The Metal Maiden Collection

  “Thank you, friends,” Elasa said, taking the bone. She put it in the makeshift pot Brian had made, then scooped sand and mud from the edge of the sea to cover it over. Then she got down in the water and heaved a blob of gunk containing the mist-shrouded plant up and into the pot.

  The mist dissipated. There was a single green stalk rising from the mass of mud, wavering as if wilting. Mona realized that for the first time she was seeing the predator plant as it was, without the clothing of illusion. Because of the shock of transplantation, forcing it to cut back on effects while it recovered.

  “It’s just a plant!” Brian exclaimed.

  “She’ll recover soon,” Elasa reassured him. “Then her roots will find the bone, and she’ll have what she needs. She’ll dump you.”

  “How will I see her then?” he asked almost wistfully.

  “That depends. Maybe as an innocent girl who’s not hungry for you.”

  “That’s best,” he agreed with a trace of regret.

  Mona was glad to agree.

  Chapter 7:

  Storm

  The Lamb looked up, sniffing the air. He glanced at the Ewe. She bleated, evidently confirming his suspicion. Mona realized that the Ewe was constantly teaching the Lamb, encouraging him to develop his abilities. Only now, in the close contact of this journey, was Mona actually seeing it happen. What was it this time?

  The Lamb went to Mona. “What is it, Bunky?” she asked, picking him up for a cuddle.

  Then she felt the awful power of a sudden storm, a bad one. Already the Ewe was heading for cover. She must have waited for the Lamb to pick up on it, though it would have been better to get moving sooner.

  “Storm!” Mona called. “We have to seek refuge. Soon!”

  “Oh, damn,” Brian said. “Let’s hope it’s a small one.”

  The others did not argue. They knew that if it alarmed the sheep, it was dangerous. Brian and Elasa, carrying the heavy pot, followed the Ewe, knowing she would know where it was safe. Mona went with them, carrying Bunky. Vulture and Python paced her.

  “The ogres!” Brian said. “We must warn them!”

  Bunky bleated. Vulture took off, flying toward the ogres’ camp. Mona hoped they would understand the nature of the warning. They had to realize that Vulture was not coming back merely to tease them. That she had been sent by the sheep. That should be enough.

  The Ewe led the way along a narrow path through the forest, then up a steep rocky slope. Mona had not realized that there was a mountain this close, but of course she had not been paying much attention to the landscape. Soon they were above the tops of the trees. Surely there could not be a rain to make a flood this high!

  Elasa took the pot alone, being stronger than she looked. Brian tried to take Bunky, to ease Mona’s burden, but she shook her head. So instead he put an arm around her waist and lent her real support so she could make the climb without wearing herself out.

  The living humans were puffing by the time they reached the level ledge overlooking the sea. Vulture was there, having flown directly after warning the ogres. Now Mona saw that the sea was small, roughly circular, with the island neatly filling the middle. The island, too, had a rocky peak in its center. She saw motion on it, and realized that the rams were climbing it. Oh yes, the storm was dangerous.

  There was a cave in the wall of the ledge. Bones littered the path to it. “Bear!” Brian said. “We don’t want to mess with that.”

  “Tell the sheep,” Elasa said. “She’s going right to it.”

  Indeed, the Ewe went to the cave, entered it, and lay down in a passage leading deeper into the mountain. She chewed her cud.

  “Now I get it,” Brian said. “If there’s a bear in there, it won’t come out past the Ewe. It will stay away until she’s gone. We have the use of the front part of the cave.”

  Elasa set the pot down. “To ride out the storm? When’s it coming?”

  Mona put Bunky down. He faced the opening and bleated. “Now,” she translated.

  And that suddenly a sheet of rain was closing off the entry. It was as if a giant had dumped a bucket of water there, except that it kept coming. The splash from it made them back off. Fortunately the cave slanted down toward the mouth, and the ledge slanted toward the drop-off to the sea, so the water quickly drained away. Otherwise the cave could have been flooded in short order. But of course the bear would not have chosen it then, and neither would the Ewe.

