Ching consulted with his phone. “There may be a problem with Aliena,” he said. “She has awakened but is non-responsive.”
“Take me to her,” Brom said, alarmed.
The party was guided to another section of the ship. There was a transparent wall, like that of an aquarium. Beyond it, on the white sand, was a man-sized pink starfish. That was Aliena in her natural body.
Brom put his hands against the wall and stared. He had known this was her nature, but it was different seeing it directly. She was alive; that was what counted. But now the full alieness of her was brutally apparent. Had he loved this?
Yes, damn it, he had. He still did. It was her mind he had come to know, not merely her lovely body. That mind was still there. Unless something was seriously wrong.
Could she be waiting on him? To see whether he would be revolted by the reality? Unwilling to go about her normal business until she knew? It seemed likely.
He gazed at her and sang. “Ali ali ena, ali ali ena.”
The starfish twitched. Then a sound came, either through the wall or via a speaker. It was her love Note. They sang together, in their special fashion. “Ali ali ali ali ali ali ena!”
Sick with relief, Brom sank down against the wall. The starfish moved to it on her side, traveling on myriad tiny feelers, lifting a ray to touch the wall. He put his hand there to meet hers, as close as was feasible. They were together to the extent possible.
Maple came. “Mommy?” she asked.
The ray touched the wall by the child. Maple put out her little hand, and the ray touched opposite it. They, too, had reunited.
Then the starfish moved away. “She will feed and exercise, then return to stasis,” Ching said. “I understand that she has little interest in routine things at the moment. She misses you as you miss her.”
Then it was time to meet the replacement. She awaited them at their suite, where Ching brought her. She looked exactly like Aliena, except for the bandage on her head.
Maple shrank away from her.
“I recognize all of you from the background package,” she said, sounding just like Aliena. “I am the replacement.”
There was a silence. None of them seemed certain how to respond to her. It was supremely awkward.
“Please,” she said. “I am alone in a very strange realm, with a formidable job to do, among those who wish I were someone else. I can handle the physical and intellectual challenges, but I understand that I also need emotion. I think I should cry, but as yet I lack the connections to convert my feeling to this body’s expression. I need your help. How may I obtain it?”
That shamed them all. “We have to give her a chance,” Johnson said. “Just as we did Aliena.”
“We were so concerned about our own reactions to her,” Rebecca said, “that we never thought about her reactions to us. We are a group in our own realm; she is alone.”
“We apologize,” Brom said.
“There is no need,” the creature in Aliena’s body said. “Just guide me. This relationship is a shell masking the reality that we are strangers. I am a rapid study, a competent linguist, and practical. But I can’t do it alone.”
Brom saw the truth of that. Aliena had been less competent in language, initially, and not always entirely practical. This organism clearly could handle the role. She was his new wife, and Maple’s new mother. But how could he love her?
“It is like a wife dying, and the man remarries,” Johnson said. “No one is happy, but all must do their part.”
Only in this case even the husband was isolated from her. How could he reassure her, when inside he resented her presence in lieu of his beloved?
Maple visibly nerved herself. “I can cry. Pick me up.”
The body reached for her, took hold, and picked her up, carefully.
“Like this.” Maple burst into tears.
At first the woman looked surprised; she did have that emotion zeroed in. Then slowly her expression changed. Tears formed and rolled down her face. She was crying. She was indeed a quick study. She held Maple close, and Maple accepted it. The child was leading the way.
Suddenly Brom remembered the instructions Aliena had given him. They might be his salvation. He fished for the folded papers in his pocket and opened them out.
NAME HER.
“Aliena said to name her,” he said. “I think she means the way I named Aliena herself, privately, not her official designation. I have no idea what name would do.”
“She’s a starfish,” Maple said, recovering rapidly from her tears as children did. “Star.”
Brom was glad to agree. It wasn’t elegant, but it fit. “Star.”
“Star,” the woman said, mirroring the child’s recovery. “Thank you.” She set Maple down.
Brom looked at the second paper. GIVE HER A SONG.
“A song,” he said. “As I had with Aliena, but different. Again, I have no idea.”
“I do, perhaps,” Johnson said. “I remember an old, old song about a star. Well, not really about a star, but it was in the refrain. It was actually about death, but Becky liked it. From perhaps imperfect memory: ‘Dig my grave both deep and narrow, Make my coffin long and strong.’ Then ‘Two two to my head, two two to my knee, two two to carry me along.’ And the finale. ‘My soul’s going to shine like a star, my soul’s going to shine like a star, my soul’s going to shine like a star, for I’m bound for to heaven when I’m gone.’”
“I don’t know,” Brom said. “Depends on the tune. Can you sing it, or at least the part about the star?”
“I can try.” Johnson sang the words. Rebecca joined in, remembering it, singing with greater clarity. There was a certain quality of feeling to the melody and words that fit the present mood.
Star sang it after them, her voice perfect. The final “Star” was a high note, standing out from the others with sudden authority.
“I believe it will do,” Brom said, impressed. “That will be our song.”
“I feel its emotion,” Star said. “Thank you, Mr. Smythe.”
