Fugitive (40 page)

   "Do you forgive me for leaving you?" he asked. "I know I promised I wouldn't, but—"

   Drusilla's fingers touched his lips to silence him. "I understand why you did it," she said. "And, yes, I forgive you. I'd have forgiven you even if you never came back, because even if I never saw you again, I'd still love you."

   Manx felt her forgiveness wash over him like a wave. "The whole time I was gone I kept trying to figure out a way to get to Earth and find you. I love you so much, Drusilla. I never want to be parted from you again." He paused for a moment, considering. "Do you have any—I mean, on Zetith, when we mated, it was for life—but other cultures have a ceremony to bond couples together. Do you have something like that on Earth?"

   Drusilla nodded. "We call it a wedding," she replied. "The man asks the woman to marry him, and if she says yes, then they get married. You can have a big wedding or a small one. Everyone does it a little bit differently."

   "Is there any special way the man is supposed to ask the woman?"

   "No, there again, it's a matter of personal preference," she said. "No rules."

   Manx looked at the sky, hoping to discover some thing there to help him find the right words. "Do you see all those stars up there?"

   "Mmhm. Beautiful, aren't they?"

   "Yes, they are, and if every last one of them belonged to me, I'd give them all up for you." Turning to face her, he gazed into her shining eyes. "But I don't have anything. Would you marry a man who has nothing?"

   "No," Drusilla replied. "But I
will
marry
you."

Chapter 22

FOR ONDE IN HIS LIFE, ZEF HAD HAD THE SENSE TO REMAIN silent, and it had given him a front row seat to something he'd never witnessed before. Not sex, necessarily, and not fun and games, but tenderness and love. If he'd had tear ducts, he would have been sobbing. No, he wasn't about to plead with Manx to stay behind; he and Drusilla belonged together, and Barada Seven was home to neither of them. He would miss them both terribly, but he would say good-bye without making a fuss.

   Still, given the eltran need for conversation, he knew his life would probably be shortened when they left. Manx had been a good friend to him—the kind of friend he knew would be nearly impossible to replace. He tried to remember who among the other lake dwellers would be getting voted out soon, but he couldn't come up with one. He had been the eldest of all and any that might come to this lake would probably come too late.

***

Drusilla also knew this would be a problem for Zef, as did Manx, but though she spent as much time by the lake painting as she could, aside from urging him to go back to his old lake, she didn't see that there was much she could do.

   "Wouldn't want to go back there even if they let me," the old eltran said firmly. "They weren't very nice to me."

   "Not everyone around here has been nice to you either," she pointed out.

   "You mean Lester," Zef said. "He doesn't come around that often. Hell, I'd be nicer to him if he didn't treat me like shit. Baradans just don't like eltrans, but, so far, the visitors to the lake house have been from other planets, and I've gotten along with them—well, most of them, anyway."

   Tisana was sunbathing nearby. "I still don't see why they'd throw you out of your old lake, anyway," she put in. "I mean, just because you can't mate anymore doesn't make you useless, does it?"

   "If you were a guy, you wouldn't be asking that ques tion," Zef said with conviction. "Nothing is more impor tant to a male than having a dick that works. Without it, you just don't feel right."

   Tisana and Drusilla exchanged a quick glance, followed by a mutual shrug.

   "But I'm okay with that now," Zef went on, "because if my dick still worked, I wouldn't have met any of you. I wouldn't have met Manx—or Jack—and I wouldn't have missed that for anything."

   Drusilla and Tisana both looked at him questioningly, but it was Drusilla who spoke. "I can understand why you like Manx, but what makes Jack so special?"

   "Expanded my vocabulary!" Zef said proudly. "Thanks to her, I now know over a hundred words for dung and nearly two hundred for semen, not to mention all the words for cock!" Cackling with glee, he added, "Bicho, peter, pinga, hot rod, peenie-bop, love stick, John Thomas, hot tamale, yummydoodle, sword of love… there must be a thousand or more!"

   With that parting shot, Zef waved a ragged fin at them before submerging.

   "Guess everyone needs a hobby," Drusilla commented.

   "And I thought Norludians were strange," Tisana said absently, still gazing at the wake Zef left behind.

