The Far Reach

The Far Reach

Ian DeShils

I guess the real reason I signed on the Long Haul was because Captain Lamont and his crew had shown me the first bit of kindness I'd seen in years. I was ten when my parents died, just old enough to no longer qualify for child protection. When the old Channel tube collapsed, it took away not only my family, but my only chance of staying on Earth. Under the law, without a relative to care for me I'd be shipped off to grow up the colonies, and even at ten I knew what that meant. I'd lose my citizenship and without it, Earth would be closed to me forever!

It was the government's way of dealing with Earth's tremendous population pressures, sure, it kept the Rim expanding, but to me, it didn't seem fair. One minute I was at school, working hard toward a specialty, and the next, I didn't know what would become of me.

Luckily, I did have one living relative, my dad's brother Elwood. Unluckily, uncle El was a drunk, out of work, and facing the same non-self sufficiency law I was. I'd only met Elwood once before, at Grandpa Karl's funeral, but I could see right away that he didn't like kids. I'm sure the only reason he agreed to take me in was for the insurance settlement, but even that wasn't enough to save us from the law. As far as the government was concerned, either Uncle El held a job, or he was gone! How people ever let Earth get so screwed up, I'll never know, but in one of his soberer moments, El said it had to do with some old law that for hundred's of years kept every viable zygote alive, whether anyone wanted the brats or not. Like I said, Elwood had little use for kids.

El spent about half the insurance money to buy a farm on Hayslat II, then because he could show property ownership there, the government allowed him to pick destination when they kicked us out. We arrived just before my eleventh birthday and found that the "farm" consisted of a few ramshackle buildings on a rocky chunk of land a good fifty kilometers from New Devon. New Devon was a Far Reach station, an Agency refit and supply depot, and the only settlement on the planet. We were on the extreme Outer Rim. There were no families or schools on Hayslat II and I was years short of the education needed to pick a specialty. Why Elwood chose that planet was always a mystery to me. Any kind of successful farming operation requires a fairly large population and on a good day, Hayslat II boasting maybe three thousand people.

Things pretty much went down hill from there. Maybe if it had rained, and uncle El hadn't drank like a fish, we could have made a living, but it didn't, and he did, and in a few years we were broke. Not only was El a drunk, he was a mean drunk, and I've got the scars to prove it, but at least he never sold me to Fat Lucy so maybe in the end he wasn't all bad.

By the time I was fifteen, he'd drank up the farm and we were living in a shanty behind the bar where El worked. He cleaned the Blue Goose at night for drinks and the use of the shack, and I tried to make a little money doing odd jobs around the place. If it hadn't been for the spacers thinking up unneeded errands, I believed we'd have starved. As it was, El nabbed most of my earnings for booze and lots of times I went hungry. Things were pretty bad, but they got a whole lot worse after Elwood died.

Call me a wimp if you will, but I'd always been too scared of El to ask very many questions and it wasn't until a week after they'd buried him, that I found out the government never sent kids the Rim. Instead, they were placed in schools on some of the more developed worlds where jobs were waiting to be filled. There was nothing out here but Far Reach and without a specialty, no chance at all for a decent job. Suddenly I realized El must have bribed someone to keep me with him. It was probably the only way he could stay in control of the insurance money. I had never gotten along with El, but until that moment I never really hated him.

There I was, sixteen years old with no education beyond a few years of school and what little I'd gleaned from an old encyclopedia chip. I was broke, Uncle El had turned my inheritance into a thousand hangovers, and now, Fat Lucy was twisting my arm to come to work for her. She'd even siced Deek the Geek on me. I had nowhere to turn. Then, the Long Haul came rumbling in for a refit and suddenly I was offered an option I never knew existed. In some ways, that option paralleled Lucy's, but in others, in all those things that mattered, it was a galaxy away.

An hour or so after I heard the ship land, Captain Jack Lamont walked into the Goose and took a seat at the bar. I knew who he was because he wore a jacket with his ship's name, "The Long Haul" printed above the pocket and his ID tab pinned just below. He was one of the handsomest men I'd ever seen, a tall, green eyed blond fellow with a warm, open smile. He looked at me intently for a second, then ordered a beer, but I noticed he kept watching me as I worked. A few minutes later a freighter crew came in, I got busy, and when I looked up, he was gone, but he had left a whole credit tip under the cup.

After El died, Fred, the owner of the Goose began letting me watch the bar when he was gone and that day, he was across the street spending yesterday's take on Lucy's favors. Fat Lucy ran New Devon's only whorehouse and with customers like Fred, she was fast becoming a wealthy woman. Not only was Lucy fat, she was about as handsome as a baboon's butt and I often wondered how she could charge so much with so little to offer, but Fred seemed to like her. In fact he liked her so much, he was nearly broke. Now Lucy had this crazy idea that it would be good for her business if I went to work for her. She hinted she had a supply of pure Melnik additive, but even so, why would any spacer pay for something he could get free? Lucy was already a rich old broad but I guess it galled her to think that about eighty percent of the money in New Devon would never find it's way to her hands..

Perhaps I'd better explain a little about the Outer Rim. A lot goes on here that's not even whispered about back on the inner planets.

