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UNDER THE MOONS OF EDEN
Copyright 1996, by Christopher Leeson
(Send notes and comments to cdl25@usa.net)
Chapter 4
*Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.*
THE TEMPEST
One card game went a long way toward healing the problems that
had existed between Sebastian and me. Sebastian popped in again the
next day, but this time it wasn't to play poker.
"Pvt. Hitchcock is pregnant," she announced bluntly, and with a
straight face.
I don't know why I should have been, but for some reason I was
dumbfounded. "Are you sure, Doc?"
"Even an army doctor could diagnosis this, Rupe. Believe me, I
know the scans of a pregnant woman."
"How did it happen?"
"In the usual way. And it must have happened a couple weeks
before she went off with the detachment."
"Roberts?"
She nodded.
"That fool! I'll --"
"Easy, Rupe. Hitchcock asked me not to let you go off on
Roberts. This sort of thing has to be expected. Put men and women
together in a subtropical paradise and, abracadabra, you get babies.
It's called the facts of life."
"This is insane! It's against the rules!"
"Rupe, has it ever occurred to you that we've been writing new
rules every day?"
"Of course, but for crying out loud -- a baby! Well, it can be
fixed, I suppose. No doubt Hitchcock will want an abortion."
"I'm not so sure."
"What do you mean?"
"It was a very confused young woman who left my office a little
while ago. She needs time to sort this thing out. She has to talk
to the father, of course, and those two don't need a commanding
officer putting his two cents into the most important conversation of
their lives."
"I have responsibilities, Sebastian!"
"A mother and a father have responsibilities, too, and they're
important ones."
"What are you driving at?"
"I'd like you to go slow on this, Rupe. You've got to
understand the kind of emotional bond which those two have. Roberts
found Hitchcock at the lowest psychological hell that a person can
sink to and helped to make her a complete human being again. Looking
back, I don't find it all that surprising that they did what they
did."
"What would you recommend then?!" I inquired annoyedly. With
all my other problems, I didn't need Sebastian acting like the
garden-variety know-it-all woman.
She grimaced thoughtfully. "I think the best thing is to do
nothing for a while. Roberts and Hitchcock are going to be padding
through hell for the next few days at least, even if you don't get on
their case."
"Damn! -- Who would have believed that this was going on? -- Or
do I sound too naive?"
"We were both naive. I'd been thinking all along that
transformation was just a physical thing. Now I'm not so sure."
"I don't like the sound of this, Doc."
"Do you think I do?" She looked me right in the eye. "-- Rupe,
do I seem different to you."
I gave a short laugh. "You sure do! You look --"
"I don't mean the way I look. Do I behave differently."
"I don't know. You've been through a lot. You're still
Sebastian. I know that much."
"Well, I hope I am. But I've been thinking things lately that
I'm pretty damned sure Sebastian wouldn't be thinking."
"What?"
"Like, for instance, about how nice some of these yard dogs
around here would look in formal suits."
"Hormones?" I suggested lamely.
She shrugged. "I'm wondering if I haven't become my own anima -
- emotionally at least."
"Forget it, Doc. There's obviously a lot more in your head than
tuxedos."
"Yes, but what if there's been a kind of overwriting of certain
files in our personality, while the rest of the program stays the
same? What else could explain a guy like Hitchcock accepting a male
lover so quickly?"
"How do you explain Roberts then?"
She shot me a painful grin. "If it looks like a duck, talks
like a duck, walks like a duck. . . ."
All I was getting was another headache. "I hope you're wrong,"
I said weakly. "I really do."
"I wouldn't be surprised if this thing doesn't go way beyond
just Hitchcock and Roberts."
"We can't let that happen!"
"Don't over-react, Major. It may not be so bad."
"Not bad? This is an army camp! Can you imagine having it full
of babies crying all day and all night! Soldiers tied down caring
for them?"
She shook her head. "What are soldiers for, Rupe, except to
protect the families back home, and make the world safe enough to
have children of one's own? I had a family, and it frankly kills me
to think that I'll never see any of them again, especially the kids.
If you ever tried raising children yourself, you'd know that there's
a lot more to babies than just crying. There's a magic in every one
of them like you wouldn't believe. And, anyway, the situation is
only temporary."
"What's temporary?" I asked, dreading her answer.
"Babies grow up to be men and women. Just think of them as
future recruits."
"This isn't funny!"
"When we stop laughing, we're going to go crazy, Rupe. How can
you prevent it? -- And do you really think that we should?"
"I don't follow you."
"There were families before their were armies. There were
communities before there were military camps. And the world got
along just fine in those days."
"We call those days the Old Stone Age, Doc! Anyway, we're not a
community. We're -- Oh, hell, I'm out of my depth. I'd like to
knock some heads, but I've never hit a pregnant woman in my life!"
She leaned forward resolvedly. "We have to talk to the men,
Rupe -- the men of both sexes -- let them know that from now on
actions have consequences. If they're going to be choosing up
partners and having children, they'll have to take responsibility for
them."
"That's a quagmire, Doc. Go too far and we won't be a military
unit anymore. And what good would be we after that? Couldn't I just
forbid all sexual liaisons instead?"
"That's like forbidding alcohol or stimmers at an army base.
You know how much good prohibition does when people really what or
need something. And here you're talking about an addiction that's a
little older than alcohol, and a whole lot older than stimmers."
"What about contraception?"
"No got. I suppose I can do tubal ligations and vasectomies,
but don't expect me to force anything like that on an unwilling
patient -- And, really, the problem will probably take care of
itself in a couple months. Considering our rate of transformation,
there soon won't be anyone left to ---"
She couldn't miss the look that came to my eyes. "Sorry,
Major."
#
I decided to treat Hitchcock's condition as a medical problem
and wait to see how things shook down. Meanwhile, I called an
assembly and had Dr. Lowry explain the newly-discovered problem.
Then I stepped in to warn the troops that sexual relationships were
not to be recommended because they carried important and very long-
term consequences with them. It was like one of those critical
moments in history that changed the outlook of entire civilizations.
I could tell from the troopers' reaction that none of them had been
entertaining the remotest thought of parenthood. The women looked
thunderstruck, while the men looked mostly irritated and cheated.
The next day, shortly after the noon mess, Harold Roberts
stopped by my quarters. It was as if he had decided it was his duty
to let me know -- as if he needed to -- that Klink still had more
than a few surprises in store for me.
"Sir," he said stiffly, "I'd like permission to marry Pvt.
Hitchcock."
That threw me for a loop. "Are you trying to be funny,
soldier?" I queried with a frown.
"No, sir! Mary -- I mean, Mark and I --"
"Mary?"
"It's a nickname, sir." He shuffled uneasily. "It doesn't feel
right calling the girl in your arms Mark."
"I suppose it's not very romantic, either."
He swallowed hard and went on: "As I was saying, sir, Pvt.
Hitchcock and I have talked it over and we think marriage would be
the best thing."
"Best for which one of you?"
"Best for the child, of course, sir!"
"The child?" There was no child; at least not yet.
"May I speak freely, Major?"
I threw up my hands. "Please!"
"Sir, in a couple months I might be a woman myself. But I'm a
man at the moment and -- well -- I want to be the sort of man that I
was brought up to be. That means doing what's right. I think I'd be
able to live with myself a whole lot better afterwards if I did the
right thing now. And, besides, I'd like to have a son -- or daughter
-- with my name. It's probably my only chance to be a father."
It was his sincerity that kept my reply moderate and measured.
"I can almost understand your reasoning, soldier. But no one here
has the authority to perform marriages."
"Begging the Major's pardon --" Roberts began hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"I mean to say, sir, that -- that it seems to me that we're
really some sort of community all of our own. If any small town back
home can elect a justice of the peace who can perform legal
marriages, why can't we do the same?"
There was that word again, "community."
"We're not a community, Private," I reminded him testily, "and
we don't have elections!"
"I know, sir, but I was thinking that you could -- appoint
someone."
I paused, trying to make head or tail out of the whole crazy
situation. "I suppose we could improvise almost anything, if we had
to," I adjudged. "But would our actions be deemed legal and valid
under the laws of the Alliance?"
"Sir, it seems to me that the Alliance has its problems and we
have ours."
So we did. "I think I'd better talk to -- Mary," I said.
#
I went over to Hitchcock's barracks afterwards and found her
with several of her transformee friends.
"At ease," I told the girls as they threw themselves into
attention. Then I inquired of the pregnant private, "How are you
doing, Hitchcock?"
"Very well, sir." She sounded a little shaky.
"Would you like to sit down?"
"No, sir, I'm fine. -- Just a little nauseous now and then."
"I see. Do you know that Pvt. Roberts spoke to me a few minutes
ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"How do you feel about -- his idea?"
Her glance dropped. "It's my idea, too, sir. But I suppose it
does sound a little strange."
"You could -- terminate -- instead," I suggested, with as much
tact as I could summon up.
The girl jolted. "I -- I don't think I'd like to do that, sir."
"Many in your position would, soldier."
"I'm sure that's true, sir."
