Message-ID: <43304asstr$1057756207@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: PJcocoa@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: <1c4.c2237d9.2c37846c@aol.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2003 21:31:24 EDT Subject: {ASSM} {Pirates} Pirates of the Carob Bean by Gary Jordan [3/3] (ScFi, nosex) Date: Wed, 9 Jul 2003 09:10:07 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw (Part 3) Gyra knew she was no diplomat, but somehow she must convince this Captain Indigo to... if not embrace her course of action, at least accept it. And from the redness of her face, the pulsing of that vein in her throat, the merchant captain was not predisposed to agree. Still... When Captain Indigo opened the tin of confections, Gyra had half expected a concealed weapon. She had not expected the nearly instant calming effect the treat had caused in the merchant skipper's demeanor. And that half moan-half sigh had sounded - and looked - almost sexual. Curiosity overcame her. "May I..." Indigo opened her eyes, startled. "Oh, of course! I should have offered. Let me..." She looked at Gyra, head cocked slightly, considering. "What's your favorite chocolate?" "I've never had the pleasure," Gyra replied. Until she'd seen the look on Captain Indigo's face, she'd never noticed its absence, either. Captain Indigo smiled back at her. "A chocolate virgin, eh? In that case, I think..." she looked through the top layer of the tin, then chose a foil-wrapped bite-sized selection. "This seems appropriate, although your first introduction to chocolate should really be undiluted by other things. Later, when my crewmen are brought to join us, they have bricks of pure dark chocolate. But these cordials are quite good." This diversion into epicurian delights was welcome only insofar as it dissolved the tension of just minutes before, and Gyra dreaded returning to that discussion. But she knew she had to, or her crew's fate was sealed. She'd politely taste the candy, then carefully steer the conversation back. She bit into the unwrapped dark brown sphere... She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, until Captain Indigo giggled. And she supposed the moan could have come from the other woman, but she suspected it hadn't. She glanced at the other half in her fingers, a creamy scarlet center surrounded by that sinfully delicious coating. She popped it in her mouth and licked her fingers. Belatedly, she realized that she might have breached etiquette... "You have a little cherry cream..." Indigo said, trailing her own fingernail from just off-center on her own smiling lip downward. Gyra pushed the errant filling into her mouth with her index finger and sucked it again. Captain Indigo laughed. "Any woman who truly appreciates chocolate can't be all bad," she said. "Shall we return to the issue of piracy?" Gyra held up a finger. "First, what was that? Have you drugged me?" Indigo laughed again. "I suppose I have, and addicted you for life." Gyra's eyes widened. "No-no, not in the sense that you mean," she quickly corrected. "Chocolate isn't a narcotic, or any sort of controlled substance. Back on Earth, they sell it in most stores, in some form or another, and the people take it for granted. The only thing that restricts access to the populace as a whole is that its status as a highly coveted export item has driven the price up." Gyra breathed a sigh of relief. The merchant continued, "The addicting part is just that it's so sensuous to the palate, like a taste of sex." Gyra laughed now. "I had that thought myself! There's no direct comparison, but..." She blushed. "I think I understand some of the humor some of my crew was displaying when we were examining the cargo in your module." "Which was...?" "Some of them used the expression, 'pirates of the carob bean'." "To be terribly technical, that should be 'pirates of the cacao bean'," the Merchant Skipper said with a bemused expression. "But that brings us back on topic." She clasped her hands before her on the table. "Whatever face you want to put on it now, attempting to stop a ship in space for the purpose of seizing her or her cargo is piracy." "We did not want your ship or your cargo." "No?" The lifted eyebrow, steely glint, twisted smile on Captain Indigo's face all told how truly she believed that statement. "No." Gyra looked at her own hands. "I will not lie. It's too important that you believe me." She paused for several heartbeats. What she would say next would constitute a breach of security, and might well lead to either an interstellar incident or her own court marstial. "Had we been forced to actually fire on your ship; had we employed deadly force to achieve our goal, we would be guilty of piracy, and we would have behaved as pirates. We would have seized the ship and crew, taken it to a 'neutral' system, sold the cargo and arranged to ransom the crew and passengers. My government and my navy would have disowned me and my people, perhaps hunted us down as renegades and destroyed us... afterwards. "But that was not our mission, and only failure of the mission could have made us outlaws. We were prepared for that outcome; every one of us, from myself to the lowliest able spacer aboard volunteered for this mission. "Technically, the mission has failed, but your words, sarcastic as they may have been intended, may yet permit me to save my ship and my crew. I fully expect to be cashiered; my government would need a scapegoat to offer yours. I'm as prepared for that as I was to