You see, except for Lucy and her two trollops, the entire population of New Devon was male. We had a few old pensioned off spacers who for one reason or another, enjoy living on the edge of nowhere, and of course the station crew. New Devon was one of the larger Far Reach stations with almost fifteen hundred guys working there, but again, they were all ex-spacers. Finally we had a few hundred independents like Fred, who run the bars, operated the supply depot, the stores and cracking plants, and generally kept New Devon running smoothly. The rest were transients, short line crews on layover, the Far Reach ships in for refit, and of course the guys who just hung around waiting for their ships to come back.

Far Reach spacers live pretty dangerous lives, but if they survive twenty years, the pension is fabulous. In the mean time, they get the best of everything. Anyone coming in sick or injured off a Far Reach vessel is sent to the agency hospital on Crozo and some times their ships left without them. Of course, if they wanted to, they could live for free at the agency quarters on Crozo, but no one did. As soon as they left the hospital, they'd come drifting back to New Devon and just hung around waiting for their ride. Since the average voyage of a Far Reach ship is somewhere between four and five years, I got to know several of them fairly well.

Of course, the Rim's biggest secret is the Melnik additive, oh, not the additive itself, heck, I'd read about it back on Earth when I was just a kid. No, I'm talking about the side effects. I guess it would be nearly impossible for a crew to withstand years cooped up together if it wasn't for the additive. It's been used now for over three hundred and fifty years, and with total success.

What the additive does is release certain complex chemicals in the brain, which over a few months time aligns the crew's individual personalities to mesh like gears in a machine. The net effect is that a crew will bond so strongly they can work together for years without generating animosities, in fact, they stay together as a crew throughout their entire careers and later spend their retirement together. Some claim that Melnik is addictive, and perhaps it is to some extent, but there's no evidence that it affects anyone's judgment, or does any physical harm. It works exactly as advertised, but it has one side effect that will always keep it relegated to the Rim. You see, the additive does at least part of it's job by changing a person's sexual orientation. I've seen old Agency literature which claimed that without the additive, that side effect will fade, but don't you believe it. It's common knowledge here that once exposed, you'll remain Melnik oriented for the rest of your life.

Now you see why I thought Fat Lucy was crazy. I lived on a world where sex between men was open and freely practiced, so why would anyone in their right mind pay for the services of a skinny, underfed, sixteen year old boy?

Understand, it wasn't the prospect of having sex with a man that upset me. I'd grown up in New Devon and never thought about it as anything but a normal fact of life. Hom sex didn't particularly turn me on, but truthfully, with no other options available, I fully expected to someday meet someone I liked well enough that the sex part wouldn't matter. I had however, always thought in terms of only one someone, not thousands!

I knew Far Reach spacers swapped partners, at least among their own ship's crew, and being young and idealistic that bothered me a bit, but I felt that was a lot more wholesome than what Lucy was doing. At least those men were friends and shipmates who cared about one another, while Lucy only cared about money.

To Lucy, sex was the tool that gave her power over the Het population, and she milked it for all it was worth. She wrongly figured that by adding me to her house she could gain the same kind of influence over the Far Reach spacers. In some ways Lucy was a fool. I told her at least a hundred times that no spacer had ever made a move on me, but she wouldn't listen. She had the additive and was convinced it was the answer to all her dreams of wealth.

Now, it's one thing freely choosing to become a Far Reach spacer, and quite another being Lucy's ten year contract whore. The agency provided lifetime employment, top wages and retirement villas. With Lucy, if things didn't pan out, she'd likely send me back with the Geek to finish out my contract in the streets of Alazar. I'd heard rumors about that place, and it was one planet I had no intention of visiting.

The strangest thing about Lucy was that while she'd do anything for money, she sometimes acted like a prude. All Far Reach spacers, including those who now worked at the station, regarded sex as a pleasure to enjoy when the mood hit them. If it felt right they did it, and no one thought anything about it, except Lucy. She'd come back from her evening walk, stop by the Goose, and make nasty little comments about what she'd seen. As far as she was concerned, sex was immoral and dirty, and if she wasn't making a profit from it, no one should be doing it. If you can figure out that kind of twisted thinking, you're doing better than I ever did. If it bothered her so much, I don't know why she didn't just stay home. After all, in New Devon, the sight two guys making out was about as common as stones were out on farm.

The Goose lay directly across the street from Lucy's, and because of that, it became a hang out for the short line freighter crews. They were Lucy's favorite money makers. Four months in space was nothing when compared to a Far Reach tour, just long enough to insure a visit or two with Lucy before heading home. They usually hit the port, the Goose, then Lucy's in that order, but for some reason those guys always came in looking more like unwashed bums than spacers. Maybe because they were Het, they were trying to differentiate themselves from Far Reacher's , but I never could figure out why they didn't take a bath once in awhile. You can't use up water on a space ship, no matter how many showers you take, or how much laundry you do, you'll always end up with exactly the same amount you started with.

Anyway, about the time the last of the short liner's cleared out for Lucy's, Captain Lamont returned with his entire crew. They were clean, courteous, and as good looking a bunch of guys as I'd seen in a long time, they sat around the big table drinking beer, talking quietly, and once in awhile they'd glance my way and nod. They all wore the same blue jackets, and I swear, except for the fact that they still had front teeth, they looked more like a soccer team than anything else. Now, they weren't all extremely handsome men like Captain Lamont, actually, one man's face was badly scared face, probably from a fire, and another guy I considered downright ugly, but as a group they really did add class to the old joint. I guess because they dressed so sharp, and the fact the Captain had left such a nice tip before, I served them using the antique mugs Fred kept polished and stacked on the back bar. I knew they were valuable, they had the names of old, long forgotten breweries printed on them, like Millers, Stroh's and A&W, but they were real glass, and a lot nicer to drink from than the flimsy throwaways. The Long Haul crew seemed to appreciate the thought and I figured the tip would be well worth any chance I was taking.