"I'd not trying to make you do anything you don't want to," I
assured her, "but are you sure that you know what you're getting
into?"
"No, sir, I really don't. But now that this thing's happened, I
guess we'll have to just try and make the best of it."
"You have to think about your own welfare."
She shook her head. "It isn't just my welfare that's important,
Major. Hal has a stake in this, too. He stood by me and helped me
when I really needed somebody. I owe him something."
"Do you think you owe him a baby?"
"Well, sir, it's not really my choice anymore. The baby is
coming. Anyway, I always thought that I'd like to have a of couple
kids someday. If I'm still going to be a parent, this is the way it
has to be. Isn't that right, sir?"
"I suppose it is," I conceded flatly.
"There's just one thing I've been concerned about."
"Dr. Lowry should be able to meet your pediatric needs," I
assured her.
"No, it's not about the care, sir. It's about milk."
"Milk?"
"Yes. Babies need lots of milk. We don't have any and -- well,
that could be bad."
The room was very quiet for a moment, then Marduke's laughter
pealed raucously. The other women caught on to the joke and they
joined in.
"What's so funny?!" demanded Hitchcock. "I don't want my son to
starve to death! It's not like we've got a herd of cows around
here!"
"We'll have at least one cow!" cackled Marduke. "That should be
enough."
Hitchcock still didn't seem to get it. My headache was coming
back, and so I decided to retire and leave it to Hitchcock's ho-ho
friends to cue her in in their own good time. I bade them all good-
bye and was glad to be out of there.
I returned to my hut and sat down behind my desk, wondering if I
dared to let the men of the 54th start marrying one another. I knew
damned well that it wouldn't stop with just Hitchcock and Roberts
once the ball started rolling. I would have had to be a psychiatrist
to properly lead the Group through all of its mental and emotional
chaos. But I had been trained as a soldier; that was my whole life
and the only thing I knew. I had no ready answers for the questions
which were cropping up every day.
And besides the new uncertainty, there was always the old
certainty -- that soon we would have two more disappearances. In the
morning we'd have two more ---
#
So tired. I reached out to steady myself against my desk, but
my arms groped empty air -- there was nothing in front of me. I
realized at that instant that I was lying on my back. I opened my
eyes. The ceiling seemed to be turning broad gyrations. What was
wrong with me? Had I fainted and fallen to the floor? No, that
wasn't it. My groping fingers told me that there was a cot under me.
Someone was approaching from one side. I blinked hard; my
vision was fuzzy. I could only make out a white coat. "Rupe," she
said.
Sebastian.
"Take it easy, Rupe. We'll get you through this."
"Through what?"
My voice had sounded thin and resonated strangely in my chest
cavity. My hand went to my throat, but instead of the Adam's apple
and familiar bristle, I found soft, taut skin like I hadn't felt
there since my early teens.
Terror shot through me; my hands leapt to my chest -- and they
found what I didn't want to find.
And then I screamed!
I sprang up, intending to run -- God alone knows where to -- but
mercifully I blacked out and fell back across the cot.
When I next came to, Lowry had her arms around me. "Easy, Rupe!
Easy! It's not as bad as it seems. I've been there. I know."
"Lowry --!" I mewed but couldn't bear to hear the sound of that
alien voice coming from my larynx. I turned my face away, knowing
that Lowry could do nothing for me. There were no cures for this.
Transformation was forever.
"It's not so bad," Sebastian reiterated. "It's a little strange
at first, but you can beat it. People are beating it every day. And
you're a fighter, Rupe."
I shifted again, and looked up at her.
"If you want to shout or swear, it's all right," Lowry was
saying. "Don't hold what you're feeling inside or it'll floor you.
Cry if you want to. Get those emotions out. You were a human being
before you were a commanding officer, Rupe. There's no reason to be
ashamed."
"Were?" I echoed, choking the word out crosswise.
"You're still our commander!" she corrected herself hastily.
Then the shrillness of her voice tempered a little: "And you're more
than that. You're my friend. You can depend on me for whatever you
need."
I turned my face into the pillow again. Was the universe
mocking me? Sebastian was saying that I could depend on her, without
her knowing that she couldn't depend on me. Was this my punishment
for being such a shabby friend, shabby man? Was this my --?
I suddenly realized that the two of us were not alone. Drew was
moving about the room, tending to the other patient. Yes, there were
always two patients. I didn't want to know who it was this time. I
couldn't take any more.
Suddenly, as I lay there in Lowry's arms, I began to wonder what
I looked like. None of the other men had become ugly, of course, but
I dreaded seeing my face all the same. My trembling fingers went to
my cheek where a thick strand was tickling me and grasped a tuft of
strange-feeling hair. It was very long, even though I had worn it
cropped short just that morning -- or what still seemed like that
morning to me. I pulled a lock in front of my eyes, so I could get a
look at its color and texture. I gasped. It was black, not my
natural sandy brown. And it was a veritable mass of ringlets and
corkscrew curls!
I screamed again, then realized that Lowry was hugging me to her
breast. I didn't want to be held that way -- it wasn't the way one
man should hold another -- but I couldn't focus enough to tear loose.
Now the Terrible Thing had happened. Now what was left of my
life?
The answer had to be, "Nothing."
As Sebastian cradled me, one burning question tormented me. Why
had this happened? Why had the all-powerful, all-knowing
intelligence that haunted Klink done this to me? Why would it put
its godlike power so determinedly against just one miserable human
being, and why would it wish to waste its incomprehensible
omnipotence in the act of destroying a single insignificant nobody?
"Why?!" I cried. Then darkness overcame me once again.
#
I dreamed that I was standing, frozen in place, with my back to
turned against the night, aware that an immense void gaped behind me.
I couldn't run from the abyss, nor even turn about to confront it. I
heard nothing, saw nothing moving, not even a shadow. I felt no
breathing on my neck, but I knew something was there, so close. And
then, and then. . .
I awoke, feeling wasted, hung over. Then I recalled my last
awakening and the horror of it came surging back. I touched myself
frantically, hoping that everything that I remembered had only been
part of the nightmare I had only just escaped, but -- but --
Lowry gave my wrist a firm squeeze. "Rest is the best thing for
you right now, Rupert. I know how tough it is, but we'll have you up
and around in no time."
"No -- no. . . ." I managed to mumble. I didn't want to be up
and around. I wanted to escape into the darkness, to plunge into the
abyss, to live, and die, alone, unseen, unremembered, my bones gnawed
to nothingness by scavenging animals. I wanted to have no grave --
nothing at all to remind those who had once known me that Rupert
Breen had ever existed at all.
Lowry left me momentarily and returned with a bitter drink,
which I at first rejected. She was not to be refused, however, and
so I obligingly forced it down. Then the doctor remained faithfully
by me, until I fell asleep again.
#
"What are you doing?!" Lowry demanded as I pulled on my
oversized britches.
"What does it look like I'm doing, Doc? I've got to get back to
work!"
"You'll do no such thing! You're not ready."
"You were back at the grind in three days," I reminded her.
"That was stupidest thing I ever did. It almost killed me.
It'll kill you, too!"
"I don't need a mother hen."
"You need rest and time to cope. Yell, cry, scream, beat your
fists against the wall, but don't pretend that nothing has happened!
Let Capt. Philbrick run the camp for a while."
"What you're saying is that I've got nothing left to give
anymore."
"No, that's not it at all."
"Where does the copping out stop? What happens when Philbrick
becomes a -- ?" I couldn't say it, not even now.
"Then someone will step in for him. Hopefully, it will be you."
"It will be me -- and it'll be today!"
"Oh yeh? What are you going to do when you crash? And believe
me, if you try to fly this soon, you're going to crash hard."
"I'll be fine, Doctor. Now get off my back!"
"You're the walking wounded. You're a basket case and you don't
even know it."
"I know what I need to know!"
She shook her head. "Psychologically, you're on thin ice, Rupe.
In a day or two, certainly in less than a week, it's going break and
you're going to go down -- deep. Good God, don't you think I know
what I'm talking about!? Have you forgotten what I almost did to
myself?"
I shrugged. "I've still got two arms, two legs, one head. What
more do I need?"
Sebastian caught my sleeve. "Rupe, don't do this. I can help
you. Hitchcock and Marduke can help you. Captain Ames is ready to
do what she can, too."
For myself to be ghettoized with the transformees was the last
thing in the universe that I wanted. It would be like being put into
a zoo. "Am I supposed to start making furniture with Pvt. Hitchcock
for my commander?"
"You thought it was good enough for Ames --"
"It's not good enough for me! I'd rather be dead than be a
laughingstock!"
"You think you can take it? Well, let's just see." Lowry
picked up a mirror from the table behind her.
"What's that for?" I asked, just as if my friend were holding a
pistol to my head.
"If you're really on top of this thing, let's see if you can
look at your own face without breaking into a cold sweat."
I shivered inwardly. I remembered a time just like this one,
when I was a kid and my cousin had brought a horror comic home from
the strip mall. It had a cover that terrified me -- the picture of
an earthman turned into a hideous mutant. I couldn't look at it.
