Tynan

by Bonnie Burrows

  “I can sort of see that,” Donna said thoughtfully. “But what about that little boy or girl? He or she isn’t going to be just an experiment. The kid is going to have needs. It’s going to need to be loved. It’s going to need a mother—a mother who wants to be there. And what about the father? Are you going to want to be with him for anything but the way you made the baby?”

  “It might not be so bad,” replied Sierra with a shrug. “I mean…you’ve seen him. And you know who he is in that world, what kind of life he has. I’d be a part of that too.”

  Donna rolled her eyes at the idea. “You, living in dragon luxury, raising a Lacertan baby. I don’t know, Sierra. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be fun for you—but for how long? How long before you started to miss being able to go to any planet you wanted, any time, and get into whatever scrape or scrap you found there? What happens to the kid then? And the Dad?”

  “I’d always have the choice to be in the child’s life,” Sierra argued. “That would be part of the arrangement. Officially, I wouldn’t be Tynan’s mate. I’d be his mating partner and his consort. We’d have a physical relationship, and I’d be free to leave if I wanted. But the baby would stay with the Morans; it would know I’m its mother even if Tynan took a mate, and I’d be free to visit and always be part of its life. Everything would be covered.”

  Skeptically, Donna asked, “And you’re really all right with all that? Really?”

  “They’re a high-born nest,” said Sierra. “They consider it their duty to do this for their world, and they’re willing to make… ‘accommodations,’ as they put it. This has been worked out for the best interests of everyone. And I think it can work.”

  “It sounds like it can ‘work’ just fine for them,” Donna said. “They get a new heir, their family line goes on, the planet Lacerta gets an answer to the fertility problem. It’s all great for the dragons. I just want to be sure it’s great for you. I want you to be sure it’s great for you.”

  Sierra smiled warmly at her friend, understanding the caring and concern that Donna was showing. She reached over and patted Donna’s hand. “I think it will. I think it’ll be good for me. It’ll be something I’ve never had in life, really. You know I’ve always enjoyed men. I’ve enjoyed them so much that I never really stayed with one for long. Why stay with just one, I always thought, when there’s always another one who’s gorgeous all over, and hung, and…”

  “…ready for business,” Donna finished for her.

  “And ‘business’ was always so good!” Sierra grinned. “But you see, that’ll be something else new. Staying—for a while, anyway—with just one man. Having just one. How would I be with just one? That’s something else I’ll get to find out.”

  “One last thing, then,” said Donna.

  “What?”

  “This has all been assuming you’re the one he picks from the I-can’t-even-guess how many are going to be feeding themselves into the Lacertan Lottery system. The Lottery computers will be going through thousands, hundreds of thousands. It’s a big quadrant, full of women who’ll want the chance to be with a Lacertan Prince and even be his mate. You might not be the one he chooses.”

  Sierra shrugged again. “If I’m not…then, no harm done. I put myself out there, and if he wants someone else, that’s his choice. I go back to life as I knew it, and something else will come along for me. No one gets hurt. And…some other woman has Tynan’s baby. Good luck to her.”

  “Got it all figured out, haven’t you?” said Donna.

  Sierra stood up and offered Donna a hand to help her up. “I have,” she said. “Udarian mitochondrial disease didn’t kill me, and I sure won’t die from Tynan Moran choosing some other woman to help him father a baby and change his world. And it happens to be a quadrant full of men too.”

  “It sure is,” said Donna. On that much, at least, they could agree.

  They walked off together for the exit. “So, what are you drinking?” Sierra asked.

  _______________

  Returning to her loft after leaving Donna, Sierra retired to her bedroom with one wall taken up by a window looking out over the crystal and carbon towers of New York. She tossed her gym bag onto a chair and flopped down onto the bed, her post-swordplay conversation with Donna still rolling around in her mind. Every question that Donna had asked, every concern she had expressed, was a natural one. And every answer that Sierra gave was a reasoned answer, balanced between her feelings and needs and the reality of the situation. The fact was, after all, that Sierra had gone for a longshot. There was no reason to assume that Tynan Moran would select her out of the countless hundreds of thousands of women who would be vying for this honor, and no reason to assume even that the Lacertan Lottery computers would even submit her to Tynan as one of his final choices. Odds were that Sierra would soon be returning to the planet-hopping ways to which she was so well accustomed and experiencing the array of superbly desirable men that the galaxy had to offer.

