“I don’t understand,” Luna said.
“Let me give you an example,” Perry said. “If somebody gets a Ford Explorer the next thing they see is an ad for a Lincoln Navigator, which makes the Explorer seem unappealing.”
“I don’t know what those are,” Luna said.
“It’s just stuff,” Perry said. “And we’re conditioned through relentless advertising to feel it’s never the right stuff.”
“I don’t understand that kind of covetousness,” Luna said. “We don’t have anything like that here in Interterra.”
“Well, then it’s hard to explain,” Perry said. “But anyway there’s a lot of discontentment that especially comes to a head in poor families which have even less stuff than everyone else, and within families people tend to take it out on each other.”
“It’s sad,” Luna said. “And frightening.”
“It can be,” Perry agreed. “But we’re kinda conditioned not to think about it since it all drives our economy.”
“It seems strange to have a society that encourages violence,” Luna said. “Violence is shocking for us since we have none in Interterra.”
“None?” Perry asked.
“No, never,” Luna said. “I’ve never seen a person hit another. It makes me feel weak.”
“Then why don’t you sit down?” Perry said. He patted the bed next to him, feeling self-consciously transparent. Nonetheless Luna came to the bed and sat down beside him.
“You don’t feel dizzy, do you?” Perry asked, struggling to make conversation now that she was so close. “I mean, you’re not going to faint or anything?”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
Perry looked into Luna’s pale blue eyes. For a moment he couldn’t speak. When he could he said, “You know, you are very young.”
“Young? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well . . .” Perry said, searching for words. He wasn’t sure himself whether he was referring to her reaction to Richard’s behavior or his reaction to her. “When you’re young you haven’t had as much experience as when you are older. Maybe you haven’t had time to see violence.”
“Listen, there’s no violence here,” Luna said. “It’s been selected against. Besides, I’m not as young as you probably imagine. How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” Perry stammered. “About twenty.”
“Now you seem to be upset.”
“I guess I am a little,” Perry admitted. “You could be my daughter.”
Luna smiled. “I can assure you I’m over twenty. Does that make you feel better?”
“Some,” Perry admitted. “Actually, I don’t know why I feel so nervous. Everything is so nice here, but it’s still quite unnerving.”
“I understand,” Luna said. She smiled again and raised her palms toward his.
Self-consciously Perry put his against hers. “What is this with our hands?” he asked.
“It’s just the way we show love and respect. You don’t like it?”
“When it comes to showing love I’m partial to kissing,” Perry said.
“Like Richard was doing this evening?”
“A bit more intimately than Richard’s technique,” Perry said.
“Show me,” Luna said.
Perry took a breath, leaned over, and lightly kissed Luna on the lips. When he pulled back, Luna responded by touching her lips gently with the very tips of her fingers as if amazed by the sensation.
“Do you dislike it?” Perry asked.
Luna shook her head. “No, but my fingers and palms are more sensitive than my lips. But show me more.”
Perry swallowed nervously. “Are you serious?”
“I’m sure,” Luna said. She moved closer to him and looked at him with those dreamy eyes. “I find you very alluring, Mr. President of Benthic Marine.”
Perry wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the white cashmere coverlet. Michael was in seventh heaven. Mura was the woman of his dreams. It couldn’t get better than this. He didn’t even mind Sart’s continued presence. The boy was in the pool, leaving him to enjoy Mura by himself.
Just when Michael was about to pass out from sheer delight, his rapture was interrupted by a knock at his door. He tried to ignore it, but finally staggered to the door, stark naked. He felt even drunker on his feet. “Who the hell is it?” he demanded.
“It’s me, your buddy Richard.”
Michael opened the door. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Richard said. He tried to look around Michael. “I just thought maybe you might need some help, if you know what I mean.”
It took Michael’s drugged brain a few seconds to catch Richard’s drift. He glanced back at Mura on the circular bed, then back to Richard.
“Are you kidding?” Michael asked.
“No,” Richard said. He smiled crookedly.
“Mura,” Michael called out. “Do you mind if Richard comes in and joins us?”
“Only if he promises to behave,” Mura called back.
Michael looked back at Richard with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “You heard the lady,” he said with a sly smile. He opened the door wider and let Richard into the room. As the two men approached the bed Mura held up both hands.
“Come on, you two primitives!” she said. “I’d love to press palms with you both.”
The two divers exchanged a glance of appreciative disbelief before Michael climbed back onto the bed, and Richard struggled out of his satin garments. As Richard settled next to Mura, he said, “You people are pretty free with love.”
“It’s true,” Mura said. “We have lots of love. It’s our wealth.”
A short time later the two drunken divers were swooning with pleasure in Mura’s arms. It wasn’t sex per se, since in their drugged state neither was capable of consummation, but nonetheless they couldn’t have been more content.
Sart had observed Richard’s arrival from the far end of the pool. He was both attracted and repelled by Richard. Mainly, he was curious. After tiring of swimming he got out of the water, dried himself off, then walked over to the blissful threesome. Mura smiled up at him. She had her arms around both divers, who had fallen fast asleep.
