Where Ruby gets to meet beverly's favourite aliens and learns a thing or two about trust and compassion.

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NEW SPACETRAN 5

Part 5.

We started to dematerialise out of hypertime in front of a spectacular rainbow coloured
disc that left me gasping in wonder. ‘No wonder’ she had been attracted to it I reasoned. It looked for the entire world like some immense ‘Catherine Wheel’ frozen in space. I took my familiar seat on the cockpit divan and watched as the circle stopped shimmering and the miasma of flickering colours slowly evolved into the vaguely foggy but just identifiable arms of a galaxy.

The arms slowly started to turn.

“No. The galaxy is not spinning that fast. That’s just us rotating in each separated dimensional plane as we start to align the warp.” She reported reassuringly. “If we don’t get each affected dimension in the right polarity or spacial or chronological harmony, we could arrive upside-down and inside-out and whatever else.”

“Does that matter then?” I wondered.

“Yes. If we dematerialise with the wrong dimensional polarity we could end up as a sort of virtual antimatter. I won’t try to explain but I’m sure you understand the consequences. I’ve also got to shed the surplus accumulated energy from the warp ring.”

I shuddered nervously. ‘There was a hell of a lot more to this time warping than met the
eye!’ I watched her operate the crude aluminium controls and realised how completely I was in her tiny hands. I felt a sudden nauseous giddiness and bumped my nose against the window as the Galaxy suddenly hardened into sharp focus. The warp change had corrected the light shift and each arm was a distinct colour exactly as she had described it.

“We’ll go interstellar now. The individual stars will start to streak past. Don’t be frightened, we’ll exceed light speed and we still won’t have a solid composition in the conventional sense. If anything gets in our way we just go through it like quarks through ordinary matter. We only have to take care once we arrive at the exact star system. We'll emerge from hyperspace outside the farthest orbit of the planets and manoeuvre in like any ordinary docking ship. It doesn’t take long in this system because there’s no random debris and the comets are all well documented. We can still travel pretty close to light speed.”
Her words proved true and we finally arrived close to a beautiful planet with three tiny moons. As I stared myopically, a group of tiny dots expanded to reveal themselves as spacecraft.

“Our reception committee.” She said. “Come on. Time to space walk. The big blue one is like an ambassadorial craft, a sort of ‘Ellis Island’ in space. I don’t know if they’ve ever had to use it yet though there is another planet with intelligent species in this arm of their galaxy. It’s immaterial to me though for they always accord me special diplomatic status.”

After donning our space-suites we were whisked by some sort of tractor beam to the huge craft and entered it like ants entering a church. It dwarfed The Cold Albatross which remained untouched in stasis as two powerful looking escort craft took up obvious patrol duty beside her. As we approached the airlock I asked her about it.

“They treat her as a shrine. It’s always a tremendous honour for any of them to go aboard her so the escorts protect her integrity while I’m away. They know all about my neurosis and my obsessions with privacy so they respect me for that because I gave them anti-grav and interplanetary drive.”

“Are you treated like a God then?”

“Oh heavens no! They’re far more advanced than that. They know all about my problems with transvestism and they helped me alter my body. It’s nearly all female now except for what’s between my legs. Even my brain’s half female now. They’re brilliant doctors. Just think where humans would be medically if they had reached interplanetary anti-grav drive. These people are incredibly compassionate. Hey-up we’re here.”

I braced myself for my first alien encounter and a hot thrill of anticipation coursed through my veins. I was not disappointed and eagerly copied my hostess and removed my helmet as she had done to embrace what was obviously an old friend. Introductions were swiftly completed with no formality and we were invited to dine as the craft set course for an inner planet.

“Were we expected then.” I asked her.

“Oh yes, of course. I regularly visit. Every time I bring them some new artefacts or interesting foods. They really look forward to my visits. Look, there’s a container coming across from Cold Albatross. It’s got all sorts of stuff but it all goes into quarantine before assimilation. They’ll do what they will with it and I enjoy unparalleled hospitality in return.”

“Is there nothing else, no hidden agenda?” I asked.

“There goes your human suspicious mind again. Just go with the flow for God’s sake.”

I fell to talking with our host’s assistant who gave me a brief rundown of customs and habits to avoid any embarrassment. We were to be taken to the main diplomatic compound and given an apartment each. After a formal welcome we had a free run of the planets. I decided to stay close to my friend. Our host turned again to my companion and smiled.

“So Beverly, how long will you stay this time?”

It was the first time I had heard her name and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. She smiled self-consciously and replied first to her friend.

“I’m not sure Thlom, I think my friend Ruby will want to see as much as possible. And in answer to your raised eyebrow about my name Ruby; I’m called Beverly, I live like a woman now, it’s what I want.”

“So why haven’t you gone the whole hog? I asked. “The full sex-change?”

“I want to keep my penis. He’s an important source of pleasure. I’m a transvestite not a transsexual. I don’t expect you to understand. The doctors didn’t when I was a child. They said I was mentally sick. One silly bugger even recommended a sex change when I was all fouled up and hadn’t got a clue where I was going. The another psychiatrist tried to alter my sexuality with Electro-shock therapy. I suffered burns and a lot more. They might as well have just hit me with sticks but because the sticks had shiny knobs they called it psychiatry. All this when I was only bloody ten; a dustbin kid. A piece of material for them to try their theories and experiments. They can do anything they like to you when you’re in care. And they do.”

She finished with a soft menacing voice.

“Does Thlom know the whole story?” I whispered ashamed of my own human race.

“Of course I do Ruby.” Interrupted our host. “From our amphibian perspective it’s hard to understand how important your mammalian sexual dimorphism is to you. You’ll have no doubt noticed that there is little difference in the appearance of our primary sexual organs. You will not we don’t dress to cover our sex organs because the primary ones are mainly internal. Strangely our secondary features are more important socially. The little frill you see on the backs of men’s necks is a good example. It’s a rudimentary feature harking back to our primordial origins. I’m quite old now and fairly inactive but amongst our young men you’ll notice the adornment of the frill is an important factor in sexual selection. It’s considered very promiscuous for young ladies to touch it in public unless they have been mated.”

