Westrons Pt. 03

Bia pretty much used me as a sex toy, so I felt no guilt about fucking her near-hairless pussy and pinching one of her rock-hard little nipples while Long sat on her face and twisted the other nipple.

Long was more of a fuck-buddy, so I leaned forwards to kiss her and play with her breasts. That seemed to do the trick for her, as she gasped into my mouth, and came all over Bia's face.

That led to some changing of positions, as Long knelt between Bia's knees and went down on her, while I stood behind the MedTech and slid into her juicy depths.

- "Oh yeah - hard." said Bia. "Fuck her hard!" I wasn't sure whether to take Bia's word for it, but when Long started thrusting her butt back at me, trying to impale herself on my rod, I decided that they knew each other's preferences well enough.

I gave Long a thorough pounding, and then pulled out at the last second and sprayed my load all over her back and her ass.

They wanted more, after that. I did my best to give it to them.

The next morning, I felt ... odd. Physically, I was in good shape. But I was beginning to think about what the future held for me. It may sound strange, I suppose, after a wild threesome - my first.

I wondered whether there would be human women in the 'Consulate of Pylos'. Would they be interested in me? Would they already be attached?

From what I'd seen of Westron females, they were probably sexually compatible with humans; it was unlikely, though, that they would want a Pylosian anywhere near them when they went into hemmer.

In that case, I should enjoy every opportunity that Bia and Long were prepared to grant me for recreational sex. Only ... that was the problem. It was purely physical.

It just didn't compare with what I'd had with Vanova, only two months ago. Well ... three years - I'd been asleep for most of that time. My class at AFOTA would have graduated.

I didn't have to worry about it for very long. There's no worrying in stasis.

***

Two months later (the next day, for me), Long surprised me. She wanted to play bridge, that evening, of course, but she also asked if I wanted to have dinner with her beforehand.

- "Dinner?" I raised an eyebrow. That was unlike her. Long was usually only interested in cards and fucking. Plus, there was Grady ...

- "Grady can wait." she said. "We have five more years together. But you're only here for the next year. Well, ten days, for you."

- "And?"

- "And ... I like you. It's not that complicated, Cook. We have dinner, play cards ... and you spend the night." She spread her arms wide. "What's not to like?"

- "I don't know. I might have other plans."

Neither of us could hold it in: we both burst out laughing.

***

I learned the history of all three kingdoms: Westron, Crolian, and Penchen. The Penchen were ... odd. They were completely asexual. That is, they had no genders at all, until hemmer somehow occurred, and a baby Penchen was produced.

The fourth species, the Woles, had never had a realm of their own. They seemed happy to exist as a mercantile, artisan sub-class in the other Kingdoms. The Woles were physically smaller, with prominent ears. There was no intermarriage, or interbreeding between them and the other species.

The Woles and Penchen were omnivorous, but the Westrons and Crolians were primarily carnivores.

I got a stark reminder of just how alien this planet was going to be. I watched a video of a battle between Westrons and Crolians. The colourful uniforms, the batteries of cannons, and the linear formations, especially, looked very Frederickian.

Except that after the battle, some of the victorious troops began to eat the enemy dead.

Raw.

***

Information about CW144 and its sentient species, their languages and cultures, continued to pour into my head. Flora and fauna, weather patterns, and a thousand other details which I might never need to recall - but I learned them anyway.

Bia was a little frosty the next time she pulled me out of stasis. Long was perfectly normal, cheerful and peppy as she did my medical tests.

- "She'll get over it." she said.

- "Bia?"

- "Yeah. I told her that you'd be with me."

- "Did you, now?"

- "I was thinking dinner, cards, and then maybe ... a little exercise for you." Long winked at me, and smiled. "If that wasn't too presumptuous of me ..."

- "No," I said, "just presumptuous enough."

***

Long continued to happily offer me sex, while probably still sleeping with most of her crew members, and probably the other stasis passengers as well.

Yet she became more important to me. Her good humour, her enthusiasm, and yes ... those traits carried over into our physical relationship. She was kind to me, too.

I was beginning to understand myself best of all. When I was on AFOTA's shit list, I needed a refuge - and Vanova supplied it. She was a rock for me.

Now on my way to an uncertain future, in an alien land, I was looking for someone to cling to. Who knows: Long may have understood it better than I did.

***

Long threw me a going-away party, which involved (surprise, surprise) anal sex.

