From elf@chinook.halcyon.com Sun Mar  6 21:41:24 MST 1994
Article: 19714 of alt.sex.stories
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From: elf@chinook.halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Journal Entry 112 / 1026  [ Planetfall: Doubts Abound ]  (new!)
Date: 6 Mar 1994 03:22:27 GMT
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     Journal Entry 112 / 1026

      A shout erupted from the laboratory prep room, "Dammit! No!," 
followed almost immediately by the clatter of metal upon a hard plastic 
floor.  "Nyss?"  Nance shouted, running into the lab.  "Are you okay?"  

      P'nyssa looked up from where she crouched, picking up a small 
collection of metallic pointers and tweezers and the like.  "Yeah, I'm 
okay," she replied.  "Dammit, Nance, I'm a total klutz today.  I can't 
turn around without knocking something over, and I don't even have a 
tail as an excuse."  

      Nance nodded, bending down to help her pick up the tools.  "Nyss, 
as your personal assistant, as well as your best friend, I think you've 
been working too hard.  Do us both a favor and go take a break."  

      "I appreciate it, Nance, but I don't..."  

      "Hush," he said, leaning over and kissing her forehead.  "Get out 
of here, Nyss.  Seriously.  At the moment, nobody's critical, and 
nobody's going to die if you're not here.  I understand the Terrans just 
opened up a place called 'Rosie's,' some kind of bar.  Go rest.  
Please?"  

      She sighed, weighing her choices.  "And what if I don't?"  

      "I'll kick you out of here on your ringdamned ass."  

      It was the answer she had expected from him.  Nodding, she put 
down the tray she held and stood up.  "Okay, I'll go."  

      She walked out into the hot, blazing sun of Battia II.  So far, 
the summer had proven to be very warm, but the breezes that came down 
the mountains kept it from being oppressive.  The humidity was a little 
lower than she was used to, which helped.  She found the place Nance had 
mentioned.  

      From the outside, "Rosie's" (the quotes were very visible on the 
sign, as if they held some import to the Terran) was built with a 
distinctly different architecture from the usual plastic tenting- in-
the-round.  

      A dark green rectangular tent with an elevated, 'A'-frame roof was 
held down in the dusty soil with long, manilla-colored ropes.  The tent 
billowed in the wind, and the cloth it was made of had a coarse, visible 
square weave.  Despite the cloth construction, the door was made of 
wood, with a metal screen "window" for an insert.  The sounds of loud 
rock-and-roll came from within.  Her assessment was that this place was 
a replica of some cultural or historic artifact, and had obviously been 
patterned on something that had existed long before anyone had heard of 
'taurs.  

      Anxiously, P'nyssa approached the door and pulled it open.  The 
springs creaked noisily, and some of the patrons (not, she gratefully 
noted, entirely human) turned to look at her.  She shook her head, 
wondering where all her courage had vanished too.  

      The floor was wooden, as was the bar to her left.  Also made of 
steel piping and wood were the antique-looking tables and chairs 
scattered about the room.  If a corner of the room had been reserved for 
a dance floor, P'nyssa couldn't see it.  A box in one corner blared rock 
music at a barely tolerable volume and P'nyssa reflected that had never 
before heard music so poorly reproduced.  She hoped that the poor 
reproduction was a deliberate part of the ambience.  

      She found her way to the bar, looking around at the glass shelves 
arranged in front of a mirror and covered with an intriguing array of 
exotic liquors and other intoxicants in glass bottles.  Some of the 
labels were positively lurid.  

      P'nyssa looked for a bartender, and found her.  She was surprised 
to find a Terran Neorat instead of a Human.  "Hi!" the Neorat said, 
meeting her glance, "What'll you have?"  

      "Uhm..."  P'nyssa thought.  Unlike Ken, she had never really had a 
taste for alcohol.  "What's mild?"  

      "Mild?"  the Neorat bartender replied.  "Hmm."  She rested a 
finger against the distinctive, cone-shaped muzzle in a gesture of 
concentration.  "Depends.  We've got wine, which you can mix with fruit 
juices or carbonateds to make a cooler."  She grinned.  "On the other 
hand, if you're going to be a while, I make a good margarita."  