“Beverly tells me that’s a very rare event these days.” I observed boldly.

“Unfortunately yes. We’re terribly tight for space. The selected few are very highly honoured. Once the girls are selected they have the pick of the whole male population.”

“How are they selected.”

“They undergo a series of examinations. Health checks, beauty contests, and of course a rigorous series of academic exams. We can’t afford to leave much to chance but we also have a lottery each year so that a few can win a wild card. Genetics is nothing if not a lottery. We try to be as fair as possible.”

“It seems hard for the losers.” I observed.

“It’s desperately hard and we can’t seem to find a way around it.”

“It’s pity you don’t have the same reproductive processes as mammals.”

“In that?” Queried Thlom.

“You know. Each mother having only a few babies.”

“Believe me we’ve looked at it, especially after Beverly turned up from the great beyond. When she described how you mammals reproduced, our women’s hearts ached. They would give anything just to experience that primordial right to be a mother.”

We had come to a large square and thousands had arrived just to catch a glimpse of us. The news had long preceded our arrival and I was a little nervous about entering the throng. Beverly showed no reservations and promptly joined the heaving mass. As she disappeared into the milling throng I was reminded of a football crowd. I only caught up with her again at the diplomatic compound. In the interim I explored what turned out to be a bustling market and was surprised to find that the crowds were exceptionally well ordered. Thlom later told me it was an inherent trait born of necessity through the overcrowding. They had got the population stable but reducing it was proving extraordinarily painful.

Back at the compound Beverly and I chatted about our experiences.

“It’s terribly crowded,” I observed

“This is nothing. We’re in the capital were there’s open spaces and planned parks. In some of the provincial cities there's terrible squalor. The overcrowding is bloody nigh fatal.”

“Well why don’t they reduce the number of girls selected. I argued.”

“They need a minimum genetic pool to prevent inbreeding. It’s already dangerously
close to the extinction factor as it is. In fact some of their geneticists reckon they’ve already gone too far and weakened the
gene pool fatally. There’s a huge political row about it as we speak. You see a girl’s eggs are all genetically identical so the scope for genetic diversification is limited when you apply population control.”

“So why don’t they only preserve a few eggs from each girl then more girls can breed and
there would be greater genetic diversification.”

“That’s infanticide Ruby. It’s one of their biggest ongoing arguments at the moment.”

“So what. If it’s survival of the species then eugenic need’s must when the devil drives. Choose the fittest and let them survive,”

Beverly fell silent for a moment before speaking softly.

“If that had been allowed on Earth Ruby, I’d not be here now. Transvestites and gays are the very stuff of genetic and homophobic social rejection. My foetus would be rotting in some hospital dust-bin or worse, -I’d be disposed of as six-year-old once they discovered what I was, - a lesser thing, a flawed thing, a piece of rubbish, - vermin!”

“Oh that’s not fair Beverly. I said nothing about killing children.”

“It’s a thin line Ruby, believe me it’s a very thin line. I was destined to be disposed of in
a snuff movie anyway. The moral question had already been circumvented and rationalised. I am transvestite scum, remember!”

I fell silent with embarrassment after realising I had again jumped in with both clod-hopping feet. Beverly stumbled from my apartment tight-lipped and with white spots of tension on her cheekbones. I noticed the beginnings of a tear in her eye and I could have bitten my stupid tongue off. The following morning I couldn’t find her, she had left for some private destination with Thlom. It was obvious that she felt bitterly hurt and decided to snub me. I also sensed a mood of censure amongst the aliens. I left the compound and found myself at the local university. There I fell in with a professor of biology for that was my major at college. We chatted all morning about comparative anatomy. He also dwelt at length about the miracle that Beverly had wrought when she gave them interplanetary drive. Apparently they had been on the verge of a full-scale civil war over the overcrowding question. Now the other suitable planets of their star system were being steadily colonised as we spoke although there were still vast problems to overcome. He also related their species biological history and how they had become the dominant species after the demise of a predatory race that had weakened itself through constant turf wars.

The amphibians had managed to overcome them and take over the planet. From being the prey they had become the victors and consequently overrun the planet. They had evolved from herbivorous amphibians and never been seriously aggressive. Their defensive techniques had simply evolved unexpectedly and they had gained evolutionary superiority over the species that had predated on them since the dawn of their history.

The breeding impulse however had always been strong and that was how they had survived the predators. Once the predators had virtually exterminated themselves through failed predation and starvation, the overcrowding die had been cast for the amphs. I shuddered as I wondered about their pre-historic ‘birth control’ techniques.

‘Predation! Uugh! It couldn’t have been more traumatic!’

“This was all thousands of earth years ago Ruby.” He finished. “Now we find ourselves to be our own worst enemies.”

“So how would you suggest you solve it. Why don’t you take up Beverly’s offer and use interstellar drive so that you can cross to other star systems in your own galaxy?”

“It’s no good. She said that just about every planet that could evolve life had already appeared to have done so or more often had started on the process of evolution. We doubted her word so after we helped her rebuild her ship she took some of our scientists to visit hundreds of random star systems in our galaxy and she was right. We felt quite guilty at having doubted her. In several systems the expedition was attacked but Beverly had become super-cautious and the expedition always managed to escape.

We’re not a warlike race so we would never countenance attacking another race. Apparently she had once been captured somewhere out near the edge of the universe and she only just managed to escape. That craft of hers is a remarkable device, it’s just about the most advanced thing in the universe. You should have seen the ramshackle old crate when she first arrived. We helped her build a new hull and make the interior more comfortable but the essential design and drives haven’t changed a bit since she built it. The physics departmental museum has got the original aluminium and plywood control consoles. It’s one of their most revered technical icons. You wouldn’t believe how crude the craft was when she first arrived. It even leaked air into space. When she dematerialised the first time the warp fabric detonated instead of just ripping because of the pollution from the leaked air. We recorded the explosion on our planet and it dematerialised over a light year away. Just imagine the energy that accumulates to do that. D’you want to see it?”

