Westrons Pt. 03

Thanks for reading this far. From here on, you may start to notice traces of H. Beam Piper and Ursula K. LeGuin - those are intentional, by way of homage.

Thanks again to Kaereni and Iriad, for continuing to provide me with constructive criticism. You may find some errors and omissions, but the next few chapters are much better than they would have been thanks to those two.

***

Halygon ships have come a long way. The journey to CW144 would take just under 4 years - during which I would age approximately 48 days.

The crew of six (pilots and stasis techs) would be well paid for their 8 years in space. They could gain another University degree (or two) at the same time. Meanwhile, I would spend most of my time in a Stasis tank, learning everything there was to know about my destination, thanks to the magic of Sleepread.

Every sixty days, the stasis techs would awaken me, and put me through a series of mental and physical exercises. Two days out of the tank, walking and talking, and then back into 'the can'.

It was my first time in stasis. I'd heard it described as being similar to a coma, but for me it was more like a dream-filled sleep. I was aware, in a very confused way, of the information being pumped into my head. Meanwhile, my muscles were electrically stimulated to prevent atrophy.

My destination was the Westron Kingdom of planet CW144. The 'C' indicated that it was a pre-industrial world; the 'W' meant that its inhabitants were unaware that they'd been contacted by an advanced civilization - us.

Their technology seemed similar to Earth's 17th and 18th centuries C.E.. The governments were aristocratic monarchies, and 80% of the population lived in rural zones. Vast estates, hunting and drinking, arranged marriages ... the information kept pouring into my skull.

Waistcoats, muzzle-loading muskets, no horses ... enatic succession - meaning that only women inherited. A ruling Queen, then, rather than a King.

Four main species, on the continent I was headed for, all of them mostly humanoid in appearance - but with significant differences.

The Westrons, for example, were bipedal, but their feet were digitigrade. That is, they walked on their toes, and the bones of their feet seemed to be part of their lower leg (think of a rabbit, or a cat). They were capable of walking very precisely, but also could summon sudden bursts of speed.

I studied the films (taken secretly, by our agents). The Westrons looked quite human, to me, once I got past the strange feet. There were other differences: heart rate, body temperature, gestation period ...

They seemed to range between 4 1/2 and 6 1/2 feet in height, and 80 to 180 pounds in weight. There were a bewildering variety of facial structures and colouring. Viewed in close-up, those faces looked remarkably human. That impression was only reinforced by their clothing, which made them look like extras in a movie about Catherine the Great.

Except for the feet. And the hair colour.

The first few times I was taken out of stasis were mildly disorienting.

- "You'll get used to it." said the stasistech, a woman named Bia. "Feeling a little nauseous?"

- "Yeah."

- "That goes away."

Truth be told, I felt like shit. Nausea and dizziness were only part of it. When I came out of stasis, I remembered where I was ... and everything else.

I was on my way into exile. My military career was, in all likelihood, over before it began. And ... I'd lost Vanova.

Our relationship would never have been permanent. I knew that. But we could've had another 2 years together. Pelek and his staff had robbed us of those years.

Out of the tank, the crew fed me solid food, and supervised my exercise periods. One of the pilots, Grady, offered to spar with me, but he wasn't in my league - it was a bit like tai chi with contact.

Round about my 5th time out of stasis, the grogginess disappeared more quickly, and I had a bit more of an appetite. I also took more note of my surroundings, and began to ask questions.

The crewmed was named Long, which brought a smile to my lips - and to hers. She was a roly-poly little thing, of Asian heritage, barely 5' tall.

- "Yeah, yeah." she said. "Thanks for not making the standard joke. Only heard it 'bout 3 million times."

- "I wasn't going to say anything."

- "Sure, sure." she laughed. Long ran all the medical tests on me, and told me I was doing well. "Lots of fractures, there, Cook. You clumsy, or just unlucky?"

There were two other stasis 'passengers' on board, but I never met them, nor would the crew tell me anything about them.

***

CW144 had slightly lower gravity, confusing tides (thanks to two moons, one considerably larger than the other), warm days and cool nights for most of the year, with short vernal and autumnal seasons, and a surprisingly cold winter in between.