Big mistake! Fred surprised me by coming back earlier than usual. He called me over and was just about to chew me out for using the mugs, when the Geek walked in and plopped his fat ass on a stool beside me. Right away I knew Lucy had cut some sort of deal with Fred, because he shut his trap and slunk off toward the back room.

Deek the Geek was Lucy's dimwitted nephew from Alazar. He'd only been in New Devon for ten days, but was already making my life miserable. He was the kind of guy who turned nice into nasty just by talking about it and everyone hated his guts.

"Well, kid," the Geek said in his greasy voice, "get your stuff together, you're moving across the street!"

"Like Hell, I am!" Jumping up I kicked the stool out from under him, then raced behind the bar, looking for Fred's billy club, but couldn't find it anywhere. In a second, Deek had me. He jerked my arm behind my back, pulling up so hard something popped. It hurt like hell, tears began streaming down my face, I was moaning in pain and then the bastard shoved me to my knees.

"Since you'll be servicing all the faggies here," he snickered, "You get to practice on a real man first!" and he unzipped his pants.

I told you Deek was a dimwit. When you live at a Far Reach station, you don't go around making comments like that. He got hit right between the eyes with one of Fred's prized beer mugs.

My arm hurt so bad I couldn't move it. The Long Haul crew picked me up and carried me to the station doctor, then bunked me down in their ship for the night. Throughout the whole ruckus, Fred never stuck his head out of the back room, I only hope Lucy ended up owning the Goose, it would serve that bastard right.

The next day I felt a lot better, but was worried sick about what to do. Somehow I had to sneak home and get my stuff, only I knew if Fred saw me he'd tell Lucy and I'd be right back where I started. I was thinking about going out to the farm. I didn't own it anymore, but no one was crazy enough to live there, so I figured I could hide out for awhile. Maybe Lucy would suddenly get smart, or die, or rich enough to move away, and I'd be left in peace. I sat on the edge of the bunk mulling it over when the door cracked a bit and Captain Lamont peeked in.

"Ah, I see you're awake," he said as he pushed it wider, "Ready for breakfast?"

We ate at the station restaurant, a place I'd never been before. All through the meal Captain Jack kept talking about this and that, asking questions, telling jokes and generally showing more interest in me, than anyone had in years. In among all the banter, he also managed to stuff me so full I could barely waddle. Later, he gave me a tour of the Long Haul and introduced the crew, but it was some time before I got all eight names straight. That day, the only one I didn't forget was Wes Portland, a giant of a man, and the one who'd beaned the Geek. He smiled broadly when I thanked him, patted my back and then looked concerned when he saw me wince. My shoulder still hurt like hell, but I'd kept it to myself. After what those guy's had done for me, I wouldn't have complained if I'd been on fire.

Right away they rushed me back to the medic for another look, and sure enough, the Geek had managed to tear something loose. The doctor gave me a sling and some pain killer. He told me to rest and come back to see him in a week.

It didn't seem to matter that I was still stuffed from breakfast, the guys insisted it was now time for something called 'brunch', so off we went to get some fresh hot rolls and juice. With all the attention Jack and his crew showered on me that day, I got pretty mellow and began babbling about everything. Over the next hour or so, I spilled my guts.

Right after lunch, the whole crew accompanied me to shack behind the Goose, they wanted to make sure I got my things without any interference from Fred or the Geek and while it was a nice gesture, it turned out to be a waste of time. Everything I owned was gone. Whoever stripped the place had done a thorough job, they even found the fifty credits I'd squirreled away. That tore it! I might have gotten along without the extra clothing, but without the money, the farm was out of the question. My disappointment must have shown clearly because Captain Jack said,

"Don't worry Kale, you'll get your things back. We'll be dirt side for at least two months, so you'll stay with us for awhile. We'll even help you get set up at the farm." He said reassuringly, "If that's what you really want to do."

For the next couple of days we hung around the station, talking, eating and waiting for my shoulder to heal. I don't know who paid for all the food I gobbled up, but the bill must have been enormous, I was gaining weight! The great thing about being at the station was the fact I was surrounded by spacers. No independents or short line crew's here to carry tales back to Lucy. Far Reach Spacers stick together and word was passed that I shouldn't be mentioned at all.

During that time, the talk centered mostly around the Far Reach agency. A lot of it was stuff I already knew, but some things really startled me. For instance, I assumed that all Far Reach spacers came from an agency school, but that wasn't true. The actually requirements for the job consisted of nothing more than passing a few tests. If the candidate could then find a crew willing to sponsor him for some specific berth, the agency would put him on the payroll. The guys mentioned it several times, and I began to get the idea they were trying to tell me something important. Finally out of curiosity, I quizzed Wes on how one went about taking the tests, and he laughed, "My God, Kale, we thought you were never going to ask!"

It turned out that that was exactly what one had to do. Ask . It had to be a free and voluntary decision on my part, but after I found the Long Haul willing to sponsor me, that decision took all of ten seconds. Once I'd signed something called a Paper of Intent, Captain Jack got the ball rolling. He booked passage for me, himself, Wes, and Terry Worship on a short line freighter, and the next day, with my arm still in a sling, we headed for Crozo for the actual testing. On the way, the guys let me in on a little secret. Evidently, I did have friends in New Devon. Several people recommended me when they found Jack was searching for someone without a specialty.