Mura motioned for Sart to sit down on the bed. She’d been gently stroking both divers’ backs but was happy to let Sart take over with Richard. That freed her to concentrate on Michael.
Sart initially just stroked Richard’s back as Mura had been doing, but tiring of this, he began to improvise. First he rubbed Richard’s exposed arm and shoulder. Richard’s skin felt intriguingly strange to Sart. It wasn’t as firm as Interterran skin and had many curious, tiny imperfections. Sart transferred his attentions to Richard’s head, where he’d noticed a small, poorly defined, bluish red discoloration within the hairline above his ear. As Sart bent over to examine this flat blemish more closely, touching it gently with the tip of his finger, Richard’s eyes popped open.
Sart smiled at him dreamily and went back to his tender stroking.
“What the hell?” Richard cried. He knocked Sart’s hand to the side. With drunken clumsiness he leaped from the bed.
Sart stood up as well. He wondered if the mark above Richard’s ear was inordinately sensitive. Maybe he should not have touched it.
Richard’s sudden movement was enough to awaken Michael. Sleepy and dazed, he sat up despite Mura’s restraining arm. He saw Richard swaying by the bedside and glaring at Sart, who looked somewhat guilty.
“What’s the matter, Richie?” Michael asked with a slurred, gravelly voice.
Richard didn’t answer. Instead he wiped his hand over his head while continuing to glower at Sart.
“What happened, Sart?” Mura asked.
“I touched Richard’s blemish,” Sart explained. “The one above his ear. I’m sorry.”
“Michael, come here!” Richard snapped. He waved Michael away from the bed while walking unsteadily in the direction of the pool.
/>
Michael got to his feet feeling giddy from the short snooze. He followed Richard. The two men staggered out of earshot. Michael could tell that Richard was major-league perturbed.
“What’s going on?” Michael asked in a whisper.
Richard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still glaring back at Sart.
“I think I figured out why all these guys don’t care if we make it with their women,” Richard whispered back.
“Why?” Michael asked.
“I think they’re all a bunch of queers.”
“Really?” Michael looked back at Sart. The possibility had crossed his mind at the gala when he’d seen so many men walking around arm in arm, but then he’d forgotten about it in the general excitement.
“Yeah, and I’ll tell you something else,” Richard said. “That little nerdy squirt over there has been rubbing my back and head. The whole time I thought it was the girl.”
Michael laughed despite Richard’s evident rancor.
“It’s not funny,” Richard snapped.
“I bet Mazzola would think it was funny,” Michael said.
“If you tell Mazzola, I’ll kill you,” Richard hissed.
“You and ten other people,” Michael scoffed. “But, in the meantime, what do you want to do?”
“I think we should show this little twerp what we think of his kind,” Richard said. “The guy had his hands all over me, for chrissake. I’m not about to let that pass without a reaction. I don’t think we should let any of these people get the wrong idea of our persuasion.”
“All right,” Michael said. “I’m with you. What do you have in mind?”
“First, get rid of the girl!” Richard said.
“Oh, no! Do we have to?” Michael questioned.
“Absolutely,” Richard said impatiently. “And ditch the long face. You can tell her to come back tomorrow. It’s important to teach this guy a lesson, and we don’t want an audience. She’d yell bloody murder and the next thing you’d know we would be dealing with a couple of those worker clones.”
“Okay,” Michael said. He took a breath to fortify himself and walked back to the bed.
“Is Richard all right?” Mura inquired.
“He’s fine,” Michael said. “But he’s tired. In fact, we’re both tired. Maybe exhausted is a better word. Plus we’re drunk, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“It hasn’t bothered me,” Mura said. “I’ve been enjoying myself.”
“I’m glad,” Michael said. “But now we’re wondering if we could put off any more palm pressing until tomorrow. What I mean is, maybe you should leave.”
“Certainly,” Mura said without hesitation. She immediately slid off the bed and began dressing. Sart did the same.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression,” Michael said. “I’d like to see you tomorrow.”
“I understand you are tired,” Mura said graciously. “Don’t worry. You are our guests, and I will return tomorrow if it is your wish.”
Sart cinched his braided rope around his waist and looked back at Richard, who’d not moved from where he was standing halfway to the pool’s edge.
“Sart,” Michael said, following the boy’s line of sight. “Why don’t you hang around? Richard wants to apologize for scaring you when he leaped off the bed.”
Sart looked at Mura. Mura shrugged. “It’s up to you, my friend.”
Sart looked back at Michael, who smiled and winked at him.
“If the guests wish me to stay, I will stay,” Sart said. He stepped back to the bed with a bit of swagger and sat down.
“That’s wonderful,” Michael said.
Mura finished dressing and went first to Michael and then to Richard to press her palm against each of theirs one last time. She told them both that they had given her great pleasure to be with them, and said she was eager to see them the following day. Before closing the door behind herself she bid them good night.
After the sound of the door closing drifted away, there was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Richard and Michael eyed Sart while Sart looked back and forth between the two men. Sart began to fidget. He stood up.
