I, Alien

ALIEN GROUND by Anthony R. Lewis

IT’S STRANGE TO BE on a starship instead of on Mrrthow. It’s even stranger when you realize that no one on Mrrthow has any starships. Still, I am onboard a starship, so somebody has one. The people who own this one aren’t from Mrrthow. They aren’t people by my definition of five days ago. My new definition is more universal—any being that controls my food and air and pays me a salary is “people.” That’s a practical definition and I’m a practical vavacq.

As a practical person, I am cleaning the tables in the galley. My reading of cautionary romances on Mrrthow led me to believe that this would be done by machines, but I am informed that machines cost more than General Maintainers (Probationary) and it is not half so satisfying to hit machines. I don’t know how I know this language nor how my credentials were in order. I suppose I am a pawn in a game with many Hidden Players behind the scenes. I’d worry about it, but the first thing to do is survive.

Lady Susan came into the galley, ducking to avoid hitting her head. She’s a human and they run to height. She drew her five-fingered hand along the tabletop. “Not clean

Humans don’t like vavacq. (Yes, there are vavacq out here. This puzzled me at first.) Lady Susan takes this cultural trait and nurtures it. “Vavacq,” she said. “If your race practiced genetic engineering and forced culling for a few million years, they might be eligible to apply for a junior partnership in a lichen. You,” she sneered, “would not have made it to the second generation.” When she sneers, her shiny white omni-vore teeth contrast with her brown face.

I finished my cleaning and returned to my cubicle. I passed other crew on the way; none of them are vavacq, but none of them are human either. I think Lady Susan is on some sort of a training mission. I didn’t expect so many species. Our scientists said this was highly improbable; another good theory done in by facts. “Never thought about it,” was the majority opinion (this fits in with my new definition of people). This was followed by “It’s always been that way.” A few of a more mystic persuasion believed that an Elder Race had seeded the galaxy with life-forms for their own unknowable purposes. These were referred to as the Eldest Ones, the Gardeners, or the Causal Ones, depending upon the particular sect involved.

My quarters are small. My current possessions are two uniforms and a toilet kit. I have been accessing the available sections of the ship’s computer memory. Most of that seems to be pornography. There is background information in other languages, but I don’t know them. I don’t know how I learned this language I’m speaking. I’m going to sleep.

The captain is a Lobote—descended from a pack carnivore; we are the surrogate pack. I’m avoiding Lady Susan; she must dislike me as a vavacq specimen. I have not had a chance to be personally offensive to her. Given her size and obvious strength, I think the proper retort to her rudeness is a dignified silence or a “Yes, ma’am.” I’m the only vavacq on the ship. I know there are others in the galaxy. No one thinks I’m unusual. There are references to vavacq in some of the novels. Favorable, unfavorable, or background depending upon the author’s species or personality. It’s clear that vavacq are not the Master Race by any means.

I don’t think being a General Maintainer is why I am here. Someone or something put me here for another reason. I wish they would let me know what I am supposed to be doing. It would not be. a clever idea to broach my situation to anyone on board. They all know what I ought to be doing.

I hear we are going to reenter RealSpace tomorrow and dock at some orbital station. We don’t land on planets because it would cost too much. I’ll get station leave if I don’t screw up.

The cook ordered me to catch some small vermin that have been stealing food. I built three vermin traps. Lady Susan kicked me while I was crawling into a raided cabinet to place them. One snapped on my paw and I yelped. I think she smiled at that. It takes very little to please some people.

We’re docked. I drew some of my pay tokens. The tokens are silvery with a numeral on one side and a serpentine orgy on the other. I bought some sort of smoked meat with them. The meat seller warily directed me to the local equivalent of a library. Not too many General Maintainers (Probationary) look for that kind of diversion.

I stepped through menus on political galactography and entered my home planet’s name as nearly as I could transliterate it.

+Unknown+

I tried the name from other languages—RRgol, Hssthat, Mrr IV. And back came the answer every time.

+Unknown+

Conclusion: Mrrthow doesn’t exist and all my memories of it were hallucinations. I decided to investigate the Gardener Mythos. I reached that query point and the library came back with

♦Logical Exclavity+

I must have made a mistake; so I tried again and again it returned

♦Logical Exclavity+

I thought, Let me at least find out what that means, Again I made my way through the databases and was rewarded with:

♦Logical Exclavity: a volume of space removed from all records, databases, references. The space of a logical exclavity, and all objects in it have no existence with respect to the galactic knowledge. Note: the existence of this phrase and its definition are not included in any record, database, or references

A datum telling me that it did not exist. What next?

