Chapter 9

It was a good thing that Morg was a big man otherwise the impact of his two youngest sisters charging into him would have sent him into the luggage chute. He glared them into immobility from under frowning brows and as they stepped back a half pace to regard him with excited eyes, he extracted the baggage, activated it, and told them

"Lead the way."

His sisters clutched an arm apiece and guided, led, dragged him to the shuttle track, punched in the call number to the parking 'puter and on to the ramp as the rest of the family arrived in the air limousine. Ally was at the controls and Charley slid the hatch open. Morg ducked in and sat next to his mother who greeted him with a beaming smile and a crushing hug while his kit trunk slid under the seats and his sisters jumped in after him. The limo moved off to the Mansion and the cabin was filled with questions galore as they caught up with what had been happening over the past year.

Nothing unexpected or out of the ordinary was mentioned until the limo settled onto its skids in the garage and the garage door closed. Morg had them stay seated until the garage was closed and then informed them he wanted to discuss some thing with his mother in the office, privately, before they went to the Club and then after returning from the Club, he wanted to see all of them. The sisters were only slightly disappointed at not being able to monopolise Morg but were delighted at the thought of showing him off to 'the girls' at the Club - he had hardened up during his training and was far more handsome now — or perhaps absence had blunted the memories; not likely,

"Mam, three things. Firstly, you are a director of HSW Enterprises Inc. Secondly, I have located Betty Higgins and her son by TJ and, thirdly, she is an activated 'mutie'. Both she and Strathlawn are 'muties' and the pheromones just went ballistic..." He recounted what he knew of the shipboard romance, its consequences and Berryl's conclusions. " ... this now is of importance for our family. We are 'muties'. I know none of us has ever really discussed this and all of us have just accepted that we are 'different' but not how different. Your knowledge of poisons should really have made us think a bit more about it — we have heard over the years references to super soldiers, genetic mutants and so on — but I suppose we were too busy surviving and then improving ourselves; but had you noticed how events seem to have almost always worked out for us?"

"I had noticed, Morg, but some people are just lucky; or are you telling me we have been making our own luck?" Julie asked rather slyly.

Morg sat a bit straighter and stared at his mother; his thought process went into overdrive and a lot of loose ends suddenly weren't.

"You know?"

"No. I don't know anything but I have realised I seem to make my own luck with a tremendous background of knowledge; I have the knowledge of many things but until I actually need to use it, I can't think of it. It can be so frustrating. So, I don't know the significance of being a 'mutie' in my case as I don't know what I can do. The only knowledge I had as a child was a pharmacopoeia of poisons I had, er, 'naturally', if it is natural to have that knowledge. I was probably five perhaps six when I woke up, came to or whatever on Dancer Street, near where I had our shed, with an evil smelling drunk leering at me trying to remove my pants. Somehow, I knew to be silent and to scratch his face deeply and within seconds he stiffened and collapsed. Instinctively, I knew what I had to look for to replace the poison I'd used and until I had the concoction, the imperative remained with me to replenish; the girls are the same; you don't have the imperative. I have no surprise at wealth and I am completely relaxed about being a brothel owner. But then I have not had a conventional upbringing to make me have moralistic sentiments.

There is one piece of information you should have and that is I don't know my children's fathers; oh, bother, I suppose I've got to explain better. To my knowledge I have never had sexual relationships with any person; in fact, I have no sexual drives at all. It has only been my exposure to the girls at the Club and my reading in the library that has shown its absence. Your sisters are the same — they function physically normally but the emotional and breeding drives are absent."

"Strange, that" replied Morg "I seem to be quote normal unquote compared with my fellows but my sex drive is very selective unless a female 'jumps' me (grinning at the memory) or an attraction is triggered somehow. Complete opposite to my 'oppo' — navy slang for friend — TJ, who seems to get aroused very easily and attracts females. Ha! Before he joined Andrew, Berryl was thinking she'd have to get the lower floor windows barred, it was so bad. Strathlawn also, and he is a legend in the navy but, and here is another straw, there has been no whisper since his return from Sol and a few of the 'old hands' remark on his change.

You'll meet him, I hope, when he and Ivy come down to join our ship..."

Morg explained the postings and then went on to explain his plans for the family.

They were called to the table by the sisters who pointedly explained that they were the ones responsible for the house work and he had better not have developed any bad habits or he would have to fend for himself. Morg theatrically threw up his hands loudly disclaiming any such lapse but asked why they were still without house servants even on a day work basis. Five pairs of yellow eyes relentlessly bored into him until Charley (Charlene, the third sister) explained

"We prefer our privacy and anyway there are some things, such as our laboratory, which we do not want known."

Morg swivelled his eyes from one to the next now innocent face, shrugged, and paid attention to his meal on which he complimented his sisters.

After the remains had been cleared away, Morg briefed his kin on HSW Enterprises Inc without expanding the technical side.