Whenever I closed my eyes that ugly cover was all that I could see.
The next day my mother wondered why I was being so difficult about
going over to my uncle's place. When she dragged me over there, all
I wanted to do was stay down in the kitchen. I certainly didn't even
want to go up to my cousin's room, where his new comics were lying
face up on the dresser.
Joe was a smart guy and it didn't take him long to figure out
what was spooking me. Joe was a jackass at that age, and he wanted
to see me get scared and start to cry. For a joke he forced me to go
up to his room and took me right over to his dresser for a look at
the comic. I controlled my fear instead and looked straight down at
it while betraying nothing, as if I didn't have a clue to explain his
-- Joe's -- strange behavior. I simply said, "Yeh, what?"
Maybe I had successfully shucked him. Maybe he wasn't so sure
now that he had read the situation right -- and since he couldn't get
a rise out of me, he immediately let the subject drop. Between
sports and girls, he had better things to do than psychologically
torture a six-year old. But for years afterwards I would only probe
his box of comic books warily when trying to find something to read,
unwilling to be confronted by that awful picture. Even when I became
a teenager the sight of it still repelled me.
"Give it here," I told Dr. Lowry, taking the mirror from her
hand.
I had steeled myself to disassociate myself from whatever I
would see. It would be somebody else's image, not mine. The glass
reflected a clear, pale Celtic-type face -- aquamarine eyes full of
suffering, a slender neck, and heavily ringletted black hair. It was
The Face for certain, the face of the Nameless One. The stranger's
mouth was a pinkish bow, its lips like something from a cosmetics ad.
The nose was small and just slightly upturned.
"Yeh, what?" I remarked, as if Lowry acting was out of her tree.
"Bullshit!" she said
#
I kept dressing. Not even my last belt notch would hold my
pants up, and that was unsettling. What had Shakespeare said?
"Now does he feel his title hang loose about him, like a
giant's robe upon a dwarfish thief."
Why was that quote ringing in my mind? I was no thief. No
pretender. What I was I was by right. Pretense had nothing to do
with it!
"At least let Drew go along with you," pleaded Lowry, "in case
something happens."
"What could happen?" I asked irascibly.
"We could lose you, Major, we really could."
"Doctor, I need to get back into my routine or I'll --" I
rephrased that: "I just need to keep busy -- especially now.
Anyway, the men need to know that their C.O. is well and on top of
things."
"But you're not!"
Ignoring that, I started toward the door. Just then I suffered
an attack of anxiety. Was Lowry thinking about invoking her medical
authority to relieve me from command? Because she was my friend,
doing that would be an act of incredible treachery. I couldn't trust
that she wouldn't go that far, and so I walked swiftly outside before
she thought of it.
Once in the open air, my confidence did not immediately stiffen
as I had hoped it would. Instead, I was suddenly afraid that my men
wouldn't know who I was, that I would have to explain by right I
supposed that I could command them. But the brutal fact was, and I
had not gone far before I realized it, that everyone knew exactly who
I was. They were all looking at me, especially when they thought I
couldn't see. I felt like Klink's newest monster every time I
returned a salute.
"Tuong," I addressed the Korean-born sergeant in my path, "where
can I find Captain Philbrick?"
He seemed embarrassed to be speaking to me; his almond eyes
darted to the left and right, but refused to fix squarely upon me.
"In his quarters, I think -- sir."
That stumble at the word, "sir" and his nervous glance hit me
hard. Nonetheless, I tried to ignore both the stare and the stammer,
and turned off toward the row of officers' huts. I found Philbrick
conferring with the lieutenants Stokes and Evans. Ames was there,
too, of course. It was as much her hut as Philbrick's.
The officers snapped to attention. "At ease. Report, Captain
Philbrick," I said. "What's happened over the last three days?"
Philbrick replied with worried eyes which, like Tuong's, tried
to avoid looking directly at me. "No more word from the detachees,
of course -- sir." There was that damnable stumble again, but the
captain hurried past it. "Perhaps Dr. Lowry mentioned that Pvts.
Brouwer and Marietta were -- transformed -- the day after Gonzales
and --"
"And me? Yes, go on," I told him stiffly.
"And yesterday it was Petoska and Bakshi. That makes 237
transformees our of a current muster of 475."
I was more interested in the nervous flutter in Philbrick's
lids. There was an expression of qualm in the faces of Stokes and
Evans, also. I sensed that they all would have liked to have me gone
immediately, like a family rejecting a disgraced member. Ames'
expression bothered me most of all. What was she feeling? Pity?
Was she jealous that I still presumed to command while I had kept her
on suspension for so long? Was she smugly satisfied? Did she think
of this as my deserved comeuppance? Suddenly, the air of the cramped
space and left me short of breath. My shoulders began to shake.
"Major -- are you all right?" queried Philbrick, raising his
hands to almost, if not quite, to take me in hand to steady me.
"Of course!" I barked, or tried to -- to my own ears my reply
sounded more like a shrill piping. I stepped away from him. "I need
to rest. Carry on, Captain." I turned to go.
Ames pursued me to the door. "Major Breen?"
Turning with gritted teeth, I muttered: "Captain Ames?"
"Sir, is there anything that I -- that I can do? Would you like
to talk?"
"I don't know what you mean, soldier," I replied rigidly.
She looked like she might have had a good deal to say, but my
icy warning glare must have persuaded her to keep mum. "I mean --
nothing, sir."
"Very good," I nodded -- and left.
********
Chapter 5
*When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate.*
SONNET XXIX
Once back in my quarters, I opened my log book to jot down the
names of the new transformees, but suddenly realized that I couldn't
remember who they were. Try as I might, I just couldn't organize my
thoughts. It was an appalling feeling, like being high on stimmers.
As I sat there in the grip of a kind of mental confusion, my hands
began to tremble. I dropped the pen and, trying to pick it up again,
I just kept dropping it, until it rolled over the edge and fell to
the floor. At that point I gave up and rested my head against the
tabletop, drawing deep, ragged drags of air.
"Excuse me, Major Breen."
I looked up. Drew was looming in the door.
"Come in, Private," I whispered hoarsely, sitting back and
hiding my quaking hands under the table.
"Dr. Lowry's asked me to look in on you."
"Lowry should have more important things to worry about," I
grumbled.
"I don't think so, sir."
"Are you trying to be impudent, soldier?!"
"No, sir. I only mean that it's her duty to give our commanding
officer all the attention that he deserves."
"Then why didn't s--, the doctor -- come here her -- himself?"
"I assume that she, -- he -- feels that you might feel more
comfortable if your attending medic was --"
"Was what?"
"A man."
That suggestion stung, but I didn't know why it should. "All
right, go back and tell Dr. Lowry that you saw me, and that I was
perfectly fine!" I wanted very much to get rid of Drew; the shaking
of my hands was worsening. Did Drew realize that? He seemed to be
watching me uncertainly.
"Is there anything else, Private?"
"It's just that neither the doctor nor I think that it's a good
idea for you to be alone for the next few days."
"Are you volunteering to be my suicide watch?" I asked coldly.
"With your permission, sir."
I threw my log book at him. "Get out of here!"
Drew dodged, cast back a worried glance, then withdrew.
Instantly I regretted having lost my temper. Drew would report
me to the doctor! It would look bad, and she might not understand to
what degree I had been provoked. It might give her just the excuse
she needed to remove me from command, make me a patient, a virtual
prisoner!
I struggled for breath. The walls seemed to be closing in. I
opened my collar, sucking in rapid breaths. My head began to throb.
I grew nauseous, weak. I staggered to the empty rations drum that
served for my nighttime chamber pot and, since I had had little solid
food for three days, what I vomited up was mostly regurgitated water.
The worst of the nausea soon passed, but when I could finally stand
up I was still very unsteady on my feet.
I thought about going to the infirmary, but I didn't want Lowry
to see me in such a state. Another part of me wanted someone's --
anyone's -- company, but a C.O. wasn't supposed to lean on any
subordinate. Also, I hadn't been there for Lowry when she had needed
me, and so now I was stuck all alone.
My headache wasn't getting any better. I put a couple tablets
of LWI into my mouth and crushed them between my teeth. The bitter
chemical started me choking. I staggered to my canteen and guzzled
down a couple mouthfuls of water. That ended the coughing and I
managed the few necessary steps to my bed, falling into it like a
stone statue. I drew a towel over my eyes to shut out the bright
noonday light of Klink, hoping to sleep.
Instead, I lay in a semi-trance for what seemed like a long
while. Then I heard a tapping at my door. As I raised my head, it
felt hot and tight. "Come in," I gasped.
"Major Breen!" Philbrick blurted excitedly. "One man has
disappeared!"
I couldn't understand his dramatics. "We expected it, didn't
we, Captain?"
"Sir -- only one man has disappeared -- not two!"
"One? Are you sure?"
"I've taken roll! Every man, every transformee, has been
accounted for, except Culligan."
"Why only one?" I mumbled.
"I don't know, sir! Do you suppose it means something?"
For my answer, I let my head sink back into my pillow, and lay
there in silence until he gave up and stole quietly away.