      "I thought those had whiskey in them."  P'nyssa didn't have much 
experience with intoxicants, and some that she had had been with 
somewhat self-destructive intent.  She knew enough, however, to know 
that the word "whiskey" was reserved for more powerful blends of liquor.  

      "Only one shot.  It comes with lots of juice and ice, though, so 
like I said, if you're going to be a while it's a good thing to cool you 
down on such a hot day."  

      "I'll try one."  

      "Good choice.  You won't regret it."  The Neorat vanished down 
below the bar for a moment, returning with a large plastic scoop full of 
ice.  The sounds of pouring, blending, and chopping came from the rear 
counter, but P'nyssa's view was obscured by the Neorat's back.  
Eventually, though, she turned a dropped a centaur- sized ceramic mug in 
front of her.  "All that?"  P'nyssa asked.  "How much is alcohol?"  

      "This much," the bartender replied, holding up a single shot 
glass.  P'nyssa had seen Ken down nearly a dozen of those of whiskey 
when playing drinking games with Centaurs.  He nearly always got sick 
after that.  Why he thought such games were worthwhile was beyond her.  
She could understand his interest in sadomasochism far easier.  

      "It's very dilute, then," P'nyssa said.  

      "Yup.  Drink it slow and you'll never feel a thing."  

      The music subsided gently as the hour waned, and it took P'nyssa 
slightly more than an hour to finish the drink the Neorat had poured for 
her.  The crowd, meanwhile, flowed and ebbed.  A few remained as the 
hour passed, and P'nyssa enjoyed herself watching them, especially the 
pair in the corner playing darts.  

      "You look familiar."  

      The words came from behind her, which startled her momentarily.  
She turned around and found the Neorat leaning on her elbows staring 
across the bar at her.  "I do?"  

      "Yep," she replied, nodding briskly.  "It's the white."  

      P'nyssa touched the albino fur that ringed her eyes with one 
mitten.  "Lots of Tindals have these."  

      "Not on this trip.  Just two that I know of."  

      P'nyssa decided to take the initiative and introduce herself.  
"P'nyssa Traken."  

      "Zaid Kincaid."  

      "Zah...?"  She hadn't quite caught the name right.  

      "Zah-eed," the Neorat replied.  

      "It's very beautiful."  The words seemed to startle the Neorat, 
and she immediately apologized.  "I didn't mean to surprise you."  

      "You didn't," Zaid replied.  P'nyssa was curious as to why Zaid 
said something that, even had she not been a telepath, was clearly a 
lie.  

      "Tell me something," P'nyssa said.  "What's it like being a... 
uhm... a Neorat on Terra?"  

      Zaid shrugged.  "It's not much different from being something else 
somewhere else, right?"  

      "But don't you still get looked down on a lot?"  

      "You mean, unlike your egalitarian Pendorian system?"  

      P'nyssa smiled.  "Something like that.  I understand that Neorats 
and Katckins still have some major civil rights problems back on Terra."  

      "Nothing we can't handle," Zaid replied.  "I suppose it's the same 
thing as different races had a millennium ago.  They just don't see the 
similarities because we're furry.  You know, separate but equal has to 
be the case when we're talking about furtraps and drying chambers."  

      P'nyssa nodded.  "We have tried, on Pendor."  

      "And you've had some interesting failures, too," Zaid replied.  
"The Ssphynxes didn't do so well, as I remember."  

      "I'm too close to Ken Shardik to be an impartial observer.  I 
think he did everything he could.  The fact that it took them a century 
or two to feel comfortable in public again was an accident, and if it 
happens again, we'll live with it."  

      Zaid nodded.  "My turn to ask a question."  

      "Feel free," P'nyssa said.  Her mind was already calling up the 
standard answers to the standard questions of what was it like to be Ken 
Shardik's lover, what was it like to be a Telepath, how did she function 
with such weak arms.  

      "Have you ever had to kill someone?"  

