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"I’d like to be under the sea..."

"Octopus’s Garden" -- The Beatles

I didn’t hang out with Zee as much as you might think. Though we had lots in common, we both had other friends, and our lives didn’t always intersect.

Now that I think about it, one of the reasons we only got together occasionally might have been that Zee felt the same about me as I did about her - she liked me a lot, but somehow knew we’d never fall in love.

* * *

My whole life felt pretty pointless about that time. I had no goals, no direction, and no one to really share with. There had been times when I had all those things, but everything else seemed to pass when the relationship ended. Alone I felt useless.

I began to wonder what in the hell I would do when Star went back to Lecurela. Sure, it was years away - he couldn’t assume the throne until he was officially one hundred years old, which would be sometime in the middle of the next Earth century. But it would happen. Would I go back with him? Not bloody likely. I had the feeling that my death warrant on my "home" planet would never be cancelled.

I knew Star was already in training for his future position. Through the high-tech communication devices at his home and office, Lecurela sent him all sorts of minor jobs to handle - decisions too small for the home guys to bother with and pleas from peoples deemed unimportant by Relias and the rest of the Lecurelan big wigs.

I don’t know if I was moping around, or if Star honestly needed the help, but one day he approached me.

"Evan, I wonder if you would consent to undertake a mission for me."

Of course I was intrigued. "What sort of a mission?"

"A planet has petitioned for membership in the Federation, but nothing is known of them. I have been asked to research the population and see if their delegation should be allowed to visit Lecurela."

I knew stuff like that happened all the time. There were other planetary leagues in existence, but the Federation was one of the more powerful organizations. People often tried to join it first before settling for something less - or at least that was the party line.

"Umm... sure. What do I need to do?" I did not consider myself a politician or a diplomat, but I couldn’t refuse Star, and as usual, I had no better offers.

It was a place I had never heard of, which was kind of intriguing in itself. Star asked that I listen to language recordings so I could talk to the people and gave me the coordinates of their location.

"Have you talked to them?" I asked.

"Yes, but only by audio. They seem a very advanced and peaceful people. As you have no doubt noticed, there are two dialects in their language. I’m sure that correct usage will become clear when you have arrived."

I shrugged. "I guess. You’re placing a lot of faith in me. What if I fuck up?"

He smiled. "I have every confidence you will do well."

* * *

I had no idea what a diplomat would wear, not on a strange planet, anyway. I opted for comfort: jeans and a T-shirt. I could always purchase something more appropriate when I arrived. I was rather surprised when I found they wore nothing at all. Of course, after seeing them, I couldn’t imagine what sort of clothing they might have worn.

The land of their fair-sized planet consisted only of islands, some as large as Japan or England, many as small as one rock and some seaweed. But land was not of ultimate importance to the Morrell people - they were amphibians. Picture a large barrel on end, with eight small feet underneath for land movement, then eight long, flexible arms, each terminating in a four fingered hand, all digits perfectly opposable. Add two dinner-plate size eyes on one side of the barrel and a small speaking sphincter on top, and you’ll have the whole picture.

I arrived in one of the Morrell’s largest population centers, on a moderate sized island, and there were a number of these creatures out and about. It was immediately obvious that I was much too tall; their bodies only rose about four feet off the ground. But I knew the language and tried the first dialect, which turned out to be the right one for the occasion. The second dialect was for use underwater.

On land, they scuttled about quite efficiently. In the water... they were marvels. I soon shed my clothes - it seemed the diplomatic thing to do, especially since we were always going in and out of the water. Several wanted to touch me - they’d never seen a biped in person before - and I didn’t mind. Their skin felt very similar to my own.

The only confusion we had was over whether I was male or female, despite my equipment being now on view. I didn’t get it at first. There was much discussion of my having only two hands, and that neither wore a metal bracelet of the type I’d seen on one wrist of many of the Morrells. After loads of questions on both sides, I finally understood that one of their arms was not only a handling appendage, but contained the male sex organ. If I can say I understood their facial expressions correctly, I think they thought my penis rather primitive.

I enjoyed swimming with the Morrells. In fact, I thought they were altogether one of the most pleasant species I had ever known. We hunted and ate fish and sea plants, sometimes cooked but mostly as we found them, slept on woven mats near the surf, and discussed their desires to become part of something larger than their own planetary organization.

They had learned of the Federation through another friendly species, and wanted to know what they might expect and what would be expected of them in return. Since I was on a fact-finding mission for Star, and not there as a representative of Lecurela, I had few answers, but I tried to leave them with a positive impression.

On my last day, their headman gifted me with a bracelet they’d made specially to fit my wrist. In spite of my explanations, I think the lack had never stopped bothering them.