#
After a nearly-sleepless night, I rose and joined the searchers.
We soon found the feminine incarnation of Marcus Culligan -- who had
become the look-alike of a younger Lola Carlita, a Latin sex-symbol
who was roasting the air waves back when Culligan must have been a
hormonal teenager. But never before had only a single new
transformee been made in a day, and any change in the pattern we knew
and hated could mean something significant.
Lowry had no theory. Disappointed, I said something sharp and
angry.
"This just isn't like you, Rupe," she replied with an even
temper and with what must have been compassion in her eyes. "You're
driving yourself too hard. Take a break."
I didn't want sympathy. It was like salt in an already painful
wound, so I stormed out of the infirmary. But as I did so, another
fit of shaking came back suddenly and, afraid of being seen, I hid
myself in a grove of trees until I bucked up.
I had to keep busy, to carry on despite my nervous condition, so
I decided to inspect Capt. Komisov's work on soil and water testing.
The officer filled me in on his men's latest analyses, but it was
clear that nothing too interesting had come up since the last time.
Maybe that was why I let my mind wander, grew confused over details,
and kept asking the same questions over and over.
Komisov began to look at me strangely. I grew angry. Why was
everyone staring, treating me like something strange? Mine was only
a physical change, not one that affected the person whom I was. Half
the camp had already suffered what I had suffered, so why did they
still gape at me alone? They'd all be women themselves in a few
weeks, and it would serve them right, too!
I stalked back through the center of camp, ignoring people who
tried to address me. There were transformees all around, turning my
way. What were they thinking? That I was like them? Well, I
wasn't!
And what about the men? Why were their expressions so strange?
Did they believe that for some reason I was unfit to command? Damn
them!
The trembling started to come back upon me again, and so I
started to walk faster, trying to retreat into my hut before anyone
noticed. This time I couldn't reach my bed before I collapsed to the
floor like a marionette with its strings cut. I crawled to the cot,
covered my face with a pillow, then curled up into a fetal position.
"Major!" someone shouted. I opened my eyes and cast away the
pillow. It was later. Much later. The sun was sagging low in the
west.
Philbrick again.
"What is it now, Captain?!" I asked blearily.
"The disappearances --" he babbled excitedly.
"Who now?"
"No one, sir! No one at all!"
#
I called all my officers in. Transformation had nearly halved
our staff, except that Ames and Lowry had come out of trauma and
returned. Of my captains, Philbrick and Komisov were still sound,
but Tritcher was in bad shape and suspended, and my senior
subordinate, Crawford, was absent, his fate unknown.
"What does it mean?" I demanded of no one in particular.
"It may be that the enemy has simply decided to cease his
attacks, sir," conjectured Komisov.
"Why? We're as helpless as ever! This process has been as
predictable as a machine up until now. Why the change?"
"I've been thinking, Major. . . ." Lowry began.
"Oh, so now you're thinking?!" I mocked her gratuitously.
She ignored my insult and continued evenly: "The transformation
yesterday brought us up to exactly 50% women and 50% percent men,
with the odd individual going over to the female side -- Culligan, I
mean."
"Yes, yes. . . !?" I said, wanting her to get to the point.
"Yesterday there was only one disappearance yesterday, and so
far there have been none today, though they are hours overdue."
"So what are you driving at, damn it?!"
"Maybe whatever intelligence or force has been assailing us is
satisfied with us having a sexual balance of 50- 50 --" suggested the
doctor.
"Why?!"
"It's just an idea but --
"But what?"
"I can only guess."
"So what's your guess?!" I demanded in exasperation.
"It might be that unisexual communities are taboo on this planet
and so it -- or someone on it -- changed the proportion to suit his
own taste."
"This isn't a community! We're a military camp!"
"Yes, sir," Sebastian humored me. "But an alien mind with
godlike powers might not have seen that that should make any
difference. Then, again --"
"Then again what?!"
"Then, again, this sexual balancing act might have been intended
to prepare us for some specific purpose."
"We've been speculating on that since the start!"
"I'm suggesting, sir, that there may be some -- function -- that
a -- group -- half male and half female might serve -- one which a
group either all-male or all-female couldn't satisfy."
"What purpose?"
"I was thinking about Roberts and Hitchcock."
"I don't follow you, Doctor."
"It's possible that we may be expected to become a breeding
population."
"Shit!"
#
I accompanied Sebastian back to the infirmary, half mad with
frustration. If I had only been able to keep winning the
transformation lottery for just three days more, I would have still
been myself! The odds had been seven out of two-hundred and forty-
five in my favor, and I'd lost! I'd lost it all, and I'd lost it
forever!
"Major -- Rupert -- you don't look so good." Lowry observed
tactfully, placing her hand lightly upon my shoulder. I didn't like
being patronized, so I pushed it away.
"So, let's get to the point, Doctor! You think that this could
be some sort of breeding experiment?"
"It's just a guess, like I said." She gave a bitterly-brief
laugh. "Call it woman's intuition."
"Lowry!"
"Ease up, Major. There's nothing much to do except try to keep
up our morale and make more scientific observations."
"We have to show the enemy that we're not going to be guinea
pigs for any of their fucking experiments!"
"I like the way you phrased that," she noted with a doleful
smile.
I balled my fists. "Can't you ever be serious?"
She shrugged.
"Sex has to be absolutely forbidden," I pronounced. "I still
think your theory is a crock, but we can't do anything that the enemy
might interpret as cooperation."
"Prohibition won't work. At least not for long."
"In this case I think it will."
She shook her head. "In a few more months, with loneliness and
sexual frustration building up, with the women reconciling themselves
to their fate and the men feeling more secure --"
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that pairing up is going to look like the path of
least resistance --"
"Damn it Lowry --" My voice cut off.
"Major, what's wrong?"
I had started to shake all over -- and this time, blast it,
Lowry was right there, taking it all in.
It was bad; very bad. I sank down to my knees, covering up my
eyes. I saw spots; the air took on a shimmering texture, until I
covered them up. The next thing I knew I was in bed, fighting to get
rise.
"Lie back, Rupe! You blacked out. You're not well!"
"Like hell I'm not!" This time I managed to slip around her and
scramble to my feet. Sebastian stood back a pace, her mouth tight
and her glance fixed.
"I've been derelict, Major. I've let you subject yourself to
these pressures despite your condition, and you obviously can't take
them. You need rest, you need quiet. You have to take leave from
trying to solve the problems of the whole outfit."
"Don't say any more!"
"I have no choice but to relieve you for medical reasons, Rupe.
I'm going to have to tell Philbrick that he has to take over command
until you're back on your feet."
"I'm on my feet already!"
"Face the facts, Rupe! You're wound up so tight that your
spring is about to break. You changed into your own favorite sex
fantasy and it's driving you crazy."
"Don't call me crazy, Doctor!"
She paused. I sensed the wheels turning behind her worried,
fashion-model face. "Are you willing to take the mirror test again."
"Are you still on that kick? Go ahead! I could look at myself
all day, because I know the face I see isn't mine and it doesn't mean
a thing to me."
"It's your face -- and it'll be yours for the rest of your life.
And if you're still pretending otherwise, your disconnection from
reality is even worse than I thought." She placed her hand behind my
back and nudged me. "Come on," she coaxed, leading me to the
infirmary "mirror" -- a polished metal sheet hanging on the wall.
"Look," she said.
I didn't want to look, but I had toughed this rubbish out once
before and trusted that I could do it again. Confronting the
reflection, I saw the Nameless One again, and only for the second
time. She was a mess! -- her hair in snarls, her complexion sallow,
dark rings under her eyes, her expression like a beaten dog's. That
big cap slouching on her head looked ridiculous. Her sloppy, over-
sized uniform was no better.
"If you wouldn't let yourself go, you'd be a lovely woman,"
observed Lowry with a hint of acidity.
"Don't say that!" I rebuked her angrily, turning half-away from
the mirror. In reply she clamped her hands upon my shoulders and
made me face front again.
"She's really a very pretty woman, you know. But what's she
like under the skin? I think you know. Tell me what makes her
tick."
"That's none of your damned business!"
"Maybe I can guess. Is she into filmy negligees and hot tubs?
Bikinis and volley ball at the beach? Scandalous doing in ski
cabins?"
"I said --!"
"I know what you said, and you're not being honest! Tell me
what you know about that girl."
"I don't know anything. She doesn't exist!"
"If a dick like you dreamed her up, then she must be good for
only one thing?"
Furious, I tried to tear away, but Sebastian grabbed my arm and
twisted it behind my back, giving me pain.
"Lowry! Are you nuts?!"
"You're going to keep looking at yourself until you can talk
calmly about who and what that girl is, or until you admit that
you're not fit for command."
I could have slammed my boot heel into my tormentor's shin and
broke her hold with an elbow in her ribs, but it seemed a crazy thing
to come to physical blows with my attending physician. Even so, I
was feeling another fit of panic coming on. I closed my eyes.
"Come on, Rupe, describe her. Can she carry on a conversation,
or is she one of those airheads? What does she wear to bed? Does
she suck cock?"