I nodded enthusiastically. Ever since Beverly had told me she had built her space-ship in a barn I found her words hard to believe. The cold Albatross I had arrived in had been far too sophisticated to have be knocked together in a barn!

Now I was about to see the truth, the original raw crude handiwork that Beverly had actually assembled with her own single hand. The professor contacted his colleague in the physics department and we crossed the campus to an imposing building. In the main hall I found the physics professor reverently opening the protective glass case and I realised I was getting the special treatment. Dozens of students had immediately gathered to watch such an auspicious event.

What I saw made my heart reach out to Beverly. The console was indeed a crude device. The ‘wrap-around’ aluminium sheet even showed ‘vice compression marks’ where her clumsy efforts had betrayed her single-handedness. None of the saw cuts had been filed smooth and the thing even showed copious blood stains where she must have cut herself a thousand times on the sharp unfinished metal edges. I realised the panel must have been put together in a rush as though the child Beverly knew she had to get off the planet Earth very soon or die.

Dozens of crude dials without glass showed incomprehensible readings that must have measured even more incomprehensible force. Finally, right in the middle of the panel there was a rectangular hole where something important must have lain. I finally realised that the crude levers on our ship’s, - (our ship?) super-sophisticated control console had once lived in this aperture. I caught the Physics professor fingering the panel reverently. Behind the panel lay what seemed like a thousand tiny wires obviously pilfered or scrounged from a hundred easily identifiable earthly sources; domestic wiring, telephone wires, car dashboard yokes, domestic appliances and God alone knew wherever else.

The whole sad ambit of earthly, childhood terror, desperation and genius seemed bound up in the crude spaghetti behind that simple panel. I felt a lump form in my throat and turned away unable to countenance the years of research, toil and tears that must have gone into the whole craft.

‘How in God’s name had she managed to pay for the materials to build the hull and the engines?’ I wondered. Then with a sickening certainty I remembered. She had been a child prostituted by a paedophile pimp. ‘No wonder she seemed to have a love affair with The Cold Albatross’. It was her all, the only baby she could ever have borne. The physics professor sensed my emotion and eyed me up and down as he spoke.

“This really belongs on your planet you know but Beverly would have none of it.”

“I’m not surprised. Did you help her rebuild it.”

“Yes. We couldn’t do enough for her. Once we had established a spaceship industry on this home planet, we helped her to build a new hull, and a completely new interior. All she had to do was re-install her secret warp drives and the old controls.”

I remembered the crude aluminium rods in the control console sticking up like weeds in a flowerbed. It was obvious the controls and the drive were inextricably connected. Like a brain and it’s spinal cord. The physics professor continued so I shut up and listened. After all I was here to learn.

He explained further.

“The rebuild was a much bigger task and she found it impossible with her single limb so our medics made her a new hand. She was so grateful it was pathetic but it was really the least we could do.”

“Where’s the old hull?” I asked.

“In the engineering block. If you think the controls are crude just go and see the hull. It’s little more than a metal coffin. When our first year space-craft architects see it they can’t believe it crossed between galaxies all over the universe many times before finally coming to us. Beverly’s a very brave girl. She used to have to carry oxygen bottles on her back and wear a space suite if the pressure dropped too low due to leaky welds and sub-light interplanetary ends of passages. The old suite is there as well. We designed her some new suites and excellent ones they are even though I say it myself.”

We took a shuttle to another campus and I had to gape in disbelief at the crude drum
shaped craft that was perched so conspicuously on the plinth in the main hall. It was obvious that the front cockpit section was little more than a few oil drums crudely mig-welded together whilst the rear living space looked suspiciously like the container from some garbage truck welded to a builder’s skip.

Some crude spokes stuck out radially and the engineering professor told me it was were the original amalgam spiral ring had been attached. The physics professor expanded the story a little.

“The composition of that amalgam is the crux of the craft’s secrets. That’s what gives her space warp and time travel. The whole original ring was expanded by Beverly herself by adding some more amalgam and it is now contained in a protective titanium casing on her new craft”

“So this is the real Cold Albatross. Mark one as it were?” I whispered reverently.

“The very one. This is our greatest treasure and when alien species finally meet across the galaxies this will be our finest contribution to the history of space travel. The very first time traveller, - the very first time-ship.”

I felt a deep pang of jealousy for their having such a historical artefact then I felt the guilt
of all of humanity at somehow having caused such a gift to escape. Here, but for our homophobic and transphobic prejudices; but for humanity’s cruelty and hypocrisy; - here was the past, the present, and future birthright of humanity. It seemed almost like a biblical punishment.

I had no right to grumble though. It was entirely Beverly’s right. She obviously loved these
people and I had to admit I had found them totally honest and open. My first and probably only encounter with an alien species had proved a charming and friendly occasion.

Much chastened I returned to the diplomatic compound to find Beverly enjoying a hastily
thrown spontaneous party. Thlom was performing some particularly stupid antics and it was obvious that everybody was very drunk. I wasn’t in the mood for levity so a slunk back to my apartment. Later that night, as I sat brooding in my armchair, Beverly staggered past my open door and hesitated unsteadily.

“Hi. H- h- ha-ad a good day?” She gurgled.

“An informative one. I saw your original handiwork today.”

Beverly leaned stupidly against the doorpost and said nothing. In fact she was too drunk to say ‘bread’ and as she tried to reply she slid helplessly down the wall.

“You’re pissed!” I accused.

“An- and you’re a tight-arse, bu- bur’ I’ll be sober tomorrow.”

I felt a little jealous. To lose all inhibitions and get hopelessly incapacitated demonstrated that Beverly was wholly at ease on this planet. She would never have dreamed of allowing herself to become so vulnerable on Earth. I would try and speak to her in the morning but for now it behoved me to lay her frail unconscious form out in my spare bedroom. I debated undressing her for bed then suddenly remembered she was a traumatised,frightened transvestite and my feminine sensibilities prevented me. For a moment however, I was curious and debated peeking under her indecently short skirt until I remembered her horror of such things sexual. Instead I gently tucked a blanket over her and returned to brood in my chair. Later Thlom staggered by and smiled as he saw Beverly flaked out.

“Keep an eye on her. She’s drunk far too much.”

