Alien Sex полностью

Etan swallowed. “Yes. I did.”

“Liar.”

All right, Etan thought. Enough was too much. “I don’t know what transport services you work for, but I’ll find out. They ought to know about you.”

“Yeah? What should they know—that I make free repairs at the bidding of an alien hairball?” The navigator grinned bitterly.

“No.” Etan’s voice was quiet. “They should know that maybe you’ve been working too long and too hard for aliens.” His eyes swiveled apologetically to the creature. “Not that I mean to offend—”

“Forget it. It doesn’t understand a goddam word.”

“Then why did you want me to talk to it?”

“Because I understand. We’re attuned. On several frequencies, mind you, one for every glorious mood it might have. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Etan shook his head. “You need help.”

“Fuck if I do. Now finish your thanks and start thinking up some more things to say.”

The bread-and-flowers aroma intensified until Etan’s nerves were standing on end. His heart pounded ferociously, and he wondered if a smell could induce cardiac arrest.

“I think I’ve finished thanking your employer.” He looked directly at the creature. “And that’s all I have to say. Under more pleasant circumstances, I might have talked my head off. Sorry.” He started to get up.

The navigator moved quickly for someone who was supposed to be drunk. Etan found himself pinned against the back of the seat before he realized that the man wasn’t jumping up to open the door. For a moment, he stared into the navigator’s flushed face, not quite believing.

“Talk,” the navigator said softly, almost gently. “Just talk. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

Etan tried heaving himself upward to throw them both off the seat and onto the floor, but the navigator had him too securely. “Help!” he bellowed. “Somebody help me!”

“Okay, yell for help. That’s good, too,” said the navigator, smiling. They began to slide down on the seat together with Etan on the bottom. “Go ahead. Yell all you want.”

“Let me up and I won’t report you.”

“I’m sure I can believe that.” The navigator laughed. “Tell us a whole fairy story now.”

“Let me go or I swear to Christ I’ll kill you and that furry shit you work for.”

“What?” the navigator asked, leaning on him a little harder. “What was that, sir?”

“Let me go or I’ll fucking kill you!”

Something in the air seemed to break, as though a circuit had been completed or some sort of energy discharged. Etan sniffed. The bread-and-flowers aroma had changed, more flowers, less bread, and much weaker, dissipating in the ventilation before he could get more than a whiff.

The navigator pushed himself off Etan and plumped down heavily on the seat across from him again. Etan held still, looking first at the man rubbing his face with both hands and then turning his head so he could see the creature sliding down behind the cushion. We scared it, he thought, horrified. Bad enough to make it hide under the seat.

“Sir.”

Etan jumped. The navigator was holding a fistful of currency out to him. The denominations made him blink.

“It’s yours, sir. Take it. You can go now.”

Etan pulled himself up. “What the hell do you mean, it’s mine?”

“Please, sir.” The navigator pressed one hand over his left eye. “If you’re going to talk anymore, please step outside.”

“Step outs—” Etan slapped the man’s hand away and lunged for the door.

“Wait!” called the navigator, and in spite of everything, Etan obeyed. The navigator climbed out of the transport clumsily, still covering his eye, the other hand offering the currency. “Please, sir. You haven’t been hurt. You have a repaired vehicle, more than a little pocket money here—you’ve come out ahead if you think about it.”

Etan laughed weakly. “I can’t believe this.”

“Just take the money, sir. My employer wants you to have it.” The navigator winced and massaged his eye some more. “Purely psychosomatic,” he said, as though Etan had asked. “The implant is painless and causes no damage, no matter how intense the exchange between species. But please lower your voice, sir. My employer can still feel your sound, and he’s quite done with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The money is yours from my employer,” the navigator said patiently. “My employer loves people. We discussed that earlier. Loves them. Especially their voices.”

“So?” Etan crossed his arms. The navigator leaned over and stuffed the money between Etan’s forearms.

“Perhaps you remember what else we were discussing. I really have no wish to remind you, sir.”

“So? What’s all that stuff about gender—what’s that got to do with…” Etan’s voice died away.

“Human voices,” the navigator said. “No speech where they come from. And we’re so new and different to them. This one’s been here only a few weeks. Its preference happens to be that of a man speaking from fear and anger, something you can’t fake.”

Etan took a step back from the man, unfolding his arms and letting the money fall to the ground, thinking of the implant, the man feeling whatever the creature felt.