"What are you doing, Lowry?!" I gnashed.
"I'm just introducing you to yourself. You two are going to be
shacked up together for a time, so you'll going to have to start
accepting one another."
"Damn you, bitch!"
I began to struggle in earnest and the doctor did her best to
hold me in a wrestler's lock. I didn't want to hurt Lowry, but I had
to stop her mouth, stop her from talking about things that I couldn't
bear to hear.
"Lowry, let me go or I'll kill you --"
"Sure! And you're just crazy enough to do it, too. That's why
I can't let you go on this way, Rupe. You're already a danger to
yourself; you could become a danger to other people, too."
With a shriek, I put my foot against the wall and pushed away
from it suddenly, throwing her back. She fell against a table and I
whirled, ready to tear at her with my bare hands. But I didn't see
the scornful face of a taunting foe, just the stunned and worried
look of a physician who knew that a desperate, improvised treatment
had failed.
But what sort of treatment had it been?
"I'm sorry, Rupert," she began haltingly. "Sometimes you have
to rebreak a fracture to set it right --"
I wasn't listening anymore. I was no longer driven by a violent
impulse, but I was beginning to tremble and my breathing came hard
and rapid. I had to get away.
I staggered to the door like a drunken man, then stumbled
outside.
"Rupert! Don't go!" Lowry cried behind me.
I walked swiftly away, and it was only the crumbling rags of my
dignity which prevented me from running wildly.
When I was out of Sebastian's sight, out of everyone's sight, I
did start to race away, blindly. Where I was running to I didn't
know, until I saw the foot of Woolenska's Bluff up ahead, and
realized exactly what fate my legs were carrying me to.
#
Somehow I climbed the rocky incline -- clambering on all fours
sometimes. I didn't even see the way ahead; all I could see was the
face of a snarled-haired girl with circled, aquamarine eyes. I tried
my strength to its very limit -- the strength of this woman's body
that I was trapped in. From time to time, sheer exhaustion forced me
to lie belly-down upon the sun-heated stones to catch my breath.
Whether such pauses were long or short, I wasn't aware.
Then, my lungs burning, my limbs aching, I would rise and press
on again. I found myself high above the camp as I stared blearily
down the stony slope. The camp looked so small, so orderly from my
perspective, like rows of toy huts in a child's sandbox. I was
possessed by a strange detachment. What was the camp to me anyway?
Just a place. The camp was no one's home -- certainly not mine.
I looked up into the powder-blue sky, piled high with cumulus
clouds like ice-cream castles. Where was my home? Where did I
belong?
I had no home. I had only a place, a job. A duty. Without my
place, without my duty, I was nothing. If I died this very moment,
who would care?
A foolish thought. To the 54th Major Rupert Breen was already
dead. He had lingered on where he didn't belong, like Jacob Marley's
ghost. But unlike Marley he didn't have anything wise to say, he had
no gift to give those whom he left behind. It was time to lay the
ghost, to go where the dead belonged, I understood. That was for the
best, really. Let no one fret over my grave. Let no one be sorry
that I was gone.
I worked my way up the incline and, finally, dragged myself onto
the table rock at the summit of Woolenska's Hill. I was utterly
spent, my lungs aflame, my breath coming in hot pants. I shoved a
mass of greasy snarls out of my face and rested my forehead upon the
warm stone.
This damnable hair! It was always falling into my eyes,
tickling my throat and cheeks. I should have cut it off. Well, the
length wouldn't matter in the tomb.
Suddenly I felt ashamed. Was I going to kill myself? Others had
found the courage to endure -- Ames, Lowry, Hitchcock, Marduke.
Was I like Woolenska, giving up, or Olson, too distraught to reason?
Was I a coward?
Warm teardrops pattering upon the dirty hands upon which my chin
rested.
Tears!
I could die, and gladly, but not as a weeping, hysterical woman!
My thoughts were like the meanderings of a dreamer. I shouldn't
have given in to pity for myself, because pity didn't lighten my
grief. Lowry had reached out to comfort me, as Drew had, also, but
my pride couldn't accept compassion. My body again shook, but this
time with hard, choking sobs.
I rose to my feet at last. All around, as if I suffered from
vertigo, there whirled trees, bushes, boulders. My legs were still
weak and aching from the climb. I had demanded much from this
woman's body, but now my demands upon it were over. I understood
what I must do now that I had arrived. Sucking a raw breath into my
famished lungs, I staggered toward the overlook --
-- the overlook from which Herbert Woolenska had launched
himself into eternity. . . .
********
Chapter 6
*Would I were dead! if God's good will were so;
For what is in this world but grief and woe?*
KING HENRY VI, Part III
As I inched closer to the brink, I sank down to my hands and
knees. Why did I bother? Was I afraid of falling to my death?
What else had I intended? But the will to live is a terrible,
tenacious thing, and it takes all of human will to suppress it, even
for a moment.
I took one more look at the world just then, supposing that it
would be my last. Wild rock pinnacles and forests rose up as far as
the eye could see, the hills and ridges stretching jaggedly to the
horizon, dwarfing the little bluff to whom Woolenska had given his
name. The familiar earth- and vegetation-colors were softened by the
progressive hazing of the distance, making the landscape resemble a
painting by some nineteenth century master.
Pushing myself up to a kneeling position, I gazed down at the
jagged rubble upon which I would soon fall, blinking away the blur of
my saltine tears. I regarded the graveyard with its two tiny markers
behind the rows of barracks, the ground where Olson and Woolenska
already lay -- and where I, too, must lie tomorrow. Strange thoughts
suffused my mind -- Would the living pass my resting place with just
a shrug, or would there be someone who would pause over it from time
to time, perhaps blaming himself for my death? I hoped not. No one
was to blame -- except blind fate, and my own lack of will to live.
Tears cast a veil over my sight and mucus filled my nose. I
wanted to live, and I wanted to die, but I could do only one. I
could not go back, and neither did I desire to explore what lay
ahead. My emotions, pent up for so long, now ran from me in a wild
torrent. I sank to the stones, lying belly-flat against the ledge,
cradling my head upon my forearms. I sobbed, perhaps from the simple
grief of life's pain, perhaps at the much more complex grief of
leaving it.
#
Suddenly, behind me, I heard the crunch of gravel.
"Easy, Major," said a man. "Don't move."
I glanced back. Drew! I gasped at the thought that he should
see me so -- my face wet, nose running, eyes red and swollen. The
medic looked rough himself, though, sweat-soaked and winded, his
stride slow and lame, as if he had come from very far away without
pausing to rest.
"Be careful, Major. Please. Come back from there. It's a long
way down."
He was talking to me almost as if I were a child -- or a woman!
Again I felt the wild impulse to throw myself over the ledge, and so
looked back at the dizzying drop.
Drew inched closer, fearing that any sudden move on his part
would make me take wing like a frightened pigeon.
"Don't come any closer!" I warned.
He paused, then extended his hand to me, a hand gray with
calciferous silt, and red where he had cut his knuckles while
climbing.
"That's an order, solider!" I yelled.
Lowering his arm, he contemplated my figure with a bitten lip.
"Then you'll have to come to me, Major Breen," he said in compromise.
"Return to the camp, Drew. I want to be alone."
"I can't. Dr. Lowry told me to bring you back. She says you're
not yourself and that I should disregard your orders if you won't
come."
"Lowry has no such right!"
"Of course she has the right, Major. It's for your own good."
Frustrated, I retreated a few additional inches toward the
precipice.
"Don't, sir! Don't do that!"
"Lowry's the one who's not herself!" I accused wildly.
"Please, Major. There's no disgrace in what's happened to you.
We only want to help."
"How can you help? By making me a prisoner?"
"We just want to keep you safe until you can think things over
more clearly. There's no reason to die."
I flared, angry with myself for stooping to argue with a mere
private. The flood of adrenaline gave me the strength to stand up.
I swayed precariously over the edge ---
"Major!" Drew ejaculated.
-- but then caught my balance.
"Leave me alone!"
The medic moved a step backwards, obligingly. "All right, sir.
We'll both just stay where we are and talk."
I searched his anxious blue eyes, trying hard to find mockery in
his address of "sir."
"Let it go, Drew," I said, almost whispering. "I've sunk too
low. I can't bear the disgrace of it."
"It's not a disgrace. No one can help what he looks like."
"That's Psych 101 talking!"
"No, it's only a soldier talking to his commander -- a man whom
he regards and respects."
I was no commander, I was no man. I couldn't make a private
obey my simplest order. I had lost my authority. I had lost my
place. I had lost my identity. And, all together, it was the same
as losing my life. I shifted my weight in the excitement of the
moment. Doing so, my foot slipped . . . .
. . . .and then there was nothing below me except empty space. .
. .
#
With an action more rapid than thought, I caught hold of a tree
root that projected through a fissure. I held on for all I was
worth, while my legs dangled over a bottomless void. I saw my
personal biography as a projection upon the blank screen of my inner
eye, like a thousand fleeting snapshots of defeat and futility.