All through the trip to Crozo I kept worrying about the tests. Now that I had a chance to leave New Devon, I couldn't bear the thought going back. I made up my mind that if I failed, I'd stay on Crozo even if it meant hiding out. The guys sensed my doubts and tried cheering me up.

"You've nothing to worry about, Kale, You'll pass!" Wes told me emphatically. Both Jack and Terry said the same thing. Then Jack took it up, "Kale, we wouldn't be here at all if we weren't ninety nine percent sure. Do you think we'd do this for a joke?"

"No, Of course not!" I replied, "But you said yourself that only one in a thousand unschooled candidates make the cut, and I'm about as unschooled as they come."

He shook his head and laughed,

"The agency school is little more than two years of psychological preconditioning for the additive. You've grown up on the Rim and don't need that. As for the rest, the station doctor already told me you'd pass the physical. He says you're a little skinny, but healthy as a horse. When I notified the agency that I had located a candidate, they did a background check on you, and guess what? Your early testing on Earth indicated superior intelligence. That leaves just one thing, and from what any of us can see, you're a shoe in."

I knew what he meant, and it's funny, but I had never given that part of the test a thought. It set me off again. Technically, I was still a virgin, if you didn't count a little self abuse and I'd always taken it for granted I was Het, because the thing that turned me on were the love stories I'd read, and the images of girls. Yet, the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. I knew for certain I didn't like Lucy, so maybe that meant I was Hom or Bi, and if that were the case the agency wouldn't accept me. The spacers have a saying; "Melnik won't take you Hom, unless you come from Het." and for the rest of the trip I worried more about that than anything else.

On Crozo, I learned the old saying was only partially true. It has more to do with brain structure than orientation and while I didn't fully understand all they told me, it seems that some males are born with a slightly different brain structure than others. I was told that most Bi's could pass the selection test and so could many Hom's, but a true Het would always pass without exception.

Two weeks later I was back on Hayslat II sporting a fancy new Long Haul jacket. My arm felt great and the headache was nearly gone. Most of all, I was proudest of the little scar on my forehead, not the one Uncle El gave me, but the brand new pink one!. At last I had a specialty!.

The whole crew came out to meet us. Jack put his arm across my shoulders and said "OK gang, let me introduce you to the newest member of the Long Haul team, Kale Goodnough."

Someone, I think it was Andy Bridger, said, suggestively, "That remains to be seen, doesn't it, Jack?" He got a laugh, but I got a bigger one when I retorted, "Well, it won't be seen for awhile!"

They hosted a little initiation party in my honor complete with gag gifts, one of which was an inflatable female doll wearing nothing but a banner that said, "Poor Lonesome Me."

I guess I got as big a kick out of the party as the guys did in giving it, but they saved the very best for last. Tom Price stepped out a minute then came back lugging a big box with all my stuff in it. On top lay my money, but instead of fifty credits, there was nearly five hundred. Surprised, I looked at Tom and he grinned, his scarred face pulling up into a grimace, "It seems to have earned a bit of interest." He said, warmly.

Kent finally told us about it. Evidently, when the Geek woke up, the first thing he did was steal my stuff, then went looking for me. Like I said, Fred, stayed in the back room throughout the entire incident so he didn't know I'd left with the crew and since no one else would talk to the Geek, it was several days before he figured out where I'd gone and by that time, we were on our way to Crozo. Still half convinced Fred was holding out on him, Deek began raising hell at the Goose. He'd come around every little while to rant and rave and had managed to drive away most of the customers, except for Pete and Abel, a couple of retirees, both, nice old guys whom I had known for several years. They overheard Deek tell Fred,

"If the little cocksucker comes looking for his stuff, tell him Lucy has it's nice and safe, over at his new digs."

Pete and Able were thoroughly fed up with Deek anyhow, so they called the ship, and some of their friends, and Lucy got her first contingent of Far Reach spacer's ever to cross her threshold. They mopped up the floor with the Geek, scared the hell out of Lucy, and then made her pay for the privilege of it all.

After we'd quit laughing, Rance finished up the story by saying the Geek was gone. He'd left for parts unknown and Lucy was now a lot more civil toward everyone, especially spacers.

From the time of the party, until we left port six weeks later, I lived and ate my meals aboard the Long Haul. The crew, of course, continued eating at the station, but I was not allowed outside the ship, nor could I see or speak to anyone other than the crew. Kent explained that while it took several months for the additive to do all that it would do to me, integration started at once and it sometimes occurred quite rapidly. If I were to suddenly be "enthralled", ( his word) while in the presence of someone not part of my future family, it would leave me hopelessly confused.

I know this may sound silly, considering my decision was already set in stone, but I was truly nervous at first. I kept asking myself; would I miss what I had never known? Would I someday regret not being a parent? They were moot questions at best considering what Lucy planned for me, but I couldn't help wondering what other spacers thought at this point in their lives. Was I the only one who ever felt like running away?

I worked at it for a couple of days, forgoing both food and water until the answer rose through the chaff of doubt with blinding clarity. I had known from the very beginning that Far Reach was my only hope. It was the kindness of everyone, especially the long hours Wes spent with me that put my fears to rest. I figured that in forty years I might be able answer my own questions, but for now, this ship and these men were the best thing that had ever happened to me.

