“I remember. It seemed pointless.”
“It wasn’t. It enabled me to predict what the birds would do, so that we could surprise them and take them over. But it also made me feel what you were feeling when you crashed, your pain and defeat, and made me want to alleviate it. So I helped you, and we both won the race.”
“I understand only that you helped me when you did not need to. But I will study this concept, because it did prove to be useful.”
“It is useful,” Aliena said. “Quincy has demonstrated that.” She oriented on him. “Now you have a day to choose with whom you prefer to breed.”
“I do,” he agreed. But he already knew it was Aliena. Explora was a nice girl, but Aliena was closer to human.
Than night Aliena joined him, as usual. “I confess to being impressed,” she said. “I was watching throughout, of course, but we thought no one would try the birds.”
“We?”
“The robots and I. We set it, and others, up, but doubted this class would use them. I am glad you came through.”
“You’re glad. So you do have some feeling for me.” He was fishing for confirmation.
“I do. But I did not allow it to influence the race.”
“I was glad to make my human empathy count.”
“Yes. Yet there was no certainty of that. Humans have the capacity for empathy, but few actually exercise it. Your exercise of it was limited.”
“What do you mean?”
“You used it to understand the likely behavior of the birds, but that did not prevent you from killing them for your benefit.”
Quincy was chagrined. “Oh, that’s true! I was caught up in the moment. Fortunately I knew they were not real birds, only emulations. Had they been real, I doubt I could have done it. Still, that was me. Other humans might have been more sensitive.”
“That seems doubtful.”
“Doubtful?”
“Humans have a huge industry of meat production. They raise and slaughter feeling animals just to eat them, not caring about their lives or concerns. Animal rights hardly exist. Humans also make war, killing other humans merely because they live on another part of the globe or practice a different religion or may, in some manner, represent a future threat. It is considered a virtue to kill them, patriotic. This is not empathy.”
Quincy winced. She had his species dead to rights. “I wish it were not so.”
“Do not be unduly concerned. It merely shows that our two species are not as far separated from each other as we may appear. We each do the practical thing when we need to.”
Now, perversely, he argued. “I’m not sure of that.”
“How so?”
“We knew that pollution is harmful, yet we freely pollute the world, driving other species to extinction in the process and putting our own long-term survival in question. On the personal level we know that it is not healthy to eat too much fat, salt, or sugar, yet we stuff ourselves with all three, become obese, and die younger and more uncomfortably than we need to. We know this, yet we persist. We knew that we need regular exercise, but most of us don’t do it, and again die early because of it. We know that money brings satisfaction only up to a point, but anyone who can garner riches at the expense of his fellow man does so, even knowing it helps put others into poverty. None of this is practical; it is only shortsightedly selfish.”
She considered that. “We starfish are providing advanced technology that enables humans to reduce their pollution and, indeed, global hunger. So the situation may be improving.”
“And thereby you seem to be better stewards of our environment than we are.”
“Yet we are hardly excellent examples of responsibility on our own home planet. We too have soiled our environment and harmed other species, and not merely by stealing their brains.”
“I guess it is true: power corrupts. We sapients have power, and are accordingly corrupted.”
She had evidently had enough. “It has been a pleasure having this dialogue with you. Tomorrow we breed.” She evidently knew that he had decided on her.
And suddenly he was asleep.
In the morning Aliena did not dawdle. After they made ready for the day she took him to a special chamber. There she released her spawn. His body, prompted by its nature, immediately released a cloud of sperm to mix with her tiny eggs. Then they left the chamber, leaving the forming starfish. It was thus simply done.
No wonder it was not considered a very romantic act! It was breeding without passion.
“You are disappointed,” Aliena said.
“I guess I had hoped for something more like the human way. With wild kissing, clasping, and orgasmic pleasure.”
“I am familiar with the human way.”
“I guess you are.”
“We can emulate it, to a degree.”
“We can?”
She lifted an arm toward him. Uncertainly, he lifted one of his arms. The tips touched.
Then he was suffused with phenomenal pleasure. It was indeed orgasmic. It spread rapidly from his arm to his body, putting the whole of him in rapture. He knew he was flashing helplessly, overcome by the sheer joy of it.
Finally it faded. “I had no idea the starfish could do that!” he said.
“Explora will do it with you endlessly.”
He looked at her, an awful thought occurring. “Is this the kiss-off? You are moving on?”
“No. Merely advising you of the pleasure you can have with her.”
“Not with you?”
“More rarely with me. My love remains with Brom.”
“As mine remains with Lida. But we both know that we can’t do this with them.”
“Correct. But since your interest in it is greater than mine, you will do it more often with Explora.”
She remained supremely practical. “So what is next for us?”
“I will run the ship and maintain correspondence with the human society. You will teach the broods emotion.”
That had not been exactly what he meant. But it was not his place to argue the case. “I will do my part.”
