Lhyn shot him a look of exasperation and turned to Rahel. “This is why Fleet officers should stay away from humor of any kind. They’re not good at it.”
“I’ll bet you don’t say that to the captain.” Lokomorra slumped bonelessly in his seat.
“Ekatya is the exception to every rule.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He leaned toward Rahel and spoke in a loud whisper. “There’s a rule about how a captain’s bridge performance can predict her performance . . . off the bridge, so to speak.”
“Sometimes I can’t believe she brought you on,” Lhyn said. “You are her polar opposite in so many ways. And no, not that way,” she added before he could speak.
“Ah, you’ve heard the stories.” He looked pleased. “That rule applies to the executive officer, too.”
Rahel stared at him. “You’re not telling the truth.”
“Oh?” Lhyn’s attention sharpened. “Did you make up the whole rule or just the part about how it applies to you?”
“The whole rule. Do you know, I’m normally considered an excellent liar. It’s useful in dealing with personnel or diplomacy.” He sipped his electric orange drink. “Well. They’re the same thing, really.”
“Can you have sex with anyone on the ship, Commander?” Rahel asked.
Lokomorra coughed with his mouth shut, his cheeks blowing out to an alarming degree as he tried to keep his drink contained. Across the table, Lhyn hurriedly set down her glass and laughed.
“What?” Lokomorra managed.
“I said, can you—”
“No, no, I heard you. I was—why would you ask that?”
“Lhyn said Captain Serrado was lucky to find her, because Fleet regulations say a supervisor can’t have sex with anyone who reports to them or works in their section, and captains oversee all sections, so they can’t have sex with anyone on the ship. I just realized that as the executive officer, you oversee all sections, too.”
“See?” Lhyn said. “This is what I mean by how fast you learn. I can’t believe you remembered that. And then you took it to the next logical step.”
“Why do I feel like I’m in a classroom?” Lokomorra thumped his fist against his chest and cleared his throat. “You’re right. I can’t have sex with a Phoenix crew member. The section chiefs have options in ten out of the eleven sections, but the executive officer and captain are special cases. That’s why ‘captain cuts loose on the space station’ is such a popular theme in erotica.” He frowned. “They never make it about execs, though.”
“You never get any physical contact. Except on leave.”
“That’s correct.”
“I think we might be able to help each other.” Rahel felt Lhyn startle, but when her friend said nothing, she forged ahead. “Would you like to come to my quarters after your shift tomorrow? We can pet each other.”
Lhyn snorted, covered her mouth, then leaned back and laughed uproariously. Lokomorra appeared to be paralyzed, his eyes so wide that the whites showed all the way around the irises.
“I’m sorry?” he said.
“Does that mean no?”
“No, it means—what the Hades does that mean?”
Rahel had lost track of the conversation. Was he asking what she meant, or what he meant?
“Oh my fucking stars, that was priceless,” Lhyn gasped. “I wish I had a recording of it.” She laughed again and wiped her eyes. “Rahel, when I said pet me, I was using the first definition of the term. There’s also a slang definition. It means sexual contact.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t think it would come up in casual conversation!”
“Let me see if I understand.” Lokomorra’s shock had receded from the blaring horn it had been a few seconds ago. “You want non-sexual physical contact and you think I want it, too.”
“I don’t know if you want it. That’s why I asked.”
He turned to Lhyn, who was laughing again.
“Sorry. Sorry,” she wheezed. “I can explain, just give me a second.” She held up one hand, sipped her drink, and cleared her throat. “Rahel, since you’re asking the commander, can I assume you’re lifting the confidentiality clause on your medical needs where he’s concerned?”
Rahel nodded.
“Right. Commander, Rahel is under constant pressure from the empathic noise generated by all of the unshielded minds on this ship. It has harmful effects if it builds up too much, but Dr. Wells discovered that the pressure can be reduced through physical touch. Simple things, like touching here, and here.” She demonstrated on her face and neck. “Or brushing fingers through her hair. Dr. Wells has been doing the treatments, but she advised Rahel to find alternative, ah, helpers for the times that she’s not available.”
“So I asked Lhyn, and she’s perfect.” Rahel enjoyed Lhyn’s satisfaction before facing Lokomorra. “But she won’t always be on board, so I need a backup. I know you’re sexually attracted to me—”
“Ouch,” Lhyn murmured.
“. . . but I also know you’re very disciplined and you don’t allow that attraction to influence your behavior. I respect that kind of discipline. From what I’ve seen, you’re an admirable warrior and I’d trust you to help me without trying to take advantage. Of course, if you did try, I’d crush you.”
“Ouch is right,” Lokomorra told Lhyn.
“And I thought that since you can’t get your sexual needs fulfilled on the Phoenix, maybe me touching you will at least help.” Rahel took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair.
“That’s what you meant by helping each other,” he said.
She nodded.
He picked up his glass, drank half of it, set it down, and began to chuckle. That set Lhyn off, which made Lokomorra laugh harder, and Rahel sat baffled while they howled. She really didn’t see what was so amusing.