“Don’t I know it. What prompted you two to tie one on?”

“She always does on her second night. She feels safe here and it’s her only relief valve. Getting pissed once a visit? It’s hardly a crime now is it?”

I looked at Beverly’s fragile vulnerable form and my heart went out to her as I nodded to Thlom.

.“No, it’s not, you’re right. Where did you go today?”

“Somewhere private.”

“Oh! I suppose you’re her guardian and boyfriend are you? Did you get it on then?"”

“That’s disgusting,” Objected Thlom. “I won't even honour that question with an answer. You really are a suspicious person aren’t you?”

“Well why would she want privacy on this planet. It’s like a bloody ant heap and if she wanted privacy she’s got the whole of bloody space.”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m too pissed to get philanthropical now. Goodnight.”

I wondered what he meant by ‘philanthropical’ and assumed that he meant philosophical. He left and I closed my door to avoid any more interruptions. Beverly grunted drunkenly a couple of times so I closed her bedroom door and switched on the television. There was a debate going on about improving the solutions to the overcrowding and I quickly became engrossed in the
arguments. When it finished I retired thoughtfully to bed.

When I woke Beverly was preparing some food and chewing on an alien root with a strong citric aroma. She grinned guiltily as I emerged.

“D’you want some breakfast?” She chirped cheerfully.

“I’m surprised you’re up to eating after last night.”

“I chew this root and drink oodles of water. It clears hangovers like magic. Try it.”

She proffered a small slice but I rejected it.

“I don’t need it I wasn’t pissed last night.”

“Do I detect a note of censure then?” Grinned Beverly disarmingly.

I couldn’t remain angry with her and it was churlish of me to be miffed about her having left me to my own devices. It was her only opportunity to let her hair down while feeling unthreatened. Additionally I had enjoyed a very interesting day and I asked her about the old Mark One Albatross. She smiled slightly then shrugged her shoulders disarmingly.

“Yes it was all a bit hairy back then. The Albatross looked a lot better than that when I
first lit out from Earth. She’s a bit careworn as you see her now what with the burns and blasts of outrageous fortune. She had a pretty rough life.”

“I can’t believe you actually got that trash can into space. Is it true you nearly ran out of
air?”

“Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. She was always leaking air and I was continually welding the cracks. The dematerializations were always a bit bumpy though. The little interplanetary dog-legs at the beginning and end of each passage”

“A bit bumpy by God! The Physics professor told me they detected the bang down here. Just how much bloody energy is knocking around when that thing flies?”

“You’re comparing her to a rocket again. She doesn’t work like that. Forget Newtonian physics and Einstein’s relativity. And don’t call her ‘it’.”

I squinted at Beverly suspiciously as she dished up the food.

“Is there something special about her that you’re not telling me?”

“No, nothing. “Nothing I haven’t already told you. It’s just that Cold Albatross I, - well she’s my baby. I can’t have a real baby can I? Although I was fucked enough times before Albatross was finally born.”

I sensed her pain and changed the subject. There was no way I was going to get involved in a psychosexual counselling session with a super-intelligent transvestite.

“What are we doing today?”

“We? I don’t know about we. I’m off with Thlom to the breeding ponds and contraception labs. They want some of my DNA.”

“Good God! What are you up to?” I squeaked suspecting some obscene frankensteinian experiments.

“They have tremendous trouble with estrogenic compounds because they’re amphibians. All their efforts at contraception keep falling foul of the low estrogenic tolerances of their amphibian metabolisms. You know like shellfish and stuff are changing their sex in Earth’s rivers because of PCB’s and stuff. Well it’s like that with their embryonic boys. If they dose the girls they lay only female eggs. That compounds the overpopulation problems and if they dose the boys they tend to change sex. The whole things a right mess. They’ve got some pretty fancy stuff available but it’s not wholly reliable. They know my mammalian DNA is far more tolerant so they are looking at some way of utilising that capacity. I leave some DNA samples every time I come. They’ve already had some spectacular results with mammalian testosterone but I don’t produce much these days. They’re on the verge of synthesising a compatible amphibian version and I’m going to visit them to chat to their geneticists.”

“They might be cloning you for all you know. Don’t you think you’re being a bit too
trusting?”

“There you go again; human distrust. I don’t care what they do. They accept me for what I am and make me welcome. I’ll do whatever they ask of me.”

“So they’ll end up with a race of half mammalian, half amphibian transvestites.”

Beverly glared at me as the white spots appeared again. I realised my derogatory reference to the ‘transvestite’ issue had hurt her. I was just about to apologise but she got her retaliation in first.

“Thanks very much. They’re not like you! They’re not stupid you know. You’re a totally xenophobic W.A.S.P when it comes to science aren’t you?”

I recalled the attitudes of White Anglo-Saxon Protestants towards the other human races
and realised she had hit the issue right on the button. Once again she had made me feel stupid. It was painfully obvious that these people were infinitely far ahead of mankind if one excluded Beverly’s lonely unsung genius. But then, she hardly considered herself human anymore. A sort of itinerant, transgalactic, transvestite, half-and-half. I couldn’t really blame her though. She put on a short coat fur trimmed coat over her mini-dress and turned to me.

“I’ll be back about fiveish, our time. That’s about thirty four o’clock their time. You don’t have to clear up. They’ve got servants for that so you’ll feel at home. Enjoy yourself.

You’ve got a month to kill before I return to the Sol system. You should have learned enough by
then to convince those unbelievers back on earth.”

“Can I come?” I begged, keen to keep company with the only other human and alreadyfeeling the loneliness of isolation and culture shock.

“You won’t approve of what we’re doing. They had enough trouble getting the mammalian DNA ideas past their own ethical research committee. What was it you said? ‘Needs must’.”

I searched desperately for a reason to justify my accompanying her.

“I might be able to contribute some of my DNA.”

She gave me a long, knowing, penetrating look.

“Stop trying to bribe me. You know you disapprove.”

“I’m a biologist for God’s sake. And I saw that debate last night on television. They
need all the help they can get.”

“So what can you do that their greatest scientists can’t”

“It’s not what I can do, it’s what I am!”