But I was far more interested in the inhabitants.

Westrons were unlike humans in another sense: they were basically asexual. That is, they had little or no interest in sex - until the females went into estrus. They called it hemmer, and it changed everything.

Females in hemmer gave off distinct pheromone-based odors and showed visible signs of their arousal. 'Horny' doesn't even begin to describe it; they were like cats in heat, some of them mewling and even yowling.

The males were particularly susceptible to all three types of display: aural, visual, and olfactory. The impact on them went beyond anything I'd ever heard of, or seen. That's right; our agents had collected video evidence.

Male Westrons would crawl over broken glass, naked, to get to a female in hemmer. They would fight over her, injuring other males - and sometimes the female - in their frantic rush to be the first to mount her.

Business would stop, workmen dropped their tools, and there would be a mad stampede of berserk males towards the female. It was chaotic. Insane. How did these people get anything done?

The females, apparently, could sense the onset of their hemmer up to 2 weeks in advance. Unmarried women could be sequestered, away from the males of their family - or any males. They had the equivalent of hunting lodges, well outside their villages, where she could be isolated for the 2-3 days that her estrus lasted.

Married women could prepare as well, to ensure that only their husbands had access to them. Of course, there were ... accidents.

For that reason, Westrons didn't worry overmuch about the paternity of children. There was no stigma attached to illegitimacy. The Queen herself had children by several different fathers.

Bizarre. But that was just the beginning.

The Battle of Schonden, over 150 years before, had caused massive social and political change. At that time, Westron armies were entirely male, as they are generally taller and heavier than the females.

They were at war with their traditional enemies, the Crolians. Crolians were also humanoid and bipedal, but larger and heavier than Westrons, with bigger heads and considerably more body hair, or fur.

At Schonden, the Crolians released several dozen Westron prisoners - all female, and all in hemmer - just before the battle.

A dirty trick. It worked to perfection. The Westron army simply disintegrated as several thousand males went berserk, dropped their weapons, and fought each other to get at the females. The Crolians slaughtered them.

Since then, Westron armies were entirely female. They lost that war, but reorganized their military - and their society.

In a more recent battle, the Crolians tried releasing male prisoners in front of the Westron army (assuming that some of the females had to be in hemmer). The males charged their countrywomen, in a mating frenzy.

The females shot them down.

***

"Here we go." said Bia, giving me a hand out of the tank. "Wow - what did they have you watching this time?"

- "What?" I was still a little dizzy, and disoriented.

She pointed at my erection, standing long and proud. I was naked in the tank, of course, except for the helmet that kept the fluids out of my mouth, nose, and ears. Bia didn't seem at all embarrassed.

- "If it's still like that later tonight," she said, "you bring it by my room."

- "Oh." I was a little slow on the uptake. "You're not ...?"

- "Involved with one of the other crewmembers?" she said. "Cook, this is your 9th time out of the tank. We've been in transit for the past year and a half."

"There've been some ... hookups - let's put it that way. But I'm free tonight."

MedTech Long was even more forthcoming when I talked to her as she examined me. I asked her if sexual activity was okay, immediately after a session in stasis.

- "Sure it is." she smiled. "No problem, at this stage. Probably a good thing, in fact. Everything should be in working order." Then she grinned. "Bia got to you first, did she?"

- "Umm ..."

- "No need to be shy. Everybody knows everybody else's business, with a crew this small. I've been with two of the guys, and with Bia, too. That was only a couple of times, but it was fun."

- "Only two of the men?"

- "Well, I'm making Grady wait. He's going to have to earn it."

I went by Bia's room later that evening. The crew had spacious, even luxurious quarters. That was only fair, because they'd be spending so many years aboard ship.

Bia smiled when she saw me. There was no pretense that I was there for anything more than some sexual activity - a change from her regular diet, I suppose. As for me, it was the first time ... since Vanova. It was odd, though, to think that it was over a year and half ago, for Vanova, but less than two months for me.

Bia had a lovely face; she was of mixed oriental heritage. The body she revealed, though, was ... a surprise. She was very nearly flat-chested, with very small, very hard nipples. Her hips were not much wider than her waist, and her ass was very nearly as flat as her chest.