♦Hello, did you enjoy the trip?+

I jabbed my claws into my I/O device, recovered, and entered “Not particularly.”

♦Unnecessary; just talk.+

“You’re the one who set me up?” - +1 am the not-specific sentient who transported you. I am involved in the project.+

“Why?”

+We have a task for you.+

I could ask who “we” is or I could ask what the job is. “Who are you that you want me to do what?” That didn’t come out the way I expected it to.

♦Continue your job on the ship. More details will be available later.+

“No!”

+No?+

“No.”

+If you don’t want more details, we won’t give them to you.+

“You are deliberately misinterpreting my statements. I may decide I like being a General Maintainer and spend my life working my way up in that profession.”

+You wouldn’t. Vavacq don’t.+

“Tell me about vavacq. Why aren’t there many around? Why do most of the other species treat us (me) like dirt, especially the humans?”

+The last time you ruled this part of space you were a particularly unpleasant group. That’s why most species dislike you. The humans knocked you down and took over; before that you knocked the humans down and took over. This has cycled four times.+

“So everyone hates vavacq and loves humans?”

+No, they hate both species. The humans aren’t any better at ruling than vavacq.+

That agreed with my one data point—Lady Susan.

“Couldn’t you have told this to me while I was on the ship? It might have made things easier.”

+Not out of RealSpace.+ Pause. +Your job is to break the cycles. We will talk to you again when necessary. Use your personal imagination when the pain becomes too great.+

The screen was just a screen again. I had gotten the runaround, threats, and an impossible job, but I had to pay for the connect time. I walked around the accessible part of the station, entered the equivalent of a bookstore, bought some reels of popular history with most of my remaining tokens and returned to the ship. I wasn’t going to be able to retire on my earnings. I wondered if saving the universe for unknown races paid well.

I’m reading the tapes in my off hours. Most of them are meaningless because I don’t have the referents— the sort of thing that doesn’t get into the book because everyone knows it. The vavacq and the humans have been fighting over this part of space for a few hundred thousand years. Currently, the humans are on top, but vavacq are sniping at them everywhere. The other species are not particularly happy, either.

There’s no mention of Mrrthow. Mrrthow, and the Mrr System, are a Logical Exclavity. We don’t exist as far as the galaxy is concerned. The opinions of six-plus billion of us Mrrthowq don’t count because we don’t exist. There’s no such term as “logical exclavity” either.

I now understand this: I am vavacq: most sentient beings dislike me; Lady Susan hates me. Lady Susan is human: most sentient beings dislike her, too; if she vanishes me, there’s no one to complain about it. She is showing remarkable restraint for a human forced to be on the same ship with a vavacq.

The tapes are interesting. They’re biased, but all history is written from someone’s point of view and few cultures rate anyone higher than themselves. This part of the galaxy is a mess. There are tens of thousands of polities trying to undercut each other, putting high tariffs on goods, taxing passage—just like early Mrrthow. On Mrrthow, we thought this sort of behavior disappeared when technology came, but… Space is big, and worlds self-contained so that most trade is in intangibles and rarities. Bulk materials are there on the planets or in the planetoid belts that most systems have. Everyone should be secure and happy—but they aren’t. One of the intangibles that gets exported is religion. Jihads and crusades through space and time with high-tech weapons. Half of one tape is a list of extinct sentients.

In my CR stories we would come bursting out of Mrrthow, rip ears, order the galaxy, and all the subser-vients would live happily ever after. In reality, vavacq were a big part of the problem.

We’re docking at Haavio orbital station. The computer says it’s huge and has a reasonably-sized vavacq colony aboard. Do I want to meet my long-lost out-sibs or would I rather keep them lost? Do I know enough to keep from screwing up? Probably not, but I’m getting tired of reacting to events. Maybe I should go out and push something to see if it pushes back.

I find a map. I’m planning to go to the vavacq sector and see what information I can pick up. Perhaps my fellow vavacq could do something about getting me back to Mrrthow. I doubt this, but it’s worth a try. The path seems long, but it goes through safe areas where solitary vavacq aren’t likely to be molested. I pass a few vavacq who stare at me, but they ignore me so I ignore them. The vavacq sector could be closed off easily. The bends in the corridor allow a small human force to pen in any number of vavacq.

It stinks. The ship’s air was stale, but this is not passive staleness; this is an active, living stench compounded of rotting food, unwashed bodies, and un-emptied litter. Groups of vavacq glared at me or ostentatiously ignored me. I saw no females or kits. It looked more like a prison than a community. I walked briskly as if I knew what I was doing and where I was going and turned into the third cafe I came to.