"What's today?" Allie (Alberta, the oldest sister) asked, "Second day, goody. Sarnt Oscar plays whist tonight so you will be able to chat with him after his evening. His wife — ah, I'll com her and tell her you are back and want to catch up with him. She keeps a firm hand on him still and would absolutely roast him if he stayed over long at the Club. I truly do not know why. That man is welded to her and has never even looked at any of our ladies and Hades knows some of them would die to have a copper as a protector — especially one like the Sarnt."

The family dispersed to ready for the night's work. Morg was informed that all his sisters worked at the Club as this kept 'serious' suitors away and the riff-raff were put off by the high level of class of the Club. Those who didn't 'get the message' suffered — nothing fatal, but very distressing and for months leaving them mere shadows of their former selves.

When he saw his mother and sisters, Morg, with disinterested appreciation, was very impressed at their appearance. They exuded attraction and aloofness until Charley and Dell cracked up at his expression and they all laughingly embarked into the limo for the Club.

Morg was duly paraded before the Club's staff and then dragged (well, a show of reluctance was necessary to keep up appearances) about the covert areas of the establishment; he was still surprised at how efficiently his mother had transformed slum waifs into alluring examples of prime feminity each capable of exuding attraction for just you. Julie explained that the knowledge had surfaced when needed and had nothing to do with her own sensitivities.

"Good evening, Sarn't."

"Morg, good even to you and you are going to behave yourself, aren't you?"

Morg looked at DCS Oscar with a slight frown and the DCS continued,

"Dev and Bill both sent messages; Dev's was a 'heads-up' and Bill's was letting me know about family. You are going to tell me about TJ, junior, that is, and of course, Ivy. That girl has grown up fast and has already got a 'rep'. The Card Room after we finish? Good oh! I'll let the wife know I'll be late."

"No need, Allie said she would do that; and she has" and waved back at his sister.

Allie was looking slightly pensive as Morg went to walk by her station at the Reception Desk and he raised his eyebrows,

"It's not that she doesn't trust him; she just wants to know he is unharmed; she says that every time he leaves for work, she never knows if he will return or the Police Chaplain will be knocking on her door. Morg, how is it that people can get that closely involved?"

"Ivy says that's what makes the worlds go round. I didn't understand myself until lately — perhaps it will happen to you, one day" and lightly laughed at his sister's snort and made his way to the kitchens to catch up with the Chef who had several new recipes to discuss with Morg.

The Club closed its doors at a respectable hour in accordance with the local ordnances — for new arrivals that is, the partiers and the all-nighters had already settled in for the long haul or whatever. Morg organised a tray of coffee, mugs and munchies and set himself up in the Card Room. The Card Room was for the casuals and the Visiting Ladies — the serious players or those who needed privacy while they played because of the content of their conversation had other rooms in the Club.

"Thank you, Morg, I'll have one of those. Ah! It's good to ease off, that lot do enjoy a hard play. Now, what's been happening with you since we last met?"

Oscar settled himself comfortably, tasting the brew and nibbling as Morg recounted the events of the training glossing over the FTL work.

"Now, tell me what you left out, Morg."

"Well, ah, there is a non personal reason for this chat and the privacy..." Morg then explained the idea for obtaining a second hand yacht, Bill Sorenson's involvement, Berryl Hobson's part and a quick run down on the experiment. He made no mention of genetic engineering.

Bill Oscar pulled out a credit and handed it to Morg

"I'd like a piece of that if Berryl can see her way clear. Leave that for a while and fill out the story on Berryl and Captain Strathlawn."

Morg went into recall mode and then gave Oscar the details as he knew them except for the 'mutie' details.

"There's something you aren't telling me but leave it as you are reluctant to tell me. So, Bill wants me to organise a yacht — have to see what I can do. The message you can send is that I want a slice — as a shareholder — no graft or corruption — honest investment."

"Suits" laughed Morg "we could do with some grunt down here. Berryl is agreeable that Josh Galbraith be asked to organise finance if it goes. Mam uses him for our banking and trusts him. Our funds will certainly cover the initial expenditures and you'll agree there has to be absolute silence about this one way or the other."

"Agree perfectly; I'll look into he yacht tomorrow and com you by mid afternoon at latest. How about crew?"

"TJ and I are to sweat the exam for the licence; we have the space training exemptions from our hard suit training and we got copies of the certification. Now I know why the school gave them to us. I'll wait for your contact and I'll get busy on the technical side."

The men shook hands and Morg escorted Oscar out.

In the air limo, Morg informed Julie that Bill Oscar was 'onto' the yacht and he wanted a legitimate share to which Julie could see no problem and an advantage or two.

In the closed garage, Morg issued his instructions. He altered his vocal cords and the sounds were a keening almost undetectable to a normal ear. Julie's response was immediate and the daughters had only a momentary confusion before they followed into a blank-faced stiffness. The instructions were to strip in their rooms, put on a robe, go to the basement, take off the robe and sit on the chairs.