The Lovers   ::   Фармер Филип Хосе

'But when the lalitha were in the animal stage of evolution, why should they need to reproduce the characteristics of the father's face? There isn't much difference between the face of a male animal and a female animal of the same species.'

'I do not know,' said Fobo. 'Perhaps, the prehuman lalitha did not utilize the photokinetic nerves. Perhaps, those nerves are an evolutionary adaptation of an existing structure which had a different function. Or a vestigial function. There is some evidence that photokinesis was the means by which the lalitha changed her body to conform with the change in the human body as it passed up the evolutionary ladder. It seems reasonable to suppose that the lalitha needed such a biological device. If the photokinetic nerves were not involved, some other organ may have been. It is unfortunate that by the time we were advanced enough to scientifically study the lalitha, we had no specimens available. Finding Jeannette was pure luck. We did discover in her several organs whose functions remain a mystery to us. We need many of her kind for fruitful research.'

'One more question,' said Hal. 'What if a lalitha had more than one lover? Whose features would her baby have?'

'If a lalitha were raped by a gang, she would not have an orgasm because the negative emotions of fear and disgust would bar it. If she had more than one lover – and she weren't drinking alcohol – she would reproduce young whose features would be those of the first lover. By the time she lay with her second lover – even if it were immediately afterward – the complete fertilization would have already been initiated.'

Sorrowfully, Fobo shook his head.

'It is a sad thing, but it has not changed in all these epochs. The mothers must give their lives for their young. Yet Nature, as a sort of recompense, has given them a gift. On the analogy of reptiles, which, it is said, do not stop growing larger as long as they are alive, the lalitha will not die if they remain unpregnant. And so–'

Hal leaped to his feet and shouted, 'Stop it!'

'I'm sorry,' Fobo said softly. 'I'm just trying to make you see why Jeannette felt that she couldn't tell you what she truly was. She must have loved you, Hal. She possessed the three factors that make love: a genuine passion, a deep affection, and the feeling of being one flesh with you, male and female so inseparable it would be hard to tell where one began and the other ended. I know she did, believe me, for we empathists can put ourselves into somebody else's nervous system and think and feel as they do.

'Yet, Jeannette must have had a bitter leaven in her love. The belief that if you knew she was of an utterly alien branch of the animal kingdom, separated by millions of years of evolution, barred by her ancestry and anatomy from the true completion of marriage-children-you would turn from her with horror. That belief must have shot with darkness even her brightest moments–'

'No! I would have loved her anyway! It might have been a shock. But I'd have gotten over it. Why, she was human; she was more human than any woman I've known!'

Macneff sounded as if he were going to retch. When he had recovered himself, he howled, 'You abysmal thing! How can you stand yourself now that you know what utterly filthy monster you have lain with! Why don't you try to tear out your eyes, which have seen that vile filth! Why don't you bite off your lips, which have kissed that insect mouth! Why don't you cut off your hands, which have pawed with loathsome lust that mockery of a body! Why don't you tear out by the roots those organs of carnal–'

Fobo spoke through the storm of wrath. 'Macneff! Macneff!'

The gaunt head swiveled toward the empathist. His eyes stared, and his lips had drawn back into what seemed to be an impossibly large smile; a smile of absolute fury.

'What? What?' he muttered, like a man waking from sleep.

'Macneff, I know your type well. Are you sure you weren't planning on taking the lalitha alive and using her for your own sensual purposes? Doesn't most of your fury and disgust result from being balked in your desires? After all, you've not had a woman for a year, and...'

The Sandalphon's jaw fell. Bed flooded his face and became purple. The violent color faded, and a corpselike white replaced it.

He screeched like an owl.

'Enough! Uzzites, take this – this thing that calls itself a man to the gig!'

The two men in black circled to come at the joat from front and back. Their approach was based on training, not caution. Years of taking prisoners had taught them to expect no resistance. The arrested always stood cowed and numb before the representatives of the Sturch. Now, despite the unusual circumstances and the knowledge that Hal carried a gun, they saw nothing different in him.

He stood with bowed head and hunched shoulders and dangling arms, the typical arrestee.

That was one second; the next, he was a tiger striking.

The agent in front of him reeled back, blood flowing from his mouth and spilling on his black jacket. When he bumped into the wall, he paused to spit out teeth.

By then, Yarrow had whirled and rammed a fist into the big soft belly of the man behind him.

'Whoof!' went the Uzzite.

He folded. As he did so, Hal brought his knee up against the unguarded chin. There was a crack of bone breaking, and the agent fell to the floor.

'Watch him!' Macneff yelled. 'He's got a gun!'

The Uzzite by the wall shoved his hand under his jacket, feeling for the weapon in his armpit holster. Simultaneously, a heavy bronze bookend, thrown by Fobo, struck his temple. He crumpled.

Macneff screamed, 'You are resisting, Yarrow! You are resisting!'

Hal bellowed, 'You're damn shib I am!'

Head down, he plunged at the Sandalphon.

Macneff slashed with his whip at his attacker. The seven lashes wrapped themselves around Hal's face, but he rammed into the purple-clad form and knocked it down on the floor.

Macneff got to his knees; Hal, also on his knees, seized Macneff by the throat and squeezed.

Macneffs face turned blue, and he grabbed Hal's wrists and tried to tear them away. But Hal squeezed harder.

'You... can't do... this!' said Macneff, wheezing. 'Can't... impossi–'

T can! I can!' screamed Hal. 'I've always wanted to do this, Pornsen! I mean... Macneff!'

At that moment, the floors shook, the windows rattled. Almost immediately, a tremendous boom! blew in the windows. Glass flew; Hal was hurled to the floor.

Outside, the night became day. Then, night again.

Hal rose to his feet. Macneff lay on the floor, his hands feeling his neck.

'What was that?' Hal said to Fobo.

Fobo went to the broken window and looked out. He was bleeding from a cut on his neck, but he did not seem to notice it.