Star Dragon | Page 7

whom he has not seen in some time. Inside, away from the Cuban heat, it
is cool and he does not mind the embrace. He then shambles to meet the tall man waiting
in his corner. He spares a moment to glance at the bronze bust the man stands beside and
towers over, a bust of Papa himself with his chin up, looking outward, challenging the
world.
"Hello, Papa," Biolathe says. "How are you?"
"We're strong today."
"That's good."
The waiter comes and Papa orders two Papa Dobles. A Negro band begins to play a song
they have written for him, called Soy Como Soy -- "I am as I am." It is about a lesbian
who apologizes to Papa that she cannot be what he desires her to be. The man with the
maracas shakes them at the right places and several wrong ones, too. The song is
bittersweet to the "man" Papa is now, for he isn't what he would desire himself to be and
could not take advantage of the lesbian should he now inspire the desired change.
He could simulate it, as he is doing now, but it would not be the same. Not at all.

"You know the mission," Biolathe says. His head is pink and fleshy, but with the flat-top
of Boris Karloff's Frankenstein monster. He hands Papa a folder. "Now know the crew as
well."
Papa leafs through the papers a hundred times. He says, "I see."
"I know. A motley bunch, children of a soft, over-privileged age. Dilettantes, hedonists,
even a neo-Skinnerian. Give people the power to be anything they want to be," he pauses
for effect, "and they will use it.
"Don't get me wrong -- they're all competent -- we wouldn't send anyone who wasn't. But
uncertain five-hundred-year trips don't attract the most balanced personnel."
"We'll come through."
"How do you know?"
"This isn't the kind of trip you take to fail, balanced or not. And we know Lena, don't
we?"
"Do we? This isn't a cattle drive."
Two large daiquiris arrive, and they drink them standing up, the way Papa writes. The
drinks are icy and strong and taste of grapefruit.
"This is an unusual expedition, Papa. An unknown animal with unknown capabilities in a
hazardous environment. An unpredictable payoff. We're making an appropriately sized
investment. We will not send another ship. You'll be alone."
"Been there before. We'll manage."
"I know your capabilities, Papa. But you may not be able to do it alone."
"That's fine. If we have to, we'll make them do it. We'll find a way to do what must be
done." He means what he says and does not think it right to speak of such things out loud.
Even though there is five-sixths of his daiquiri left, Biolathe drains it through a straw in
seconds. Biolathe will not get a headache. "Well then, I wish you a good trip. Bring back
something useful. Even better, something profitable."
"We will."
Biolathe pauses at the door before stepping back into the heat. "See you in a half
millenia."
Papa nods and the big, flat-headed man vanishes into the sunlight.
A great expedition indeed. He needs to get ready.

Papa finishes his daiquiri, then takes advantage of the Floridita's john. It is a good
old-fashioned john with a proper chain to pull, and he prefers it to the beasts people
currently use in their bathrooms. He takes a moment to spar with the Negro attendant.
The man blocks a left jab, chuckling. "When you gonna grow old, Papa?"
Papa grins, and takes another jab. "Never."
As far as he's come, there is much further to go.
#
Phil Stearn loved freefall. He loved the way it made his stomach turn back flips, the way
it made foods taste funny, but most of all he loved the way his ear wings -- purely
ornamental on Earth -- permitted him to fly. Not like a bird. More like an elephant. But
he could get around.
Flapping around in the passenger cabin of the orbit-to-orbit shuttle taking them toward a
rendezvous with the Karamojo, Stearn told Fisher, "You really ought to try some more
radical bodmods. I just don't understand why people like you stick with the basic model.
What do you have against them?"
"Hmm?" said Fisher, who had been gazing out a view port in an absent-minded way. "Oh,
I don't have anything against bodmods, per se. I'm just too busy to think about it."
Ha! Too busy to think? That's all this guy did! "Takes no time at all these days. You're
limited only by your imagination."
"Yes, I can see how that would be a problem."
Stearn laughed. "That's why I'm going, see?"
"Why you're going? I don't follow."
The shuttle hold was absolutely boring, except for