be a standard measurement of time.

Most maps were the computer simulations Jonuta preferred. They could be 170 171 rotated, reversed, flopped, looked at from any angle or vantage, onscreen. Other maps might resemble the big wall chart in the cabin of Captain Pentamahomet Ramzi. On such flat, untrue charts, Jonuta's home planet of Qalara was "upward" or "north" of the galactic center. There the collapstar called The Maelstrom presided and dominated, like an enormous spider lurking on the strands of its invisible web. The Maelstrom. A dead star or "black hole" that was not a hole, but radiated a magnetic field strong enough to yank a star out of place or a comet off its course-to vanish forever into that incredible concentration of ma.s.s. The Maelstrom. Get just a fraction of a klom too close, step just a sem across the threshold of that spider, and forget everything. There was no escape. The planet called Front, Coronefs last port of call, was shown as "below" and "rightward' of Qalara. It was also similarly "southeast" of Bleak. "Above" and "to the right" of Front was Murph, which was also "below-right" of Bleak. Murph, one of whose moons was Dot, where Corundum had set out to ruin Jonuta without Jonuta's knowledge. (Jonuta learned soon enough. It was just that he did not know who had auth.o.r.ed the TGO crackdown that resulted in bis electronic losing of more than one fortune that should have been theft-proof, electronically or otherwise.) Entirely unwelcome circ.u.mstances had forced him to linger in that minutest flyspeck in the cosmos where he had rendezvoused with India Spring and Satyagraha. It existed as a place only in terms of a set of coordinates. Those circ.u.mstances were allayed at last, with a chastened HRadem of HRalix and the reincarcerated pirates of Satyagraha. Coronet at last swung about, consuming many many 172 minutes and many2 Moms in the turn, and headed for Bleak. To the delight of no one. It was at that time that crewman Shiganu relieved crewman Sakyo at the con. "Still oncourse for choke-gasp Bleak?" "Firm." "s.h.i.t. Thought you might have made a little slip and aimed us somewhere else," Shig said. His smile was a pale attempt, and it certainly held no mirth. "Terasaki?" Shig rolled his eyes.

"Oh, sure! Grabbles, n.o.body hates the captain the way our own people do! We must be numbers two and three on their most hated list!" "More likely we're number one, as an entry," Sak said, "with the captain in second position. He, after all, isn't a nice Terasak boy gone bad, as we both are!" "Uh-huh. Bleak!

Well-I relieve you." "Delighted. Oh-where's that d.a.m.ned HRal?" "Once the captain got through with him, he came out draggin' 'is tail," Shig said, with a smile of fond remembrance. "He had his orders to clean up the, uh, combat area. Captain doesn't like bloodstains, you know. So he did that, talking with Kenowa. He's with her now. In her cabin." "Oh?" Sak was keying out his watch, which was not quite the same as logging off. He glanced around with a querying look that managed also to be a naughty look. "Firm," Shig told him. "She's, uh, acquainting him wth Galactic culture. Showing him the latest Akima Mars holo." "Uhmmm," Sak commented, and stood. "Poor HRadem," Shig said. "Forced to look at Set-suyo Puma in Dark Invader-and Setsuto/Akima only has two warheads!" As he chuckled, he caught sight of the Habibula Sphere. "Hey!

That's beautiful! You did it! I can't believe it, Sak!" 173 Sak waved a hand.

"Oh sure. It's not so hard. Pa.s.sed the time-most of it. Why don't you take it on? Change it over to the green-blue-yellow-black-black configuration, maybe.

Keep you off the streets." He showed Shig the top of his head in a mocking Terasak bow, and pulled back just in time to avoid Shig's descending knuckles.

Grinning, Sak left the con-cabin. "Smart-a.s.s," Shig muttered, seating himself.

He keyed in and picked up the Habibula Sphere. "I'll fix the smart-a.s.s. I'll get a little help from SIPAc.u.m and make him think I'm as good at this h.e.l.l-sp.a.w.ned thing as he is!" Before him lights winked like soft-lit jewels from varicolored console displays while Coronet sped out through the lavender mists and indigo gulf of the s.p.a.ce-ways. No one onboard knew that the ship had been traced, and had lingered long enough back there in that noplace to be fixed, and overtaken. The power emissions of every ship along the s.p.a.ce-ways were like personal signatures. They were called just that: "signatures." Each was different from all others; of all the craft plying the s.p.a.ceways, the signatures of no two were alike. Not the blue furnace of the drive; those looked pretty much alike from one ship to the other. The signature was the a.n.a.lyzable waste, and its sequence and distribution in each ship's wake.

