by M B Wood
#
She got a wine from Minotti who swore a connoisseur would rave over it. On Friday, she went to the market and bought the best food she could find; two plump mallards, Brussels sprouts, carrots, new potatoes, sweet butter, herbs and charcoal for the roaster.
Later, she did the laundry and cleaned the house. It was difficult not saying anything, but Maria had assured her nothing would keep Taylor away that day.
On Saturday, she bruised fresh cedar branches to make the house fragrant and polished the dishes and glasses until they were spotless. By late afternoon, after the ducks had been put in the roaster, Noelle took Martha over to Maria for the evening. After bathing, she put on her nicest clothes and tied a ribbon in her hair. As a final touch, she used the perfume and makeup that Maria had given her.
#
Noelle poked the duck with a fork. Fat-laden juices oozed from the meat and the bone wiggled easily in its joint. It was perfect. She brought the ducks in from the roaster.
The vegetables on the wood stove were done. She took them off the heat. "Mr. MacPherson," she called. "Supper will be served in five minutes." She juggled the pans. It was more difficult cooking on a wood stove than with gas.
"Hm, okay." Taylor looked up from a stack of papers. "Something smells good. What's for supper?"
"Duck, it's in season. I hope you like it." Noelle carved the ducks and arranged them on the platter.
The sauces, she thought and quickly stirred them. "Darn," she said to herself. "I wish I had another pair of hands."
"Here, let me help with that." Taylor took the spoon from her hand. "This looks like quite a production."
"Oh, I didn't hear you coming." She released the spoon into his cool fingers. "They go in those two gravy boats." She pointed with the fork she was using to put meat on the platter.
Taylor transferred the sauces to the serving dishes. "Your table setting looks good." He held up the two gravy boats looking for a place on the crowded table. "Where to?"
"Next to the meat platter," Noelle said as she carried dishes to the table. "Leave some room for the potatoes."
"All right. Now what?"
"Sit down and eat before it gets cold." Noelle mentally crossed her fingers as she looked the table over.
The cut-up duck--skin golden--was neatly arranged on the platter. The redskin potatoes had a light sprinkling of parsley, the carrots glistened from a maple syrup glaze and butter slowly melted on the Brussels sprouts. The sauces, one a tangy plum and the other, hot peppers in cream, steamed in their gravy boats. Wineglasses sparkled in the flickering candlelight on freshly pressed linen.
Well, everything looks all right, she thought. She took her first bite. Doesn't taste bad, either.
"Hmm." Taylor's eyes were closed, his mouth moving. He swallowed. "This duck is perfect." He sniffed the plate. "The sauces are great. I haven't had anything like this in a long time." He hesitated and a frown clouded his face.
Noelle's heart leapt into her mouth. "Is something wrong?"
"No. No, it's not the food. It was a memory from another time, another place." His smile was forced.
"How about some wine?" Noelle hurried to hand him the wine bottle. "This is supposed to go well with duck."
"Wine?" He seemed surprised as he took the bottle. "Well, well, an Oregon pinot noir, an excellent choice.” He poured some into the glass, swirled it around and sniffed it deeply. "Nice nose.” He took a sip, aspirated it between his teeth and swallowed. "Hmm, this is the best pinot I've tasted in years. Where did you get it?"
“Minotti’s recommended it when I said I was preparing roast duck for you.”
“It goes very well with this meal, which is excellent.”
Noelle's spirits soared. She knew that one of the paths to a man's heart was through his stomach. The other, she was certain, was found in bed.
Maybe tonight's the night. She felt a smile cross her face. I did it. Relaxing somewhat, she tried everything, even the wine, which quickly went to her head.
Taylor ate his food slowly, obviously savoring it.
"Noelle." He paused. "I don't quite know how to say this, but this is the best meal I've had in a long time. I guess I'm saying you're all you claimed to be." He leaned back in his chair and smiled.
Noelle returned his smile. "Do I get to keep the job? It is a month since I started."