She also had ... a curious approach to sex. She simply lay down, on her back, and spread her legs. The expression on her face seemed to say: "C'mon - we haven't got all night here."

It was just a fuck. No emotional involvement. Physical recreation, no more. She didn't protest when I went down on her, but she didn't seem to enjoy it all that much, either.

She was much more active when I penetrated her, gyrating and humping against me. She kept up a steady stream of dirty talk, which may have helped her, but did little for me.

It was a satisfactory fuck, for Bia: I lasted a long time, and she reached orgasm well before I did.

***

Westron women wore the pants in their families - literally. Males wore trousers, too, but they were as likely to wear a sort of kilt (more practical, for the genitalia in question, if you think about it - for both genders).

The males, barred from the military, had taken over farming, hunting, and the manufacturing trades.

I learned their language while in stasis, too. In fact, I absorbed all four major languages, but with a hint of an accent, so that it wouldn't surprise anyone who heard me that I spoke their tongue too well.

There was even more information on hemmer. Westron females had highly unpredictable rhythms. Most went into heat every 12-18 months, but there were some who experienced hemmer only three to four times in their lifespan.

Some women were exceptional, and could go into heat several times a year, year after year. These females, of course, were a source of endless fascination to the rest of the population. There were songs and stories about them.

While their hemmer lasted, females produced vaginal secretions which lubricated them sufficiently that they could have intercourse repeatedly - for up to 2 or 3 days - without apparent discomfort for them or their male partners.

It was uncertain whether it was these secretions, or a combination of odours and chemicals which so aroused the males as well as the females.

The most interesting thing about hemmer, to me, was no one seemed to know for sure what set it off.

***

Bia was cool and professional, the next time she helped me out of the tank. Of course, for her, it was two months since we'd slept together.

Long was much friendlier. "Hey - would you be interested in playing bridge with us tonight? I mean ... Bia won't be free. She's with ... Grady."

- "Sorry, Long. I never learned. I don't know how to play bridge." I said.

- "Sure you do." she said, with a big grin.

She was right. When I thought about it, I DID know how to play.

"I added a bridge program to your Sleepread. Hope you don't mind." Long giggled, and flashed me a big smile.

- "No, I don't mind. I'm curious, though: you aren't ... upset, that Bia and Grady ..."

- "Heck, no! I told you - I'm making Grady wait. I've got years to work with. So ... about the bridge?"

- "Why not?" I said.

We made a foursome with Apan, the navigator, and Orsha, the Pilot. She was a homely woman, of indeterminate age, but very competitive when it came to cards.

Long was charming, funny, and made sure that everyone had as good a time as possible. She loved the game, and wanted to talk about every hand, and every bid. It was quite strange to be able not only to follow the conversation, but to participate as an (almost) equal.

We played for several hours. Apan and Orsha said goodnight, and left together, but they didn't seem particularly close.

- "Are they ...?" I wondered.

- "Oh, no." said Long. "Last year - but only for a little while. Then Apan went with Bia. I don't think Orsha was too happy about that."

- "Interesting."

- "I know." said Long. "Hey, listen - if you're just going back to your cubicle, to sleep ... you know, you could stay here. I'd really like to suck your cock."

Obviously, Long was just as forward as Bia. But it wasn't as though I had plans for the next day.

- "That sounds very nice." I said. "Though I think I'd prefer a 69."

- "Ooh - I had a feeling I'd like you."

Long was nothing like Bia. She wasn't as pretty, for certain, but she was much more lively, and more fun. She was a short, plump little ball of energy, with floppy C cup tits, and a fleshy ass. She was enthusiastic about everything she did, including trying to deep throat me.

She was recreational fucking at its finest. Uncomplicated, but fun. After we'd brought each other off orally, she insisted that we had to fuck, and dedicated herself to restoring my erection, with her hands, and her ass, as she gave me a modified lap dance.

Long got her wish, as I pinned her to her mattress and fucked her into submission.

Afterwards, I asked the question I'd been thinking about all evening.

- "Say, Long: if you could add bridge to my program, would it be possible to add other things?"

- "You bet." she said. "If you're willing to fuck me next time you're out, I'll program anything you want."