A dawning light of suspicion glinted in Beverly’s eyes but she shook her head disbelievingly and muttered ‘No’, to herself.

“Why not. What’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Let’s see what Thlom has to say.”

Beverly shrugged resignedly and nodded towards my coat and hat.

“You’d better get wrapped up then. It’s dangerously cold at the breeding ponds because they’re high in the hills. The temperature range is critical for gender distribution amongst the eggs during incubation.”

“Like reptiles.” I added.

“Exactly.”

“Why aren’t you wrapped up then?”

“I don’t feel the cold much. Arctic predator; remember?”

I stared at her inquisitorially and she shrugged again as she reminded me.

“As is bent the twig, so grows the tree. I survived the mountain frost during my twelfth year and it’s been that way ever since. Call me the bloody Ice Queen.”

I shuddered as snippets of her past kept resurrecting themselves to haunt our friendship.There was a gentle tap on the door and Thlom spoke softly.

“Are you in there Beverly?”

I opened the door to find him wrapped up like an Eskimo in a very elaborate all in one. He agreed to my request to accompany them and the three of us entered his shuttle.

“Is it that cold then?” I asked him.

“To us yes. The men feel it particularly badly. The breeding ponds are frozen at the moment and the hatch isn’t until spring. All we do is ensure that the ponds are safe. The eggs overwinter under the ice.”

“Who would attack the eggs?”

“Nobody now that the predators are extinct. We only make sure the ponds remain frozen and unpolluted. The planet has become progressively dirtier with the overcrowding. We just keep a check on the water quality then there’s a huge festival during the hatch. We’re just going up to the labs for tests.”

“Yes Beverly’s mentioned it. What d’you hope to gain?”

“We don’t know. These are desperate times.”

“What sort of DNA does she supply?” I asked glancing contemptuously towards Beverly

“Whatever we ask of her.” Replied Thlom innocently missing my venom. “Usually body cells and semen.”

“You surprise me Beverly. I’m surprised you can still produce semen.”

“It’s nothing to do with you.” Snapped Beverly defensively. “What sort of DNA are you going to supply?”

She had unwittingly struck a sensitive note. As a woman they might ask me to supply some unfertilised eggs and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. Somehow eggs seemed more sacred than cheap, sacrificial sperm and anyhow there was only a finite number of eggs in myovaries. I sucked my lip thoughtfully. My protective mothering instincts began to play havoc with my
wish to help these gentle people. Beverly realised she had struck home.

“Still keen to help. You can still back out if you haven’t got the bottle. I’ve got good
reason to help them; remember this?”

She disconnected her left hand and waved the stump angrily under my nose. It suddenly acquired an obscene quality as I tried to comprehend what sort of human monster would maim a child. I began to realise just how much Beverly and the amphibians were into each other; and the relationship was based on mutual affections. Her gesture finally persuaded me. If I could bring home the biotechnology associated with Beverly’s prosthetic it would be a fair deal. I considered all the amputees and paraplegics on Earth and the pathetic gratitude that would ensue. It would also make me rich. Having found my main chance I
proposed the deal, some of my eggs for the prosthesis biotechnology. Thlom pursed his lips thoughtfully then shrugged.

“It should get past the ethics committee. What d’you think of it Beverly?”

Beverly turned around and glanced at me contemptuously before replying to Thlom.

“She’s a greedy little gold digger but it seems a fair deal. We mammals can’t re-grow our limbs like crabs and lobsters.”

Then she turned to me with a caution in her voice.

“This prosthesis is not all it seems. It’s partly amphibian, partly crustacean and partly me; you do realise that don’t you. They used the crustacean ability to re-grow limbs, their own amphibian biotechnology and my genetic material to make if compatible. Look, do you see those pipes there; well they are micro blood vessels to keep the hand alive.
It’s a separate living organism in parasitic symbiosis with me. D’you think a WASP, could hack having a parasite attached to his body. The Fascist bastards can’t even stand having different races living in the same country and as for gays and trannies the less said the better. The idea of having some parasite feeding off their precious bodies would probably send them over the edge. They might even refuse it quarantine; you know how xenophobic they are.”

“I think you’re being silly now Beverly. It’s you that’s being paranoid.”

“Yeah. I wonder why.” She murmured wearily as she turned to face front again and twiddled with the in-car television.
The shuttle slowed down and descended onto a piedmont plateau just above the snow line. The breeding ponds were clearly visible as the ice glittered in the harsh sunlight and the shuttle settled by the small town that lay amongst the ponds.

“This is their main research station for genetic engineering.” Observed Beverly as she stepped out into the bitter cold.
I shivered as the icy stillness bit through my ankle length coat and Thlom frantically buttoned up his arctic style overall. Within moments he was all but invisible inside his overall and I pulled my coat tight around me. The bitter frost quickly sliced through my clothing but Beverly seemed unaffected. There seemed to be something alien about her hardiness and I wondered if perhaps she had indulged in some more alien genetic engineering on yet another planet. In any event my fingers had already begun to ache with frostbite but she seemed completely unaffected and all she had on was a short ‘thigh-length’ fur trimmed coat over her mini-dress, patterned panty-hose and calf length boots. We struggled through the tinkling snow crystals and eventually made it to the welcome heat of the buildings. Thlom let out a grateful croak of relief and my teeth chattered away uncontrollably for a few more minutes before we recovered from what could not have been more than a couple of minutes of exposure.

“M-My God! J-Just how cold is it out there?” I stuttered.

“Alcohol freezes.” Replied Beverly unconcernedly.

“Christ girl! You must have bloody glycerine for blood.”

“Is your face frozen?” Asked Beverly.

I felt it and had to admit it was not. There had been no wind to steal my surface body heat. Beverly smiled condescendingly.

“Most of my body is like your face. As a child in the mountains I had to survive in rags. The body quickly adapts. I’m used to cold. It’s also bloody cold in deep space and Cold Albatross One was a pretty crude old tub. I rarely ever felt heat.”

She continued talking and turned to grin at Thlom as he unbuttoned his overall while she explained.