perform the mission itself." "Mission, mission, mission!" Christina scowled. "Just what was your bloody mission?" Hearing of this Captain's willingness to turn pirate had not swayed her over to the woman's cause; quite the opposite. And she still retained a loaded sidearm. Gyra's face was stone. "Our mission, to be accomplished without bloodshed if possible, but at any cost if not, was to stop your vessel, board, and remove the four escaped bio-terrorists Adel Johansen, Robert Nacon, Darwyl Carruthers, and Eva Saint-John." Christina blinked. "Bio-terrorists?" Gyra nodded. "Those four were the leaders of an extremist faction of a dissident element of our people. They formulated and carried out a biological attack on the entire populace of our planet. Altered our genome. Changed our chromosomes.... "They were captured, tried, convicted, and sentenced to life imprisonment" she continued, "but other members of their conspiracy managed to free them and smuggle them aboard a departing merchant vessel. "We want them back." "I see." Christina pondered the sincerity of Captain Geordon's words. She needed to think. To buy time, she asked Gyra to tell her about the nature of the biological attack. There aren't many garden planets in the galaxy, not for organisms bred on mankind's home planet. Some, yes; Lipton's Refuge was hailed as the Eden of biblical legend. There, man could grow whatever was planted and eat most of what was native. Tesla's Challenge was not such a world. Part of that was the levro- dextrorotary differences in the DNA of native life versus imported. Part of it was the relative abundance of feral life forms both microscopic and macroscopic which, though they could derive no sustenance from humans or their domesticated animals, persisted in trying. Part of it was the higher gravity, half again that of Earth, and the higher sea-level pressures that drove man to the higher elevations. Part of it was the extreme nature of the weather induced by a thirty-degree axial tilt and a slightly more eccentric orbit than Earth's. Despite all that, over a million people called Tesla's Challenge home. It was a home with a garrison feel, armed against a hostile world, but there are always some who relish the challenge as much as the achievement. Not all; even on Challenge (locals tend to shorten the name) there are those who prefer a more mundane existence. Challenge was the home of Genie Gengineering, Inc., a respected corporation famous for the development of terraforming plants and bacteria provided to any world who asked, and was Challenge's main employer and exporter. Fully a fourth of Challenge's population lived in Wheeler City, the capital and central headquarters for GGI. Many of that city's populace never ventured from the enclave. All, even the rugged individualists peopling the outlying enclaves, agreed that Challenge needed more people. There was always some immigration; not enough. Like any pioneer society, Challengers tended to larger families; but Challenge forced a higher infant mortality rate. Population growth was gradual. It would seem obvious that the people and their government would turn to their scientists at GGI. They did. GGI was, at its core, an ethical company. They cautioned against excessive tampering with nature's handiwork. Excesses during the infancy of genetic engineering back on Earth had pounded caution into the consciousness of every scientist or engineer in the profession. Their motto was, "Non Sarcire Nisi Fractum: Don't fix it if it ain't broke." Certainly some tried-and-true methods were employed. Challengers tended to have higher metabolisms and denser muscle mass than most of humanity. That reduced their life expectancies nearly 10% from the normal ten-score-and-eight. Their immune systems were more aggressive than the norm. Average gestation for a Challenger female was 47 weeks instead of 40. That last improved the survivability of the fetus, but slowed the birth rate. GGI also introduced a strain of Kudzu which aggressively choked out native vegetation. Unfortunately, it also choked out Terran vegetation, and had to be controlled by a rust engineered to affect no other plant. Seeded in locations distant from and lower than any human habitation, it had the unintended effect of driving predators closer to humans as their prey moved away from the inedible vegetation. An entire sub-continent had been depopulated of native flora and fauna this way and reseeded with Terran stock. No one as yet lived there, but plans had been made. Despite GGI's corporate integrity and "Do No Harm" approach, a corporation consists of people. Some people are more active in politics than others, particularly where it concerns their own lives. And some people think they know better what's good for the people than the people do. The factions divided up over the debate of how to increase Challenge's population more rapidly. More people would mean more security; more people to fight off scavengers, grow crops, reclaim land, manufacture goods and provide services. One faction favored increasing the immigration subsidy and providing larger plots of un-reclaimed land to the immigrants. This of course was opposed by the older, established agricultural families who would see their influence diminished over time. Increase the subsidy, yes; the land allowance, no. Another faction favored easing the immigration restrictions rather than increasing the subsidy. Ignore the genetic and social barriers completely. "Give us your tired, your poor, et