Watson, Ian - Novel 08 Read Online Free PDF Page A

conquering person
then. Much more definition, cut and dried. I was all
wound up for the mission like a jet drag-racer—the original self-wound man. But
I hadn’t really thought about journey’s end—what I’d do when I got here. I’m
much more fluid now—a new man. You might say this has all been my salvation. After a fashion.”
                 “You
don’t have hair on your bodies,” Sean observed cautiously, wondering whether
the answer to this too would be: it isn’t in the picture.
                 “Well,
God has a beard. Not that I’ve met him personally. That’s his prerogative—badge
of office. Ach, He’s the only true adult on this world so far—and we’re His
children. The path of growth begins in children’s land, don’t they say? Kiddies
don’t have body hair. If you want a fleece on you, become a beast. Or a devil. Some devils can be pretty hairy characters. You
see, hair conceals. We don’t go in for, well, concealment hereabouts. As you might have noticed!”
                 “Kiddies,”
said Paavo bitterly. “Yes, everyone’s behaving pretty childishly.”
                 “But
where are the actual children?” asked Muthoni.
                 “Ah,
I’m rambling a bit. Unfair of me. You caught me
unawares, you see. I’ve got to catch up with you, hmm, Earthfolk. It’s just so
obvious to me after all this time.”
                 “The children!”
                 “We
aren’t mature enough to have new children yet. But Copernicus carried a lot of human ova as well as animal ova. All
the fertilized ova we brought with us are alive—grown up or transmuted.” Jeremy
nodded at a huge speckled flatfish that was advancing, flap by flap, across the
turf. No doubt this was easier for it to accomplish in the lower gravity, but
even so it took a deal of effort. And even so again, the fish seemed almost
luxurious as it wallowed onward.
                 Muthoni
jerked her thumb at the couple who had been making love upside-down, and now
sat on the greensward, fingers laced, playing gentle silent pressure music as
though trying to create a special handsign, a clasp of ultimate recognition. “You
mean that those are sterile copulations? Prepubescent,
non-functional ones?” She giggled briefly, conscious of the contrast
between the clinical question and the caresses it referred to. She flared her
nostrils, smelling musk and civet and clear mint.
                 “That’s,
hmm, not their function. Making children isn’t their function. Not yet.
Attunement, balance, rhythm, celebration—that’s what love’s about for now.”
                 “You’d
better begin at the beginning,” said Sean. “Would you like to
come up inside? Please?”
                 “It’ll
be like old times, Captain Van der Veld,” invited Paavo, panfaced. Muthoni
glared at him.
                 “No,
I wouldn’t feel happy inside the . . . what’s its name?”
                 “Starship,”
prompted Paavo, sarcastically.
                 “ Schiaparelli ” said Muthoni. “That’s its name.”
                 “No,
when we go inside somewhere it’s for a . . . transformation. You can all safely
come outside. A steel hull isn’t going to make one whit of difference. It won’t
shield you from anything—except knowledge. The opportunity
for knowledge, at any rate. Besides, didn’t you say your Schiaparelli has shut down? Shouldn’t
you report who you are to me?” he said sharply, momentarily a Captain once
more.
                 “True
enough,” agreed Sean pleasantly. “This is our doctor and biologist, Muthoni
Muthiga. And Paavo Kek- konen, pilot and engineer. I’m Sean Athlone,
psychologist. We have a new theory about how the archetypal imagery inherited
from our colonists’ world of origin might map on to an alien environment or be
modified by