Bud Sparhawk - Sam Boone and the Thermal Couple

But which one would it be? Habitat was out, as was nourishment, for anything that the Ginnungagup could eat would be destroyed by the temperatures of the Sutr’s environment. Likewise nothing the Sutr ate (absorbed?) would be recognizable to a Ginnungagup. It was entirely logical to him that the two could share the system without ever impacting on each other. The inner planet had an orbit that carried it practically through the photosphere of the sun and baked its residents at temperatures where even basalt flowed like water. He tried to picture Lattice 5 12and his buddies going to the edge of a sea of boiling iron, spreading out their plasmoid blankets and getting a nice rosy glow to the plasma shell when the temperatures were right. Could be a great market for sunscreen, he guessed. But, of course, it would have to have an SPF of forty billion or more, he mused.

The choices left to him were sex, socialization, greed and The Trip. Briefly he thought of the flaming embrace that would ensue should sex or dancing be attempted between the two and then dismissed it. Sex was out, which left only three choices.

Of course the big Gee was the thing on which they disagreed, at least the Sutr disagreed; the Ginnungagup were more agreeable, or so he suspected from what he could make of their oblique communiques.

So the basis for compromise lay with socialization. Somehow he must establish a bond between them, a reason for cooperating and sharing the system.

“I think I have something,” he clicked to Sslivira. “Ask them what is the most valuable aspect of their society.” If nothing else the question should establish some benchmarks for their social values.

The Rix wiggled its wing cases in a pleasure movement at finally having something meaningful to do, even if it didn’t understand the relevance to this issue. She clicked excitedly at the link to the distant Resnicca. Sam’s translator could pick up a few fragments of what she was saying, “…Hold above the sun… holding… the essence…” Although the words made some sort of weird sense he could not grasp the concepts implied within. A gas-filled bag, floating in space around a gas giant couldn’t possibly have any artifacts save its own skin. Clearly the Rix was converting his inquiry to something the Resnicca could grasp.

Presently a whisper of a sigh returned over the link and the Rix brightened considerably. It activated the array that had been set up within the Sutr’s environment and watched as the oven and torus pulsed a glittering stream of ionization at Lattice 5 12.

Some sort of response must have been affected, for the Sutr began sparkling and shining among themselves as if someone had turned on the dance lights in a darkened ballroom. The analyzer spun into activity as a reply was formulated back to Gruenbrgg and the waiting Resnicca. A few moments later there was a burst from the ansible and Sslivira brightened. Turning to Sam she clicked the translation; “Brightness falls short of the just. Bring a spectacle to the party.”

The Ginnungagup’s answer was more direct. “Soft music in the [?].”

After another week of probing exchanges Sam had learned more about the mating and procreational habits of the Ginnungagup than he knew about his own species. Meaningful information regarding the matter at hand was severely lacking, however, as was progress in getting them to state basis for settlement. There seemed no arrangement of trade or commerce that was acceptable to them. It seemed that they could not “deal with the devil.” That last translation was the best Sam could understand it.

The Sutr were similarly forthright. Their preferences for feeding were explored in exquisite detail. Sam recalled the four-hour session where they learned the seven hundred nuances of a mercury mist, the twelve hundred distinct flavors of monatomic hydrogen- with , and the degrees of basting required to extract the maximum pleasure from gaseous carbon. They, too, refused to consider any sort of compromise or interface with their unspeakable hideous and untrustworthy neighbors.

None of which helped him in the slightest. It looked like the court was going to be their only chance, which meant that bonus, profit, bottle, and blonde were all equally unobtainable.

Ja’aar’aaa hopped into Sam’s suite excitedly, chirping its song so rapidly that Sam didn’t recognize it until he had the translator firmly in place. “La-la-la, la-la-la,” it said; “Great news, Ear’tman, one of your kind will coming to us for help!”

“Another human?” Sam asked as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Yes, yes. One of the Ear’t kind coming to help. She arrive tomorrow.”

Sam’s heart raced as he considered the news. It had been years since he’d seen another human that wasn’t one of his illusions. “Wait a minute,” he said as he suddenly realized the full force of Ja’aar’aaa’s words. “Did you say ‘she’ is coming?”

The bird-like head nodded vigorously in a very human fashion. LA-LA-LA; “Yes. She, indeed. Have seen pictures of human female. Most certain a she person!”

Visions of feminine beauty filled Sam’s mind. Would she be a brunette, dark and sultry? Or a redhead, all fire and storm? Or (oh hope springs eternal) was it possible that she could be (please, please) a… a… a blonde?

He leaped up and looked at his face in the mirror, wondering if he should shave off the beard or leave it on. Maybe a haircut would help reduce the gray a little. And he’d have to find some better clothing, maybe even some that was clean. Wouldn’t want to look like some slovenly Earthman gone to seed in the hinterlands, would he? No, he had to make a decent impression. He started whistling to himself as he laid out the plans for entertaining his guest—by God, another human! At last!

“Her name,” chirped Ja’aar’aaa gleefully, happy that the Ear’t negotiator appeared to be so overjoyed at its news, “is Ahbbbb.”

Sam’s Pequodista supervisor perched on the edge of the table. Only a muddleheaded, birdbrained, alien idiot would mistake the rippled, ridged, and gray-skinned Peq for a human, Sam thought as he stared at Ahbbbb’s alien form. Nor had any human in memory ever had the bladders she’d inflated on the sides of her neck.

The writhing mass of worm-like appendages on her head strummed those air-filled bladders as she hummed to Sam. “Hmmmmmmm mmmmmm mmhmmmmhh muuuu-ummmmmmmph, hHrummmmh?” which translated as “What the hell have you been doing with our money all this time, Sam?”

Sam stood his ground and answered her. “There have been some difficulties with the translations,” he said, wondering why she had bothered to personally come all of this way to investigate a relatively minor matter. “Hmmmmm mm dhmmmmmr—However, we are making progress.”

-The Pequodista glared at Sam with her three compound eyes. “I do not consider the expense of five races, an open ansible link to Gruenbrgg, and the cost of your luxurious personal quarters trivial. Already this project, not to mention my involvement, has eaten up nearly all of your share of the profits.”

As Sam mulled over her strange business math she continued, “Now I am fed up with these delays. I want this matter closed within a fortnight. Ahmmmmm fhmmmm yhmmmmm! Do you understand?”

“Ahmmm,” Sam replied, seeing the blonde and the bottle disappear like Ginnungagups trying to tryst with the Sutr.

“Remember,” Ahbbbb hummed as she walked out of the chamber toward her suite. “Two weeks: No more!” Hmmmmmt, hmmmm. Nhmmmm!

“Pleasant being, I think?” twittered Ja’aar’aaa as the hatch swung shut behind her. “Not nasty as you told us.”

“Yesss,” clicked Sslivira. “Most gracious to give you so much leeway.”