(Which was precisely why Captain Cautious made certain adjustments to his engine at every opportunity, which usually meant during planetfall. He had not, on Front; he had not tarried there.) To a computer input with the necessary data over a sufficient length of time, the signatures of various ships were readily distinguishable. Recognizable, identifiable, from hundreds of thousands of kloms away, barring obstacles or other disruptions. (A hundred thousand kilometers was nothing. The difference between the 174 stars of an average binary system was a billion, two hundred million kloms-half the distance from a forgotten nowhere planet called Pluto from its distant and nearly forgotten sun.) a.n.a.lysis comparisons of s.p.a.cer signatures made by SIPAc.u.m were not quite instantaneous, but they would do. For seventeen years-ess Captain Jonuta, because he was Captain Cautious, had been able to fool, fox and elude policers, including TGW. Yet there was one who was Jonuta's enemy. And his SIPAc.u.m knew Coronet's signature as well as it knew its own. That shipboard computer its captain called Jinni, once called djinn and, more ignorantly, "genie." The p.r.o.nunciation was the same. Although it did not come out of a bottle and possess infinite wisdom or the power to produce sultanas, princesses, and infinite treasure, it knew close to everything its captain needed and could do nearly everything. Jinni was the SIPAc.u.m of s.p.a.ceship Firedancer, whose master called his con-cabin "the bridge" and who called himself Corundum. Indeed he nearly always called himself just that, for he seldom used the standard p.r.o.nouns "I" and "me," much less the refuge of the fearfully p.r.o.noun-ignorant, "myself." Pirate, once artist, linguist, master ship-handler and maneuverer, pretentious of speech and mien, eternally vindictive because of a pride that could have been called o'erweaning, quick-triggered Corundum. Master of one of the very best equipped ships on the s.p.a.ceways. Co-RUN-d'm: an esp. hard mineral of the composition Al2O3, forming the valuable gemstones ruby and sapphire. The ma.s.sive, abrasive, non- 175 transparent forms are known as emery.-Universal Edutapes Corundum: chief and oldest enemy of Kislar Jonuta of Qalara. Cruising the gemstone star-paths, seeking and searching and a.n.a.lyzing. High on himself since having sent Janja off to perdition (along with h.e.l.lfire and others of that ship, but who bothered with trifles), he was again on the hunt. It was an occupation he much enjoyed, hunting. Therefore he was better than good at it. And he had found Jonuta. That is, his SIPAc.u.m had done so. Jinni had merely stumbled across Coronet's emissions signature. He considered, briefly, standing before Jinni's readouts and telits with shoulders back and hands clamped behind his back. Very erect, very dark, all in black, with raven's-wing hair in waves to his shoulders. A well-educated man who had once been a form of artist called a painter and who was more than a little esthetic by nature. And a man with a sense of the dramatic that did not leave him even when he was alone. Corundum was well aware that this pose he had cultivated was a Napoleonic one. Napoleon had been merely a ma.s.s murderer. Corundum was a successful pirate and an absolutely master ship-handler. Presently he considered himself, and Jonuta. Corundum had initiated various attempts on the man's life. They had failed, though they had taken out Jonuta's oldest and best crewmembers. Then had come the action out near Dot, well-mined fourth moon of Murph. Janja had been with him then, and on that occasion. Both were easily disguised by retaining their s.p.a.cesuits and -helmets. Just as easily he had deceived those miners into believing him to be Jonuta-by care- 176 fully not-saying he was.