I looked up in desperation and saw Drew's arm waving above me.
"Thank God!" he shouted.
I said nothing, too mute from shock. He was reaching down
toward me, but his grasp came up at least a foot short of my clinging
hands.
"I can't reach you where you are, Major. You'll have to climb
higher!"
My thoughts raced. I could prop my feet against the rock face
and spring upwards. That would give me a few more inches -- but if
Drew missed me, I was bound to lose my one-handed grip. I would have
only that one chance, a chance lasting only a second, before I fell
to my death. . . .
Time seemed suspended ; my mind roiled. I wondered whether I
should accept Drew's offer, or let my existence end as I had
originally intended.
Death had suddenly become so easy, almost as if it were Old
Grandfather Time extending loving arms to me. I might simply relax my
grip and let Death catch me; even Drew would not be certain whether I
died by my own choice, or fell. I need not bear the infamy of
suicide, and yet escape the mocking daily existence which my life had
become.
"Major -- please," the young man was pleading. "You have so
much to live for. Can't you see it?"
No, I didn't see it, but for some reason I found my toes bracing
themselves against the rock, and myself making a desperate leap, an
all-or-nothing toss of the dice that meant life or death --
-- And Drew's strong fingers locked with incredible strength
around my wrist.
#
I was amazed how he could hold me, forgetting for an instant
that my weight had recently been reduced from nearly a hundred kilos
to only about some sixty or sixty-five. But the soldier could gain
little purchase upon the ledge, so he resorted to scuttling backwards
on his belly, like a sun-warmed lizard, using whatever irregularities
the stone offered for leverage, but mostly depending upon friction
and his greater weight to support me against the inexorable force of
gravity. Being dragged over the rock hurt my breasts, but when my
belly, legs, and finally my toes were drawn up over the lip of the
precipice, I knew for certain that I was saved -- that I had returned
to life, like a lost soul reincarnated -- but could any human being
have felt less joy for it?
Releasing my wrist, the young trooper swung about to my side and
carefully turned me over on my back.
"Are you hurt?" he asked concernedly.
"You shouldn't have --" I stammered.
"I had to."
I closed my eyes. Drew had done his job. He would have done no
less for any other human being, even a felon condemned to die before
a firing squad at sun-up.
"I want to help you, Major."
My eyes began to burn, and so did my nasal cavities. I couldn't
speak.
"If you feel like crying, that's all right, sir," Drew assured
me, his tone doctor-like. "There's a lot of pain inside you, I know,
and this is the best time to let it out. No one can see or hear you
up here."
I didn't want to do anything unmanly in front of a witness, but
my life had become such a twisted, unrecoverable wreck!
Drew squeezed my hands empathetically for a moment, then to my
surprise, scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the shade of
some small trees, where he eased me to the ground again. Before I
realized it, my cheek was pressing against his shoulder and my arms
were wrapping themselves tightly about his neck. Now I broke down
utterly.
"I don't want to be like this," I heard myself saying.
"I know," he whispered. "I wouldn't either, but we'll get you
through it. You can count on us."
After a while my sobbing ceased and my breathing came quieter,
more even.
"I'm a woman --," I choked, trying to understand what that
meant.
"Yes you are, Major," Drew replied with a low, thoughtful tone.
"So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?"
I was taken aback by such a question. "I don't know," I
stammered.
"Of course you don't, sir. But sometime soon you'll know, and
then you'll be all right."
I shook my head. I couldn't be all right. Never again.
#
When I tried to squirm out of the young soldier's grasp, he let
me go.
"We should climb back down," suggested Drew. "Do you feel
strong enough to walk?"
"I don't want to go back," I said, still unable to look him in
the eye.
"You have to. The only other place you can go is over that
ledge, and I really wouldn't want to see that happen."
"All right," I said, fatalistically.
Drew helped me to my feet, watching me carefully, gauging my
strength. "Good, now let's go," he coaxed.
Then, with me steadied by his strong hands, we descended the
slope. Many times I had to stop to rest and sometimes Drew was
practically carrying me. By the time we reached the bottom I was so
used up that he actually did take me up into his arms once more and
tote me along. I couldn't even protest, so exhausted, so despondent
was I, but as we neared the grove which was the last barrier
screening us from the full view of the camp, I got anxious.
"Let me down! I can't let them see me like this!"
He complied at once, and I was relieved to find that my legs
felt fairly firm once they touched the soil.
"Are my eyes red?" I inquired hastily.
"No, they're quite --" Whatever his intended observation might
have been, he dropped it.
"Drew, please," I asked, as one person merely asking a favor of
another, deliberately not trying to make it a command, "don't tell
anyone what I almost did."
"I have to tell Dr. Lowry."
"Yes, but nobody else!"
"It'll be our secret," he promised.
#
I avoided looking at the men -- and the women -- along the way
to my hut. How much did they know? That I had been seen racing for
the hill like a lunatic? That Drew had to be sent to bring me home?
I would lose all respect if it ever became known that I had nearly
committed suicide.
Drew put me to bed. I grew drowsy and, very quickly, slept.
When I woke up, Lowry was seated beside me.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," I murmured.
She smiled. "If you can tell jokes after what you've been
through, Rupe, your prognosis is excellent."
"Excellent, sure," I said without much enthusiasm. "I'm alive,
but what kind of life is it going to be?"
"That's what I still ask myself every time I wake up in the
morning," the physician grinned. "When I stop asking it, I'm sure
I'll be dead."
When I didn't reply, a new thought crossed her brow like a dark
cloud. "Rupe, I'm as sorry as I can be. I never should have talked
to you the way I did. -- At least not without a couple of husky
orderlies on hand to keep you from running off."
"It's all right. I suppose shock therapy is the least that I
deserve."
"What do you mean?"
I looked away. "If I told you, we couldn't be friends anymore."
She put her hand upon the blanket covering me. "That's not
going to happen, Rupe. Whatever's bothering you, it can't be so bad.
I know you. You're probably the most decent -- person -- in the
service. I'm proud to know you."
"You must have met some real scum buckets then."
"Buddy, what is it?"
I swallowed hard. "I let you down."
"Me? When? How?"
I told her. I don't know why I had to tell Lowry my secret at
just that time, but it was something I needed to do. I had to let
her know exactly what sort of person I was before she did anything
else decent for me.
She had grown silent; I looked up at her, thinking that her face
was paler than usual.
But there was no anger in it, just a kind of bruised look.
"Neither one of us are very good in the feelings department, are
we?" Sebastian observed softly.
"I guess not."
I reached out and touched her hand. "Can you forgive me?"
"Look, Rupe, I've made mistakes, too -- like making my best
friend and most important patient suicidal. I'd say that we're about
even."
I shrugged resignedly, knowing that what I had done had been far
worse.
"Now, cheer up," she went on. "What's happened -- what's
happened to both of us -- is damned strange, but I don't see any
reason why it has to be terminal. It's mostly a lifestyle problem,
and at least we're not alone in it."
"No, we have a whopper of a leper colony here."
"Hardly that."
"Can't we just go on as if it hasn't happened? Do we have to
make a big thing out of sex?"
"Sex is a big thing, Rupe. Wait until you're having your first
period. Wait until you look at some soldier and start thinking --.
Well, never mind, you get the picture.."
"You're still doing that?"
"I'm afraid it goes with the territory, but I'm trying to
control it. The important thing for one's self-respect is not to
give in."
That's right, don't give in, I thought. Chastity wasn't so
onerous, after all. Monks did it. Anyway, I couldn't imagine myself
ever being attracted to a man, despite Lowry's experience to the
contrary. I'd probably end up a lesbian instead. What a fate!
I changed the subject: "Doc, you'd better be off. I don't have
the right to keep you from your work."
"You're part of my work, Rupe! There's no way I'm leaving you
unattended after so serious a crisis."
"Then I'm stuck with you, I suppose. Say, how long did I sleep?
Are there any new problems today?"
"That's none of your business," she said with a smile to
reassure me.
#
Two days had passed with no new disappearances and Lowry's
prediction seemed to be bearing out. If her theory actually held
water, I realized, our whole situation, our whole future outlook, had
changed -- radically.
"Maybe we have a chance to reverse this thing," I ventured. "If
someone wants Klink to have a half-and-half population, it might work
in the other direction, too. If we put all the women together maybe
they'll start reverting!"
Sebastian's brow wrinkled dejectedly. "I've thought about that,
too, Rupe. But even if it did work, it would be like trying to
lengthen a blanket with a strip cut from the other end. It doesn't
get us anywhere. If we're going to be 50-50 no matter what we do,
what's the difference which half is which? What we have to do is
make sure that there are no new transformations. We've got a tall
enough order just surviving on Klink without all this distraction."
"I suppose you're right," I replied glumly, though it certainly
seemed no small matter to me just then which half of the human race I
belonged to. "We'll have to make sure that no men are ever isolated
from female association for very long. We've got to look over our
records and estimate about how far out a man can go from camp before
transforming -- What are you grinning about, Doc?"
"It sounds like women are going to have a lot of power on this
planet. If they don't cooperate, welcome to the sisterhood!"