      P'nyssa blinked, surprised.  "I don't understand the question."  

      "It's something about the way Pendorians think that's always 
bothered me.  I guess the fact that I've got your ear makes me bold 
about it.  On the one hand, you're all so cautious about your own lives, 
constantly updating your cybernetics and all that stuff, ensuring your 
longevity, stuff like that.  On the other hand, you've got a social 
structure that advocates such an absolute sense of morality.  Pendorians 
are either on or off.  Dead or alive.  But at the same time I've never 
met a Pendorian who's killed.  I would think that by now someone in this 
party has had an opportunity.  Maybe I should talk to your husband, er, 
I mean, coimelin."  

      "No, that's okay," P'nyssa said.  "I doubt you'd get much of an 
honest answer out of him anyway."  

      Zaid grinned.  "So, have you?"  

      "I...."  P'nyssa sighed.  "Yes, but not in the manner you're 
looking for.  I'm not into emphasizing our cultural morality, although I 
could do it if I needed to."  

      "Come on," Zaid said.  "I'm tired of standing up.  Let someone 
else pour the drinks for a while.  Let's find a table and talk.  Wanna 
beer?"  

      "Another one of these would be better," P'nyssa said, playing with 
the straw in her now empty mug.  

      Zaid giggled.  "You like those, huh?"  

      "Well, it made me feel warm, but not very drunk."  

      "That happens if you drink it slow.  One more coming up.  Find a 
seat somewhere."  

      A few minutes later Zaid joined P'nyssa at the table.  "So, you 
said 'yes,' but you didn't seem to want to discuss it."  

      "It's nothing to really discuss," P'nyssa sighed.  "It happened 
nearly a thousand years ago anyway.  I was on Terra, visiting a hospital 
as part of some medical seminar.  There seemed to be a big deal about my 
not being human, something about how could I present anything of value 
and why there wasn't a human keynote speaker for the Pendorian 
contingent."  

      "You killed someone in a hospital?"  

      "More like 'turned off,'" P'nyssa said, sighing and staring off 
into the distance.  "He was a young boy, about fourteen or so.  Far gone 
in his illness and couldn't communicate, but as a telepath I could hear 
him.  And he really wanted to just... let go.  Just let it end.  He was 
in a lot of pain, and I could see a DNR on his status sheet.  So I 
just..."  

      "Turned him off."  

      "Yes," P'nyssa said.  "It was probably the most painless moment 
he'd had in weeks.  I felt bad about it for years afterwards, though.  I 
wouldn't let Ken take me to Terra."  She smiled and sipped at her drink.  
"I still hope I did the right thing."  

      "Only you can judge," Zaid said.  The comment sounded more 
flippant that P'nyssa would have thought appropriate for the discussion, 
and she gave Zaid a curious stare.  

      Zaid returned the stare, then blushed and turned away.  P'nyssa 
felt no animosity from her, only a strange blend of confusions.  "Zaid?"  

      "Sorry," the Neorat replied.  "I'm just thinking."  

      "Why did you ask me that question?"  

      "Because... I had to kill someone once myself.  A human, and it 
was the kind of situation Pendorians talk about when they're talking 
about their guns."  

      "Rape?"  

      "Something like that.  I guess I'll never know if he was going to 
rape me, or kill me.  But I killed him first.  Broke his neck, even."  

      "Well, I've only heard just a little bit of the story, but it 
sounds to me like you did what you had to do."  

      Zaid nodded, sipping from her beer.  The label on the side of the 
bottle read "Battia II Beer."  P'nyssa gestured towards the bottle and 
asked "Who's making that?"  

      "Oh, one of the technicians from Moscow.  Guy named Anthony."  

      P'nyssa nodded.  "Is it good?"  

      "Not bad," Zaid admitted.  "A little full-flavored."  

      "I wouldn't know.  I don't drink beer."  She found that the second 
margarita had affected her far more than her first.  Worse than that, 
she was starting to realize that her monogamy was getting to her.  She 
found herself stealing glances at Zaid and wondering what this 
fascinating alien would be like in bed.  And, even more, she felt... 
entranced by her companion's exotique.  "Zaid," she said.  "I was 
wondering if you have someone who would... miss you tonight."  