***

Our cover on CW144 (that is, the story behind human presence in the Westron Kingdom), was that we represented the Republic of Pylos, a fictional maritime trading state, ruled by an oligarchy of wealthy families.

It was obviously copied from Human Venice, or Genoa, at a time when Earth's technology was roughly commensurate with that of our hosts.

Pylos was, supposedly, very remote - a minor naval power, with a much larger trading presence. Westron ship technology was not very well developed. For one thing, they lacked a good, sheltered, deep-water harbour. Their coasts were inhospitable.

Westrons loved fish, and they were good coastal sailors and fishermen. The open ocean, though, terrified them.

They were also remarkably insular. Like the Mughal Empire of India, or the Chinese Empire, they weren't all that interested in exploring their planet, or making contact outside their borders. "Let them come to us" seemed to be their attitude.

There were an incredible number of minor details which stuck with me; I have no idea why. For example, Westrons didn't sweat. They panted, like canines, when overheated. But whenever a fact like that made me think of them as animals, I would see a video, or read a story, which suggested that their civilization was incredibly complex and sophisticated.

Long came through for me: she'd added multiple texts on sailing and navigation to my program. If I was going to pretend to be a Pylosian, it wouldn't hurt to know something about ships and the sea.

She also found me plenty of anthropological studies, and tons of military history sources, covering the mid-18th century. Frederick the Great, the Seven Years War, Marshal Saxe ... I soaked it all up.

When I emerged from the tank, 2 months later, Long wanted to play bridge - this time with Orsha and Grady. But she also wanted to know if I was happy with the material she'd loaded into the program for me.

- "Very happy." I told her. "So much so, I want to thank you by eating your ass, and then fucking it. I suspect you'd like that, since you also loaded those anal sex vids into my Sleepread."

- "Guilty." she said, with a big smile.

***

Two months later, Long surprised me. There was a bridge game, but we ... switched partners. I would be paired with Orsha, while Long's partner would be Grady.

- "Oh? Things are ... moving in the right direction, there?" I asked.

- "Yeah, he's coming along." said Long, with a big grin. "You're not ... mad at me?"

- "I'm happy for you." I told her, truthfully. Emerging from my stasis cocoon every 60 days, I felt like the crew's long-distance friend - their clueless friend. I had no idea what kind of things happened while I was in the tank. Friendships shifted, relationships ended and began ...

There were other stasis passengers, whom I knew nothing about. I was a regular diversion - no more.

- "I'm glad." said Long. "But if there's anything I can do for you ..."

There was. I had Long load a ton more information into my programs: Earth History, 17th century, military history, with an emphasis on the Napoleonic period, and a dozen other subjects.

- "You can lighten up on the anal sex vids, though." I told her.

***

Like clockwork, I emerged from the tank every two months. Bia remained strictly professional; I couldn't tell if I'd done something to offend her, other than not asking for a repeat of our first sexual encounter.

Long would collect me, and talk my ear off as she ran through all of my physical tests. Then she would make sure I ate well, before dragging me off to another bridge game - the girl was addicted.

She and Grady seemed happy enough together. On the positive side, it wasn't something that I worried about. I couldn't have thought about it, while in stasis, even if I wanted to.

The next time I emerged from the tank, both Bia and Long were there to help me.

- "Congratulations!" said Long, with a big smile. "It's your 18th - you're three quarters of the way there!"

That was a sobering thought; I'd been in and out of the tank for three years. For me, though, it'd felt like 36 days.

- "We're having a party." said Bia. "And you're invited."

- "'Course he is." said Long. "He's the guest of honor!"

The party was in Bia's room, and there were only three of us there. The two women began to strip. A threesome, for my third anniversary?

- "Umm ... Grady?" I asked.

- "He won't mind." said Long. "I keep him happy."

Bia took up her customary position: on her back, with her legs spread obscenely wide. Long climbed onto the bed, and straddled her face, facing Bia's feet. Long then gestured to me, inviting me to come closer.

I stood beside her, and she took me in her mouth. Bia slurped away at her pussy and I fondled Long's dangling breast as she sucked on me. When I was fully erect, and sloppy with her saliva, she directed me between Bia's legs.