"Amos, you don't want to know. Let's just say it's magic."
He nodded. "And telepathy. You can project thoughts as commands?"
"You catch on quick."
"You're right: I don't want to know. I think I don't ever want to be on the wrong side of you, Colene."
She sent him a wash of the remnant of her schoolgirl crush. Tom felt it too, as they were all linked. He wished Nona could feel that way about him. "You could never be that, Amos," Colene said.
"Even your right side is dangerous," Forell said. "Do you have any idea of the mischief a friendly girl can be to a teacher?"
"I sure do. But you never let me get that far."
"Fortunately." He turned to Tom. "Why don't you give this a try?"
Tom squatted by the computer and camera, and the information about their manipulation flooded into his mind. Each step brought it to Forell's forefront of consciousness, and Tom assimilated it. He photographed the second bug, then checked the computer screen to make sure it had been properly recorded. The process was straightforward, as he came to understand it. This was not science of the DoOon level, but it was adequate to the need.
Forell left it to him and worked with the others. "Can you mind read a database?" he asked Nona.
"This is not something I have had experience with."
"I haven't had experience with photographing illusions, but it's working."
"See if you can mind read the computer," Colene said. "If Seqiro can connect you to what passes for its thoughts, you may be able to use its database."
"If I can make it a familiar, perhaps so," Nona agreed. She concentrated on the machine. "Yes I am attuning to its memory. I am seeing through its eye."
"Now see if Burgess can connect," Forell said. "So that he can know instantly what bugs he has seen before. That way he can present you with only the new ones."
Tom had a problem with this. "May I speak?"
"Of course you may," Nona said. Then, to Forell: "Tom comes from a culture where his kind are strictly responsive servants. He hesitates to initiate anything."
"There are cultures like that on Earth," Forell said.
"I do not understand why you wish to have Burgess know which bugs he has checked before," Tom said. "Why not have him check what he sees directly against the database? His attention should focus on those that are not found in it."
"You're right," Forell said. "We don't care what Burgess has seen before. We care what Earth science has seen before. Any nonmatches we should check in case they are originals, uncatalogued."
Nona smiled at Tom. "You see your thoughts are worthy."
It made no difference to his feeling: he already loved her.
They worked on it, and soon Burgess was mentally connected to the computer and able to check what he was finding against its listing. Soon thereafter he found a mismatch, and Nona made an illusion picture of it.
"That's a variant," Forell said. "I'm surprised it's not listed. Make a file of all such cases; we can use it later to update the database."
Tom photographed the bug and entered its image in the file. But now it was getting dark. "I have to get home," Forell said regretfully.
Nona looked at him. "Can't we persuade you to spend the night with us?"
The science teacher put on a look of nervousness. "I hope you don't try."
They laughed together, and Forell departed. Tom envied the appeal the man evidently had for all three women in their party.
Nona took his hand. "It is because he is safe," she said. "We can flirt with him because we all know it means nothing. I can't do that with you."
They continued selecting bugs as darkness closed, because Burgess did not need light for this. They found several more nonmatches, then stopped for the evening meal.
"If there's an unclassified bug here, we'll catch it," Colene said with satisfaction. "Meanwhile confirmation has come in: I'm going in for treatment tomorrow."
Thereafter three of them were away, while four of them searched for bugs. The work might have been dull, except that Tom was glad to be interacting meaningfully with Nona. He would do anything for her, and this was something that she considered useful. The list of "new" bugs grew. Most were microscopic, but that didn't matter; Forell would be happy with a creature or plant of any size that was new to Earth science.
But finding a new bug turned out to be more of a job than Tom had anticipated. Forell checked their growing list of nonmatches against larger university databases on what he called the Internet, and found them; the list in this computer was incomplete because it was not possible to list every variant of every subspecies that existed without overflowing the local capacity. But the Internet had no such limit.
Burgess caught up to the purely local bugs and began surveying the passing ones, lifting his foretrunk to the breeze. This brought in samples from a wider compass. But still all were matched, in the little database or the big one. It began to seem as though they were not going to discover a truly new one. Tom felt Nona's growing sadness as the prospects became rarer. She wanted to reward Forell for his help during their prior visit to this Mode, and so did Burgess. It was in one sense a little thing, but it was important to the man, and therefore to Burgess and Nona, and therefore to Tom.
He did his best to cheer Nona, not by any words or specific thoughts, but by training his mind to the belief that success was likely if they continued long enough. She spoke of this one night as she lay beside him. "I know what you are doing, Tom, and I appreciate it. Your emotional stability is helping me to continue."
"I wish I could do more."
"I know you do. But you are doing enough." Then she took his hand and kissed it, and he felt as if he could continue this work for a century with no more encouragement than this.
"I know you do," she repeated with a feeling of warmth.
"You are tired. I can help that."
"What were you thinking of?" she asked, bemused.
"A massage. My mistresses have used me for that."
"I'll try it."