I reported my findings verbally to Star, and he then made me type all my impressions into a computer to be transmitted to Lecurela. I had used an advanced image writer to record photos, and they were uploaded along with my report.

I was surprised, a few days later, to find Star pacing his office. "They won’t allow the Morrells to join the Federation, won’t even receive their delegation!" he said, at my question.

"What? Why not?"

He fell into the chair at his desk and sighed away his indignation. "Because of the Morrells’ appearance - they are not humanoid."

Somehow, that the Federation was prejudiced in this way didn’t surprise me at all. I was glad to personally deliver to the Morrells Star’s suggestions for an alternate organization to join.

* * *

Star found other assignments for me as well. I went and talked to people on other planets that Star couldn’t see in person, delivered things here and there, and even went on a couple of rescue missions. One of those was to a planet where the people, quite humanoid in appearance, had become divided into two factions. Both had discovered nuclear weapons, and used them to bomb each other almost out of existence. What was left of their cities, with very small exceptions, was a radioactive hell.

I discovered that it was possible to siphon off that dangerous energy and transmute it to something more useful, using some to heal the damage done to the people and their planet. I hoped that I never had to do the same for Earth.

* * *

I still spent time at the Denver Affair. Dex had fallen hard for a vampire from the old country, and I was happy for him, even if it did remove one buddy from my fuck-list. I still sang there a few times a week, but that left me with far too much time on my hands. So... when fall came, I registered at Denver University. My legal records at that time said I was twenty-seven, which left me a bit old for my first college experience, but they took my money without a blink, and I was soon immersed in freshman this and that. They let you test out of many of the more basic courses, and I took advantage of that option for several, citing "life experience." Hah, if they only knew. But even with singing and studying I still had plenty of time for thinking. I was still sexually involved with both men and women, and sometimes I pondered my experiences on Muir and their three-sexed society.

Muir had males and females, like Earth, but they also had medians. Even though you would have scandalized the Muirans if you were to suggest it, I wondered what the males and medians might get up to, late at night, when the female was asleep. They were married, after all. What would be the harm of making use of the equipment every median had right there for the taking?

What must it be like to be a median, I wondered. With a vagina, one would have two convenient openings for penetration. Add a functional penis, and you’d have the perfect sex machine!

One night, alone in the privacy of my apartment, I decided I had to try it, and, just like my effortless transformation to Eve, it was ridiculously easy. The thought was the same as the action.

Outwardly, there was no difference. I still had the same body shape, tall and broad and hard in all the right places, but there was that little extra as well. I was pleased with my notion and couldn’t wait to try it out, which I soon did with one of my male bisexual regulars. It worked fine, and I think he was pleasantly surprised.

Of course, there were times when it was best to appear as nothing more than an outwardly "normal" male, and I found I could shift back and forth with a moment’s thought.

* * *

Though a regular at the Affair, I had scarcely exchanged more than nods with the Count since our "break-up," but one evening, as I sat enjoying a cola between sets, he approached me. "Evan," he said with a small bow, "may I join you?"

I thought he seemed a bit ill at ease, but he was looking as good as usual in a true-black cashmere suit and a white dress shirt with the top buttons of the collar undone. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him in public without a tie, but it emphasized that long neck, and I rather liked it - not that how he dressed was any of my business.

"Sure." I pushed out the neighboring chair. "Sit."

I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t get much at first. He just sat there, gazing around the club, too urbane to fidget.

"How are you?" I tried.

"I am quite well, thank you," he said politely. "May I assume that you are the same?"

I agreed I was indeed well, beginning to wonder what, if anything, we were going to talk about. Finally he quit looking around aimlessly and locked his gaze on the table top.

"I was wrong, Evan," he said, in a very quiet voice.

I didn’t think that was something he said very often, so I waited a second or two before asking, "About what?"

At last he looked at me. "When you resumed your natural shape, I broke off our relationship." He looked down again, and the first flush of embarrassment I’d ever seen on that pale face rose up from his throat. "I have come to regret that decision very much." He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to mine with an effort. "I still find you very attractive, whatever shape your body assumes." He swallowed hard. "I have from the first day we met."

I was busy resisting the urge to clear out my ears with a fingernail. Could I really be hearing this? "You, umm... always wanted to, umm... with me?"

He nodded. "Yes."

I had to smile, thinking back to all the times I’d wanted this gorgeous guy, and there he was, wanting me too, and for some reason unable to say so. My self confidence went up a notch. "And now you want a second chance?"

"Just so," he agreed, looking as though he expected me to tell him to fuck off.

I stood up. "I think there’s still a few minutes left before I have to be on stage."

He smiled then, all the way up to his pretty green eyes.

I never made that night’s last set.