The crew had only been together ten months and like any group fresh out of school, the guys had been riding the Rim while going through integration. All ships did this while waiting for their first assignment, but, unlike countless others, the Long Haul knew exactly what that assignment would be. They were all volunteers for a trip that might last ten years or more and the agency had selected only the very best. Although no one in the crew was older than twenty-one, each had a depth of knowledge that left me awestruck. I kept thinking that if I had only had the chance to finish school, I too could know all that!

Our assignment was to investigate a possible alien civilization, at least that's what the agency thought. For the past fifty years, Far Reach had been studying an anomaly further out then any of the ships could travel. At their furthest extent, Far Reach ships would sometimes encounter a sudden pulse of light, a wave, sweeping through space at an angle that left it undetectable from the Rim.

Over the years, ships had recorded hundreds of those pulses but it was only in the last couple of decades that Far Reach discovered these waves were filled with information. Finally they found a method of pulling the seemingly solid mass of noise into a linearity comprehensible to the agency's computers. Among other things, the data stream appeared to contain language elements. No one truly understood it, but they had enough points of reference to attempt the fusion between a newly designed specialty implant and a radically different computer. With years of study and continuous computer linkage, the specialist would eventually gain an understanding of the data. It would be less than total immersion, but nonetheless, very similar to the way a baby learns a language.

They named the new specialty Xenology, then went searching for a candidate. It had to be someone without a specialty of course, and someone who was psychologically capable of bonding with a crew. The logical place to look was the agency schools, but they found no volunteers for this berth. The project was risky at best, and no one was willing to saddled themselves with a specialty that might destroy their career, or worse.

I guess I was in the right place at the right time because Far Reach was about to send the ship off without anyone to fill the vacancy. They couldn't delay any longer. The waves were increasing in number, and they had to know whether humanity faced a potential enemy or not.

I was told all this on Crozo, and more. I also knew my specialty might turn out to be worthless and if that were the case, I'd be stuck with it for the rest of my life. You can't change a specialty once it's implanted, and this field was literally a shot in the dark. I knew all that, yet I still said yes. Far Reach assured me that no matter what, I would always have a place with them, and I knew from listening to the spacers in New Devon, that the agency never abandoned it's people.

So, there I was, two months after the Geek mauled me, on a ship heading into the black reach. I had friends, an income drawing interest like crazy, a specialty connected to a computer so radically different that all it could do was teach me about itself for the first six months, and five years or more to prepare for the first human contact with an alien intelligence. I was scared to death. I kept imagining I'd wake up one morning and find it all a dream.

Life aboard the Long Haul was far better than anything I could remember. I spent the required eight hours a day with the implant turned full on, and while it went about opening new pathways in my brain, I started filling them up by reading from the case of chips in my cabin. It would be six months before we reached Far Reach One, the unmanned station the guys called Parvo, and for that six months I'd have to use my implant just as everyone else used theirs. That meant reading reams of data, all concerning the computer itself. After that, if all went well, the computer would shift to direct link and I'd be freed from the reading, but never again completely free from the computer.

I shared a cabin with Wes and Terry which lay directly across from the shower room. Terry said it was the most convenient cabin on the ship, but he never explained whether he meant convenient to the shower itself, or to the games that went on in there. For an hour and a half each morning, the shower room took on the aspect of an evening stroll in New Devon, only more so. Not that it bothered me. Back in New Devon I'd seen it all a thousand times, but I was still somewhat shy and if the activity in there got me the least bit aroused, I'd quickly shower and leave.

Both Wes and Terry were Navigational specialists who maintaining the arcane equipment that guided the Long Haul, but it was Geer Ross who was the actual Navigator.

Kent Ledge, the medical specialist and dietitian was also by his own choice, our fitness coach. On a voyage that takes years to complete, that is an important job in itself and Kent was very conscientious. So much so, it was sometimes hard to figure out whether he was trying to build me up or kill me. Kent was adept at several forms of self defense, as were Tom Price and Andy Bridger and I loved watching them go through their exercises. Tom and Andy were the Ships Maintenance and Defense specialists but they could also help Rance Deems and Bill Grider in Propulsion if needed. It seemed that nearly everyone aboard had at least two jobs, and those of us who didn't, spent a few hours each day keeping the ship tidy. Even Captain Jack.

By that time, Captain Jack, was merely Jack. There was no formality aboard ship, but the ultimate authority, of course, lay with Jack. His word was law, although he never spoke it very loudly.

The ship had gone through so many changes at New Devon, that I was not the only one putting in marathon sessions with a computer. A specialist implant will help you learn, remember and correlate data amazingly fast, but you still must read the information and that was exhausting. We worked off our mental fatigue in the gym, and it was there that Kent started teaching me something he called 'Karate', an old discipline from Earth. It was new to me, and so after my first lesson, I dug out my encyclopedia and looked it up.

I was amazed to learn just how old Karate really was It went back hundreds of years. I then looked up related subjects and found there were dozens of similar disciplines, all slightly different in form, and based on varying philosophies and some of them even older than Karate. There was screen after screen of information and hundreds of cross references just on this one subject alone, and all of it absolutely new to me.

Suddenly I felt ashamed. I think for the first time in my life I realized just how ignorant I was. I'd blamed El for bringing me to a place with no schools, but who's fault was it that I'd never heard of Karate? It was right there in my encyclopedia. That chip had been given to me seven years ago and contained a good portion of all human knowledge, yet I had always used it as a toy. I had scanned some Greek mythology, learned how to fold paper into intriguing shapes, read half the novels on the chip and looked at the pictures, but never once did I use the study guides listed on the menu. I popped the chip out of the viewer and looked at it and for the first time saw it for what it really was. A twenty level education that I could hold in the palm of my hand.

