familiar with the shakai, or Imperial overculture, was used to the idea of sex in public, though he’d never done it himself. Specific cultures within the metaculture, however, especially on the Frontier, required privacy for that most personal of personal experiences. Katya, Dev knew, was more likely to enjoy ViRsex with him than she was to engage in physical sex in one of the hab’s open dorms.
Well, he told himself, he’d gone four months without the reality of Katya in his arms. He could go a few days more. It was enough just to be able to see her, to talk with her… at least for the moment.
“So,” Dev said, trying to cover his racing thoughts, “while we were out-system, was there any sign of… of the Naga?”
“Nothing,” Katya said cheerfully. “Not so much as a single black puddle. It seems to have retired pretty far down into the crust after it linked with you. Some of us have been speculating as to whether or not you scared it off.”
“Maybe I did. It sure as hell scared me.”
He shivered, and Katya reached out, putting his head in the crook of her arm and pulling him close against her side. They stared up at the slowly reddening sky.
“What do you think?” Katya said after a time. “Are they going to go with Farstar?”
“I guess that’s up to Congress and to CONMILCOM,” Dev replied. “I still think it’s the only logical option for us. And this, this news from Alya A, gives us a chance of making it work.”
“There are still people on the command staff who think the whole thing is a bad idea. In Congress, too. Sinclair has been fighting them on this idea since we got here.”
“I can imagine.” Dev shook his head. “I guess what continues nagging at me is, why us?”
“Well, our experience with the Nagas makes that part of it obvious enough.”
“Why? We’re supposed to make some sort of alliance with the DalRiss. The Naga don’t have a thing to do with it.”
“It’s our experience,” Katya said. “With nonhuman logic. With nonhumans, whatever they look like. Anyway, the Naga at GhegnuRish is helping the DalRiss reclaim their homeworld. It’s part of the political picture out there.” Katya was silent for a long moment. “You know, General Sinclair probably wants you at ShraRish because you’re a hero to the DalRiss. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“What hero… me? Kuso, we don’t know that, Katya. We don’t know enough about how the DalRiss think! Maybe they don’t have heroes.” He snorted. “Hell, maybe they kill and eat their heroes, or sacrifice them to the Great Boojum.”
“Sorry. Great Boojum?”
“Sure. The Snark was a Boojum, you see.” When Katya gave him a blank expression, he shrugged. “Sorry. Lewis Carroll. I did a lot of literary downloading while we were in K-T space. Lots of the old classics. Carroll. Hemingway. Spielberg.”
“Sounds more like Lea Leanne,” Katya said, naming a popular ViRdrama actress known throughout the Shichiju for her performances blending virtual sex, suspense, and danger, and usually involving monsters, both alien and human.
“Katya, I’m not a hero. Hell, I shouldn’t even be a ship captain. I’m twenty-eight standard years old. Three years ago I was a legger, an enlisted grunt in the army. Now they have me commanding commerce raiders and serving as liaison to the only nonhuman civilization we know.”
“You’re not counting the Naga?”
“With only one Naga to a world and no knowledge of their fellows, I don’t see how you can apply the word civilization to them.”
“That’s true. Well, I know the feeling, Dev. I’m not that much older than you, and they have me jacking a regiment. Fielding’s Laws, I guess.”
Dr. Karl Gunther Fielding had been a twenty-fifth-century philosopher-scientist who’d programmed a classic study called Man and His Works. He’d been the first to state as a law what had already been obvious for some time: Cephlink technology extends human productivity by
Well, he told himself, he’d gone four months without the reality of Katya in his arms. He could go a few days more. It was enough just to be able to see her, to talk with her… at least for the moment.
“So,” Dev said, trying to cover his racing thoughts, “while we were out-system, was there any sign of… of the Naga?”
“Nothing,” Katya said cheerfully. “Not so much as a single black puddle. It seems to have retired pretty far down into the crust after it linked with you. Some of us have been speculating as to whether or not you scared it off.”
“Maybe I did. It sure as hell scared me.”
He shivered, and Katya reached out, putting his head in the crook of her arm and pulling him close against her side. They stared up at the slowly reddening sky.
“What do you think?” Katya said after a time. “Are they going to go with Farstar?”
“I guess that’s up to Congress and to CONMILCOM,” Dev replied. “I still think it’s the only logical option for us. And this, this news from Alya A, gives us a chance of making it work.”
“There are still people on the command staff who think the whole thing is a bad idea. In Congress, too. Sinclair has been fighting them on this idea since we got here.”
“I can imagine.” Dev shook his head. “I guess what continues nagging at me is, why us?”
“Well, our experience with the Nagas makes that part of it obvious enough.”
“Why? We’re supposed to make some sort of alliance with the DalRiss. The Naga don’t have a thing to do with it.”
“It’s our experience,” Katya said. “With nonhuman logic. With nonhumans, whatever they look like. Anyway, the Naga at GhegnuRish is helping the DalRiss reclaim their homeworld. It’s part of the political picture out there.” Katya was silent for a long moment. “You know, General Sinclair probably wants you at ShraRish because you’re a hero to the DalRiss. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“What hero… me? Kuso, we don’t know that, Katya. We don’t know enough about how the DalRiss think! Maybe they don’t have heroes.” He snorted. “Hell, maybe they kill and eat their heroes, or sacrifice them to the Great Boojum.”
“Sorry. Great Boojum?”
“Sure. The Snark was a Boojum, you see.” When Katya gave him a blank expression, he shrugged. “Sorry. Lewis Carroll. I did a lot of literary downloading while we were in K-T space. Lots of the old classics. Carroll. Hemingway. Spielberg.”
“Sounds more like Lea Leanne,” Katya said, naming a popular ViRdrama actress known throughout the Shichiju for her performances blending virtual sex, suspense, and danger, and usually involving monsters, both alien and human.
“Katya, I’m not a hero. Hell, I shouldn’t even be a ship captain. I’m twenty-eight standard years old. Three years ago I was a legger, an enlisted grunt in the army. Now they have me commanding commerce raiders and serving as liaison to the only nonhuman civilization we know.”
“You’re not counting the Naga?”
“With only one Naga to a world and no knowledge of their fellows, I don’t see how you can apply the word civilization to them.”
“That’s true. Well, I know the feeling, Dev. I’m not that much older than you, and they have me jacking a regiment. Fielding’s Laws, I guess.”
Dr. Karl Gunther Fielding had been a twenty-fifth-century philosopher-scientist who’d programmed a classic study called Man and His Works. He’d been the first to state as a law what had already been obvious for some time: Cephlink technology extends human productivity by
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