   "Norludians?" Drusilla said curiously. "Never met any."

   "You don't want to," said Tisana. "Trust me on that one."

***

Jack had heard of the upcoming marriage of Manx and Drusilla and was at her wit's end trying to decide what planet to have it on. She and Cat had gone back to the ship to contact the other known Zetithians, and though all of them were anxious to attend the ceremony, there were problems.

   She'd been poring over the charts at the ship's navi gation station for some time, but wasn't having any luck. "It can't be here," Jack told Cat firmly, pointing out their position on the star chart. "It's too remote, and Trag can't come if it's on Earth, because he didn't have sense enough to get a job piloting a ship for someone other than an arms dealer."

   "But you like Lerotan," Cat reminded her.

   "Just because I like him doesn't mean the landing authorities on Earth will have anything to do with him," she declared. "Terra Minor is out too, because they can't land there either."

   "There must be some neutral planet," Cat began, leaning over the console to study the chart. "Somewhere in between, perhaps…"

   "Ha! Not one that's safe for Zetithians. Word would get out that you were all in one spot and the damned Nedwuts would start swarming like bees to honey."

   "Jacinth," Cat said gently. "Are you forgetting that this will be
their
wedding?"

   Jack frowned at him. "Are you saying I should mind my own damn business?"

   "Perhaps," he replied.

   "You always say that," she grumbled.

   "Speaking of minding your own business," he began. "There's something I've been wondering about."

   Jack knew that tone of voice and was instantly on her guard. "Uh-oh, you're using contractions, Kittycat," she muttered. "Bad sign. But what do you mean?"

   "You know very well what I mean," he said with an ominous glint in his eyes. "That woman, Tash'dree. She is from Statzeel."

   "Your point?"

   "Why would you not wish to speak with her? Your sister is living on Statzeel; she may have news of her."

   "I don't think that's why she's here," Jack said evasively. Just because this discussion was inevitable didn't make it any easier. Jack hesitated a long moment before letting out a deep sigh. "If I'm right—and I'm pretty sure I am—she and her sister are here to find Manx, but not for the same reason we were."

   "Go on," Cat said, his eyes beginning to glow.

   "Actually, I think she'd settle for Leo," Jack mused. "If she could get him, that is."

   "You believe she is looking for a Zetithian mate?"

   "Not exactly," Jack said, shaking her head. "Do you remember me telling you once that I knew some women who traded semen like other women traded recipes?"

   Cat replied with a nod.

   "And you didn't seem to mind, so—"

"You gave some to them?"

   "Uh-huh," Jack said, nodding grimly. "On Statzeel. I think Tash'dree's people must've gotten hold of it, and unless I miss my guess, they want more."

   "A different bloodline?" Cat suggested.

   "Yeah," Jack replied, running a nervous hand through her short locks. "Which is why they'll want it from Leo or Manx, and I'm not sure the guys will like the idea— and Drusilla and Tisana probably won't either. In fact," she went on blithely, "I'm not sure you would—now that you know about it, I mean."

   Folding his arms over his chest, Cat leaned back against the console, facing his wife. "And did you think I would not guess about the Statzeelian efforts to breed the belligerence out of their males when you mentioned this 'semen trading' to me?"

   "Well, no, I didn't," Jack admitted.

   "Jacinth," he chided gently. "Even
their
males knew of the scheme."

   Jack was incredulous. "And they went along with it?"

   "They went along with more than you might think," he said with a sardonic smile. "They are not quite as stupid as they seem."

   "Yes, but—"

   "They see it as a necessity for their continued survival, just as I see the necessity for there to be other women to bear my children—a necessity which I believe Leo and Manx will see as well." He paused as his expression became earnest. "There are only six of us left, Jacinth. If the Zetithian species is to survive, we must sire many children. Knowing that, I was more than willing to let you give them my seed."

   "But you have children you may never see," Jack protested. "Doesn't that make you mad?"

   "No," Cat replied. "I see it as a privilege."

   Jack sat down heavily in the navigator's seat. "Well, I'll be damned! I never thought—"

   "Jacinth," Cat said, coming closer to stroke her hair, "you never
asked."