“Thlom on the other hand is a warm blooded amphibian and has absolutely no resistance to cold. He would die in seconds without protection. Wouldn’t you Thlom?”

Thlom grinned and stepped out of his protective suite then looked curiously at me.

“I would have thought you would have the same alien endurance as Beverly?”

“People vary a lot on Earth.” I replied. “How on earth do your eggs survive?”

“They’re cold blooded at the moment and can survive incredibly low temperatures. They go through metamorphosis soon after hatching.”

“Like tadpoles.” Finished Beverly.

“I perfectly understand what Thlom said Beverly! I am a graduate biologist after all.”

“So-orryyy!” She winged mockingly.

“Stop bickering you two and let’s meet the research team.” Ordered Thlom who was becoming impatient with our constant sniping.

Thus censured we both kept our silence and joined the research team inside. After a very brief introduction Thlom explained what I had offered and their eyes widened with appreciation. They immediately settled around a table to discuss different strategies and Beverly was soon left out in the cold as we pooled our biological knowledge. She was obviously bored with Biology and left to indulge in whatever caught her interest. Thlom told me she had gone to donate her DNA.

‘Going for a wank.’ I grinned to myself. The thought of such an attractive woman masturbating like a man intrigued me. I found it hard to imagine until I saw her sample later under the microscope. The count was as low as I expected but the healthy motility of the few sperm impressed me. I gave my professional opinion of the sperm sample and that satisfied the amphibian scientists. It was now my turn. I was given a local anaesthetic and actually had to help direct the egg extraction on the camera. They removed half of the forty we had agreed and immediately froze them. Even if the all eggs failed there was still a vast healthy reserve left in my ovaries. For the next few days I helped in various experiments and couldn’t help feel a perverse sense of motherliness towards my own eggs even though they were still infertile. Eventually they got the artificial womb about right and managed to synthesise a credible facsimile of my own blood. They would now be able to carry out satisfactory foetal experiments and we returned to the city. This time I borrowed a spare survival suite to reach the shuttle.

Once back in the city Beverly and I were invited onto several talk shows to debate the genetic engineering question. The moral equation was left unresolved but we absolved ourselves of responsibility. After all we would soon be leaving. It was entirely up to the amphibians to decide any future course of action concern our samples.

For the next month we toured their other colonised planets then we finally had to return to Cold Albatross. It was with no small sense of loss that I left their worlds and Beverly also seemed particularly quiet when we renewed our acquaintance with our trusty craft.

“So. It’s back to Earth again.” I sighed.

“Yup. You’ve had your jaunt and all the stuff you’ll need to create a satisfactory prosthesis has been placed in the cargo hold. Shall we go?”

“Good a time as any.” I shrugged a little sadly.

She reversed the procedures more or less exactly and within a similar time span we were back hovering on the blind side of the Earth’s moon. As we shared what was obviously to be our last meal together Beverly broached the subject of our return.

“So how d’you want to arrange your return Ruby? A blaze of publicity and world-wide panic or a discreet secret night arrival exactly as you left.”

I wagged my head confusedly.

“Neither seems a good idea. A blaze of publicity would destroy all hopes privacy but if I just reappear at work the next morning I would probably get the sack. Nobody would believe a word I say although I would still be set up for life with the prosthesis technology. There must be some sort of middle way.”

“I’ve been considering that.” She grinned. “What If I did the same to you as the astronauts and put you down on some aircraft-carrier at sea?”

“I mulled the idea over in my mind and reasoned that it wasn’t a bad idea. Beverly wasn’t just a pretty face.”

“An American ship or a French one?” I asked.

“Dunno just yet. You’re an American citizen so I think it’s unfair to dump you on a United States Ship. They’ll try and keep the whole prosthesis thing a secret and keep you under wraps.

They’ll be paranoid about UFO’s after I rescued their astronauts. I didn’t identify myself much to the astronauts that time. I just tractor beamed that stupid dangerous shuttle thing into the Cold Albatross’s hold and literally freighted them back to the safety of Earth. You might not get to benefit from the prosthesis stuff either cos if they want to keep you a secret they daren’t let you loose. It might be best to use a foreign ship then they can’t keep it a total secret.”

“There’s a hidden agenda here isn’t there Beverly?”

Her jaw tightened slightly as her expression hardened and her normally full red lips became two thin red lines of bitterness.

“Humanity owes me. I want to see them sweat.”

“Who owes you?” I asked softly.

“The whole damned human race. I want them to know what they have lost and why. Instead of being one of the most fortunate races in the universe I want them to suffer like I was made to suffer. I want them to regret what they did to me for the next million years. In future, every time an alien race visits this planet, humanity will have to look up into the skies and remember it could have been them travelling to the stars. I hope that will be my undying legacy. My story is already well known the length and breadth of the universe and Earth will be a pariah planet for millennia to come. Nobody will reveal my secrets to humankind.”

I felt a cold knot tightening in my stomach. Her bitterness was a primordial hateful force
and I could hardly blame her. It was a rare and lucky individual who managed to extract any vengeance for a childhood betrayal and Beverly’s betrayal had been total. I felt a vicious mix of excitement and anxiety twisting up my vitals as I contemplated my part in her plan. I would become as rich as Croesus yet I would be the harbinger of some of the worst news to hit humanity. Would I somehow be blamed as the bringer of the news? Would they try to kill the messenger?

Full of foreboding I wagged my head slowly but she ignored my depression as she matter-of-factly declared her plan.

“I’ll scan the Atlantic for a suitable ship and land you on whatever’s convenient. OK?”

“It’ll have to be.” I mumbled. “You’ve used me haven’t you?”

“Nothing’s free in this universe Ruby. Did you think I was some sort of philanthropist? I’m a psychopathic,transvestite misfit and it’s mankind that made me so.”

“That’s not entirely true Beverly. From what you’ve told me, it was mainly your family that made you into a transvestite.”

“I don’t know about that. I think transvestites might be born not made? Is there a transvestite gene? There might be, who knows?”

“What; like a gay gene d’you mean?” I asked wonderingly.

“Exactly. You’re the biologist. You tell me.”

“That’s a thought. It might be worth researching.”