“Call me Johnson. I am your host’s father.”
“No, dear,” Rebecca said. “She must call you Dad. And me Mom. We’re part of the shell too.”
“I will do that,” Star said.
“And we will call you Star, as we would our daughter,” Johnson agreed.
Brom felt a surge of appreciation for their supportive contribution. They were making it significantly easier.
He looked at the third note. TAKE HER TO THE BEACH.
“Oh, my,” he said, taken aback.
“The beach is the edge of water?” Star asked alertly.
“Yes. The sea.”
“We have an attraction to the sea, for we are sea creatures. It arouses our deepest emotions.”
“Ours too, sometimes,” Brom agreed.
“What did you do there?”
Brom took a deep breath. “We made love.”
She sorted through her vocabulary. “You mated?”
“Yes.”
“She is telling us to mate?”
“Yes.”
Star considered briefly. “May we postpone that discussion for a more convenient time?”
“Yes!” he agreed gratefully.
“I believe we should spend some time together, getting familiar with each other, since we are supposed to be married.” Star said. “I have been given comprehensive background information, but that is not necessarily the same as personal experience. There are nuances. Do you concur?”
“Yes.”
Now she smiled. “Aliena and I are both starfish, as you put it, but there are differences. She is more giving; I am more assertive. If this annoys you, tell me and I will stifle it. I do not wish to be offensive.”
“Be yourself. I will accommodate.”
“Thank you. We should go to Earth now.”
“On our way,” Sam said.
They proceeded to the shuttle to the Wheel, thence to Earth, and the waiting train. Dr. Chi
ng and his assistant bid them farewell, reducing their party to seven. The train moved out.
“Do the two of you wish to be alone now?” Johnson asked.
“No,” Brom and Star said almost together. Then Brom laughed.
“You and I are quite different, yet superficially similar in our human forms,” Star said. “This coincidental joint reaction is a seeming point of similarity. Is this humorous?”
“Humor is difficult to define,” Brom said. “But yes, when pure coincidence has the semblance of coordination, we can find that funny, and we laugh.”
“Teach me to laugh.”
“To do that naturally, may be impossible. Maybe if you emulate me when I laugh, or any of the others, even if you don’t understand why, you can in time pick up on its nature. Humor is a bit like brain surgery: if you stir your finger in it too long, it suffers.”
Now Johnson laughed. “Nice analogy!”
Then Brom and Johnson both looked at Star. She had laughed with Johnson.
“You weren’t fooling about being a quick study,” Johnson told her.
“It is necessary for the role I am assigned to play. There is not a great deal of time for assimilation.”
Brom smiled, and Star smiled with him. “I fear you will find we pure humans to be slow witted.”
“Yes.”
“Aliena never gave us that impression. As a general rule, it is not smart to be too obviously smarter than your companions. Human beings are perhaps undeservedly proud of their supposed wit.”
“I thank you for that insight. I will reform.”
Later Brom was to realize that never again did Star say or imply that he was in any way slow compared to her. She learned such things so rapidly that it seemed as if she had always known them. It bothered him to acknowledge it, but she really was smarter than Aliena.
“We have a fair amount of time on the train before we reach the crowded human population,” Brom said. “We don’t have stasis here, yet. This is the time for us to become better acquainted. It may become pretty personal at times. Is there anything we can do or say to make you feel more comfortable with us or this situation?”
“Yes,” Star said. “I understand from the record that an attempt was made to kill Aliena. That makes me nervous.”
“Such an attempt was made,” Sam said. “There may be others, especially after the Unveiling. Martha and I are here to protect you from such threats, but we can’t guarantee your safety absolutely.”
“I believe I need a gun.”
“That may not be wise. A gun in inexpert hands can be more dangerous to its owner than to anyone else.”
“Teach me to be expert.”
“This is not something that can be done in one hour.”
Now Star smiled. “If I may borrow idiom from my background vocabulary, wanna bet?”
“You are really interested?”
“Yes. I believe it is a necessary precaution.”
Sam’s hand hardly flickered, but now there was a gun in it. “First you need to be sure of hitting what you aim at, and to know when to shoot. Knowing when is as important as knowing how. I will set up a target.” He walked to the far side of the coach and set up an ordinary chair, facing away. “Let’s assume this is an enemy soldier about to mow us all down with an automatic weapon. We must take him out before he takes us out.” He walked away from the chair, then suddenly whirled and fired. A red spot appeared in the middle of the back of the chair. “This is a paint gun, to be sure no one gets hurt, but when you are ready we will provide you with a real one. Take it and shoot at the chair. Don’t be concerned if you miss it; you will need to zero in your reflexes at first.” He handed the gun to Star.
She aimed it at the chair and fired. She missed, splattering the floor before it.
“May I try again?”
“Try as many times as you want. It’s a learning experience.”
She aimed again, this time missing too high. She fired a third time, and caught the edge of the chair. The fourth shot caught it dead center.
Then she faced away from it, suddenly whirled, and fired again. The shot was not a perfect center, but it did catch the chair.
