Read Phoenix Café for Free Online Page A
Authors: Gwyneth Jones
powers of recovery had reassured her guardian. She was in control again, there was no trace of the state she’d been in this morning. The person who was at present Catherine had always been the same. Always taking life terribly hard, always capable of getting back on his feet, laughing at himself.
“Didn’t someone tell me all human females are insane, to some degree?” continued Sattva imperturbably. “Something to do with hormones or enzymes or neurons or whatever. I suppose our friend didn’t know that when he made his famous will. Or he might have considered the risk to the reputation of the Buonarotti project, if not to his own health. The folks out in orbit don’t know anything about humans, but they don’t like unknown risks! Not that I’m in the least worried. Our friend is unbalanced, owing to the effect of having been translated into human female form. It’s very sad. It has nothing to do with that early trip he took in the Buonarotti prototype. The Departure’s going to be as safe as dying in bed. Everyone who matters is satisfied of that.”
The shipworld had been lost in space, irretrievably lost, when they’d stumbled upon the giant planet’s system. The “Buonarotti Device” was going to take them home. It was the great prize, the incalculable treasure that had transformed the Expedition to Earth from a rather raffish looting raid to the immensely important business it was today. The person then called “Clavel” and now called “Catherine,” one of the Three Captains of the original Expedition, was the one who’d tracked down the Device (which the human engineer who built it had tried to conceal) and proved, by his “test-flight” that they could all return Home. The fact that he’d died as a result of that daredevil trip was not an obstacle. Many years of research and development had ensued: the Aleutian version of the Device was not tainted by a heroic association! Then suddenly, in what was surely the last generation on Earth, with the Departure imminent, Lord Maitri—Clavel’s staunchest follower—had conceived in middle age. The embryo had been immediately identified as Clavel: and in accordance with the Third Captain’s wishes had been re-engineered as a human female, and transferred to a human womb. Sadly, the process of translation had serious psychiatric ill-effects. Which was convenient: for the Third Captain—even in the body of a human female—had of course, immediately, started making a nuisance of himself. Always the same Clavel.
To be perfectly frank, though one would never say so aloud, “Catherine’s” missionary behavior was what the humans call “a Godsend.” Bloody murder, when he openly confesses he doesn’t believe they will live again! Now try telling Aleutia your beloved lord is perfectly sane!
“It just goes to show,” went on Sattva, looking hard at Maitri. “What we can expect, messing about with reproduction in that nasty human way? I don’t want to sound pompous, but some things are best left to the WorldSelf. We can’t have conceptions being triggered at will, people getting born whenever their friends feel like it. It would destroy society as we know it. Don’t you agree?”
Maitri had never admitted the implied charge, in seventeen human years or so. Too wise to be goaded into argument he gave a diplomatic shrug.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m sure you’re right.”
“Well, well. Let’s say no more. I really must circulate.” Sattva looked for a suitable target. , he complained, discreetly Silent so the humans couldn’t understand. Sattva, an austere dandy in a plain black robe over his uniform, made a moue of amused distaste.
“Agathe? Agathe Uwilingiyimana.”
“She.”
“Didn’t someone tell me all human females are insane, to some degree?” continued Sattva imperturbably. “Something to do with hormones or enzymes or neurons or whatever. I suppose our friend didn’t know that when he made his famous will. Or he might have considered the risk to the reputation of the Buonarotti project, if not to his own health. The folks out in orbit don’t know anything about humans, but they don’t like unknown risks! Not that I’m in the least worried. Our friend is unbalanced, owing to the effect of having been translated into human female form. It’s very sad. It has nothing to do with that early trip he took in the Buonarotti prototype. The Departure’s going to be as safe as dying in bed. Everyone who matters is satisfied of that.”
The shipworld had been lost in space, irretrievably lost, when they’d stumbled upon the giant planet’s system. The “Buonarotti Device” was going to take them home. It was the great prize, the incalculable treasure that had transformed the Expedition to Earth from a rather raffish looting raid to the immensely important business it was today. The person then called “Clavel” and now called “Catherine,” one of the Three Captains of the original Expedition, was the one who’d tracked down the Device (which the human engineer who built it had tried to conceal) and proved, by his “test-flight” that they could all return Home. The fact that he’d died as a result of that daredevil trip was not an obstacle. Many years of research and development had ensued: the Aleutian version of the Device was not tainted by a heroic association! Then suddenly, in what was surely the last generation on Earth, with the Departure imminent, Lord Maitri—Clavel’s staunchest follower—had conceived in middle age. The embryo had been immediately identified as Clavel: and in accordance with the Third Captain’s wishes had been re-engineered as a human female, and transferred to a human womb. Sadly, the process of translation had serious psychiatric ill-effects. Which was convenient: for the Third Captain—even in the body of a human female—had of course, immediately, started making a nuisance of himself. Always the same Clavel.
To be perfectly frank, though one would never say so aloud, “Catherine’s” missionary behavior was what the humans call “a Godsend.” Bloody murder, when he openly confesses he doesn’t believe they will live again! Now try telling Aleutia your beloved lord is perfectly sane!
“It just goes to show,” went on Sattva, looking hard at Maitri. “What we can expect, messing about with reproduction in that nasty human way? I don’t want to sound pompous, but some things are best left to the WorldSelf. We can’t have conceptions being triggered at will, people getting born whenever their friends feel like it. It would destroy society as we know it. Don’t you agree?”
Maitri had never admitted the implied charge, in seventeen human years or so. Too wise to be goaded into argument he gave a diplomatic shrug.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m sure you’re right.”
“Well, well. Let’s say no more. I really must circulate.” Sattva looked for a suitable target. , he complained, discreetly Silent so the humans couldn’t understand.
“Agathe? Agathe Uwilingiyimana.”
“She.”
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