Chapter 6: Cecilia

Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom (making love)
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed
Someone’s taken my place

Paul Simon Music Cecilia
Copyright © 1969

Captain Shellie finished her four-hour watch, saluted, and told Caleb, <You have the conn.>

She had spent the better part of her watch with her new friend Trắc involved in language lessons. Trắc was teaching Shellie how to colloquially use the Vietnamese she’d learned in a trainer pod. As a trade, Shellie was teaching Krav Maga to Trắc. Both felt the trade was good. On alternate shifts, they practiced Tu’ull under the tutelage of Rust Bucket.

Shellie stripped off the ship suit that protocol required when on duty or exiting light speed. She stowed the suit in a locker, assumed her ‘Fannie’ persona, linked arms with Trắc, exited Cheval Jaune’s bridge, and sped down the corridor while Simon and Garfunkel beat out Cecilia through her implant, in her ears, and into her very bones.

‘What is it about that song that the Tu’ull like so very much?’ she asked herself.

<Today, I think you are going find out, > Caleb responded. Apparently she’d sub-vocalized, because Rust Bucket chimed in, <Yes, indeed, my buddy. B’Nov, F’Tale, and M’Tur are waiting for you in the wardroom. They are going to F U C K and make babies.>

Known among humans as Boris, Natasha, and Jingles, the three were the closest-knit of the six young Tu’ull who had grown up with Caleb and his Musketeers. Just as the Tu’ull had witnessed the humans grow into their sexuality, Caleb’s companions and Praetorians had watched the various Tu’ull couplings as they matured.

Ah, but Tu’ull were tri-sexual, and this would be something new! Why hadn’t she been told?! She inquired of Rust Bucket.

<Once upon a time, > her AI friend began, <Tu’ull were bi-sexual. There were even ancient retired ship AIs who hadn’t had a crew for eons and didn’t even know they are no longer bi-sexual. And though sex is used both for procreation and recreation, it doesn’t create in Tu’ull the romantic attachments as it does in humans.>

<Tu’ull moved towards tri-sexual procreation as a means of birth control, > Rusty explained, <especially necessary for long exploration voyages to find new resources or develop new markets. It turned out best for our planetary population as well.>

<The Darjee hate us for that change. They are, as humans say, ‘anal’ about anything related to gender change or even restoration. I sometimes wonder about the fate of their females that are no longer capable of reproduction. >

Shellie stopped dead in the passage causing Trắc to stop and stare. <That helps me understand a lot about Darjee AI behaviors and restrictions. It isn’t necessarily the Confederacy, just the Darjee branch of the Confederacy ... Okay, friend Rusty, lead us to the demonstration.>

When Fannie and Trắc stepped through the hatch into the wardroom, the music faded away. The room was full of off-duty crew. No, that wasn’t right. Now that she had entered, the wardroom contained every human and Tu’ull aboard Cheval Jaune. With Caleb at the conn and R’Stbkt backing him, everyone could be present. But why would they be?

Shellie returned her attention to the scene before her. In the center of the room, a huge, low-sitting, maroon papasan chair held her two asshole buddies, B’Nov and F’Tale, with M’Tur sandwiched between them. B’Nov motioned her forward and reminded her, “Auntie T’Bwinkel sent us among you so that Tu’ull could learn about being human and so that we could teach you about being Tu’ull.”

He pulled M’Tur closer, scratched behind her nearest ear, and continued, “Today’s lesson is ‘how to make Tu’ull kits’, complete with demonstrations.”

“But we’ve all seen you fuck M’Tur, and F’Tale fuck M’Tur, and you and F’Tale have gone at it like Earth rabbits on steroids. How is this different?” Fannie asked, confused.

“Well you know M’Tur has two yoni – slots ‘A’ and ‘B’ – and no linga – tabs ‘A’ or ‘B.’ You might think that makes M’Tur the equivalent of your female gender, but not so. Using Earth-at labels, I will be the father, F’Tale will be the mother, and M’Tur will be the auntie. Aunties carry the kits until they are born.”

“Say what!” Fannie exclaimed, “I’ve been hanging around you three for almost half of my life, and none of you saw fit to tell us that your mother is the head of Tu’ull’s ruling council?”

“Not ’mother’, ’auntie’,” M’Tur chimed in patiently. “T’Bwinkel contributed no genetic material. She just hosted them until they were ready for the world.”

“Just?! Shame! Shame! You ungrateful twits, T’Bwinkel hauled your sorry asses around for however long. In my mind, that makes her as much a mother as any genetic donor.” She took a deep breath, sighed, and then told them, “Sorry about that. I forget there are still cultural differences we haven’t explored. Please continue.”

“Forgiven, asshole buddy,” B’Nov told her calmly, “You will note that in speaking Earth’s languages, aunties are politely addressed as ‘she’ as are true females.” Then he continued with his explanation. “So – on me, tab ‘A’ is the equivalent of a penis and sits below my yoni. I have dangling gonads much like human males. F’Tale, on the other hand, has the opposite configuration with tab ‘B’ being an ovipositor and no external gonads. On the two of us, the yonis have no function except to help us pleasure each other.”