“Perhaps I should call for more drink,” Sart said, to make conversation.
Richard forced a smile and shook his head. Then he approached Sart with a gait that suggested he didn’t quite know where his feet were.
“How about more food?” Sart said.
Richard shook his head again. He was within an arm’s distance of the boy. Sart took a step back.
“Me and my buddy here have something important we want to say to you,” Richard told him.
“This is true,” Michael said. He walked equally as unsteadily around the end of the bed to join Richard, effectively boxing Sart in a corner between the bed and the wall.
“To put it bluntly, so there is no misunderstanding,” Richard continued, “we can’t stand queers like you.”
“In fact they make us a little crazy,” Michael said.
Sart’s eyes darted from one drunken, sneering face to the other.
“Perhaps it would be best if I go,” Sart said nervously.
“Not before we’re absolutely certain you know what we’re talking about,” Richard said.
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘queer,’ ” Sart admitted.
“Homo, gay, fag, fairy,” Richard said derisively. “The term doesn’t matter. The point is we don’t like guys who like men. And we have a sneaking suspicion you fall into that category.”
“Of course I like men,” Sart said. “I like all people.”
Richard looked at Michael then back at Sart. “We don’t like bisexuals either.”
Sart made a dash for the door, but he didn’t make it. Richard grabbed one arm while Michael grabbed a handful of hair.
Richard quickly got Sart’s other arm as well and with a triumphant laugh pinned both behind the boy. Sart struggled, but it was no use, especially with Michael still clutching a shock of his hair. Once the boy was immobilized, Michael punched him in the stomach, doubling him over.
Both divers let go of the boy and then laughed while they watched him take a few staggering steps. Sart was desperately trying to catch his breath. His face was purple.
“Okay, pansy,” Richard slurred. “Here’s one for putting your filthy paws on me.”
Richard lifted Sart’s face with his left hand and hit him with his right. It was not a jab but rather a wild, roundhouse uppercut behind which he put his entire weight. This second blow caught the boy full in the face, crushing his nose, sending him hurling backward off his feet, and inadvertently smashing his head against the sharp corner of the marble nightstand. Unfortunately the cold stone penetrated several inches into the back of the youngster’s skull.
Richard was initially unaware of the fatal consequences of his powerful punch. He was too preoccupied by the intense pain of his bruised knuckles. Wincing, he cradled his throbbing hand with his other and cursed loudly.
Michael watched in horror as Sart’s flaccid body came to a rest. Bits of brain tissue oozed from the ugly wound. Suddenly sober, Michael bent down over the stricken boy, who was making gurgling sounds.
“Richard!” Michael called out in a loud whisper. “We got a problem!”
Richard refused to respond. He was still in pain, pacing the room and shaking his hand in the air with his fingers widely spread.
Michael stood up. “Richard! Christ! The guy’s dead.”
“Dead?” Richard echoed. The finality of the word shattered Richard’s self-absorption.
“Well, almost. His head’s caved in. He hit the goddamned table.”
Richard staggered back to where Michael was standing and looked down at Sart’s motionless form. “Holy shit!” he said.
“What the hell are we going to do?” Michael demanded. “Why’d you hit him so freakin’ hard?”
“I didn’t mean to, okay!” Richard shouted.
“Well, what are we going to do?”
Michael repeated.
“I don’t know,” Richard said.
At that moment Sart’s battered body let out a final sigh and the gurgling stopped.
“That’s it,” Michael said with a shudder. “He’s dead! We got to do something and fast.”
“Maybe we should get outta here,” Richard said.
“We can’t get out of here,” Michael complained. “Where are we going to go? Hell, we don’t even know where we are.”
“All right, let me think,” Richard said. “Shit, I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Oh, sure,” Michael said sarcastically.
“Well, not that much,” Richard said.
“What if someone comes in here?” Michael questioned.
“You’re right,” Richard said. “We’ve got to hide the body.”
“Where?” Michael demanded urgently.
“I don’t know!” Richard yelled. He looked around the room frantically. Then he looked back at Michael. “I just got an idea that might work.”
“Good,” Michael said. “Where?”
“First help me pick him up,” Richard said. He stepped over the body, rolled it over, and then got his hands under Sart’s arms.
Michael got Sart’s feet, and together they hoisted the boy off the floor.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The new day arrived gradually just as it would on the earth’s surface. The light slowly increased in intensity, causing the darkened, vaulted ceiling to lose its stars. Its color went in stages from deep indigo to a rosy pink and finally to a pure sky blue. Saranta began to stir.
Suzanne was the first of the earth surface visitors to awaken with the arrival of the artificial dawn. As she scanned her room, taking in the white marble, the mirrors, and the pool, she realized with a start that the surreal Interterran experience had not been a dream.
Slowly she turned her head to the side and gazed at Garona’s sleeping form. He was on his side, facing her. She was amazed at herself for having allowed the man to stay the night. This was not her norm. The only way she’d shown some restraint had been by staunchly refusing to remove her silken tunic and shorts. She had spent the night with her clothes on, such as they were.