***

My final year on the Halygon seemed to go by more quickly. On my last time out of stasis, before our arrival, Long cried after sex.

- "I'm going to miss y-y-you!"

The next morning, she was more practical: she asked if there was anything I needed, or wanted.

- "A good boot knife would be nice." I said. Martial arts are useful, but there's no substitute for a concealed weapon.

- "I'm sorry, but I can't do that." she said.

- "That's alright."

- "Come here - give us a hug." she said.

For the first time, Long just embraced me. It wasn't a prelude to sex. As her arms went around my neck, I felt her lips brush my ear.

"Careful." she whispered. "Don't trust your guides. They watched all the security vids."

***

There were video and audio recording devices all over the ship. That's what Long was trying to tell me. It took me a few days to figure out why that was significant.

The Halygon landed on a bare, rocky islet in the Northern sea. We transferred, by rowboat, to a small two-masted sailing ship, which I instantly recognized as a lugger. With me were the two other passengers who'd been in stasis at the same time as me.

They introduced themselves, but I soon came to think of them as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Rosencrantz, the darker of the two, told me that he'd be the new Head of Security at our 'Pylosian Consulate'. Guildenstern, who smiled frequently, but never said anything, was to be an Intelligence Officer.

- "Any idea what I'm going to be?" I asked.

- "Assistant Military Attache, I imagine." said Rosencrantz. Guildenstern smiled and nodded.

That's what helped me figure out what Long was warning me about.

If Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were going to be working at the same consulate with me, why couldn't I meet them aboard the Halygon?

They came out of stasis at different times. That might have made sense, for some medical reason unknown to me. But why had none of the crew ever spoken to me about them? Why the hush-hush?

This secrecy didn't seem to work both ways. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern knew who I was, and where I was going. The three of us, with three more humans, were to be the crew of the lugger. We sailed her for two weeks, due southeast, towards the Westron Kingdom.

I was given a linen shirt, baggy canvas shorts that were wide open at the knee (called slops), rough stockings and shoes. Clothing for when we landed was stowed in my sea chest. They also let me have a knife.

We worked the ship ourselves, so I was glad of the extra studying I'd done in Sleepread. The others were a bit surprised at my proficiency. They'd expected to have to teach a landlubber.

Instead, I had a bit of time to think. I registered the slightly different gravity, the warm daytime temperatures and the cool nights, with so many unfamiliar stars and two moons.

But I was far more interested in my companions, and their odd behavior.

- "Nice to get off that ship - the Halygon, I mean." said Rosencrantz. "Can't complain about the crew, though. Well, the females, at least."

Guildenstern smiled, and nodded.

"You have any luck with them, Cook?" said Rosencrantz.

- "Some."

- "Fucked all three of them, myself. That pilot: a bit ugly, really, but what a body! Great tits, too."

I didn't react, other than to say "I wouldn't know." But Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were watching my response very carefully - while trying to make it look like they weren't.

They watched the security vids, Long had said. There were audio and video devices all over the Halygon. My two companions had probably gone over all the recordings. Everything I'd said, everything I'd done - they'd watched and listened.

They didn't want me to know. That's why the rest of the crew were sworn to secrecy, and never said a word about the other passengers aboard. There was no way that this was Standard Operating Procedure.

Don't trust your guides.

***

- "We'll find a riverboat to take us to the capital." said Rosencrantz. "Much faster and more comfortable that way."

Frenet was a port town, with a modest harbour. It was here that I saw my first Westrons. I'd seen them in hundreds (or even thousands) of vids, but I still wasn't quite prepared for the real thing. Or for the real people, I should say.

That was my first impression. Facially, they were virtually the same as us. They wore their hair longer, and in different styles, but it was the colours that amazed me. Bright white. Light green. Scarlet. Even the browns and blacks were brighter, more striking than anything I'd ever seen.

And then ... their feet. Just when I began to think of them as humans with bright hair, wearing costumes from the 1700s, I'd look down and see those rabbit or cat legs. Some even made me think of kangaroos.

I remember other first impressions: the brightly painted houses, in pastel shades of blue and red, and the thick doormats, with a bucket of water and a towel on a peg, so that guests could wash their feet before entering. I even knew the Westron word for these buckets: cubel.

I saw Woles, too, going about their business. They had shorter and rounder bodies, with nearly hairless heads and grey or light brown skin. They seemed to be everywhere, and yet to pass unnoticed, quietly going about their business.