For days afterward I skulked about, too ashamed to look anyone in the eye, but from that point on I used my encyclopedia as it was intended, and studied from it every day.

A few weeks out from of New Devon, Kent began preparing me for the change. . "First, comes your integration with the crew." he said, "It's a process that can either be sudden or take some months to complete, but when it starts happening, you'll know. It's the enthrallment I mentioned."

Then he told me a little of what was actually going on inside, what the additive was doing to me at that very moment, though I couldn't feel it.

I was going through an irreversible change. My brain was manufacturing new and unfamiliar chemicals that not only enabled integration but culminated in a basic sexual reorientation.

"A group of brain cells slowly change, one by one until a certain balance is reached. Reorientation normally takes longer than integration, and it sometimes can be quite a harrowing experience. Jack had a difficult passage, while I for instance, barely noticed the symptoms. Usually, a person will experience a mild euphoria, followed by a few days of depression and anxiety and after that a true sexual awaking, an excitement that can last up to a week. Normally a crew spends their first few months together safely riding the Rim, just coasting while the changes take place, but since the rest of us have already bonded, we can help you through it as we travel on to Parvo."

Suddenly I was filled with doubt. "But, Kent, if you've all bonded, won't I always be an outsider?"

He laughed, "Absolutely not.. The additive works in several ways, but it's most potent aspect is it's ability to integrate, especially if you've been through a past bonding experience. Because of that we must go off the additive for three full months before reaching port, and we don't start using it again until we leave. Believe me, the crew will bond to you, Kale, long before it's mutual.

Kent paused for a moment, then as if to make sure he had my full attention, he took hold of my hands, and said,

"That's the mechanics of it. Now let me tell you what will happen. You are about to join with a group of men who will become the truest family you can ever know. The thing we call bonding, is really love, not just sexual love, although that is an expression of it, but genuine love, and just because that love begins as a byproduct of a drug, doesn't make it any less real. Actually we should be thankful to Dr. Melnik, because the additive hard wires these emotions into our very being. It is a love that won't desert you or ever fade for as long as you live, and it's the one constant in life you can depend on. Why do you suppose an injured crew member will wait around for years to rejoin his ship? It's his family he's waiting for." He put an arm around me. "In a few more weeks you'll understand."

I didn't tell Kent that I already loved every one of them, albeit, like a brother. Nor did I tell him that had anyone ever asked, I would have been a willing sex partner. I'd made that commitment to my myself when I signed aboard the Long Haul, but they were all too ethical to ask me to join in something I wasn't ready for. How could I not care about people like that?

Over the next few weeks I began noticing the changes Kent told me about. I'd catch myself just standing and watching someone as though trying to absorbing the very essence of his being - every tiny detail became vastly important and I couldn't take my eyes away. This went on for several weeks, and many times I found myself being scrutinized in the very same way, especially by Wes.

As large as he was, Wes had a gentleness about him that belied his strength, and ever since he beaned the Geek, I'd felt a special affinity for him. After the evening meal, the crew got together in the lounge for a few hours of relaxation. Not that ship board life was so demanding, but those hours were filled with a ritual that went back to our primate beginnings. In apes it's called grooming, in humans, it takes many forms. A quiet card game, the simple sharing of a snack, or in my case, lying curled up on a couch next to Wes. He might be talking to someone else, but before long his hand would drift my way and start playing with my hair. His touch invariably brought with it a warm drowsiness that left me sleepily watching the others through half closed eyes. Those hours were pure bliss, never in my life had I experienced anything more relaxing than our evenings in the ship's lounge.

Some time later, Kent ask me how I was feeling, and then went further into the effects of the additive.

"You know, Kale, about four million hours of laboratory work went into the development of the Melnik additive. The earliest drugs used, didn't attempt to change one's sexual orientation. They were meant only to keep a crew calm enough to work together. The problem was that on most extended tours, crew members became sexually involved anyway. It was the drugs of course, and those long lonely years together, but those early voyages left many people emotionally disturbed. When the drugs wore off, the crew drifted apart and some couldn't face what had happened to them, or perhaps they just couldn't face the separation. Whatever the reason, at one time, more spacers were lost to suicide than from any other cause."

I had never heard that before, and the history of the additive proved to be fascinating.

Kent went on to tell me that they originally wanted mixed crews, but for the last four hundred years, the law has forbidden sterilization or birth control for either sex, so it was out of the question. Crew's made up of natural Hom's seemed to have the best success rate, but were difficult to recruit, so Far Reach hired Dr. Sharon Melnik.

Melnik was an expert in the field of human sexuality as well as a pharmacologist of great renown. She had already developed drugs that allowed bisexuals to select only one pole of their sexuality and not be forever haunted by the other. Her drugs made her rich and famous, but she accepted the agency's offer for the challenge it involved. Melnik immediately determined that the only way a ship's company could function properly for years at a time, was through a total emotional integration at the most basic level. They would need to love one another completely and without reservation, and for the sake of their sanity, that emotional attachment must be permanent.

Over the years, Far Reach had gathered test results from thousands of different drugs. Dr. Melnik selected the most promising of those, then based on her knowledge, made further changes to them. She then added one of her own drugs, and came up with the additive. Kent made it sound simple, until he told me it had taken her nearly twenty years.