cetera." The weakest would succumb to the planet's depredations, the rest would intermarry and inherit the genetic variations that made Challenge easier to live on. The "root, hog or die" approach was opposed by those who were certain the less hardy would become city dwellers of questionable contribution. Still another faction wanted to convince GGI to provide a genetic strain which would improve the viability of the fetus and shorten the gestation period. GGI insisted that such a goal might be possible, but might also result in unforeseen and undesirable side- effects that would damage the people in the long term. The longer gestation period itself was an unexpected effect of the alterations which produced the beneficial musculature genome, as were the metabolism and lifespan changes. Those changes were accepted on dozens of planets as necessary to deal with higher gravity; eventually, they might be spread through interbreeding to all humanity. There were a dozen other factions on this issue alone, and this issue was not the only issue facing Challengers, but it was from this faction that the bio-terrorists sprang. The Splicers, as the four called themselves, were leaders of a small radical wing of the Gene Manipulation faction. Employees of GGI, they were also citizens of Challenge and independently researched the feasibility of their faction's position. What they found was that ultimately, the proposed manipulation was rife with dangerous "mutations." Undaunted, they looked into alternatives. They found one. If the problem was long gestation periods per birth, why not have more births per gestation period? The predisposition for twins had been charted and mapped back on Earth, long ago. Why not manipulate that to a dominant effect? The four modeled the effect to locate any potential drawbacks. Unfortunately, while they were very good at their jobs, they weren't the best. Moreover, in their zeal to "fix" the "deficiency", they overlooked some research. They determined that the effect could be spread via a strain of influenza which would, at worst, produce cold-like symptoms, and would breed true. The effect would be inherited. They began to breed the manipulated flu for distribution. Had they done more and better research; had they constructed better models and extended them for a generation; had they tried the models themselves, they would have discovered the drawback. By itself, the engineered gene would have produced a predisposition in all women of Challenge for multiple births. The incidence of twins would have risen to exceed the incidence of single births, and one in a hundred women might deliver triplets. But the people of Challenge were already genetically engineered to improve their survivability in heavy gravity environments and to fight off infection from hostile microorganisms. The combination of these manipulations... Gyra watched the Captain's face. If shock was too strong a word, surprise was too mild. "You're always fertile?" she asked. "Unless we're pregnant, yes," Gyra replied. "Menses is a word I learned in school, not a personal experience." "You've never had a period?" "A period of what?" Gyra asked. It annoyed her that Captain Indigo laughed rather than answering. The woman looked beyond the room, her eyes unfocused. "It might almost be worth it to never have another period." Gyra bristled. "Are you being deliberately insulting? Are you really that insensitive?" The merchant rushed to apologize. "I meant no offense; as someone intimately acquainted with the phenomenon of menses, which for time out of mind has been called 'a woman's period,' let me assure you that that aspect of decreased fertility is highly overrated." She elaborated, "It's three to six days of discomfort and mess and emotional swings. On the other hand, perhaps you're perpetually pre- menstrual," she continued drolly, waving a hand at over a dozen foil wrappers in front of Gyra. "That would explain your sudden craving for chocolate." Gyra was startled. She couldn't remember unwrapping a second of the candies, let alone the number represented by empty wrappers. There was one in her fingers. She carefully set it on a wrapper and pushed it away. Then she reached for it, placed it in her mouth and chewed. Some kind of nutmeat inside, this time. What had been in the others? "Perhaps you'd better close the tin and place it out of my reach for a while." She did. And she seemed to reach a decision. "Captain Geordon, may I call you Gyra? I think first names are appropriate for a discussion as intimate as we're having. I'm Christina... or my friends call me Chrissy." Gyra nodded. "Thank you, Christina. I hope we can be friends. I'd definitely prefer that to enemies." "Gyra, I can understand that... increased fertility could be an annoyance, but..." she hesitated. "Is there some cultural or religious reason you can't use contraceptives?" "Chrissy, we use contraception. Multiple forms, in fact. The typical subcutaneous injections that work for the rest of the human race are no more than 90% effective for us. Our bodies tend to neutralize or counteract the hormones which those methods use - it's that increased immune system. Our bodies see the excess hormone as unnatural and act to limit them. "I'm told that the amount of semen produced by our males is unusually high compared to the baseline, that it contains proportionally more sperm, and that the individual sperm is more energetic and hardier." "Was that an intentional effect of the gengineering?" Christina