So she lay on her stomach, and he massaged her shoulders and back, then continued to her legs. "Oh, that's heavenly," she said. "You are so good at it." Her nightslip faded away, leaving her body bare, so that he could work directly on her skin.
"I was trained to be."
"I love the warm strength of your hands."
"Thank you," he said, foolishly flattered.
Then she chose to reverse it. "Now let me do you."
"But there is no need."
"I have the need."
That was a command. He lay down, and she massaged his shoulders and back. She was not trained in this, and did not know the most evocative techniques, but it was very nice. Her very touch was his pleasure. There was magic in her hands, even when she wasn't doing magic. He had never dreamed of a mistress doing this with him.
"You have nice muscles."
Again, he was foolishly flattered. He was of course as all male nulls were, equipped to work and fight and do whatever else a master or mistress desired. He could take no credit for his body or his mind. But the continuing touch of her hands was pure delight, and her words intensified it.
"Now don't get up," she said, and lay down against him. "I like the nearness of your strong body when I sleep."
It wasn't until some time later that he realized that she had not thought to magically re-form her night clothing, and had at some point during the massage dissolved his, so that they were lying together naked. He would do or refrain from doing anything she directed, of course, but what joyed him the most was that she had done this without thinking.
She woke. "Why so I did," she said, mildly surprised. Then she embraced him from the side and returned to sleep before he could express embarrassment at having again been caught thinking.
The work continued. A storm came, not a bad one, just a turbulence in air and light falling of water. But it bore a number of bugs from far regions, and their prospects increased. Tom covered th
e computer and they continued working, for the rain itself brought down more prospects. But these failed to pan out.
Something tickled Tom's nose, and he sneezed, violently and suddenly. He didn't have time to turn his head, and the puff of air from his sneeze crossed the region that Burgess was sucking from. "My apology," Tom said, embarrassed.
Then Burgess found another prospect, and Nona made its image. It was a tiny disease agent from Tom's sneeze. It did not match.
Forell smiled and fed its picture into the Internet. It still did not match. He checked the databases across the world. Nowhere was there a match.
A suppressed excitement formed in him. They all felt it. "I wonder," he breathed.
"But it's only a germ from a sneeze," Tom said, embarrassed. "It may not even be native to this Mode. It is probably from the DoOon Mode."
"A foreign microbe," Forell said. "That would be new to our science."
"But you need a new local one."
Forell shook his head. "My dream is to discover something new to science. It doesn't have to be local. I just didn't think I'd ever have a chance to find an alien one."
"But this is perhaps a disease entity."
"They can be among the most interesting. We study their DNA."
The excitement spread to Nona. "Then this will do!"
"It certainly will. Can Burgess hold on to it?"
"Yes. He can also blow it out for us, along with all its cousins. If it really came from Tom, maybe it needs his substance to continue its life."
So they had Tom blow his nose into a handkerchief, hard enough to produce substance, and Burgess added the germ to it. Forell took it away with him.
Nona was radiant. "Oh, Tom, you had what he wanted."
"I never thought anyone would want that."
She kissed him. "Somehow you generally do manage to do the right thing, in your modest way."
Now they had time on their hands, for Colene, Darius, and Pussy had not yet returned from the other city. Colene's parents picked up on that. "We should show you some of what our region has to offer," Garret said. "As friends of our daughter, you deserve it."
"We prefer not to impose," Cat said.
"You're not imposing," Morna said. "You're our guests. The truth is, our lives have become dull without vices and without Colene. Let us take you to a movie."
Cat was the one with social judgment. "Thank you. Burgess will remain here, but the three of us can go. We have some money Colene left with us."
"This is our treat," Garret said. "You have saved us money by providing us with free food."
"It has been such a pleasure, eating any exotic food we can think of," Morna said. "You are spoiling us with your magic."
"But you must remember that once we depart, that magic will be gone," Nona said. "Only Amos Forell knows of it, besides you. You must not speak of it elsewhere."
"We know," Garret said. "We'd get committed if we did."
"But seeing it ourselves enables us to truly believe in our little girl," Morna said. "That means a lot to us."
"She is a remarkable girl," Nona agreed.
They went to the movie. It was a romance story, shown as a series of rapidly changing pictures on a large screen. After a while Tom was able to ignore the flickering and follow the story as if it were genuine. He was sitting next to Nona, so the pictures hardly mattered anyway.
"Take my hand," Nona said. Tom did so. They had seen that couples in the theater were doing this.
In the movie, a handsome young man encountered a pretty young woman, and they suffered a number of mild misfortunes together and came to love each other. Then there was a misunderstanding that was plainly avoidable, and they quarreled and separated. It was sad.
"Put your arm around me," Nona murmured. Tom obeyed. She put her head against his shoulder, in the manner other women were doing elsewhere in the theater. They wished to appear quite normal. This was wonderful.
There was a crisis, and the couple reconciled. The movie ended then, in a satisfying way. Nona kissed Tom's ear.