"One of the things Melnik added to her formula," he concluded, "Is something every ship bound spacer is thankful for. All during the time that you ingest the additive, you are endowed with a dramatically increased sexual desire, as well as prodigious stamina and potency. You will learn, Kale, that Space travel is either deadly boring or deadly dangerous, but on most trips, boring wins hands down. Sex can use up a lot time, and time is what we'll have plenty of these next ten years. You've probably already noticed that the crew is much more active here, than back at New Devon. That's Dr. Melnik's little kick!"

I had noticed both Wes and Terry a lot friskier than before, but after Kent mentioned it, I realized everyone was. . . including myself. The activity in the shower room sometimes reached an intensity that sent me scuttling back to my bunk to find my pictures. I think I was a little jealous of the men's totally free and unselfconscious enjoyment of one another, my bunk seemed such a cold and lonely place, my pictures so remote compared to the vitality across the hall.

One such morning not long after my discussion with Kent, Wes walked in and caught me in the act. I don't know why I felt embarrassed, but I did, I even tried to hide it. Wes sat down on the edge of the bunk and picked up one of my holographs.

"She's very pretty." he said, "But I saved one you might like even better." He reached over to the drawer under his bunk and after a moment's rummaging, extracted an old two dimensional picture of a girl so beautiful it took my breath away.

"You see, Kale, we've all been where you are now. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and you don't have to hide." He chuckled as he told me about his and the crews reorientation,

"For several months, this picture hung in the shower, and believe me, at first we spent a lot of quality time with Marilyn. Naturally, a crew won't all go through the change at the same instant. In our case it was about forty-five days between the first, Bill, and the last, Andy. You already know the additive makes you so horny you can hardly stand it, so if you feel like masturbating, go right ahead and do it in the shower, we certainly did. Not only did we masturbate together, we did it for each other, and I can tell you from experience, that's a lot more enjoyable than doing it alone."

He picked up the picture and said, "Come along, Kale, I think it's time we put Marilyn back to work!"

He was right, it was more fun in the shower room and I soon found it as enjoyable bringing Wes to climax, as it was having him to do it for me. I thought perhaps my change had already started because I liked it so much, but Wes just laughed. "Not yet, my fine lusty lad." he said. "You've just discovered sex can be fun. Notice something? you don't need the picture any more!" He was right, I hadn't looked at it in days. Wes turned me around and we stood watching the other men.

"You don't have to be Hom to like some things." he said, "Half of what goes on in here Het men have experienced since the dawn of time. Kale, there has always been natural Hom's and Bi's, put twenty or so average guys together with no chance of ever rejoining Het society, and you'll soon find several of them providing sexual relief for the rest. It's a fact of life."

As if on cue, Jack walked in and within seconds he was with Terry, his arms around the man's waist, pulling him close, trying to engulf that hugeness. Terry had perhaps the biggest piece of equipment I had ever seen, and the thought of eventually being invaded by it had always frightened me a bit, but Jack was having no trouble whatsoever. Terry leaned back into the spray, his hands running through Jack's hair, while a smile of pure contentment played across his lips. The sight of them brought me back to hard rigidity.

"Now that looks like real fun." Wes said thickly as he grasped my hardness and slowly lowered himself in front of me. When I didn't protest, he slid his warm mouth over me and began running his tongue over the most sensitive parts. I almost cried out from the sheer intensity of that feeling. His hand cupped beneath, fingers gently probing, and he began sliding me in and out his mouth, thrusting with that wonderful tongue on each downward stroke. Unlike Terry, I had no time to lay back and enjoy it. I came in seconds and with a flood unlike anything I'd ever experienced from mere masturbation. It poured forth, one sweet clenching jolt after another, and I heard Wes moan in delight as he tried to keep up with me.

It was an awesome feeling that left me shaking, my legs like rubber and I had to set down on the nearest bench. More than anything else, I was stunned by the knowledge that Wes had loved it at least as much as I had, and that thought began making me hard again. Kent mentioned the additive produced an increased potency, but I never imagined anything like this. In seconds I was feeling a renewed urgency that overwhelmed me.

Wes sat beside me for a moment, then he pulled us down into a reclining position, my head cradled on his arm. Rolling on his side, he brought his huge throbbing member hard against my belly. I began playing with it, picking up the rhythm he'd shown me, and in a minute or so he too came. It gushing out warm across my body in a deluge that covered my chest, but instead of wiping it away as I'd done so many time with my own, I let it stay, reveling in the warm, silky feeling of it..

Wes wasted no time. In a flash he again had me in his mouth and began that same sweet torment, only this time he let it build by increments, resting a bit if he felt me about to come, I lasted only minutes longer, but when I came, it was with almost the same flood as before and with an even greater intensity of feeling. Again Wes moaned in ecstasy as time after time I clenched forth.

I recognized then, that half the pleasure in sex was the giving of pleasure to someone else, but I couldn't do for Wes what he'd done for me. I loved it, I wanted more, but I had to tell him.

"Why, Kale, I didn't expect you to, and neither will anyone else. Bill went through his change a good month before any of us, and we all felt the same as you. We loved what he did, but we just couldn't reciprocate."

That particular morning it didn't matter anyway, because our corner of the shower room suddenly got crowded.

"We saw you two making out over here." Bill growled in a voice straight out of an ancient sea tale, "Keeping young Kale all to yourself, are ye, matey? Well it don't work that way, and you know what the penalty is!"