“This is just crazy enough that it might work,” Lokomorra said at last. “Besides, how could I resist an invitation like that? I’ll want to eat first, which I assume I won’t be doing with you since this isn’t a date. Shall I come by your quarters at twenty hundred hours?”
Relieved that this confusing conversation had ended so well, Rahel said, “Yes, that will be fine.”
“Can I set up a recorder?” Lhyn asked.
15
Petting
Lokomorra was exactly on time, wearing loose-fitting trousers and a short-sleeved shirt with an open neck. He poked his head in the door and looked around. “Did she?” he asked.
Two words into the conversation and already Rahel was confused. “Um. I don’t understand.”
“Did she set up a recorder?”
“Oh!” She chuckled, relieved that it was this simple. “No. I don’t think she was truly joking, though. If I’d said yes, she would have done it.”
“Don’t I know it.” He came the rest of the way inside, smiling broadly despite the awkward tint to his emotions. “Glad to see you got one of the sweet suites. You should have had a senior officer cabin to begin with, but there are only as many of those as there are senior officers.”
“I didn’t mind my first quarters, except for the fact that I couldn’t get away from empathic broadcasts. But now that I’m used to these, it would be hard to go back.”
“Yeah, it’s always easy to adjust up.”
She tilted her head. “You’re speaking from experience.”
“That really does take some getting used to. It’s a long story. The short version is that I grew up in a place that valued law and order a lot less than Fleet. I ran around with some pretty tough people and lived in some pretty tough places. What I have now . . .” He grinned, showing his dimples. “If I could go back in time and talk to my younger self, he’d never believe me.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“I guess you do. Even more than me. At least I knew Fleet existed.” He glanced at the wall display. “Ah, I recognize this. The captain had it on in her quarters when I needed a signa
ture from her some time back. The State Park?”
She nodded, her gaze on the quiet beauty of the Fahlinor River and the glorious Alsean architecture beyond it. “I hated Blacksun when I first saw it. It wasn’t my home. There was no Wildwind Bay, the docks were tiny, it was landlocked . . . but this part of it, this part I could love. Now I watch it and it hurts. But in a good way. It’s hard to explain.”
“You’re homesick,” he said gently. “It hurts to see any part of home and know you can’t be there. But it feels good at the same time. Like it’s filling a void.”
“You understand.”
“Most anyone on the crew would.”
But she hadn’t asked just anyone on the crew to her quarters. She relaxed, certain that she had made the right choice. “I think you should go first, so I can show you the kind of touching I mean.”
“Thank the heavenly stars, I was hoping you’d say that. I didn’t want to do it wrong and embarrass myself.”
She led him across the room and sat near the corner of the couch. “Take off your shoes, lie down, and put your head here.” She patted her thigh.
“Got it.” He toed off his shoes.
“What—” Rahel choked back a laugh. “What are those?”
With a wide grin, he said, “These are my conversation starters. I have a little brother, and we used to fight all the time. But I wasn’t allowed to hit him, no matter how obnoxious he was, so I’d tell him to kiss my feet, which is very obscene where I come from.” He lifted a foot, encased in a bright yellow sock with a pattern of pursed red lips in various sizes. “Two years ago, he gave me a set of these for my birthday. I have them in six colors.”
“But doesn’t that mean he’s kissing your feet? Figuratively?”
“He grew up to be about twice as big as me. He can joke about kissing my feet.”
She looked up at him and wondered how massive his brother must be. “Do you wear those on duty?”
“Now, see, this is the part where I’d normally wink and say in an exaggerated tone, ‘Of course not,’ and you’d assume I actually meant I did. But I can’t do that with you because you’d know I’m lying.”
She puzzled over that. “Why would you pretend?”
“Ah . . . flirting?”
“Oh. I don’t flirt.”
“Yeah, I noticed that when you said you knew I was sexually attracted to you. That’s pretty much the anti-flirt.” He sat beside her. “I don’t know how to do this smoothly.”
“Haven’t you ever put your head in someone’s lap?”
“Not since I was twelve or so.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine. “Is it forbidden in your home culture?”
“No, but it’s not something tough men do. I thought I was a tough man. Eventually I learned that wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be, but most of the women I’ve been with . . . well. They weren’t empathic.”
“They saw the tough man,” Rahel said, and he nodded. “You do look ferocious, with that beard and your body alterations.”
“But I like the way I look. When I was that twelve-year-old kid, I dreamed of having a beard like this.” He stroked it, clacking the beads together. “Why should I have to change how I look to get people to see past the outside?”
Rahel thought of Mouse, with his tiny body and missing central forehead ridge. “You shouldn’t.”
“Alseans must have a lot of advantages.”
“We can still misjudge each other. Or pretend to be what we’re not. But in most cases, pretending doesn’t last past skin contact.” She touched his leg. “Swing those up, scoot down, and put your head here.” Too late, she remembered that she had meant to print a small pillow for this. But Lokomorra was getting into position and she couldn’t get up now.
His head was heavier than Sharro’s, heavier than Lhyn’s, and how could she touch his jaw through all that thick hair? The sheer foreignness hit her like a stave to the chest.
“Katsuro,” he said, breaking her out of her momentary panic.
“What?”
