And What of Earth

Chapter 5



Friday at the clinic was completely quiet -- it seemed as if no one was getting sick, or walking through poison ivy, or falling down stairs. While the Rock was still accessible by walking along the creek down from where Twin Elm entered the ravine, no one was bothering to go there. Four American soldiers stood guard where the barrier sliced across the end of Emerald, just before the creek.

Comiston's arrival with lunch gave Jennifer an opportunity to pass along information that she had picked up about their society. In particular, their practices and beliefs regarding death and dying.

"...They send their sick out to die alone?" he asked in disbelief.

"They don't send them," Jennifer answered. "Those who believe that they are about to die leave of their own accord. They call it going on one last hunt. The tradition predates their history, apparently. The person takes a small shelter, like a puptent, a bedroll, a spear, a day's rations and some poison. They wander to where they want to die, pitch the tent, and get into the bedding. Even though suicide is an abomination to them, if necessary, they'll speed up the dying process by ingesting a neurotoxin. They are considered legally dead the instant they cross the threshold of the house. No one engages with them. It is as if there aren't there. The family and loved ones are required to wait 3 dawns before they go fetch the body. They call it 'the shell'. Burial or cremation, like us. A nine-day period of mourning. As best they can, they never die in bed, or in a hospital. They are driven to die on this last hunt thing of theirs. Personally, I think it's callous, but it's a tradition that they subscribe to wholeheartedly. They believe that, as the person dies, their essence -- spirit I guess -- comes out of the shell, and is transported to their version of Heaven. They call it 'The Other Side', and the process is called 'crossing over'." She shrugged. "That's how they described it to me. They consider what we do -- gathering with the loved one to be with them when they die to be humiliating to the person dying. They are like us, but also not like us. I'm not sure how this information will help you--."



Saturday morning, Jennifer was wandering aimlessly around the football field with Myka, trying to explain what football was, and why she would occasionally say the phrase "Go Huskers" seemingly at random. Some of the people from the other houses behind the barrier had started coming out to look at the landing craft and the ship that hovered noiselessly several hundred feet above them. Jennifer kept interrupting her attempt to explain the game to introduce neighbors that were brave enough to venture over. Myka continued to be polite and patient, greeting each and every one of them and telling them that the Wakira were only there to find out more about humankind.

As one middle-aged lady bade farewell and wandered away (slightly mollified), Jennifer scanned the area, trying to see if anyone else would interfere with her efforts in explaining her favorite sport to the alien commander. She spotted a familiar figure descending the stairs coming down from Emerald to the north endzone. "Crap!" she said, under her breath. "Trouble, thy name is Underhill." She considered trying to bundle Myka onto the ship on some pretext but decided against it. She gritted her teeth and pretended to smile at the approaching woman.

"Hey Candy," she called out, hoping that she at least sounded like she was happy to see her nemesis.

"Hey Xena," the other responded, using the nickname that she had assigned Jennifer. "Have you gotten even taller?"

"Clean living, Candy," she said, literally looking down at the much shorter woman. "You should try it sometime."

Myka knew something was going on, but couldn't determine if it was more banter, or if the words were intended to hurt.

"Hello, Sugar," Candy flashed her porcelain-capped teeth at the alien. "My name is --"

"Candy Underhill. I recognized you from the photograph I saw of you and Jennifer."

"Photograph?" she said, confused.

"Winter regionals, 2013. There's a picture of the two of us applauding the winning team in our division. This is Myka. He is the mission commander for the Wakira survey team."

"I love a man in uniform. Why don't you run along and find another alien to talk to, Xena?"

Jennifer refused to let her fake smile disappear. "Men in uniform, honey? Rafe Dixon is on guard duty just outside the barrier at Emerald and Thicket. From what I remember, you were -- umm -- very familiar with Rafe back when we were at school." Jennifer's smile broadened. Candy's smile disappeared.

"Jennifer has been very helpful to me and to the survey. Her intelligence and ability to recall detailed historical facts has made my job much much easier." He stopped and waited patiently for Candy's response.

She brushed her fingertips down his cheek and rested her hand against his chest. "Well, Myka, if you ever want to interact with someone with an earthy knowledge, just look for me. I'm sure that I can make you happy, too." She turned and looked up at Jennifer. "Seeya around, Xena." She sashayed away without waiting for a response.

"Only if my luck turns bad, Candy," was the near silent reply.

"Jennifer?" Myka asked as soon as Candy was a fair distance away. "What was Candy Underhill attempting to do?"

Jennifer bit her tongue and tempered the answer she wanted to give him. "She was trying to seduce you, by offering to have sex with you. In return for social status from the rest of us Terrans here, and possibly from the Wakira."

Myka took Jennifer by the elbow and led her over to the westside stands, away from everyone else. "Why would she think that I would wish to engage in sexual intercourse with her? Was she proposing that we bond?"

"Bond? Do you mean like enter into a permanent or semi-permanent relationship?"

He blinked twice. "Terrans engage in sex while not in a permanent relationship?" He almost sounded horrified at the notion.