I shook my head. "Women's power is always an illusion,
Sebastian. It only exists when men refuse to use force. That means
you have to make nice-nice to the guys."
"Haven't you heard of those old-time matriarchies?"
"Sure, I've done some reading. Matriarchies are a crock. They
never really happen. Men will always rule, Sebastian, whether the
rulers are courtly knights or street gangs."
"Sounds pretty grim."
"It doesn't have to be. You just have to zero in on the best
qualities of manhood and reenforce them. That way you get a knight
and not a hoodlum. It's a child-rearing process."
"Well, we can't be knights, Rupe, so where does that leave you
and me?"
"I don't have a clue," I admitted. "Anyhow, I'd rather think
about something else. What Philbrick said?"
"What about?"
"About relieving me, damn it!"
"Philbrick understood."
"Oh, he'd understand, all right! He knows a nut case when he
sees one." Then I took a deep breath. "-- Okay, now that I have no
duties, no responsibilities, no conceivable function in life at all,
what am I good for?"
"We'll just have to play it by ear," she said.
********
Chapter 7
*There is something in this more than natural,
if philosophy could find it out.*
HAMLET
Transformation trauma was a roller coaster. Sometimes a person
was up, but most of the time he was so far down that he wished that
he were dead. Any death-wish is dangerous and so, because Drew and
Lowry couldn't watch me all the time, they brought in others --
usually Halder or Cotts -- to pick up the slack.
During the worst of it, I could barely get four or five hours
sleep on a good night. The depression I felt was like a physical
ache, permeating every corner of my body -- and an interminable,
grinding despair, the fear that life could never again be meaningful,
purposeful, or even tolerable. I was asking myself endlessly: "Who
am I?" "What am I?" "Why am I living?"
When I was feeling more or less up, as I sometimes was, I could
at least read. Unfortunately, worthwhile material was scarce,
outside of Drew's book of Shakespeare and Lowry's Bible. Before long
Sebastian was encouraging me to get off my back and begin a regimen
of daily walks. I don't remember much about those first excursions,
except that it was always an ordeal just to place one foot in front
of the other. I was always accompanied by someone to look after me,
since it wouldn't do to have Major Breen climbing Woolenska's Hill
again.
As my spirits improved, I could once again enjoy playing cards
with Sebastian. Whenever we felt like making it a foursome, we
brought in other players, usually Drew and Ames. The blonde captain,
when she was around, did her best to be my friend, but something --
maybe our respective ranks or our past association -- proved to be an
obstacle to intimacy, especially for me.
The camp seemed to operate smoothly. I had given Philbrick to
understand that I expected him to run it as best he saw fit. I
assured him that I wouldn't be allowing anyone to come to me and try
to go over his head. He nodded without any specific reply, but I
knew he appreciated my pledge.
As he gained confidence, Philbrick took to directing the camp in
his own distinct style. He early-on made some decisions that
wouldn't have occurred to me -- decisions which, in fact, I probably
would have rejected.
I had pretty much run things by the "Book." That wasn't because
I was an unimaginative martinet, but because I wanted to give the
Group a sense of stability, a center, a focus. The Book wasn't
perfect, but it at least let everyone know exactly where he stood.
Philbrick, on the other hand, was an experimenter. His most
noticeable change was the relaxation of the uniform requirements.
Because we had no clothes to fit the women, he set up a committee
charged with prescribing ways to make the transformees' clothing more
comfortable and utilitarian. Before long, the transformed troopers
were cutting away extraneous material, such as those floppy, dragging
pantslegs and over-long sleeves. Cutoffs suddenly became a common
sight. Off duty, women were even allowed to go about clad in just
shirttails and drawers. To my mind, the latter fashion made them
look like b-girls.
Even though the change in the dress code gave me new concerns
about discipline, I did not bestir myself to intervene. Capt. Ames,
who had chaired the uniform committee, of course seemed to approve of
the new dispensations. I suspected that she had even influenced
Philbrick to authorize them. Philbrick was, after all, Ames' hut
mate, her long-time friend, and even -- I had cause to suspect -- her
current lover. I wondered about that last possibility sometimes and
didn't think that it served for a good example, but I neither
confronted them with the subject nor sought for gossip.
At least one innovation which I approved of was the design of a
new sort of footwear. Mr. Chesterton, one of the fleet techs, got
the idea of stripping the Carodite insulation sheets out of the now-
useless drop pods and cutting tough soles for shoes from it. With
the addition of straps fore and aft, the space-farer produced sandals
which were many times more comfortable than the oversized army boots
that we had been condemned to clump around in beforehand.
#
I was now wearing the new sandals for my daily exercise. All
along Drew had been my most frequent suicide watch and companion upon
these walks. Very quickly ours became more than a strictly
professional relationship, although fraternizing with a serviceman
ran against the very Book that I valued so highly. But, if the truth
be told, rank can be a mighty lonely thing. If one ever needed to
abandon ceremony, now was the time.
It may seem ironic that I should let someone like Drew get as
close to me as I did, especially since he had been the one with me up
on Woolenska's Hill. The young soldier, like Lowry, knew my
weaknesses, knew my breaking point -- and a person usually isn't
comfortable being around someone who knows his limits. But, on the
other hand, it may be that our relationship wasn't so unlikely at
all. Part of being a friend is letting down the mask, of admitting
that you have shortcomings, failings. While this was something that
I had the greatest difficulty doing in front of my officers,
something about the medic's manner, or his personality, encouraged me
to open up. Anyway, I had to have help from the "inside" or I felt
that I couldn't cope.
Over a couple weeks I gradually accepted that Drew's offer of
camaraderie was solid and genuine, not merely a suicide watcher's
duty expressed artfully. For his part, the medic seemed to gain
confidence that I would not suddenly do an about-face and start
treating him like an orderly. We began talking about our respective
background -- him listening attentively to everything that I told
him, and I repaying the compliment. I learned that Drew was from
Missouri and had attended the University at Rolla, where he had
studied pre-med. He was well-read and sorely missed his library of
English-language literature back on Earth. He also enjoyed classic
songs, many of which he had memorized.
It turned out that it never had been Drew's intention to be a
professional soldier, and he had been unenthusiastic about being
drafted straight out of college. Previously, he had looked forward
to attending the University of Illinois in Chicago -- there to
specialize in prostatic surgery and research. Now his goal was to
learn as much advanced medicine as he could from Doctor Lowry.
I laughed suddenly and he asked me why. I explained that it was
only because I was suddenly able to recognize one of the few
advantages of being transformed: I would not need to worry about
prostatic problems in my latter years.
As the days passed, we became quite chummy. I even persuaded
Drew to sing some of those old-time songs of his -- such as "Venus in
Blue Jeans," "Graduation Day," and "A White Sports Coat." He had a
strong, melodious singing voice and I grew determined, if we ever put
on the company show that I once envisioned, to try and get him to
perform in it.
We shared a love for Shakespeare and we talked over the idea
that I had once had of staging a play. He suggested that I would
make a good Portia. I demurred; I was no actor and, personally, I
never had liked Portia as a character. "The Merchant of Venice"
seemed to go sour at the point where Shakespeare let Portia carry her
hoax upon Shylock too far. Harsh as his intended vengeance against
his merchant-rival had been, Shylock had at least stayed within the
letter of the law. Portia's impersonation of a justice, though, was
clearly a felony. In the Twenty-First Century Americans had fought
their second revolution against a condescending, hedonistic, and
undemocratic elite class, and, especially, their power base in an
out-of-control judiciary. History's bitter lessons had taught us
that the greatest threat to democracy, Assies included, was the Ivy-
League-schooled man or woman in mandarin robes.
Anyway, Drew was amused by my literary criticism and said that
if I didn't like Portia, the second best role for me had to be Doll
Tearsheet. "You idiot!" I cried as I slugged him in the arm, and we
shared a good laugh. Afterwards, reflecting, I realized how unwise I
had been to let a private get away with such a liberty.
As my strength and confidence returned, my walks became more
purposeful and I no longer suffered from headaches or shaking spells.
Relieved of routine duty, I was anxious to contribute something
nonetheless. For some reason, perhaps stemming from the long
agricultural tradition in my family, I grew more and more preoccupied
with the discovery and cultivation of Klinkian edibles.
Our emergency rations would last for about another year, I
estimated, but what was a single year when we were facing old age and
death upon Klink? I encouraged Lowry and Drew to devote as much of
their time as possible to testing what the foragers found as
potential food substances.
The foragers had also been honing their hunting techniques,
making snares, deathfalls, and experimenting with bows and arrows.
The meats of many of Klink's mammal-like and bird-like animals had
proven nutritious, though one family of rodent-like creatures seemed
to have a peculiar and disagreeable gastric effect upon humans.
Local plant matter was, as on every world, tricky. We lacked test
animals (at least any with Earth-evolved physiologies), so while
Lowry's or Webb's tests might screen food for toxins (also taking
careful note of what might turn out to be useful chemical
substances), we nonetheless had to begin a series of human
experiments, starting with the consumption of very small amounts of
plant matter under close observation. We had some sickness, and
sometimes what seemed to be allergies, but no fatalities.