“Research or not, it’s spilt milk now. It’ll not benefit me will it?”

“It could do. If we discovered a transvestite gene we might be able to eliminate it.”

Beverly’s face turned white with shock and I quickly realised I had not only overstepped the mark but smashed right through it.

“You haven’t learned a damned thing in this entire trip have you?”

My mind groped for an apology as a vague inkling filtered through my prejudices. Beverly saved me any further mental effort.

“Don’t you understand!!? I like being a transvestite. It’s nice. Can’t you get that through you’re thick skull?”

“But what about all the social censure; the pressure and condemnation from others.”

“Bugger the others, if I found a transvestite gene, I’d offer it to the whole of humanity.”

“I don’t think they’d take up your offer.” I pointed out.

“Then they don’t know what they’re bloody missing.” She finished.

Lost for a riposte I drained my coffee and contemplated the last few minutes travelling down to Earth. She stood up, entered her bedroom and rummaged through her wardrobe for a suitable dress. Unusually she left the door open and I was allowed to watch her get changed.

The only concession to her transvestism being to discreetly turn away from me as she changed her panties. The dress was a provocatively short tight fitting cocktail number and I anticipated her needing help to do up the zip.

To my amazement however the ‘prosthetic’ left hand proved remarkably agile and she deftly zippered the dress up to fit snugly over her provocative curves. I realised she was ‘putting on her war-paint’ in anticipation of some sort of deliberate encounter.

“How come you needed my help with the stuck zip when we first met?” I demanded.

“I didn’t Ruby. It was an icebreaker. A subtle ploy to relax you.”

“I’m not relaxed now am I. It’s a shitty message you’ve left me to deliver to mankind.”

“Take heart Ruby. I’m going to allow them to see me. I’ll be standing in the cargo door when you step onto the aircraft carrier. Why d’you think I’m wearing this? Come on it’s time to go. You can sit on the cockpit divan and watch your home planet fill your senses.”

“It’s your home planet as well.” I pointed out.

“I’ve moved on Ruby. I’ve got no home now. There’s no hope of my ever going back.”

The familiar image of Earth quickly filled the window and just as quickly my emotions filled my heart. ‘Home!’ In what seemed a moment we were loitering high above the rippled grey Atlantic. It was a beautifully clear summer’s day and I began to wonder how long I had been away. We had left in the middle of the North American Winter. Beverly grinned and explained.

“You’re only a month older but the Earth has moved on nearly half a year. You’ve gained five months of extra living Ruby. Don’t waste it.”

I felt a thrill of excitement at learning this but it was quickly followed by frustration. I had no way of proving it back on Earth. Beverly brought the Cold Albatross down to a suitable altitude and we started patiently searching the ocean.
For all her super-advanced drive, the Cold Albatross lacked any form of communication, no Radar, no radio or anything. Beverly pointed out that she had little need for them as a confirmed loner wandering in space. Additionally she had no solid form when she was time warping between the galaxies so there was no physical risk of collision. Consequently we had to search the oceans visually for several hours before we spotted a familiar grey form. Their radar had spotted us however long before we had spotted them and suddenly four Harrier jets buzzed us. I recognised their markings immediately as British.

“Company.” I announced superfluously.

“Yeah.” Responded Beverly.

‘A little too disappointedly I thought considering she had been born in Britain.’

“They’re trying to attract our attention.” I pointed out.

“Well they would wouldn’t they.” She grinned. “Give them a wave.”

As she spoke the antiglare visor disappeared into its slot and the cockpit lights increased their brilliance.
Both Beverly and I were clearly visible to the pilots and their excitement was plainly apparent. I saw the leader talking into his mouthpiece and trying to establish communication. As they investigated the Cold Albatross they quickly discovered there was no turbulence from any jets or rockets and they were able to approach by hovering within a few feet. Immediately one pilot approached close enough to get a really good look. Beverly let out a short ironic chuckle before making a suggestion.

“There’s a Pencil and a large paper pad in my study. You’d better go and get it.”

I gave a vague ‘wait a minute’ sign to the harrier pilot and quickly returned holding up the pencil and pad. The pilot had already read our name on the side and recognised us as vaguely human so he immediately produced his kneepad notebook when he saw my ploy. Eagerly I scribbled the first message.

“What do you want?”

Immediately he scribbled back.

“Hello Cold Albatross. Who and what are you?”

Gleefully I riposted with a provocative reply.

“Space gypsies.”

The man was quick and intelligent and realised that whatever sort of craft it was, it was obviously more advanced than his jet. Cold Albatross looked like something out of a science fiction writer's nightmare. His next message conveyed his down-to-earth matter-of-factness.

“You look similar to humans.”

“We are human.” I quickly scribbled.

This note prompted the other three jets to approach closer as all four pilots manoeuvred for a better view. Beverly had joined me and I watched their eyes drink her in. We had slowed right down to about seventy knots and from their jaw actions I realised their radios were hot with gossip. The transmissions must have also alerted an American aircraft carrier for suddenly a squadron of familiar F 14’s howled past leaving the delicately balanced harriers tossing and bouncing in their wake. One of the harriers’ crunched into Cold Albatross’s thick titanium hull and the plane quickly started to lose control. I let out a gasp of dismay for there was little time for the pilot to eject. Beverly had already anticipated the tragedy however and let out an oath.

“Stupid cunts! Hold on tight Ruby!”

My shoulder slammed painfully against the window as the Cold Albatross suddenly decelerated in the old fashioned three-dimensional sense and a dull green tractor beam erupted from the side of our hull. It ionised the air as it tracked onto the spinning harrier and quickly halted its fall.

Within seconds the helpless plane was being drawn up towards our ship and Beverly rejoined our escort.

“Best show them we mean no harm. They may not know it but they could blast us to Kingdom Come with one missile. Cold Albatross has got no protection whatsoever.”

“Except to warp away smartish. I suggested.”

“What! With that bloody harrier attached inside the ambit of the ring? The energy diversion could vaporise the whole Earth in an instant and maybe Mars and Venus to boot.”