“I will conduct you to your first class.”
She led the way and he followed. What else could he do?
Part 3
Alien Threat
Aliena left the human before the starfish class; he knew what to do, and the students would help him where it was needed. They had been severely cautioned at the outset never to disparage his effort in any way, and never to use the term “moron.” They had to appreciate him for what he was, a transplanted brain who was learning their ways. He did have the valuable emotion that they had to study, and they might even discover other ways in which he could be useful.
The reality was that the starfish had needed his excellent human body as a host, and made a deal to obtain it amicably. They needed the wife, Lida, to cooperate, and she would not do so if she believed her former husband was unhappy in his new situation. So they had to keep him happy, and make sure that Lida knew it. That chore had fallen primarily to Aliena herself, as the robots really were not equipped to do it. But she had enlisted Explora to take up his attention in certain respects, because of her affinity for those respects. He had treated Explora in a manner she had not expected, enabling her not only to achieve maturity, but also to win the race and gain the right to breed at such time as she chose. She was now the third full adult starfish on the ship, a position of prestige and power. Aware of this, Explora was coming to like Quincy, apart from the pleasure of simulated breeding. He had done her a significant favor.
And, actually, Aliena herself was finding him increasingly appealing. This was partly because of her human experience, learning emotion, which she needed to maintain in order to relate effectively to the human realm. Associating with Quincy was a constant reminder of the qualities of humanness. But it was also because he did have individual values that were to be respected, such as integrity and empathy. And because he evidently was finding her, Aliena, increasingly appealing. S
he liked being considered appealing; that appreciation was a human trait she had acquired. This might be considered foolish on her part, yet it did facilitate her ability to better understand humans. And finally, there had turned out to be some pure pleasure in the simulated breeding with him. He liked it so well that it reminded her of her somewhat illicit initial pleasure of discovery, back on the home world a century ago when she was young and irresponsible.
So she did like Quincy, and saw no reason to discourage this emotion on her part. It enabled her to be more human than was otherwise feasible. Of course she did not let it interfere with her duties to the ship and her species and mission.
Meanwhile Gloaming was doing well on Earth, and so was Star. The little duet they had sung had gone over very well. It was still necessary to guard them from potential assassins, but the overall acceptance was growing. The continuing association of the two cultures seemed likely. But Aliena knew that things could go wrong at any time, and she had to be alert.
She encouraged Quincy to explore the ship and its artifacts. For this the robots sufficed; all he had to do was visit a section and inquire, and the robots would check with Aliena, then show him its function. He was interested in the food generator, the disposal system, and the telescopes. Then he got interested in the microscopes. The robots showed him how to operate them and let him play. She wasn’t sure what held his attention, as he was not a scientist; apparently it was simply curiosity about the basic structure of matter.
In the interim both Star and Lida got pregnant, almost together. To Aliena’s surprise they decided to keep company with each other, apparently because each pregnancy involved a couple with one pure human and one starfish in human host, a unique situation. That put the spouses together, Brom and Lida. Aliena was relieved that they did not decide to kiss again; she remained emotionally conflicted about that, despite her participation the first time.
She also saw, via Lida’s glasses, how beautiful Star was in person. Aliena had looked exactly like that when she had the body. Now she was a lovely starfish, but it wasn’t the same. She was jealous of the way she had been in human form. That was more emotional wreckage.
Then Quincy came to her. “Are you available privately?” he asked. That was his way of asking for simulated breeding. She had not exaggerated when she called it his human obsession. He was doing it regularly with Explora, but also liked to do it with Aliena, and she was not averse.
As it happened, the present shift was slack; she could spare the time. She took him to a private chamber, as for some reason he did not like to do it publicly. She extended an arm.
He did not touch it. “We are private?” he asked.
She reassured him that they were. Actually the robots were watching, but they were discreet. The robots needed to be aware of whatever happened on the ship, so that they could act immediately if there were any problem. They also did not fully trust Quincy, knowing that his brain was alien.
“Please, I want to do something special this time,” he said. “If you are willing to humor me.”
This was odd. “Clarify,” she said.
“I would like to do it in the wooden storage bin.”
“The one where we store supplies so they can be moved as a unit? That is currently in use.”
“Yes. We can unload it, temporarily.”
This was becoming more than odd. In fact it was trying her patience. “Perhaps you could use it with Explora,” she suggested delicately.
“Maybe so, another time. But today I would like to do it with you.”
This was not like him. That made her cautious. She decided to oblige his whim and see where it led. “This way.”
They went to the storage bin, which stood on six stout wood posts supporting a cup-shaped wickerwork vessel. A wood ramp led up to it. They went and unloaded the supplies on it, setting them on the sea floor. Then they entered the enclosure. There was more than enough room for the two of them. It did lend a semblance of seeming privacy, which was something humans preferred.