It was dim. I ordered a mild drink and took it to an empty table. I was sipping the foul-tasting brew when it was wrenched from my hand and thrown at the dispenser, who ducked with an alacrity born of practice. “That’s human piss! Take a real drink.” Some distilled beverage was slammed down before me. The container was attached to a large paw; the large paw was attached to a large arm; and then to a huge vavacq.

“Er, no thanks.”

“Drink!” It was not a request but an order. I had made a mistake coming here. These sorts of problems had not occurred in the library. I looked at the drink again; I looked at the large person again. I picked up the drink. It didn’t smell too vile. I took a sip.

“All of it.” I drank. Whatever was in it was potent. I think I lost consciousness even before I tilted in the chair.

My head hurt badly. My one comfort was the knowledge that I would soon die and end the pain.

“You are not going to die.” A high voice removed that hope.

I sat up; my head did not fall off.

“You vavacq have no tolerance for ethanol, why do you imbibe it?”

“One drink, and not a large one.”

“Yes, only one drink, but its trace impurities had a powerful effect upon you.”

“You drugged me!”

“It was the easiest way to get you here without complications.”

I had been kidnapped. Some ship must want a General Maintainer (Probationary) very much. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Open your eyes, vavacq! I will fix your pain.”

The pain vanished; I could have become rich on Mrrthow if I knew how to do that. I opened my eyes, slowly this time. There was an alien of a type I had never seen before. He(?) was tall, slim, covered with a golden down and almost glowing. This creature was beautiful.

“Trapelo Sector. It is so much more pleasant here without the prying eyes of interfering busybodies. You need not know who we are. Ask why you are here.”

“Why am I here?”

“We have a proposal of mutual advantage. Something that you will enjoy as much as we will.”

“What do you want from me?”

“A better question would be—what can we gain together?”

“What can we gain together?”

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure? How?”

“You are a vavacq. The humans hate you and you hate the humans.”

“It’s the generally prevailing opinion,” I allowed. The alien looked at me silently, then continued.

“Between you and the human on your ship exists massive hatred, contempt, and other strong emotions.

For your pleasure, we have brought her here.” One of the walls thinned and vanished—and suspended there was Lady Susan.

I had never seen more of Lady Susan than her hands or face. Her body was brown and almost furless. She was clearly a mammal with two gross breasts. “She is yours. We give her to you.”

This was moving too fast. “Why do I want her— and for what?”

“For eons, her species and yours have been locked in battle. They devastated your planets, killed your people, destroyed your culture. Now, you can attain personal revenge. Take it.” A wave of dark eroticism swept through my mind. I imagined myself doing things that I had never before imagined. There was a seductive pleasure underlaid with a righteous indignation against this enemy of the vavacq. The pleasure would be justified; nothing I could do to Lady Susan would be wrong. I turned to the alien. “What’s in it for you?”

“We are connoisseurs of emotions. We will record yours and hers and enjoy them over and over again. This costs you nothing. The more your enjoyment, the keener our pleasure; the more pain she suffers, the more piquant the counterpoint. The Creator made you and the humans to contend forever.”

I walked to where Lady Susan was hanging. She was conscious.

“Hello,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

She spat at me; her aim was fine. “Slime! I will not lower myself to beg for mercy. See how a human dies.”

“I need a sharp knife, about this long,” I said, holding my paws out. “My claws are not sufficient for what I want to do.” The alien smiled and soon I was holding a beautiful blade. I reached up left, then right, and cut the bonds holding Lady Susan. Then I cut her feet free.

The alien, who had been silent, snarled, “What are you doing?”

“Cutting her loose. Now, if we can have her clothing, we’ll be leaving.”

“This is not permitted.”

“You said I could do with her as I chose. I choose to set her free.” I found that the aliens could transmit emotions as well as receive them. It started as just pain—an ache in all my teeth. A crescendo of pain that transformed as my joints exploded. I was put into a locked iron box; the walls started pressing in even as they became red- and then white-hot. I had to get out, get the key, unlock the box. The pain eased.

“This is only a sample of what we can do. Yield. Perform. Pleasure can be yours, not pain. Join with us.” And a wave of undiluted pleasure racked me. It was worse than the pain because some of the horror was from within. “Will you consent?”

Consent was important; they could not force me. They could torture me and could tempt me, but the final decision would be mine. I tried to resist, but what weapons did I have? Use your personal imagination. That was the message through the computer. Did it mean anything? The alien drew back. It meant something.