I shuddered at the concept of so much energy being locked up in one small ring of crystalline amalgam. Beverly reduced her speed until we were hovering drunkenly over a vast grey deck. I quickly recognised it as the plateaux of huge American nuclear aircraft carrier and I cautioned Beverly for I knew how xenophobic my own people could be.

“Is it safe to put a foreign aircraft onto an American warship? Especially as your also an alien craft.”

She shook her head resignedly.

“I’ll have to put the plane down here. The Albatross is clumsy and unbalance with this harrier attached inside the ring. I need room to manoeuvre. The tractor beam also quickly overheats in air. Look the ionised gases are already scorching the harrier’s fuselage. Anyway the Brits and Yanks are still allies aren’t they. They won’t harm the bloody pilot surely?”

I quickly concurred and wrote a note explaining the problem to the other harriers. Beverly gently set the crippled aircraft down on the vast flight deck and one of the other harriers landed alongside it. The remaining pair continued escorting us and we departed for the British aircraft carrier. We concluded that both navies must have been having some sort of joint exercise and we grinned as we considered the airwaves between the ships blistering with gossip.

“A perfect compromise.” Giggled Beverly. “Both navies are now fully cognoscente of our existence but they’ll work like hell to try and keep the whole encounter a secret.”

She modestly tugged down the hem of her cocktail dress for in the anxiety of delivering the crippled harrier she had been squirming and fidgeting in her seat.

“I’ve only done that once before with their space shuttle. It’s still a bit of a feather in my cap, though I say it myself. The air distorts the tractor beam, it’s much easier in space.”

“The harriers are asking us to steer to where they’re pointing.” I observed.

“Ask for a compass course.” Suggested Beverly.

On reading my note the pilot thumped his head in amusement and promptly wrote down the three-figure course. Beverly gave a low chuckle and ratcheted up one of the control knobs microscopically.

“Watch this.” She giggled as her finger rested easily on one of the incongruent aluminium levers.

Free of its pollutant Harrier the Cold Albatross could now show her paces. Beverly twitched the left hand lever ever so slightly and we accelerated alarmingly. Once again I felt no sensation and instantly the British carrier with its turned up nose appeared over the horizon.

We had been hovering soundlessly over the flight deck for five minutes and already lowered the passenger ladder towards the deck before the squadron of F 14’s finally arrived limping along behind us and finally the two remaining harriers another five minutes behind them.

My big moment had arrived. The cockpit window was level with the ship’s bridge and we were eyeball to eyeball with the ships’ captain. I gave Beverly the notebook.

“Please maintain course and speed.” She requested courteously as she cautiously compared our relative speeds. The captain gave a clear ‘thumbs up’ sign and mouthed some instructions to the helmsman. Beverly gave a sigh of relief for the man had obviously grasped what we were trying to do. She returned to the controls and fixed the settings before turning to me.

“Well Ruby. It’s goodbye I’m afraid. I’ll see you to the ladder.

“What about my stuff in the cargo hold?”

“It’s being lowered down as we speak. Come and look.”

I followed her to the hold and found the tractor beam already busy again. The crackling heat from the ionised air was overpowering though and we both quickly retreated back into the cockpit. Through her apartment window I watched the container being deposited gently and the beam snapped shut as quickly as it safely could. On the flight deck below, dozens of armed crew were cautiously studying the alien container so Beverly returned to the cockpit and quickly scribbled another note.

“Container is no danger to your ship. One passenger also to be landed.”

She pointed to me to indicate who was being landed but the captain was all eyes for her. As he gazed appreciatively I smiled inwardly.

‘If the man had but known what lay under that daring cocktail frock.’

With typical feminine pique I had unconsciously tried to compete with her and also dressed in a daring summer cocktail frock.

Unfortunately it was totally unsuitable for descending ladders in the middle of a cold, windy, wet Atlantic day. My thin floaty, chiffon frock was about to give the crew a treat.

Now that the tractor beam had cooled we returned to the cargo hold and the passenger door opened to reveal the long climb down to the ships flight deck. I turned to Beverly with one last sad smile.

“You don’t have to give up on us you know. Surely you can give the human race one
last chance.”

“It’s all too late.” She whispered sadly. “I’m too messed up inside here.

I don’t think it’ll be long now before I end it all. I always knew I would. There’s lots of other stuff in the container besides your prosthesis material. You’ll have all the evidence you’ll ever need. Don’t worry, none of it’s dangerous. Just be careful and sensible.”

After one last desperate hug I started reluctantly down the ladder but hesitated after only two steps.

“Please reconsider.”

“It’s too late for that. Besides I’ve work to do in space so deep, and tasks to make the strongest weep, and I’ve got promises to keep, and light years yet before I sleep.”

With these poignant words partially borrowed from Frost her message was made abundantly plain and painfully clear.

With each depressing step I seemed to be plumbing the depths of mankind’s descent until I reached the last rung and looked up one last time. She looked so small and wretched as she gave me one last wave and a lump stuck hard in my throat. I had never felt so useless as when her fragile haunted features disappeared behind the closing door. I turned to see the whole crew gaping lustfully up the retracting ladder and once again I felt that ancient womanly weariness for the age-old testosterone reactions.
As I watched their lustful faces their expressions suddenly changed and I felt a whisper of cold air around my thin summer frock. I turned to see what Beverly was doing and I was shocked to find that the Cold Albatross was already shrinking. I joined the crew in gaping at the diminishing dot and in another moment it was gone. I turned to study the reception committee and realised my troubles were beginning. One of the pilots from the escorting harriers walked nervously across to me.

“What the hell is that thing?” He asked enviously.

I recognised him for a typical sky jockey. Who, despite his obvious intelligence and physical fitness, was still conceited enough to considered himself one of the select few. He had all the hall-marks and mannerisms of a macho fly-boy and I watched him thoughtfully studying the spot in the sky where Cold Albatross had last been visible. I savoured my superiority and gave it to him with both barrels as I pointed towards his parked harrier and the circling F 14’s.

“That, boy, was a transgalactic time machine and it could out-fly all those buckets of shit
anytime.”

I don’t think he heard me for he was obviously too engrossed in the sky.