"Certainly. You've made a big difference in my life."
"Well, thank you. I aim to please." She lowered her eyes. "And, I like it here." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
Really, she thought, even though he’s on the thin side, he isn't at all bad looking.
#
In the flickering candlelight, the room somehow took on a different appearance. Its soft light, the sound of wood burning in the stove combined with the smell of the food in an almost magical fashion. It had that strange undefined amalgam that made it special, yet familiar--home.
Taylor was full of good food and fine wine. The room was warm and comfortable. "You know," he said. "For the first time since I've moved in here, this feels like home." He stretched, moved his chair from away the table and picked up the wine glass, swirled it and sniffed.
He glanced at Noelle.
He'd remembered she'd come before him over some domestic disturbance last winter involving the O’Connors. Apparently, the relationship she’d had with Jack O’Connor was over. She looked a lot different now. Something was different about her current appearance from when she had applied for the position. She no longer looked as worn out and her clothes were new. She’s really quite good looking. Ah, she's wearing some makeup.
"You have such a nice home." Noelle twisted her napkin and said, "I like it here."
"Well, it's not much, at least compared to the way we used to live. It is a big improvement over the first year we spent on the Hill." He drained the wineglass and sighed. "Noelle, that was a great meal. Thank you."
"You're welcome.” She started gathering the plates. "I'd better get the dishes done. The water’s heating on the stove."
"Here, let me help." He picked up several dishes. "You must've worked all day to get this meal ready."
"Please, Mr. MacPherson, I can take care of the dishes. Really, it's no problem."
"Try Taylor." He carried a stack of dishes into the kitchen. "And I'm going to do my part."
"You don't have to--"
"I know." He smiled. "I want to."
In the kitchen Taylor scraped dishes and placed them on the sideboard.
Noelle ladled steaming water from the pot, splashing it onto the dishes in the sink. Scrubbing and rinsing the dishes, she quickly moved them to the drying rack.
Taylor wiped and put them away. In the close confines, they kept bumping into each other.
Each time, she smiled.
Taylor realized that Noelle was enjoying the physical contact and was perhaps making the contact deliberately. He found he liked it, too. As she reached up to put away the last plate, he slipped his arms around her waist, holding her loosely.
"Noelle, this is the best evening I've had in a long, long time. Thank you so much." He really meant it.
She leaned back and moved her head slightly to one side so her face was against his. "It can get better," she said in a voice barely over a whisper. She pulled his hands up onto her breasts.
"Really?" His arousal was instant and tight against his trousers. He eased away from her.
She guided his fingers to her erect nipples. "Yes." She turned her face up to him, lips moist and eyes closed.
Taylor kissed her, barely touching her lips.
Noelle turned to him, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. She lifted her head, eyes closed.
Desire surging, Taylor put his hand to the back of her head to hold her while he kissed her again, more firmly.
"My reward for making the meal," she said. "Is you have to kiss me again.”
While kissing, his hands moved to her small, firm buttocks. He s
queezed gently.
Noelle's hands slid down inside his trousers, her fingers insistently seeking, reaching and then finding him.
He broke their kiss. "Do you want to?" he asked.
“Yes.”
He broke their embrace. "Let's go to bed," he said.
"Yes." She took his hand. "Let's do it."
#
Noelle stretched across the bed after Taylor left. My, my, it wasn't so difficult. She thought about the previous night and the time again this morning. He doesn't move me like Al, my old boyfriend, but he is gentle. Well, I'll get used to it. It's got me a home for Martha and me.
Noelle was convinced she was on the path that led to Taylor's heart. I've just got to get him to the point where he can't do without me, and then he’ll ask me to be his wife. Then we'll be secure.
#
Over the next week, she came to his bed every night. The day she mentioned the possibility of becoming pregnant, Taylor felt a surge of feelings.
A child, he thought, my own flesh and blood. At first the idea seemed wonderful. As he searched his feelings and examined those he'd had for Vivian and Franny. It wasn’t the same.