Then had come an unexpected stroke of luck. Corundum did his illegal business with the mining chief, and the fellow proved treacherous. As Firedancer departed that little ball of barrenness concealing rich ores, in had swooped two s.p.a.cers. One was a local, a policer craft from Murph called in by the triple-dealing supervisor of those Dotside miners. The other ship was super-spook: the TransGalactic Watch. With enormous cleverness and at enormous risk that might easily have killed him, Corundum had lifted off Dot. He had also maneuvered the TGW ship into blasting the Murpher into s.p.a.cedust, and proceeded to the unnecessary but most gratifying destruction of that TGW s.p.a.cer, with all hands. Janja had been horrified. Corundum had smiled his satisfaction. (Little barbarian, he now told himself. She was too weak of stomach to be Corundum's woman, anyhow.) Soon word had gone out from headquarters, TGO, on The Gray Organization's own secret channels: Jonu-ta had done it. Get Jonuta. Do Not Destroy physically; undermine and smash and crush him. And TGO spent a bit of a fortune in tracking down Jonuta's secret accounts on various planets, and gained a far, far greater fortune by stealing them. It was an ancient custom, dignified by the perpetrator and to the gullible by being called "confiscation." That was precisely what Captain Corundum wanted TGO to believe, and to do. "Let him squirm," Corundum had muttered with happiness. "After a time Corundum will solve all his problems for him. All his problems." First, however, there had been the matter of Janja. That pale barbarian had struck deep into his vaunting pride by daring to leave his company before he had 177 t5red of her. She had abandoned him to take up with that semi-competent child, h.e.l.lfire. First he had told himself that the erratic h.e.l.lfire would bring about her own untimely demise anyhow.

Then he had decided to a.s.sist her, and make it timely. Captain Corundum went forth in quest of the final solution to the Janja problem. With a brace of lampreys slammed at their hull just as they sought escape by entering what was called subs.p.a.ce, he had succeeded. Or so he thought. The lampreys, also called Computer Traumatizers, would have made their SIPAc.u.m a helpless, mechanical psychotic. Without a functioning SIPAc.u.m, they were as good as dead and on their way to death. If there was a common G.o.d of s.p.a.cefarers, its name was SIPAc.u.m. And now . . . now Jinni had found Coronet, and not all that distant, either. And Corundum stood before SIPAc.u.m's display, one eyebrow up, and considered. A dark man in black, rocking on his heels, plotting the fate of a detested enemy. Because Corundum was the second most competent along the s.p.a.ceways. Perhaps he admitted it in his heart of hearts, his mind of minds.

Perhaps his own pride prevented that. He knew that without Jonuta he was the single unrivaled ship-handler and outlaw and s.p.a.cegoing genius. Had not Jonuta suffered aplenty, as a result of Cor-undum's tricking TGO, however obliquely?

Would he not suffer more, and more, at the unseen hands of that organization dedicated to the proposition that the end did indeed justify the means of reaching it? Is that continuing hara.s.sment and frustration not the worst form of punishment for the swine? Still, Corundum was high on himself, swollen with success at having gained the ultimate revenge on Janja 178 and h.e.l.lfire-who had taken his blond "primeval princess" from him. And here was Jonuta, practically within his grasp. And Corundum was Corundum. He had Jonuta's location and course. With a swift nod of decision he sat down at con to direct Fire-dancer on intersect course. Smiling. 14 "And she is the very most popular simulator among you," HRadem said. "Pos," Kenowa said, nodding. "Actor is the word we use." "Actor, yes. Firm. And, uh . . . the outlandish swollenness of her mammalia . . . that is highly advertised, well known. Is-" "Pos, in both cases," Kenowa said most positively, with a little frown and sideward glance, eyes only, at his choice of words for The Biggest Pair In The Universe. "Fascinating. Amazing! Kenowa . . . would you say that the size of her mammaries, then, is the primary reason for her great success and renown?" "Ah . . . well, yes, at least the basic 'cause.' I mean she's good, she plays the Akima Mars part well, and of course over the years she's identified with the series. I suppose she isn't really outstanding as an actor." Then she laughed, seated on the bed beside HRadem, while the holodrama played between them and the wall. "That was an unintended pun! Do you understand about puns?" "Yes, but I don't-oh. Outstanding. It means stands out in a crowd, stands out from others because of some accomplishment or attribute. And oh yes, I see. Also her chest stands out. Way out." He nodded vehemently, proud to have got it in another language. 179 180 "Then it could be said that Setsuyo Puma has a standout chest." Kenowa chuckled throatily and touched his arm. "You understand puns," she said rather drily, although that could not quite be said to describe her present state. The Akima Mars mellerdrammers were definitely erotic, designed to t.i.tillate. Watching this one, the most recent, with HRadem was an erotic experience. Particularly since they were in-well, on her bed, in her cabin. And particularly since she knew d.a.m.ned well what Kenowa and HReenee were doing in his cabin. The adjoining cabin. Right through that wall. With the connecting door closed. HRadem sighed, semi-slumping beside her on the bed. These HRal just seemed to have no backbone! (Make that in the literal sense only, Kenowa mentally added.) "Our races are different indeed. That is a shame, in a way. It would appear that Galactic males are-tend to be fixated on mammalia, and the bigger the better.