      Surprised, Zaid stuttered, "Um... No, I don't.  Not really.  I 
mean, I don't think so."  

      "You don't think so?"  

      Zaid threw her hands up in the air.  "I've never had an offer like 
that before."  

      "Never?"  

      "I mean, I've never had sex with a female.  I've never even had 
sex with a non-Neorat!" she whispered.  Her whiskers drooped slightly.  
"I don't know if I could."  

      "Anyone can," P'nyssa said, smiling.  She recognized that her 
judgment was slightly impaired, at least as far as her inhibitions were 
concerned.  "It's if you think you might like it that's important."  

      "I don't know..."  She looked aside for a moment.  "Miss Traken, I 
really appreciate the offer, but I don't think I could right now.  I 
don't want to."  

      Disappointment swept P'nyssa.  She had so wanted to seduce Zaid, 
and now she'd blown it.  She felt like blaming the alcohol, but reminded 
herself that she knew better than that.  "Okay," she smiled, hiding her 
feelings underneath.  "But if you ever change your mind..."  

      "Yeah, I know."  Zaid took a sip of her beer.  "So, can I ask you 
another question?"  

      "Go ahead," P'nyssa replied, girding herself for another weird 
question.  But this time Zaid asked, "How do you function without 
fingers?"  And for the rest of the night, she asked all the usual 
questions.   


      P'nyssa walked back into her tent around midnight and proceeded to 
pour herself into bed.  A figure under the covers already stirred and 
looked up, blearily.  "Hi."  

      "Hi, Aaden," P'nyssa said, slumping down against her pillow.  

      He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly.  "Whew," he said.  
"What have you been drinking?  You smell like Ken after a night at 
Rocchodain."  

      "I feel like it too, only I don't think I'm gonna get sick," she 
giggled.  Then she frowned.  "Aaden, am I a good person?"  

      "What kind of question is that?"  

      "Well," she said, "I was with someone earlier.  Real pretty girl 
named Zaid.  And we were sitting in that place called 'Rosies,' drinking 
stuff.  She had beer, I was having... margaritas, I think they're 
called, and I tried to seduce her.  I didn't do a good job--" 

      "Because you were drunk," Aaden interrupted.  

      P'nyssa nodded.  "Because I was drunk, but for a few seconds I 
felt really bad because she turned me down.  It was like I expected her 
to say yes just because I'm, well, P'nyssa Shardik.  I just feel like 
there's this thing underneath my consciousness, you know, this 
egotistical monster that's just as bad as Ken's can be."  

      "P'nyssa, some people just aren't interested in women."  He 
chuckled, and she giggled along, at what was quickly becoming a very 
important and personal joke between them.  "Some aren't interested in 
Tindals.  Maybe she gets turned off by doctors.  I don't know."  

      "That's not the point, Aaden.  I can handle rejection gracefully.  
This time, though, I didn't."  

      "Did you let her know how disappointed you were?"  

      "No," P'nyssa said.  "But..."  

      "No 'buts,' Nyss," Aaden replied.  "Listen, you know alcohol, 
along with being an intoxicant is also a depressant.  I don't think you 
have much to worry about.  As for your feelings, well, maybe it's better 
that you know they could be there, rather than letting them sit under 
the surface forever."  

      "I know," P'nyssa said.  "But I..."  

      "Come on, Nyss.  Come down here and get some sleep."  

      "Okay," she said, pouting.   She slid into bed, curling up into a 
little ball.  For a moment, the tent was silent.  Then, Aaden turned 
over, wrapping himself around her, kissing the back of her neck and 
throwing his right arm over her midsection, cupping one breast.

     She reached up and touched his hand.  "Aaden?" she said.

     "Hmm?"

     "Thanks.  For everything."

--
"Planetfall: Doubts Abound"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales 
are copyright (c) 1994 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  May be freely distributed 
by electronic media; hardcopies are limited to single printings for 
personal use.