She lifted an arm again, but again he did not touch it. “I have found something,” he said. “It may not be anything, but if it is something, it probably needs to be secret. That’s why I did not tell you openly.”
This was curious. “You evinced interest in breeding to ensure privacy?”
“Yes. I love the sex play, especially with you, but this may be more important.”
More important to him than the triggered orgasm? Remarkable indeed. “What is it?”
“Shaped sand.”
She had to keep this positive. “You made a sand castle? Maple likes those.” Was she implying that he was childish?
“No. Each tiny grain is shaped. I saw it in the microscope.”
“Every grain of sand has a shape,” she said tolerantly. “It is thought that no two grains are exactly alike, like your winter snowflakes. You were verifying this?”
“I thought I was. Your microscopes are better than ours, or at least more accessible to untrained folk like me. I picked a grain and did a statistical survey to see if I could find any others exactly like it. I failed.”
“That was worth verifying,” she said, schooling herself, as she so often had to do, not to protest his wasting her attention with the obvious. “You were learning the potentials of the tool.” As newly generated starfish did, learning their environment.
“Yes. I checked a number of grains. Until I came to one that did duplicate.”
She schooled herself again to be polite in the face of ignorance. “It is theoretically possible, if you do not specify search parameters too fine.”
“This matched to the limit of magnification.”
“That is remarkable, but still possible.” But so unlikely as to signal a mistake.
“And there were hundreds of others that also matched.”
Aliena paused, reassessing. “This is doubtful. The tool must be out of adjustment.”
“It is true. I had the robots check the microscope.”
She diminished her glow. He was being dim, and she did not want to hurt his feelings by correcting him too firmly. His intellect was slight, but his feeling was powerful; it was a treacherous combination. “You gave them a correct instruction? They can be literal minded, and sometimes our words are not precisely what we mean.” The translation of that would be “You blundered, idiot!”
“Maybe you should check with them,” he said. “Quietly.”
He must suspect that there was an error, and did not crave public ridicule when it was corrected. “A moment.”
He waited while she mentally contacted the robotic hierarchy and verified the information. According to the robots, he had indeed found hundreds of identical grains of sand.
Yet it remained implausible, if not impossible. “The robots confirm your report. What is your conclusion?”
“Those grains are artificially made to be identical. Is this something the starfish set up?”
“No. Our sand is fundamental natural working material, shaped into larger devices, not single grains.”
“Then something else shaped them. That is my concern. That is why I asked you to meet me here on wood. I did not find any of those special grains in any living or once-living thing. Maybe the acids of life as it searches for nutrients destroy them.”
“No special grains in wood or flesh?”
“This is my observation. Only in things constructed from non-living material.”
“Just how many of these grains did you find?”
“I don’t know. Their count seems endless. My impression is that they number only one in perhaps a million ordinary grains of sand, but you use a lot of sand in construction.”
“We do. The hull and framework of the spaceship is made essentially from melted and shaped sand. The frames of the robots are made from it.”
“Yes. That is part of my concern. The grains seem to be designed to survive the heat and pressure of construction.”
And it seemed that his concern w
as valid. He had actually discovered something unlikely that the starfish had missed. “Why are you reporting this to me privately?”
“Because whatever shaped those grains of sand must have reason. I suspect they are sensors, maybe there to track what we are doing. Should that power realize that we have caught on, there could be consequences we don’t like.”
Now she was completely attuned. She did not know what to make of this. Rather than admit that, she probed for his further thoughts. “What is your judgment of your attitude?”
“It sounds paranoid. Like thinking that the universe is out to get me. I don’t trust that. So I came to you, because you have a far better and more balanced mind than I do and can more accurately judge the case.”
“Paranoia is an emotional manifestation.”
“Yes. So this requires rational assessment, rather than my distorted human take on it. But if it does represent what I fear it does, our discovery must be kept secret.”
“And if that assessment vindicates your suspicion, what then? What is your fear?”
“That we are being observed by an unknown alien force. One that just might be capable of destroying us if it chooses. And it might so choose if it learns that we are on to it.”
She considered briefly. “Quincy, your fear is becoming mine. Your paranoia may have alerted us to something we did not before suspect. I agree: this must be kept private. Give me time to consult and consider.”
“Um. If that means checking with the robots—”
“It does.”
“If they are made with sand as a component, there may be some of those shaped grains in their bodies, observing what they do. That makes me uneasy in another way.”
“But you have already consulted with them!”
“Only in a limited way. I did not draw any conclusions in their presence. I came directly to you, and tried to ensure that our dialogue would not be near any of those grains.”
He had indeed. And he had again thought of something she had overlooked. “You are correct to be concerned. Now let’s do what you seemed to be looking for, so that there is no suspicion about our dialogue.”
“Gladly.” He seemed relieved.