The lights brightened. The viewers filed outside, where it was brighter yet. There was the usual traffic and people going busily in several directions. The mood of the movie faded, to Tom's regret. He had almost been able to imagine that he and Nona were the romantic couple.
They returned to their structure in the yard. Nona was in the process of making a decision, but her feelings were complicated and masked. As evening came, she addressed Cat. "Can you accept it if I take Tom from you?"
"In the circumstances, yes."
"Tom, if I asked you to come with me to my home Mode of Julia, to stay, would you wish to do so?"
"I will do what you require."
She smiled. "I require an expression of your feeling."
"I would wish to do your bidding, whatever its nature."
"You will never change, will you!"
"I am not capable of change."
She considered. "I think I would like to have you with me. I am not certain this is fair to you."
"There is no issue of fairness to a null."
"There is with me. If I return to my Mode, I will be one of the ruling women, because of my magic. I will have a certain notoriety, because I am the ninth of the ninth, the one who ushered in the revolution. If you were with me, you would be another subject male, and some would seek to influence me by influencing you."
"I will never do other than your will."
"I know that, Tom. You are incorruptible, because you are what you are. I can trust you for that reason. Any man of my own world would be vulnerable to corruption, being unused to such affluence or power. You will always be exactly as you are now, with no ambition for anything other than serving me implicitly. You can't change."
"That is true," Tom agreed regretfully. "I wish I could be what you desire me to be, but I will always be a null."
Her emotion remained beyond his fathoming. "I understand that, Tom. But I am not sure it would be right to confine you in my feminist Mode."
"You must do what you feel is right."
"Perhaps." She let the subject lapse.
But when they lay down for the night, she addressed him again. "I think I must return to my Mode. I do not know whether I will take you with me. I want something to remember you by. Make love to me."
Now Tom hesitated. "I must ask whether this is your true will."
"Why should it not be?"
"You have shown consideration for my feelings. You may be catering to what you believe should be my will instead of your own."
"I may be," she agreed. "But it is my prerogative to do what I choose, for the reasons I choose. I may indulge your will if I choose, and perhaps that is what I am doing. But it may also be my own will. I am not sure of the ratio that governs my feelings. I thank you for calling this confusion to my attention."
"There is no need to thank me."
"I know it. That much I am certain is my own will: thanking you. Now do it."
Faced with the direct command, he set about indulging her in the manner of a mistress. He kissed her and stroked her breasts, just so, with the technique required to excite the passion of a mistress.
"Not that way, Tom," she said gently. "Do it so that you enjoy it."
"But I can enjoy only obeying your will and giving you pleasure."
"Ignore my pleasure. Take yours."
He was at a loss. "Nona, I can not do that."
She smiled in the darkness. "You can if I tell you to. Do not make me tell you again."
He was faced with another direct command. He tried to obey. But for the first time in his life, he found himself impotent. He was unable to consummate it.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Mistress," he said with great regret. "I am failing you. I am unable to obey your directive."
"Why?"
"Because I can have no pleasure without yours. I must know that what I do gives you pleasure, or I can do nothing. I apologize abjectly for d
isappointing you."
She was silent a time. Then she spoke. "No, Tom. The apology must be mine. I tried to force you to be what you are not. But maybe I can fix that. Be guided by my actions, bearing in mind the original directive."
"I will try," he said, confused and ashamed.
She clasped him and kissed him, fiercely. She stroked him and rolled over with him. She hugged his head and pressed her breasts into his face. She rolled with him again, and wrapped her legs about his waist. "Love me!"
Everything changed. Suddenly he was potent, and mad with desire. He couldn't help himself. He kissed her and stroked her, and plunged into her. She met him with equal passion and abandon. She closed her body about him and squeezed. Any remaining reticence he might have had was destroyed. He thrust again, erupting with a force he had never before known. The shelter, indeed, the planet, indeed the entire Mode seemed to spin around the focus of his unutterably intense pleasure.
Slowly he recovered awareness of his situation. Nona was holding him close, somewhat in the manner of a lover, and somewhat in the manner of a mother Feline. "That is how it becomes mutual," she murmured, stroking his head. "I do not want you to service me, I want you to love me. There's a difference."
"Oh, Nona, I know it now!"
"I think you do, because I shared your mind. Now we can sleep, and if you desire me again I will oblige you—but only if you ask."
"I must not ask."
"Even if you might give me more pleasure by doing so, than if I asked you?"
This put him in a quandary. "Are you directing me to ask?"
Nona hesitated. "Tom, I don't want to require you to do what you are constitutionally unable to do. But just as your greatest pleasure comes in serving your mistress, so mine comes in doing what I feel is right. I want you to be a man in a fuller sense than you are. That means you must show some initiative. It would please me very much if you could learn to do that. I realize that you are and will always be a null, and I am prepared to accept that, but I would like you to be as close to the verge of independence as you are capable of being."
"But suppose I do something you do not wish?"
"Then I will tell you to stop."
"I will try," he said.