What if something happens to the child? Oh, God, he thought, I couldn't take that. The immensity of the loss and pain rose up and choked him. He almost cried.
The fear of loving and losing again paralyzed him. I can't face this, he thought. He shut down his feelings and his heart became cold, cold as a winter's night. I'm afraid to love, afraid of losing again...
As for Noelle, do I love her? he asked himself. Am I ready? He already knew the answer. Do I owe it to her? He thought about them being together and realized the physical aspect of their relationship was all that they really shared.
He smiled. Yes, it was good, but love is more than that. Something more like the easy affection Noelle shares with Martha, her child. The shared challenges he’d faced with Franny and how they’d grown to ease each other’s burdens. However, Noelle’s affection toward me seems forced. That convinced Taylor she really didn't love him.
She's nowhere the equal of either Vivian or Franny--she doesn't have... He struggled for a moment before he realized that it was sophistication. She's not smart and knowledgeable about the world, and sex cannot be the only basis of our relationship. It could become difficult, he thought. She’s a good housekeeper, and as long as she does her work, she'll have a position. As for a formal relationship, no.
Taylor felt a bond of gratitude to Noelle, for she had brought him back from the edge of the precipice. Again able to view life as a whole, he asserted his leadership of the Clan. He renewed honing the Clan's military skills, instituted regular drills and practice in the arts of war.
It is, he thought, our only assurance of peace.
Chapter 28
A One Way Ticket
We’re over halfway to Kota, Cha KinLaat thought. Even at one-third the speed of light, the Egg-that-Flies seemed motionless. After I compensate for the distance, the planet's electromagnetic output continues to grow. I've never been able to resolve a signal and obtain another image. If that's a society, he thought, it must be growing rapidly.
Cha KinLaat glanced around the navigation center. View screens stared back, their red icons glowing without change, indicating normal operating parameters. The small room at the front-most position of the Egg-that-Flies was in the rotation center of the living quarters centrifuge, which meant there was no up, nor down. Handles protruded between view screens, useful for maneuvering within the navigation center.
He’d just reset the time-elapsed counter to indicate the time remaining to reach Kota, the home of the strange mammalian alien.
The coasting phase was a time of unchanging routine, so much so he wished for something to happen. Anything.
Cha KinLaat DoMar yawned. Against a myriad of multi-colored stars scattered upon the black sky, nothing ever seemed to move. Cha KinLaat felt tempted to look up Bilik Pudjata, to see what he was doing. Bilik, the alien specialist who had a knack for drive system engineering, talked little about what he was doing. Even though Bilik appeared regularly at the navigation station, they had drifted apart.
Perhaps I should have shown more interest in his project to rebuild the drive system. Bilik never quite seemed to fit in, even though he was close to the center and worked hard.
Cha KinLaat yawned again as he glanced at the displays once more. Time for a break. Maybe I need some time in that new replica of a prehistoric swamp with those fantastic holograms of the fierce denizens of the past. That’ll get my heart moving.
"Ping." The deep space monitoring system's emergency alarm went off with an out-of-parameter signal.
"Great Egg." Cha KinLaat looked up quickly. The force of his movement made him float toward the ceiling--low gravity was the main disadvantage of being so close to the center of rotation. The size of the electronic pulse shown on the deep-space sensors was enormous. The overload saturated the instruments' readouts and they dropped down close to zero input.
"Mata Chalik," he called. "Something strange just happened."
"Describe what happened." Mata Chalik’s voice was calm and strong as it boomed through the comm-net.
"We've picked up a very powerful electromagnetic pulse that seems to come from--"
"Ping." the audio monitor screeched. The visual displays washed out into whiteness. All readouts went to maximum input capacity, icons glowing.
"Great Egg."
"What's going on?"
"It was another pulse," said Cha KinLaat. "Its energy is orders of magnitude greater than anything seen before from Kota.”
Mata Chalik's voice took on a hard edge. "Is it an attack?"