  They watched, fascinated, as the deluge continued unabated. “Earth does not make storms like this,” Mona murmured. “It must be at the rate of a foot an hour.”

  “The sheep knew,” Brian said. “Anywhere on the ground would be awash. Sometimes such storms last a minute. Sometimes hours. We just have to wait it out.”

  They sat and leaned against the cave wall, watching the opening as if it were a stage. It looked like a waterfall, and Mona realized that it could be that, in part, because the water flowing down the mountain would be sluicing past the opening.

  When at last the rain stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, they stepped cautiously outside and looked around. Mona was amazed. The level of the sea had risen visibly around the island. In fact the water had covered the trees around its edge and made the central mountain a separate island. That was why the rams had gone there. The landscape beyond the lake was no better off; only occasional tall trees poked above the water.

  “What do we do now?” Mona asked. “It will take days or weeks for the flood to abate.”

  “We’ll use the boat,” Brian said. Mona saw that the three boats had slipped their moorings and were drifting on the elevated sea. They were solid wood, uncovered, so were not waterlogged or damaged by the storm.

  “How do we get a boat?” Mona asked. “I doubt that it is safe to swim.”

  “I will do it,” Elasa said. She stripped off her clothes once more, then dived into the water, though the surface was fifty feet below the ledge. Mona reminded herself that feminine as her friend looked, she was in fact almost invulnerable.

  Elasa struck the water in a clean entry, then surfaced. She swam toward the nearest loose boat, making excellent time. Why not? She had plenty of power and endurance, and in this context was not bothering to conceal them. On Earth she normally did her best to stay within human limits, not wishing to attract attention.

  She reached the craft, clambered onto it, mounted the pedal assembly, and used her legs. The paddle-wheel turned and the boat started to move. She was able to aim it for the land below their ledge. Mona saw Brian looking at Elasa’s nude moving body and schooled herself against resentment. He had been sensitized to that body by their choice, not his. She had felt the power of the pheromones herself.

  They descended the slope, Brian carrying the pot, Mona carrying Bunky. They did not have far to go, thanks to the heightened water level. They arrived at the new shore the same time as Elasa arrived, and soon scrambled aboard. Brian and Elasa helped the Ewe, taking hold of her fur on either side to help her get her front feet aboard, then her hind feet. Mona knew that such hands-on would never have been possible without the sheep’s acquiescence. There was no sign of the vampires; the water level was now above their stem length.

  Now, safely aboard, they were ready to move. But where?

  Bunky stood at the prow and bleated, facing the water. The Ewe ignored him, letting him find the way. Brian worked the pedals, moving ahead. They slowly circled the island and came to the far side of the sea. There was an isthmus with water flowing over it. The sea was overflowing its boundaries, starting a river. There was their escape!

  Except that it might be a rough current across newly-cut channels. Was it safe?

  “Trust the sheep,” Brian said, though he looked uncertain.

  They looked at the Ewe. She chewed her cud, unconcerned. It seemed that she was leaving that, too to the Lamb, perhaps as more practice.

  Mona went to talk to Bunky. “Can we handle that river?”

  He bleated yes.

 
“It’s a go,” she announced. “Still, I think we’d better be prepared for some rough sailing.”

  “Gather around the pedal housing,” Brian said. “With the animals in the middle. Hold on, and hope for the best.”

  “The very best,” Mona agreed.

  They gathered, with Ewe, Lamb, and Vulture up against the housing, Python coiled around a strut, and the pot tied firmly in the seat. Brian pedaled, with Mona and Elasa to either side. “Trust the sheep,” Mona murmured, in the manner of a prayer.

  They moved toward the overflow. The closer they got the worse it looked. Yet the sheep were unconcerned. They knew the future, and it was safe. Unless there was a precognitive glitch that produced an error. Mona quelled the thought.

  They came to the brink. Ahead the water coursed swiftly into a narrow valley that must have been dry before the storm. They tilted into the current, then accelerated. Now they were moving at a fair velocity. It was scary, yet also thrilling. The current was swiftest in the center, and that was where they needed to be, clear of snags on the sidelines.