#
After about an Earth month in my transformed shape I seemed to
be spending more days "up" than "down." Dr. Lowry gauged my recovery
rate as very good, though I realized that it was nowhere as swift as
her own had been. I wondered at that. Possibly Sebastian had
possessed more spiritual reserves than the rest of us, or maybe it
helped that she had started out as the least macho man in camp and so
had less far to fall. Nevertheless, my constant harping on the
future problems of the camp convinced her that my mend was well under
way.
I actually was giving the subject a lot of thought. It seemed
clear that we would soon have to turn our major attention toward
establishing a viable agriculture. Pulling that off successfully was
a daunting prospect. We didn't even know what to select for crops.
Lt. Webb, one of Komisov's best technicians, had been pursuing a
course in soil conservation in alien xeno-ecosystems before he was
called to active duty. Such skills as his were now precious to us.
Faced with nothing to fight, we soldiers had little choice but to
become good farmers. Like old Roman heroes, we had to hang up the
sword and get behind the plow. But first we had to reinvent the
plow.
About that time Lowry discovered another pregnancy, this time
Pvt. Logan's. I took the news without undue excitement. I had
recommended measures to curtail sexual relationships between the
members of the unit, but no one had stepped forward to endorse the
idea. Now, at least, it was up to others minds to solve such
problems. As it happened, Philbrick chose to merely reiterate a new
version of the advisory which Lowry had earlier authored. It just
wasn't enough and we all knew it.
Interestingly, Logan, like Hitchcock before her, was not
actively considering termination. It was her own business,
naturally, but I worried about the viability of the 54th as a
military unit -- even as a mixed unit of men and women -- if we
became saddled with a large number of children. Speak of army brats!
But I had other things to keep my mind occupied -- like my first
onset of bloody cramps. I hated the discomfort and the mess but what
could one do except sigh and bear it? Between babies and periods, it
was small wonder that feminine psychology always seemed so strange to
a man. I asked Lowry if she had anything that could stop a person
from menstruating, and she recommended pregnancy. I didn't ask
twice.
#
I had been sleeping, and I awoke covered in sweat, agitated by
an erotic dream. For the first time in a dream of mine I had not
been a man, but a woman. More than that, a woman with a man and. . .
. -- oh, hell!
But even waking up didn't make me feel right. I felt a craving,
as palpably real as hunger or thirst. I found myself getting up from
bed, not even bothering to dress. All I had on was an oversized T-
shirt hardly long enough to keep me decent as I hurried outside into
the bright moonlight without understanding why. The night breeze did
exactly nothing to cool my ardor. Where was I going so swiftly?
What was I looking for?
Had I been more myself I would have taken greater heed of the
strange chaos in the camp. I saw some women dashing about, chasing
men, or being chased by them, including Sgt. Gold, who, I saw, was
entirely naked.
I saw Philbrick struggling with Ames in front of their hut. He
broke her grasp and shoved her into the hands of another man, who
held on fast to the out-of-her-mind captain as she kicked and swore.
Philbrick, once disentangled from Ames, started bawling orders to
everyone within earshot.
I wasn't listening; I was like an addict searching for his
substance. I thought I was going crazy and knew that I had to fine
Lowry. But as I ran barefooted into the infirmary I found myself
face to face not with the physician, but with Alan Drew.
"Major!" the young medic blurted. "Have you seen the doctor?!
She was acting like the other women, then she ran off. She's --"
Then he gave me a hard stare. Perhaps my wild, feral look
alarmed him. Only now did I finally understand what I had been
seeking and -- panicking -- I turned on my heels and fled from it.
#
But Alan followed after me at a swift jog. The medic was
gaining, his stride longer, his breath capacity greater. Suddenly my
bare foot came down upon something pointed and, with a cry of pain, I
stumbled to a stop. Alan was on me instantly, gripping me as if he
thought that I was about to try suicide again, though I had only
wanted to be alone -- alone to wrestle with my personal demon.
I fought to get away, but before I realized it, I was struggling
not to escape but to hold onto him.
"Major!" he gasped, "What's happening to you -- to all the
women?!"
I released a moan, an incoherent growl. I wanted to feel him,
to explore his hard muscles, his Apollonian angles. . . .
While he was doing his best to control me, I realized that I was
fantasying rape! I gave out with a cry of dismay when I realized
what I was doing and collapsed to my knees.
"Major!" Alan exclaimed, taking me by the shoulders and raising
me up, holding me so firmly that I could neither come closer nor pull
away. "What is it?!" he demanded, sounding angry -- as men always do
when they get excited.
"Hold me," I whispered.
"Maj--?"
"Hold me."
His face, lit by the moonlight, was aghast. "What is it?" he
asked. "What?!"
I pressed my cheek against one of his hands. The strength that
I now sensed in Alan Drew was like rose perfume to a honey bee. That
thought sent a hot rush through me, which left me breathless. But I
needed more than just to be held; I wanted relief for what was an
acute torment -- and knew how this man could give it to me.
"Make love to me," I rasped.
"Major!"
"I need it -- Alan. I'm going mad!"
"There's something wrong!" he exclaimed. "We've got to
understand it. We can't just give in."
"I can't stand the torture!"
"You have to, Major. You're strong!"
The night breeze, sweeping my tear-streaked face, was chilly,
but it didn't douse the fire within me. "At least kiss me!"
"It's not what you want!"
"I know what I want!"
He looked at me, intense, unyielding, his grip hurting my arms.
"No, you don't."
#
"I order you!" I shrieked.
Alan gritted his teeth and shook his head. "You can't give that
kind of order. Come back to your hut with me."
Powerlessness! I hated it. I sobbed, then struck at him with
my small balled fists. He ignored my paltry blows and, as he had
done before, scooped me up into his arms as if I were weightless, to
carry me back the way we had come. I pressed my body against his as
he bore me along, planted kisses upon his shoulder.
Alan endured my advances and, in my state, I was deluded enough
to think that he was actually enjoying them. My body began to
tremble with the anticipation of the two of us alone together. I
started to kiss his face and, holding me the way he was, he could do
nothing to make me stop, other than by shouting at me.
There were plenty of other shouts and a great deal of movement
around us, but I was beyond caring. Nothing was real anymore,
nothing except the clutch that enfolded me. I was almost out of my
mind, but I was self-aware enough to grasp that the way I was acting
was destroying our friendship. What could Alan feel for me from this
moment on except contempt? I ceased my demented assault upon him and
collapsed into myself, the loneliest and most forsaken of all human
beings.
My escort had veered from the direct route to my hut and now I
heard the liquid rush of the neighborhood stream bubbling over the
smooth rocks of its bed. I looked at the water in puzzlement.
I cried out in vain as he submerged me into the creek, as if
into a therapeutic bath. How I struggled, and how uselessly. There
was no way to resist.
I was numb and shivering when he finally drew me out. I clung
to him more fiercely than before, needing his warmth. Muttering
something I couldn't understand, Alan carried me to my hut and set me
on my feet next to the bed.
I staggered, but he steadied me, then began helping me peel off
my T-shirt. I stood naked in front of him and, despite my frigid
dunking, it aroused all over again, though more arousal was the last
thing that I needed. He took one of my shirts down from its peg and
dabbed the excess water from my gooseflesh. He stepped around me
then and pulled back the blanket on my cot. Instantly I dove beneath
it, shivering violently. Then Alan covered me up and tucked me in.
Recovering from my chill gradually, I watched Alan taking off
his own wet things. The sight of his bare pecs, so classically
Greek, was like food set before the gaze of Tantalus in Hades.
"Can I use some of your clothes?" he queried evenly.
"Y-Yeh," I chattered, "anything."
He selected a shirt and pair of pants. Seeing him in my
clothing struck me profoundly for some reason. How well they fit
him, and how poorly they fit me. I found myself fantasying again.
In the dreamlike shadows of my hut, Alan became the important
officer, while I was only the nameless girl he had brought home from
some bar. He would join me in a moment, I imagined, use me hard,
unsympathetically, then, in the morning, when I tried to get close to
him again, he would push me away indifferently and press a little
money into my hand --
I pressed my face into the pillow, afraid I was going insane. I
had betrayed Alan! All that had been good between us was ruined,
lost. I had offended, disappointed, demeaned him with my groping.
From now on we would only be medic and patient, officer and trooper.
Our friendship was dead, killed by the madness that had taken hold
upon me in my sleep. I was so unhappy that I hid my face under the
blanket and fought down my sobs.
Perhaps to help keep me warm, perhaps to comfort a patient, Alan
sat down on the edge of the cot. "How are you feeling now, Major?"
"Awful. Forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive."
I turned my head, looked up at him, wanting to reach out, but
not daring to do more damage. He put his hand on my shoulder, as if
to say that I wasn't alone. Encouraged, I slipped my hand out from
under the blanket and took his. He didn't pull away, so I lifted his
fingers to my lips and placed a light, plaintive kiss upon
them. . . .
*******
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