"No, I don't think so." Cha KinLaat tried to bring another set of sensors on line, something more suited to this signal.
"Then what is it?"
"Let me explain." Cha KinLaat unconsciously bobbed his head to acknowledge an order from one who was at the center. "The sensors monitoring Kota detected an enormous signal." He paused. "Well, the actual strength of the pulse is quite weak. It's totally harmless to us.”
"You're sure it came from Kota?"
Cha KinLaat hesitated. "I'm not sure." It was possible it could have come from somewhere else. "You see, a signal of this strength overwhelms our sensors--"
"Isn't that an attack?"
"Oh, no. It's too weak. The sensors are very sensitive."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know, but compared to the electromagnetic signature of Kota, it's vastly more powerful.”
"Yes, yes, I understand. What or who caused them?"
"I don't know."
"Then I suggest you find out," Mata Chalik's voice dripped with scorn. "And soon."
"I'll analyze the data to find what's responsible." Cha KinLaat struggled to find the right words.
He'd just failed to make a good impression with Mata Chalik, the Defender at the center of the ship, one who held Cha KinLaat’s fate in his claws.
"Do that," Mata Chalik said. "Especially if it comes from Kota," he said with a note of sarcasm in his voice. "Which, I find I need to remind you, is where we're going."
#
Cha KinLaat worked furiously to analyze the powerful electromagnetic signals. Another pulse lit up the equipment. He ran the signals through the algorithm on the original signal detected on Qu'uda. There was no trace of video information.
After several more analyses, he had to conclude the pulses had no data content. The longer he studied them, the more he realized there was something frightening about them. He needed confirmation.
He contacted DuKlaat YataBu who had studied radio astronomy extensively and asked him to review the signals. After much discussion, they both came to the same conclusion.
"Mata Chalik," Cha KinLaat called over the comm-net. "The pulses definitely came from the proximity of Kota." He stopped.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, absolutely."
"Well?"
"Well, the only thing that these pulses look like, is, well, a star exploding," Cha KinLaat paused. "Or a fusion explosion.”
"Has Kota gone nova?" Mata Chalik asked.
"No."
"Are you sure about this?"
"You mean--"
"Are you sure that it was a fusion explosion?"
"Not absolutely, but they certainly look like it."
"They? How many?"
"Three big ones so far and many smaller ones.”
"Have you any way of estimating their size?"
"No, but the initial pulses were orders of magnitude larger than the subsequent pulses.”
"Is there another source for these electromagnetic pulses?"
"I consulted with DuKlaat YataBu. We both agree with this analysis. Nothing else looks close. We believe a whole series of fusion explosions took place in the Kota system."
"Swamp fire." Mata Chalik’s voice was heavy.
Cha KinLaat knew the history of Qu'uda. In a remote time, fusion explosives had been a weapon option. At that time, the only difference between 'treachery' and 'diplomacy' was in the way the word was inflected. That period of their history was now viewed as one of group insanity--something of which they were ashamed.
Cha KinLaat realized the entire crew might have heard his words. He silently swore. For a moment he wished he were on the private comm-net. Fusion explosives? What kind of species would use fusion explosives? Especially in such numbers? He knew the Egg-that-Flies could not withstand an attack of fusion explosives.
"Cha KinLaat." Mata Chalik’s voice was low, vibrating in a manner that suggested great emotion, fear or perhaps, anger.
"Yes?"
"Review options for aborting the mission."
"There are no options to abort our mission.”
"What?"
"The mag-sail will not cancel our velocity in absence of wind from a star, so that means we must use the fusion drive to slow down, saving enough fuel to maneuver. That will take most of the fuel in our tank, so we would need to refuel. If there were a gravitational body large enough, we could use it to change our course and return to Qu'uda." Cha KinLaat paused. "However, there are none between here and Kota. Our mission was designed to use Kota’s star to reduce our velocity, and use its gas giant planet as a source of fuel for the return trip."