  The pace slowed as the water pooled in a declivity. Mona resumed breathing. The sheep had known. So far.

  Brian pedaled, and the boat moved on to the other side of the small temporary lake. But what was beyond? This was not an established river, but a temporary drainage that might or might not make it to the external sea.

  “I think I need to land and indulge some natural functions,” Mona said. “My innards are not used to excitement of this nature.”

  “Uh-oh,” Brian murmured.

  Was he being facetious? Then she realized what he was looking at.

  There were dire wolves along the banks of the new river, peering at the raft. There would be no landing here.

  “But it can wait,” Mona said.

  They came to the far end, where the river narrowed. The raft would be almost within pouncing range. Indeed, the wolves seemed to be anticipating that.

  The Ewe bleated.

  The expression of consternation on the wolves’ faces was almost human. They evidently had not realized that sheep were aboard the craft. They knew that not only were sheep deadly, but that they knew the future. A sheep would not be here if not certain it was safe. That was bad news for predators, no matter how tempting the prospects. They had already suffered through the storm; they were not in a mood to gamble further.

  The wolves faded back and were gone.

  Mona wondered: was this a bluff by the sheep? Could the wolves have overwhelmed them if they had tried? Had the sheep known that the bluff would be effective? Were they capable of such reasoning, or did they merely know the outcome regardless? That last seemed most likely. What a benefit precognition was!

  They moved on through the narrow channel. There was a very swift undercurrent that hauled the boat rapidly along. So swift that it seemed likely to have carried away any creature that tried to swim through it. So maybe it had not been a bluff, and the wolves would have suffered grievous losses if they had tried to attack.

  Further along the water pooled again, forming a shallow lake. Brian guided the boat to the rough shore. “Now you can go pee,” he said diplomatically.

  There was no objection from the sheep, so Mona climbed off the boat, found a place, and let go with more than one function. Her pregnancy made such things more urgent regardless. Then she rejoined the boat.

  But now night was looming, and they had little food. They would have to anchor the boat and sleep on it, trusting the animals to be alert for any dangers.

  Bunky bleated. Vulture and Python left the boat, flying and swimming, returning not long after with fruits that were floating in the water. Several trips produced enough for the humans, and the Ewe also ate a pear-apple that Mona held in place for her. So things were working out.

  They spent the night in the center of the lake, and resumed travel in the morning. The level of the water was lower, and more of the forest was appearing as the land drained. Mona hoped they got to the sea before the river became unnavigable; she didn’t want to hike cross-country through the devastation left by the flood.

  Around midday the river ended. It simply fed into a swamp with no discernible outlet. Mona groaned internally.

  “I recognize this bog,” Brian said. “It’s just a few miles from home. We can hike there in a couple of hours.”

  Mona felt weak with relief. That, at least, she could do.

  Sure enough, by mid-afternoon they were back at the turnip farm, which it turned out had not been struck by the storm. The mission was over.

  Mona and Brian retreated to their house and slept for much of the next day and night, recovering from the physical and emotional rigors of the excursion to the inland sea. Bunky, Vulture, and Python took care of themselves, remaining in touch with the Ewe. Elasa spent time communing with Venus in the pot.

  When Mona resumed alertness, Elasa braced her for a serious discussion. “I can’t take Venus to Earth with me,” she said. “I had hoped to do it by exchange with a potted Venus Flytrap plant on Earth, but I realize that won’t work. Exchange is of consciousness and memory, and the plant has neither. That has to be the caveat the sheep had in mind. In any event, exchanging is temporary, not lasting much beyond six months for a person, maybe less for a plant. I need it to be permanent, at least to the extent of the life of the plant. Maybe by close association with sheep or humans she could develop an emulation; that remains to be seen. But I am not sufficient. Her telepathic projection does not work on me; to her I am a blank slate. So I think this is one more thing you will have to do.”

  “This is awkward,” Mona said. “I don’t pick up her projections either; all I see is a blob of mist.”