Our women are of course not constructed that way at all. Not even when they are nursing. In which case, our females may find your males s.e.xually interesting, but the reverse will not be true. Wait-that is not scientific. I should say that the reverse will tend not to be true." Very scientific, Kenowa thought, and said quietly, "True." "Oh! She is being tortured!" He definitely sat up straighter in heightened interest, this alien who had matter-of-factly gone to "toy with" the prisoners. In his felinistic, not necessarily s.a.d.i.s.tic way, Kenowa thought, and felt a couple of little tremors in intimate places. Quietly she said, "True." And kept her eyes directed on the holodrama. 181 "This holds excitement for you Galactics, too?" His increased excitement was apparent in his voice. "Oh yes. We just pretend it isn't so and don't admit it. Men do, anyhow. Lots of women admit the fascination, if not a real desire to hurt-or be hurt! When it comes to telling the truth, women are the stronger s.e.x." "Of course," he said absently, and so matter-of-factly that her eyes widened. Since they were sitting side by side, watching Dark Invader, they were talking without eye contact, without seeing each other's expressions. Now he was positively staring at that screen, in point of fact.

"Does what these improbable invaders are doing to Akima Mars fascinate you, Kenowa?" Even more quietly, "Pos." And she'd just as soon he didn't ask her if it excited her. Obviously it did him! And what warmth this s.e.xy HRal radiated! "Ummm. But you have no real desire to be hurt?" "Not a real desire to be really hurt, no." "Yet your race also began as hunters! Galactic female or not, I am getting an erection from what I am seeing. Even though I know it is actors and she is not being hurt. Not really hurt, as you put it." He shifted a little. Seeking comfort, Kenowa knew; seeking to accommodate his erection. His saying that, just right out that way, had astonished her but had hardly shocked or offended her. Or disappointed her. As a matter of fact she became a bit less dry. "Uh," he said; the sound was elicited by what he was watching, and he had definitely twitched. "And what if I seized upon your own outstanding b.r.e.a.s.t.s and dug my fingers in with such roughness?" A great shiver went through the big woman beside him. Almost in the same movement she flicked off the holomovie and turned toward him. HRadem was introduced to the oscular pressure these bulge-chested creatures called kiss. How cool and moist her lips were- 182 what an exciting act, for her to do this, all of a sudden!

Since he was a shade warmer than he'd prefer to be, the coolth of her lips and her hands on him, the brush of her cheek; those were very welcome and indeed just wonderful. And the ma.s.sy lobes of her chest were pressing at Ms chest, too. He seized upon them. Another great shudder went through her and she moaned into his mouth. She did not take her lips away from what were to her richly, marvelously warm lips. And her moan did not sound to HRadem as if she were in pain and signaling him to stop. He didn't. With continually changing pressures, he dug his fingers right into those strangely meaty pillows of her chest. He could feel the nipples within her clothing, and even they were bigger than those of many HRal women! He kept right on, delving, palpating, disarranging her clothing as he sought his way inside, moving his clutchy fingers about as if trying to imbed them in flesh that was like dough to him.