***

In the meantime, Drusilla was having her own prob lems. She called Ralph, only to have him beg for more paintings.

   "You
have
been painting, haven't you?" he said, giving her that look he always used when he was trying to be intimidating. It seldom failed to make Drusilla hide a smile because it never worked; he only appeared to be crossing his eyes.

   "Well, yes," she admitted. "Some, but I've been sort of busy since I sent you those last ones."

   "But my dear, they've all been sold! We didn't even have a chance to have you here for a gallery event," he lamented. "They simply flew out of here as though they had wings!"

   If she knew anything about Ralph, she had to assume that they had been some very expensive wings. "I'll bring some more back, I promise," Drusilla said. "It's just that the past week or so has been… eventful."

   "If it has anything to do with that ravishing creature you've been painting portraits of, I can see why you'd be busy," Ralph said with a titter. "You wouldn't tell me before, but who
is
he, and where in the galactic haze did you find him?"

   "Right here on Barada Seven," Drusilla replied. "Waiting for me in the jungle."

   "How romantic!" Ralph sighed. "But wait, didn't you say he was gone?"

   "He came back," she said simply.

   "Oh, then there
is
a romance, isn't there?"

   "You could say that," Drusilla said. "We're getting married."

   "Oh, my dear! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" He paused for a moment before adding accusingly, "You
are coming back home for the wedding, aren't you?"

   Drusilla had known that as soon as Ralph heard about the upcoming marriage, he'd want to be in on the planning—and would probably take over the entire event. "Well, it's been hard to decide. There are extenu ating circumstances."

   "You're pregnant?"

   "Well, no, but there are some people who want to come to the wedding who can't land on Earth—or any of its colonies, either."

   "Hmm, now, that's a problem," Ralph agreed, tapping his elegant chin. "I could do some checking…"

   "Not that I care one way or the other, myself," Drusilla went on. "We'll be coming back to Earth to live, anyway, but—"

   "Tell me again just
why
Earth is out?"

   "Well, one of the guys is a pilot for some gun runners, and he can't come to Earth. There's another one who lives—well, is
based
on Darconia, but—"

   "Darconia?" Ralph said scathingly. "Darconia! Why, that's positively dreadful! It's so… remote!"

   "Hey, at least you've heard of it," Drusilla muttered,

"which is more than I can say for myself. Anyway, there's another family on Terra Minor, but they have a farm and animals and such and really can't leave—not for long, anyway."

   "And just who are these people?" Ralph demanded. "And why do they have so much say in the matter?"

   "It's not so much that they have a say," Drusilla replied. "It's more that they're the closest thing to family that Manx has, and—"

   "His name is
Manx?"
Ralph exclaimed. "Oh, my heavens, how positively fabulous! Masculine, feline, exotic, and—"

   "That'll do, Ralph," Drusilla said. "And yes, he's all of those things, but—"

   "Oh, please tell me you aren't changing your name— are you?" Ralph said suddenly. "I mean, just
think
of all those paintings you've signed and—"

   "His last name is Panteris," Drusilla said. "Manxarkodrath Panteris."

   "Hmm… Manxarkodrath Panteris. Drusilla Panteris," Ralph said, letting the names roll off his tongue. "D'you know, I do believe it's better than Chevrault," he remarked. "Has a nice ring to it."

   "I'm
so
glad you approve."

   "I've never seen the way you write your P's, though," Ralph went on, oblivious to her sarcasm. "We may have to work on that. Your C's are so elegant."

   "I'm sure I can do an elegant P, Ralph. If not, I'm sure you can coach me."

   Ralph's expression suddenly changed from thoughtful to horrified. "Your dress!" he exclaimed. "You haven't chosen one yet, have you?"

   Drusilla burst out laughing. "Ralph, he just asked me a few days ago, and you know there are no dress shops on Barada. The men only wear shorts and the females wear shorts with a little scarf thingy around their upper body."

   "That's
all?"

   "All I've seen so far," Drusilla replied. "Not a wedding dress on the whole damn planet."

   "Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Ralph with a shudder. "I know how you tend to dress, and I just—"