Wes was laughing so hard I doubt he could have stood up, which made little difference anyway because, by then they had him on the floor. Bill and Tom held Wes spread-eagled while Jack and the others began doing some very erotic things to him. It was a rape game the guys were playing, and from what I could see, the rapee loved it.

Terry sat down beside me, ran a finger across my chest and tasted it. "Yep, that's Wes all right!" As if there was any doubt about it, "Can't leave any evidence, you know," He chuckled as he began sliding his hands over my chest and body thoroughly coating me with that silkiness. His hands slid down to grasp me for a moment, coating that as well before taking me in his mouth. Again that wonderful feeling of being engulfed in a warm and violently active place. Terry stretched out along side me, his huge, hard member squarely in my face. I pulled back a bit to get a better look at it, then began to play around trying different strokes until I found one he seemed to like. He began a slow movement with his hips, in and out, at a half beat to my stroke, and when I came, so did he. Again there seemed little if any diminishment in my flood, and I heard Terry making the same little pleasure sounds that now came from Jack and Wes. Terry replaced Wes's silkiness with his own and I lay there nicely drenched, waiting for the next diner.

Twice more it happened, in less than thirty minutes. First stocky, muscular Bill then dark, lean and potent Andy For me, both held nearly the same intensity as the first. It convinced me that Far Reach was prudent in limiting shower time to an hour and a half. Quite honestly, I could have stayed in there forever.

Finally when the ten minute warning sounded, we actually got around to showering, then went in to eat a huge breakfast. Suddenly I was included in the constant touching, petting and teasing that went on aboard ship and no longer felt like an observer. After that day I usually slept with Wes, though quite often I'd find myself with someone else but no matter where I slept, it was always with a huge supply of towels

A short time later my change started and I found that Kent had been the master of understatement. The "mild euphoria", was more like a three day drunk, and the depression that followed left me a mindless wreak. Kent later told me my anxiety was much deeper than it would have been had I grown up surrounded by people who loved me. I had learned to trust no one but myself and the additive rendered me totally defenseless. He was probably right, but it was the worst thing I ever experienced in my entire life.

I couldn't stand being alone, someone had to be with me every minute and still I wept for hours on end. Worst of all were the night horrors. Whenever I closed my eyes, strange dreams swept over me, terrifying nightmares with no form or shape I could grasp, yet they left me petrified. I didn't really sleep for days. I'd lay wrapped in someone's arms, trying to stay awake, but invariably I'd doze and go spinning down into the nightmare. How they ever put up with me is a mystery, but for the entire week the guys took turns caring for me and never once let me face my terrors alone.

Wes was with me the night the horrors finally stopped.. I had crawled up out of my latest nightmare and lay there next to him, shivering, cold as ice. Wes held me close, reassuring me, whispering I was safe, when something remarkable happened. How one can go from stark terror to sexual excitement in the blink of an eye, is something only a psychologist can explain but suddenly, terror no longer ruled me. Instead I became intensely aware of just how good Wes smelled, of the smooth texture of his skin. Electricity shot through me leaving me tingling all over! Instantly Wes sensed the change and pulled me even closer, and for the next few minutes I just lay there listening to the beat of his heart.

For a night that started out so badly, it proved to be a memorable one. I will always remember his gentle kisses that night, his sweet tenderness as I slid down to discover what he already knew. The taste of him, that great and nearly endless flood, and the warmth and wonder of it all.

Kent had also badly underestimated my sexual awakening. For ten days I was insatiable and became an absolute terror in the shower. It's a wonder I didn't drown in there! No one was safe from me, whether on duty or not. I followed them around demanding satisfaction and totally disrupted the ship's routine. For the entire time I was little more than a naked wraith, drifting about the ship, nearly raping everyone I met. I needed, yearned, demanded to be the filling in a human sandwich with hard bodies pressed against me fore and aft and I always seemed to get my way. My family took it all in stride, but later, kidded me about it. They said if it hadn't been for Dr. Melnik's little kick, they wouldn't have survived.

For centuries human kind has written songs, stories and poems about love, but most speak of loving only One person, so how does one describe being equally in love with nine ? I love each for himself alone, both as a lover and as a part of my family. All have taken on a special virtue that is hard to explain. Strangely enough, after going through the change, the first thing I noticed was body odor. Always before, if I was aware it at all, it was because it exuded from the unwashed short line crews. Now I know everyone has a distinctive smell, I can pick up an article of clothing and know exactly who it belongs to from the delightful scent it holds and that smell arouses me. Somewhere along this odyssey of discovery, individual defects disappeared, instead I see only perfection when I look upon these men. How could I have ever thought Rance ugly? His every move, even the way he holds his head while concentrating on some task is sheer poetry to watch. Tom's virtues, for instance, includes the scars on his face and arms. I love sliding my fingers over that old injury, the texture is so excitingly different. I can no longer visualize him without those marks, nor would I wish them gone. To me, both are as handsome as Jack, as are all the members of my family.

Will we always feel this way about each other, will there always be this tug of sexual excitement among us? Kent say's yes, that both will last as long as life and I'm sure he's right. Back in New Devon, I'd seen it myself without really knowing it It was all around me there, in the men on the park benches, in those waiting for their ships to return and in Pete and Able, the two old retirees, the last of their crew, living on only for each other. At the time, I never realized the richness of those lives, nor could I see the beauty. . .

END