And she kept right on kissing, pressing in with her mouth as if trying to imbed it in his, which she found a marvelously heated hollow. Then her hand moved down to the erection he had mentioned. It was not hard to locate. How hung, she had wondered; hung howl And now she knew: well enough! Have fun, Jonuta, she thought and, squeezing, moved her mouth enough to suggest to her fascinated HRal lover that they were both overdressed for the business at hand. "In my hands," he said with a wicked grin, and squeezed hard before he released. Yes, he understood puns right enough. A bit awkwardly because neither wanted to leave the bed, they made themselves naked. Clothing hit the deck in rumpled clumps, symbolically united. 183 "Oh, the smoothness," he said, running hot hands over it. "The coolth of your hairless skin!" "Ummm, the sleek warmth," she said, burrowing, moving her own hands over him, and her body against that short velvety fur. Then, "Uh!" she gasped, for he had just clamped onto her b.r.e.a.s.t.s again and was doing his best to make his wiry fingers vanish from sight within all that sleekly hair-free, doughy flesh. Shivering, she tried raking his tiny buds of nipples- two, then two others-with her nails to see how he responded. He responded. Dragging her to him-by her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-he tried tasting what he had been so eagerly manhandling. He loved that, as it turned out, and to distraction. Her distraction. He kept on and on at it, slurping, her nipple swelling in his mouth as he clamped with one hand, with two hands, palpating, while he sucked and licked and made the obscene slurpy sounds she a.s.sumed were deliberate, and chewed too, a little. And she responded, oh lord and Tao's b.a.l.l.s, how she responded. But. . . It wasn't that it was boring; Kenowa was aroused up to here, hunching and moaning. The point was that she wanted more from him, and he had been slavishly slavering away now for a full quarter-hour! She bent to his chest-handsome soft sleek warm fur, and all these little nipples she had made hard!-and went after one of those nipples with her mouth. Oh, the warmth of him! She tried to nuzzle her face into that fur. It was too short for that, but it felt wonderful and she kept trying. His movements and sounds-shivers and moans- told her that his tiny nipples were as sensitive as the plumper ones he kept trying to choke himself with, and then he had a hand on her and in her and a delving finger felt dangerously hot and sent violent thrills lancing through her. 184 "Ah .

.. you are so cool inside," he exclaimed raptly, while Kenowa knew that she was hotter than she had been in ... well, a while. "And you are so warm" she murmured, rooting like an infant without sense enough to recognize lack of nourishment. After a while she surprised him. Rather than thrusting him away to insist on being "forced" or pouncing from the bed in disguised invitation to be taken like a normal woman-a normal HRal woman-she became insistent in an entirely different way. She grasped his slicer and moved while she tugged at him insistently by that convenient (hot) handle- -and let out a cry while her eyes bulged at the abrupt invasion and widening of her by what felt like a red-hot poker. It wasn't that he was one bit bigger than Jonuta-or as big-but that he was so, so hot. And then that warm velvet of his fur was pressing her body, and she closed her eyes in a dreamy exultation. Her outcry pleased him so much that he wondered if Galactic males were hung small and failed to please their women adequately. If that were the case, what a swathe a dedicated HRal could cut among these fur-less, fat-nippled, swollen-chested women of another race! And oh, the weird coolth of her interior all around him! Deliberately crushing and banging what they called "warheads," he let go any semblance of control and s.h.a.gged her wildly. Oh, it was a great day for niter-species, interspecific, relationships, out on the s.p.a.ce-ways. In the adjacent cabin, Jonuta was introducing his new inamorata to some of his favorite music. "The point is, it's some of the very first electronic music ever made-and sound decent," he said, "and 185 not artificial. Those 'Germans'

did it not as a novelty but because they were musicians and this was the kind of music they wanted to make. They did it marvelously well, with the primitive electronic equipment they had then!" "This is nice," HReenee said, looking at the speaker in a perfectly normal irrational act that was apparently common to her race and his. "And this is called- what?" "Force Majeure," he said, stretching long muscularly lean legs. "I don't know those words." He grinned.

"Neither do I. I feel almost guilty about that, too, because once I went to the trouble to find out. And forgot. It's an ancient language of Homeworld.

Urth, where we feel pretty sure we originated. Most of the old languages are dead. They were combined into Erts-this language." "It means something, then-or did," she said quietly, thinking about the phenomenon of a "dead"

language- several of them-and of a race so old and so long in s.p.a.ce that they "felt pretty sure" they originated on the far, far planet he had named. The HRal were old, too. But not in s.p.a.ce. She and HRadem were among the first fifty. She wondered if another fifty or a thousand or two were in s.p.a.ce, now, on Galactic craft. And with a tiny twitch of her mouth that was not quite a smile, she wondered if any of them was lying naked in the cabin of the (just as naked-nakeder, without bodily hair!) captain of the ship that bore her. Or even him. The ghost of a smile vanished altogether, then, as HReenee had the fleeting thought to wonder if any others of her people had been raped. She'd bet none was pa.s.senger or "crew" onboard the s.p.a.ceship of a slaver, or had encountered the strange phenomenon of armed bandit attack, in s.p.a.ce! 186 "And the musicians' name? 'Tangerine Dream'- what does that mean? Is it a name?" "Their name. Not a person's name, I think-I have those. All strange words, no longer in use. I have no idea what 'Tangerine Dream' meant to them.