asked. "They claimed not," Gyra answered, "and their recovered notes seemed to support their claims. There's another peculiarity with the sperm..." It was Gyra's turn to look into the beyond. "Well?" Christina asked after a reasonable delay. "Oh! Sorry... I was thinking about my daughters." "You have daughters?" Gyra nodded. "Four of them. Two are ten, two turn seven today." "And you had to be here," Christina said softly. More briskly she asked, "Two sets of twins?" "Yes." She smiled, but it was a pale smile. "I love my girls. I wouldn't trade them for all your chocolate. But the other peculiarity - and this one was intentional - well, ask yourself how you could more rapidly increase a population, given the childbearing roles of men and women." Christina saw it immediately. "Either the majority of the 'extra' sperm carry the 'X' chromosome, or those were selected to benefit most from the gengineering." "The latter." Gyra sighed. The female sperm were already hardier; making them just a little faster than the males tilted the odds significantly toward female children. Nearly 90% of my generation is female." Christina's jaw dropped. "This happened a generation ago?" Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. "You want to ask how it was kept secret," Gyra supplied. Christina only nodded. "I don't know." Christina glared. Gyra waved a hand. "Everyone knows some of it. There was a five year stretch where Challenge was quarantined. I mean, even today we don't get a visit from a freighter every month - maybe four a year. Back then, less often. Most ships visiting Challenge belong to GGI, and they would not permit their own ships access without draconian sterilization procedures. The original strain of influenza was eradicated. Not merely cured, but hunted down to the last virus and destroyed." "That's a relief. If I sneezed now," Christina observed darkly, "I'd be very suspicious." "Please don't sneeze." "I'll try not to. So, GGI killed the genetic plague. Have they been able to reverse it in any way?" "No, and I have no idea how close they are to a cure." Gyra said. "It isn't something that's public knowledge. At the trial, part of the condemnation was that the sites the four criminals chose for modification had the potential to cause any number of lethal mutations. It was extremely reckless." She looked at Christina, unsure. "My understanding is that GGI can't tailor a virus to simply remove the mutation; they have to find an alternate location that counteracts it safely." "You don't seem very certain." "It's not my field of expertise," Gyra admitted. "I've occasionally speculated that the higher ups are willing to put up with the mutation until the population reaches 'satisfactory' levels." She looked disgusted. "I'm not the only person who's noticed that it has gotten much easier to recruit male immigrants." "I bet." A grin would not have been unexpected. Instead, Gyra saw a frown on Christina's face. What's your population growth rate like, since the mutation?" "High." Gyra looked thoughtful. "There were over a million people on Challenge when the plague was released. There are twenty-two million now. Perhaps half a million were immigrants. "Take my own case. I'm a career woman; I had no intention of having children any time soon. But I've gotten pregnant twice, despite precautions. My sister shares a husband with four other women. She's delivered twenty-three children to term in fifteen years." "Good lord!" Gyra nodded. "Last time I was home, she was talking about adding a sixth wife. Homer is apparently a decent lover, and sex twice a night makes eventual pregnancy a certainty." "Your sister has sex with her husband twice a night every night?" Christina was astonished. "Every night?" "Of course," Gyra replied, puzzled by Christina's astonishment. "You know how men are. Sometimes it goes soft before her second turn - he needs his sleep, and sometimes he's just too tired for a second time with all of his wives." Christina's voice seemed strangled. "He has at least five, and as many as ten orgasms every night." Gyra scoffed. "He's a man, remember? They have orgasms if the wind blows right. No, Homer doesn't move on to the next wife until the one he's with has an orgasm. I said she claims he's a decent lover. It's just that sometimes his erection subsides before her second turn. Adding a sixth or seventh wife will reduce all their chances of becoming pregnant somewhat." Captain Christina Indigo held up a hand to forestall further conversation while she digested what she'd heard. Then she thought about dear, sweet Sven still asleep aboard Anne. Sven would love her whatever happened. She suspected that the plague had not been as completely wiped out as Gyra believed, or no native Challenger woman would ever settle for marriage to an immigrant. No, it was probably administered as an inoculation. Gyra's suspicions about the cure were probably dead on, though. She made a decision. She'd support Gyra's version of events. She'd even work toward extraditing the renegade geneticists. Claiming that her own over-reaction had been the reason for abandonment of her cargo would undoubtedly cost her her command and her status as ship's master, though. She'd be fined and fired, at the very least. What the hell - she'd made enough money for one lifetime. Rather than live on Desdmona in shame, she and Sven would emigrate. She knew just where they'd go. To Be Continued, Someday, Maybe. <1st attachment begin> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+