“My name. If I’m going to have my head in your lap, you can’t call me Commander Lokomorra.”
His matter-of-fact statement helped her to a calmer space. “Rahel. Not First Guard Sayana.”
“Well met, Rahel.”
“Well met, Katsuro. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready. Pet me.”
That made her laugh, and suddenly it was all right. She slid her fingers down his temple and skated along the cheekbone, then up the bridge of his nose and into his short hair.
“That feels good,” he murmured.
“I know.”
His eyes were shut before the end of the second minute, and a deep contentment purred out. By the time she had lightly scratched all around his scalp and moved to his throat, he lifted his chin without a hint of awkwardness.
“There’s a truth to physical touch,” she said, sliding her fingers past the collar of his shirt. “It transcends words and even emotions. It’s wired directly into the body, I think. The body knows.” Her fingers danced back up his neck, skipped over the coarse hair of his beard, and returned to his surprisingly soft cheeks. “The first time someone touched me this way, I was a scared girl who had no idea how much I needed it. But my body knew.”
“I hope whoever touched you that way was honorable,” he said quietly.
“She was and she is. I was selling my body before that. A very different kind of touch.”
His eyes remained closed and he said nothing, but sympathetic anger rose from his skin. She rested her hand on the center of his chest, palm flat, trying to communicate her own lack of pain. “It was a long time ago. I have no regrets. That path led me to Sharro—that’s her name—and it led my mother to her as well. Now they’re bonded and having a child together. Fahla might not be able to save us from hurting, but I think sometimes she finds ways to make it lead to a worthwhile place.”
“I like that philosophy. I believe in the Seeders, but I don’t expect them to take care of me. I think it’s up to us to make something good out of the bad things that happen.” His lips curved into a wry smile. “I see what you mean about the truth of this kind of touch. I don’t usually discuss philosophy until the fifth date. And I don’t usually get to the fifth date.”
“I don’t see how you get to a second date if you’re only dating on space stations.”
“That’s a sad fact.” He rolled his head to one side as her fingers combed through his hair, subtly inviting her to focus there. “You’re right, my body knows. I haven’t been this relaxed in years. Not even after . . . well. One of those dates.”
“Sexual satiation isn’t the same thing as relaxing in trust.”
He chuckled. “Says the anti-flirt.”
“It’s the truth. Is flirting all about lying, then?”
“Huh,” he said after a moment. “I had a response ready, and then I thought about it, and damn. It kind of is, sometimes. But other times it’s about having fun with someone who understands the game.”
“I’ll ask Lhyn,” she decided.
“Er, she might not be an expert on the matter. But I want to be there for that conversation.”
They stopped talking then, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She explored his alien features and marveled at the similarities and differences, while he sank deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation.
She sensed the moment that he fell asleep. His broadcast shut off as if a valve had been turned, leaving a faint trickle of diffuse and unreadable emotions. It lasted perhaps one minute before his entire body jerked and the broadcast resumed. His eyes flew open, a look of such surprise in them that she stifled a laugh.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing up to a sitting position. “I don’t know how that happened.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
He scratched his fingers through his hair and shook his head vigorously. “It’s bad form to fall asleep on your partner. Even though you aren’t my partner. That kind o
f partner. Oh, Hades, never mind, my brain’s not working.”
“I think you need to readjust your expectations. We’re not having sex.”
“Noticed that,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“On Alsea, when a warrior like you relaxes enough to fall asleep with someone else—when the purpose isn’t sleep—that’s a compliment. I’m happy you did. It means you trusted me.” She wondered if he would trust her if he knew of her past crimes, then pushed the thought away. This was her new start. She had earned it. The adjudicator’s signature confirmed it.
Then why did it feel like she was lying to him?
“I think I have a much better idea of the kind of touching you mean now.” Katsuro was smiling at her. “Switch?”
“Switch,” she agreed.
His thigh, when she rested her head on it, was considerably broader than she was used to. His hands were also bigger, but he inhabited his body with the ease of a trained warrior and kept his touch light. Too light, in fact, and with her encouragement he grew more confident.
At first she kept her eyes open, fascinated by the new view of that phenomenally alien beard. But as his caresses gained the smoothness of practice, she let her eyes fall shut and began to drift, letting out a happy hum of pleasure.
Katsuro’s enjoyment was shattered by a spike of alarm, accompanied by dark dread and the red heat of embarrassment. Startled by the sudden shift, Rahel sat up and turned.
She froze at the sight of his trousers. Just below the crotch, the loose fabric was pushed up by some object underneath. Even as she stared in horror, it moved.
She was across the room in half a second. “Shekking Mother on a burning boat!” she shouted in High Alsean, then remembered to speak in Common. “What is that? Are you all right?”
He fell back with a groan and covered his face. “Fuck a rock, I haven’t been this embarrassed since I got a stiff one in math class.”
The alarm had vanished, pushed out by a new and larger wave of mortification. She edged closer, assured that at least there was no danger. “What happened? What is that?”
“I’m never going to have children. I’m only going to be able to have this conversation once in my life, and this is it.” Slowly, he raised his head. “It’s my penis, and I can’t believe I said that.”
Resilience Page 13