I had a breathing space. I would have to fight back with my mind; use my imagination to counter the pain. I went through a sequence of battles from my CR readings—giant spaceships with ravening lances of energy, long-range ray guns in a post-civilized culture, magic swords to destroy demons, amulets to protect against monsters that lived between dimensions. My mind created the ability to conquer the alien with mind power.

There was a colorless flash, and then nothing. I awoke to see both the alien and Lady Susan were slumped on the floor. I put the knife in my belt. Lady Susan was unconscious but breathing. I didn’t check the alien because I didn’t care.

I tried to dress Lady Susan in my outerwear but gave up. It’s harder to dress a female than to undress one. I tore down a wall hanging, cut off a strip for a belt, rolled Lady Susan into it, and tied it off. It lacked style, but I thought it would serve. I half-carried, half-dragged her back into the area in which I had first awakened and then out a portal into the light.

I was in Trapelo Sector and I needed to get both of us back to the ship, fast. I knew where we were and I knew where the ship was, but I didn’t know how to get from here to there. There were transport modules, but my kidnappers had emptied my pockets and Lady Susan didn’t have any pockets.

I saw a communications kiosk down the corridor, and carried her into it, closing the door behind us. It was clearly not designed for two. There was access to emergency services, but it cost; nothing is free here. But thankfully there was the equivalent of a reverse charge call.

A watch officer agreed to pay for 15 seconds—more out of boredom than anything else. His Lobote jaws opened in surprise as my face appeared on his screen. “You? What do you mean by…”

“Quiet. Me. Lady Susan. Trapelo Sector. Send help fast.” And the screen went blank. I turned to open the door. There was a crowd outside armed with knives. (Actually, there were only five of them, but five was enough of a crowd for me.) I held the door shut as the largest moved forward to pry it open. I concentrated on keeping the door shut. I was losing. I took out my knife, pulled the door instead of pushing, had the satisfaction of seeing the large one fall down. I jumped out and crouched into what I thought was a knife-fighter’s stance. In the stories I had read, the heroes get some sort of training in these things; someone had screwed up here. I invoked the epic heroes to help me, but this was not the mental combat I had just been in.

The fellow in the green dress leaped in and slashed at my left arm. I blocked most of this, but it caused a shallow cut that hurt. Blood started dripping down.

I stepped back and hit the kiosk and slipped. This saved me from another’s jab. The big guy had gotten up and yelled for his accomplices to step back. He took out a knife, balanced it in his hand, and threw it at me. Pain ripped through my left shoulder. Another knife and my right shoulder was pierced. I dropped my own blade as my arm convulsed. He was playing with me. “Dance around. Give me a challenge.”

I snarled something unpleasant about his family and their breeding habits. Some concepts are universal, for he stopped, took careful aim, and threw. Right in the gut.

My vision blurred; I heard noises; I fell unconscious to the ground.

I awoke flat on my back. I tried to get up and escape, but I was tied down. I was in a medical facility. Hoses were dripping things into my body. I hoped everything was proper for a vavacq but if it wasn’t there wasn’t much I could do about it. The medical people wouldn’t have gone to the trouble if they didn’t think it would work. I croaked out some noise. A Lobote came over. “Go back to sleep.” Something cold touched my skin. I went back to sleep.

I woke a number of times and slept a number of times. Once when I woke, the captain was there. “You did a good job saving Lady Susan. Your pay will not be debited for overstaying your leave. Return to duty as soon as possible.” It is nice to be appreciated. I went back to sleep. The medical connections had been removed. The medtech told me I would be able to leave tomorrow. The decks and tables must be getting dirty without me. I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the crew who could perform my tasks to the standards I had set.

I was lying in bed waiting for the medtech to kick me out when Lady Susan, back in ship’s uniform, came in. She looked down on me in my bunk. Whatever she was going to say was going to be difficult. “I was told what happened. There is an obligation between us,” she said. “You are vavacq slime, but there is a bond between us; this is intolerable.” She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that, but her training and culture forced it upon her.

‘Think nothing of it. Glad to have been of help. You must have important work to do.”

“No. If you make light of this, you give no value to my life. This must be resolved; the bond must be severed. Tell me why you did as you did. You did not act as any other of your people would have. I cannot understand this. I would not have done this for you had our roles been reversed.”

“Maybe that’s why I did it. The cycles must be stopped.” That last popped out; I hadn’t intended to say it and I wasn’t quite sure I meant it.

She stared at me. “Of all the aliens I have ever met, you are the most alien of all.”

“I take that as a high compliment,” I said.

She turned and left without another word.

I turned onto my side and something poked me. The medtech must have forgotten to remove all the equipment. I reached down and picked it up. There in my paw was a silvery ring, but there was a break. One end pointed up—searching?