Sam nodded, impressed. “We shall order a gun for you. You will need to go to a firing range and try out several pistols, but I suspect you will be satisfied. Next lesson: concealed carry. We will make a demonstration. Martha?”
“Paint gun ready,” she said, standing.
“Let’s assume a male terrorist is coming for you,” Sam told Star. “You are a lovely young woman. Even if he means to kill you, chances are 50-50 he will want to rape you first.”
“Rape,” Star said, as if reading in a dictionary. “The involuntary knowledge of a women.”
“Forcible sex,” Sam clarified. “He will want to hold you down and ram his penis into your vagina.”
“Yes.” She did not seem to view this with horror, merely as a thing to understand, like avoiding a falling branch.
Sam turned to Brom. “Pretend to be about to rape Martha.”
Brom advanced on Martha. He reached out to push her. She fell back, landing on the floor, her legs lifting so that he saw all the way between them under her skirt. She wore no panties! Jolted, he nevertheless started to drop down on her.
There was a splat on his chest. A red dab of paint was there, right where his heart would be.
“You’re dead,” Sam said as Martha jumped nimbly to her feet.
“I—she--no panties?”
Martha laughed, and Star laughed with her. Martha lifted her skirt and snapped the material beneath it. “Flesh colored, with shading and a line down the middle. You did not see what you thought you saw. But it made you hesitate long enough for me to get my gun.”
“The gun,” Brom said doggedly. “I never saw it.”
Martha lifted one leg and took off her stylish feminine shoe. She aimed the shoe at the distant target and a new blot appeared there. It was a gun!
“I am impressed,” Star said.
Martha handed the shoe to her. “We call it the gun-shoe, a play on gumshoe. We don’t advertise it to the public.”
Star aimed at the target, and hit it. “I want a shoe like this.”
“You shall have it,” Sam said. “And similar panties too, if you want them.”
“The sight of a woman’s cleft incites a man to lust,” Star said, getting it straight. “This distracts him from the weapon.”
“Exactly. Any man would pause the way Brom did. It’s a fine last-ditch defense. But with luck you will never have to use it; we mean to protect you from any such attack.”
“I am reassured. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We don’t often get to make such a demonstration.”
They sat down again. “There is a name in my memory file whose relevance I am not certain of,” Star said. “Lucy.”
“My former girlfriend,” Brom said. “Past history.”
“That name is surely there for a reason,” Star said. “Aliena put it there. Will you clarify that reason?”
Brom grimaced, but obliged. “She was a smart, assertive woman, a firm atheist, and she carried a gun for the same reason you will: no man was going to molest her. She was not averse to sex; in fact she had a high libido and was sexually aggressive. I must admit that I liked that about her. But she died, I fear deliberately, because of my doubt about committing. That is my legacy of guilt. Thereafter I was emotionally isolated until Aliena came into my life.”
“I am surprised. There are ways in which I resemble Lucy, despite existing three hundred years before her time.”
This was interesting. “How so?”
“This is more background than perhaps you need. I do not wish to bore you.”
“Bore us,” Brom said with a smile. He found himself warming to her.
“Aliena and I were brood mates, what you might call sisters, two of hundreds. We were quite different in personality, yet were friends. I was smart and assertive; she was feeling a
nd giving. We complemented each other. We had some naughty adventures that got us both in trouble.”
Brom closed his eyes, forming a mental picture, only with Star and Aliena as two pretty human girls in a boarding school. After classes and the evening meal they would sneak out to explore the neighborhood, hiding from others so they would not be reported. Once they went swimming in a private pool and were almost caught, but it was a great adventure. Another time they visited a boy’s dormitory and met a handsome young man. Star took an interest in him, and kissed him before they fled. Things developed, and they made a date to mate. That was a serious matter, because this man was from a brood that was not proper for mating with their own brood. But they were in lust and intended to do it. They set the date and place. Aliena nervously accompanied her friend, serving as a lookout to prevent any dangerous observation.
But the man did not come. Disappointed they finally returned to their own dorm. Only later did they get the news that he had been caught in their neighborhood by a predator and killed. That was why he had not made the date.
Star lost it. Distraught by her loss and survivor’s guilt, she committed virtual suicide by volunteering for the first great space mission then being formulated. This was certain banishment, because the ship was unlikely ever to return, and if it did, centuries would have passed on the home planet. More likely it was death, for space was dangerous and the mission to contact another sapient species was treacherous. The ship itself could be destroyed, with its minions in stasis never returning to awareness before being extinguished. It was the kind of mission suitable for a person who had no reason to remain in her own culture.
And Aliena volunteered also, simply in support of her friend. Aliena was social and feeling and physically esthetic and could readily have found a worthwhile situation at home, and a suitable male to breed with. But she wanted to share her friend’s fate, whatever it might be. Star was not an emotional person, but this moved her profoundly. It was a concluding irony that she had been slated to become Coordinator, to run the ship during the alien contact, while Aliena had been chosen to be the Envoy, to dwell among the aliens and acquaint them with her people and culture. Now they were reversed, each in a position she was not the best qualified for.