The words have meaning-each of them does, I mean, but together they are nonsense." He made a gesture that ended with his hand on her thigh. Instant heat under-his palm! He stroked the silken fur there, wishing he could hear her purr again. "It doesn't matter. I love the music. They made many pieces of music, almost all of it totally electronic. Some of it went with primitive holodramas of that time. I'd love to see them. One was 'Sorcerer'. Nice, strange music." "Dare I ask what that means?" "Sorcerer? Doer of magic.

Fantasy was popular, in thek era." And he explained 'tangerine' for her, and 'dream,' and she found no relationship between a fruit and a night-fantasy. "I am glad that I like it too. This part is a little . . . nerve-stimulating, isn't it?" He chuckled. "That's about what it is, HReenee, that's about what it is. It was years after I first heard some of thek music before I found out who had created it. Then I was amazed at thek antiquity. There was a time when I told myself I was going to have a s.p.a.ceship, and that I would name it Tangerine Dream." "Why didn't you?" He shrugged. "Would have been stupid.

Everyone would have been asking what it meant. Are you feeling hungry?" "No. I mean oh no, thank you. So long as I know that food is available, I don't require much. There is something else I've been thinking about. The attack on India Spring. Your finding us, and arriving." "Not easy, and yet not hard," he said. "You want 187 a sort-of explanation? I can't give you a really complicated one." "No-what it led me to think about is something you have referred to-war. And s.p.a.ce combat. We are moving at a velocity too ridiculous to think about. Obviously impossible! Thousands and thousands of klorns per second! I know that that sort of velocity, combined with the size of s.p.a.cecraft and our own fragility, means that it takes minutes to turn through as much as half a circle-and that means thousands of kloms-hundreds of thousands?" "As many as three million kloms, depending on the size of the ship, its equipment, and its velocity-how close it is to the speed of light.

Yes. A battle is like sub-ancient combat between two men armed with edged weapons, HReenee: over almost before it begins. Or, with luck and if they're both good, a long, long process. Hours. I was in an hours-long combat in s.p.a.ce, once." "Two people with edged weapons could get very, very tired in a combat that lasted hours!" she said, in an insistent voice. "Yes, but you must know that in time of such stress you don't notice weariness until long after it's there- sometimes not until after the fight or the flight-is all over.

Besides, hours-long combats between such men, on horse or on foot, were mostly spent in maneuvering, with brief flurries of hack-and-stroke. s.p.a.ce battles are the same. You sweat a lot, and get to think and plot and compute a lot.

And sweat some more. It's seldom necessary, unless two people want to kill each other. The alternative is always available-running." "I can't imagine you running." "I have, and I'm not one minim ashamed of it, either. I may again.

I'm also, uh, known to use this and that means of avoiding battles, or capture. I am not interested in killing policers, HReenee. Some of them are interested in killing me. Or taking me prisoner." 188 That was a conversation he didn't care to have to pursue, and he said, "You have hit on another of my favorite topics, though." "Policers?" "s.p.a.ce combat." She settled down in his bed, snuggling sleek -warmth against his smothness. "Tell me about another favorite topic of Captain Jonuta, then. We HRal you know like . . .

excitement." "Meaning danger, stalking, combat, stress," he said, squeezing her thigh with strength. "Firm, I know. Well, providing you survive the initial encounter-the attack, which often comes like that-" he snapped his fingers- "then you go back centuries and centuries." She looked at him with questioning disbelief. "What?" "There was a Homeworld war they still study in s.p.a.ce-military schools," he said, idly rubbing the fur of her thigh.

"Centuries and centuries ago. I've studied it, too-if you call it studying, when it fascinates m