"Many do. I don't. The people who knew me thought of me as being a prude. Abstaining from sex, from tobacco, from drugs and from alcohol. I hated the term, but I'm proud that I have honored my beliefs. No matter how difficult it has been." She blushed at her confession of self-perceived weakness. "Are you bonded, Myka? Is there a Mrs. Mission Commander back home?"

"No, I have no mate yet. Though, my mother is desperate that I get a mate soon. I have promised her that I will bond soon after my return from this mission."

"Do you have someone in mind? Is there a female that you've had your eye on?"

Myka seemed to look scandalized. "Jennifer. These questions are becoming uncomfortable. These are things that males and females do not discuss between the genders."

Jennifer considered pushing the issue, but thought that that would be rude and unfair. He was clearly feeling off-balance. "Okay. I'm sorry if I've stepped into an area that we shouldn't talk about. Though, I could remind you of the conversation we had yesterday evening regarding romance and dalliances." She waited for a moment then continued on a slightly different tangent. "You never did explain to me what Wakira do for romance and dating. Are you as abrupt and forward as Candy was just now? Is your bonding pre-arranged? How do you get a female to want to be your mate?"

"This is difficult for me to discuss. It is not done in public, nor with anyone outside of the family." His eyes focused on his feet while he searched for what he thought would be an appropriate answer. "Our bonding is determined bio-chemically. Two or three times each year, adults enter a phase where they produce unique hormones. Translated, the term we use is cycle, though the English word fails utterly to describe the condition. When in cycle, our bodies are more sensitive to odors, particularly body odors of those around us. When the scent of a Wakira in cycle is detected by one of the opposite gender who is also in cycle, a -- transformation -- takes place." He paused. "Jennifer, this is very uncomfortable for me."

She caressed his arm. "I'm sorry, Myka. I had absolutely no intention to cause you distress. I'll summarize what I think you're saying. A male and a female are in cycle. After a period of time of being near each other, their bodies detect the scent of the other. And some sort of process takes place in both of them that causes a change of some kind."

He was silent for a moment. "The change involves the pleasure center. It is sensitized to that particular scent or odor. All scents are unique. The change is permanent. I -- I cannot say any more about this." He stood, and looked at the lander that was 130 feet away.

"I am ashamed that I pushed you too far, Myka. I was merely curious, trying to compare our practices regarding romance and marriage with your own. You bond permanently and part of that bond involves the presence of the mate triggering off feelings of pleasure."

Myka looked like he wanted to flee. "Intense. Bonding is permanent. Irreversible. If a mate dies, the other is rendered bereft of happiness. Bereft of love. Of hope. I vaguely remember the father of my father. What he was like when his mate crossed over to the other side. I did not understand bonding then -- I was 4 I think. But looking at my -- grandfather? -- I remember thinking that he looked empty. He was not the same. My father explained it to me a few years later." He turned to look at her. "Please, Jennifer. I cannot talk about this. It is far too private for us."

She stood, and carefully entwined her arm with his. "I will not speak of this to anyone. It will be as if we hadn't discussed it." She gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile. "What would you like to talk about? Somehow, I don't think you were very interested in my description of football."



The bar was nearly empty. The grounding of nearly all air traffic in North America (and around the world) meant that not much in the way of sporting events was going on. A powerfully-built man with steel-grey eyes and a permanent scowl on his face wandered over to where a small group of men were talking.

When he stopped by their table, they looked at him and told him to get lost. That this was a private conversation. "Not if you don't keep your voices down," he told them. "I've been listening since I walked in the door about 10 minutes ago. And I just may be the piece of the puzzle you've been wanting."

The men looked at each other, accusing one another of being the one talking too loudly. The leader of the group looked up at him. "Now, how is it that you think you have what we need when we haven't even told you what we're wanting to do?"

His scowl grew deeper, and he gave his head a disparaging shake. "You need to get into a couple of places. None of you know the slightest thing about how to do that sort of stuff. You amateurs are in desperate need of professional help."

Some of the men at the table started getting upset. "You a*shole!" one of them shouted at him. "Who do you think you are? Where do you get off assuming that you know more than us. You don't know nuthin'."

Steel-grey eyes seemed to bore holes into the man's skull. He slunk back down behind the table. "It'll take more than just crawling through sewers. You have to be able to get into Jewel before you can try and infiltrate the occupied area. The exclusion zone is littered with troops whose sole order is to keep the likes of you well away from town." He looked at each one of them in turn. "I was right the first time -- you're all amateurs. I'll go find me a group who at least has a brain between them." He started to turn and walk away.

A hand gently grabbed his wrist. He stopped and stared down at the hand. "Remove it, or lose it."

"Just a second there, friend -."

"Randy! You're not gonna believe the BS this outsider is feeding us --."

"Shaddup and sit down!" Randy told him, then let go of the stranger's wrist. "So, how is it that you're an expert?"

The scowl suddenly turned into a smile. "You remember the Bin Laden thing?" They all nodded. "I was on the team that nailed him," he lied. He took a napkin and wrote down the name and address of the motel he was staying at. "You guys have until Tuesday to get in touch with me. If you don't, then I'm gone. Good luck with that balloon idea." He rolled his eyes at them. "You'd be shot down before you even got halfway to the town." He turned and walked out the door and onto the street.