  “That is her projection. It’s their standard concealment broadcast, so that unwanted animals don’t orient on them. They use the water for protection; their stalks are vulnerable, and they project them from the water only to feed. Venus is especially vulnerable in the exposed pot, and is in hiding mode, trying to survive. She needs reassurance I can’t provide.”

  “And I can? She’ll go after Brian!”

  “Yes you can and no she won’t. You’re living and feeling, and no, the bone I added to the soil provides the nourishment she needs. She is not in seduction mode, and I think Brian will see only the mist too. Only if that added nutrition is removed will she become dangerous in that manner.”

  “It still makes me nervous. Elasa, I was jealous of the sex you had with the male vamps; I could see them. In my mind I resented you. I hated the way Brian looked at you. I am ashamed of that tawdry feeling now, and blame it on the stress of the occasion. I apologize to you now for that. But I am not a fit companion for that vicious plant.”

  “You know I am a fembot, an emancipated sex machine. Sex is nothing to me. Friendship is everything. Your friendship.”

  “I know. But somehow I wanted to be the one fornicating with those handsome men. I even resented my pregnancy, in that moment.”

  “The pheromones were affecting you, as they did not affect me.”

  “That’s true,” Mona agreed, in retrospect seeing the obvious. “They had the same effect on me that the hormones of the female vamps had on Brian. Elasa, its really potent stuff. I don’t want to be exposed to it again.”

  “But Mona, that’s what I need you for now! You can relate to Venus in a way I can’t. Because you can respond to her pheromones and to her telepathy. I need her to be trained to do her illusions for us. Not merely sexy women for Brian, or balls of mist for you. I am convinced that that power of projecting illusions can extend to others, like ordinary non-sexual people, or pretty roses, or appealing food. Or to conceal what is there, making it in effect invisible. Drawing images from the mind of the beholder, showing him what he expects to see. That could be such a wonderful ability. You are here to study precognition, and that is fully worthy, but the ability to project illusions may have similar significance. We can use both, if we can only capture them. Please, Mona. You are my closest frien
d, the only one I can really trust with something like this. When Venus is properly trained, then you can ship her to me by spaceship, and you will be free of her. I beg you. Please.”

  Mona melted. What could she do? Elasa was her closest friend too. “I will try.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Elasa hugged her, and Mona saw that there were tears in her eyes. She was a machine, but she was also a woman, with a woman’s feelings. She truly cared about this.

  The rest was routine. They took Elasa to the space office, where the return exchange was performed. Mike, the logistics officer, was there. When he ordered the fembot to return to her stall, she did without hesitation.

  Mike shook his head. “I think I preferred her the other way.”

  “We all do,” Mona said. “There is no one else like Elasa. On Earth she is married, with a baby.”

  “With a baby!”

  “It’s a long story. I sincerely thank you for your cooperation. Our spot mission was successful.”

  “I am glad of that.” They shook hands, and Mona departed.

  But now she had a new and somewhat worrisome obligation: caring for, and attempting to train, the potted vampire plant. She was not sanguine about that, the mental pun on blood intended.

  Yet Elasa was right: the secret of controlled projective telepathy was a thing that had to be grasped, if it was even close to being in reach.

  She gazed at the potted plant. The stem hardly showed above the soil. Venus remained cowed, and there was no illusion. That evoked her sympathy.

  “I will do what I can for you, Venus,” she promised, hoping she could deliver.

  Chapter 8:

  Wether

  Bunky entered the house, picking up on her complicated mood. He nuzzled her, trying to cheer her; she knew this by his mind, which was increasingly open to her as he learned to handle human thoughts. She hugged him, appreciating the effort; it did help.

  “I don’t suppose you can look ahead and see what luck I’ll have with Venus,” she said. But she knew he couldn’t; human interactions were complex, subject to constant change. The sheep could precog fixed events, ones that were unaffected by decisions of the moment, such as the HiLo or the Storm, but not self-referential ones. Her act of deciding to take one course of action with the plant could lead to eddy-currents of feedback that caused her to take another course. The future truly was mutable. Shep and Elen had been lucky that the future discoveries the sheep foresaw could not be affected by the revelation, at that late stage. Precognition was no easy fix.