Culture shock. There's no accounting for when it'll strike. For some reason, I'd been fine on the lugger. But now ... I was utterly bewildered.

I should have been more attentive. I should have ... lots of things.

While I was taking in all of these new sights, and sounds, and smells ... I failed to notice that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were gone.

I snatched up my sea chest, and ran back towards the dock where our lugger had been. They were already a hundred yards away.

There was no way to get back aboard - I knew that for a certainty. No rowboat could catch them. I had no money, no rank to pull, so I couldn't convince a fishing boat to go after them.

And even if I caught up - then what?

They weren't about to take me anywhere I wanted to go - not after going to so much trouble to leave me here.

I wasn't just exiled. I was marooned.

***

I didn't stand around, wondering why they'd done this to me. It was obvious enough that Colonel Pelek and AFOTA had a longer reach than I could ever have imagined. They'd called in some favors, and dumped me on an alien shore.

Why hadn't they just cut my throat on the lugger, and dumped me overboard? For that matter, why bother letting me out of the stasis tank at all? Questions without answers, and all secondary to my immediate problem.

The only thing I could think of was to get to Cercen, the Westron capital, and find the Pylosian Consulate. The language was no barrier, and I understood the customs well enough to get along (at least, I hoped so).

Money was a problem. I had none.

I found a Wole who would trade. I sold him (or her - I didn't know how to tell) my tricorne hat, my sash, and my best shirt. Then I sold my smallsword, keeping only a knife. Finally I sold the sea chest as well.

That left me with a spare shirt, a second pair of breeches and stockings, and - the Wole assured me - just enough money to pay my passage to Cercen.

The first boatmen I approached agreed to take me. They were male Westrons. I only gave them half of my money up front, promising the rest on arrival. They were, surprisingly, only mildly curious about me.

- "Are you a Penchen?" one asked.

- "No. Pylosian."

The two boatmen looked at each other, clearly confused.

"Like a Penchen." I said.

- "Ah!" they both said.

Their boat had a small sail, but the main means of getting upstream seemed to depend on strings of oxen towing us. There were no horses at all on this planet, but four species of ox: one small, two medium, and one very large - like these.

The boatmen were strong enough, I saw. They just weren't particularly bright. For one thing, they didn't ask anything else about who I was, or where I was going.

For another, they tried to rob me, the second night. Bad move. I took the first idiot down with a wristlock; the sight of my knife was enough for his companion to pull back.

The next morning, I made them give me my money back, and then deposit me on the riverbank.

I found the rutted track which passed for the Great Road, and tried to hitch a ride. My second attempt was successful; a kindly Wole let me ride on the back of his/her ox-wagon. It was happy enough when I offered to pay for our evening meal.

This particular Wole, named Lebuc, was more inquisitive; when dealing with other species, the Woles preferred to ask questions than to answer them. But I couldn't complain about how Lebuc treated me. He/she/It was courteous, pleasant, and went out of its way to be helpful.

The Wole was short, and round, with very short legs. It had a pudgy face, with overlarge teeth, and a comical little mustache. For some reason, it made me think of characters from The Wind in the Willows.

Lebuc was only going halfway to the capital, but imposed on another Wole to take me the rest of the way. He/she/It didn't protest, though, when I offered it half of my money.

It took me three weeks to reach Cercen.

By that time, I was growing more acclimated to the 18th century, as I thought of it. The nights were incredibly dark, out in the countryside. On a clear night, the moons and the stars provided some illumination, but it wasn't wise to venture too far from the wagon.

I picked up some interesting gossip along the way: the Westron Queen was sick, and war was brewing. The Crolians sensed an opportunity, and many thought they could declare war any day. In the Spring, said some.

Cercen looked much like the pictures I'd seen. It was a bustling city of almost 120,00 souls. That may not sound like much, in our day and age, but on Earth, in 1700, Cercen would have been one of the three largest cities in Europe.

I was struck again by the brightly painted houses, and the wide variety of shapes and sizes of Westrons - and the wild colours of their hair.

Ten minutes walk brought me to some kind of public square, with a fountain. I noticed three soldiers (female), guarding a building. Thinking that they might know what I was looking for, I approached them.

- "Greetings, Corporal." I said. Sleepread was so good, I recognized the insignia that differentiated her from the other two soldiers. "Could you direct me to the Pylosian Consulate?"

- "The Pylosian ... Consulate?" she said. "There hasn't been a consulate here ... these fifteen years."

*****