  And Tynan Moran would remain an unrealized possibility, an eternal “What if…?”

  She thought about that, sitting there on the bed. She pondered, never knowing how it would be to share a bed with this Prince Tynan, never to know his exquisitely naked body, his touch, his kiss, the size of his phallus and how well and how much he would surely use it on her. She had wished the woman well, whoever it turned out to be, who would ultimately have the privilege of being topped and entered by Tynan. But if truth be told, Sierra also envied her.

  Whoever you are, she thought, that’s one prize dragon you’re getting yourself.

  With a blubbering exhale, Sierra decided she could use a distraction. She had not checked her correspondence since going to the gym. Odds are there would be messages from interested men or even from potential clients. It might be good to get back to work now, after all. She called out to the loft computer, “Display messages.”

  At once, a holographic menu of recorded transmissions appeared in the air before her. Sierra looked them over until one caught her eye. And made her heart jump. Could it be…?

  One of the floating icons of light was in the shape of a golden shield with a red dragon on it. Sierra’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be…

  She calmed and steadied herself. There was no reason to assume anything. If this message was from where she thought it was from, it was likely a “form” transmission, thanking her for participating in the selection of Tynan Moran’s mating partner and informing her that the selection had been made—of some other woman. Eventually, the media would report who that lucky woman was, and in the meantime, Sierra’s life would go on. Realizing this, she wrinkled her brow and reached out to touch the icon, making it flash and making the others disappear. She might as well just get this over with, then see what other men who were actually interested had contacted her.

  In an instant, the image of Tynan Moran hovering in front of her froze Sierra’s breath.

  The holographic avatar of the dragon Prince smiled at her. “Ms. Sierra Smith of the planet Earth,” it said, “this is Tynan Moran in Nimbus City on Lacerta. Our Lottery computers identified you as one of the human women most compatible with me as a prospective mating partner and submitted you among my final selections. I looked over all the prospective mates carefully, and I’m very happy to inform you that you are the one I would like to invite to my family aerie.

  When you arrive at Nimbus City you’ll meet me, my brothers, and our parents. And you and I will explore the possibilities of you being the one to be with me, as my partner and consort, to help me in continuing my nest and securing the future of my world. I hope you’ll be as pleased as I am and that you’ll be looking forward to meeting me as much as I am to meeting you. Please respond promptly to this transmission. I’ll be waiting here at Nimbus city, and I’ll see you soon. On behalf of all of Lacerta, I thank you, Sierra. Please come to me now.”

  Tynan’s sincere smile lingered for a moment before the hologram winked out.

  For a moment, Sierra s
at there quietly on the bed, tingling all over, as thrilled and excited as she had been when she was just sixteen and a boy took her to bed for the first time. The moment did not seem real in her mind. She felt almost as if she were outside of her own body, looking in at her reaction.

  The moment did not last long. Before she even knew it, she was exploding, flailing her arms and legs in the air, crying out, “YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!”

  Sierra did not exactly honor Tynan’s request. She did answer him—but first, she leaped from the bed and dashed madly about between closet, drawers, and bathroom, packing for her trip to the planet Lacerta.

  Having packed for so many voyages to so many places in her life, Sierra made short work of the task. Once she was done, she dropped herself down on the edge of her bed to catch her breath—and she gave thought to the full significance of what she was about to do.

  She called out to the computer again: “Display simulation Smith-Moran Omega.”

  In the air before her, like a mirage shimmering into view, a figure appeared: a three-dimensional simulation of a little boy. He was less than ten years of age, with tousled dark hair, standing attentively, straight-up, bright-eyed, with a look of eagerness and tenderness. The little boy was dressed in a skin suit with an opening down the back—like a Lacertan.

  “Hello, Mommy,” he said.

  “Hello, little man,” Sierra answered. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “You look tired, Mommy,” said the little boy.

  “I am, a little. But I’m excited too. I have to get to bed. I’m going on a trip tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Sierra smiled sweetly at the imaginary child. “I’m going…,” she paused a moment, taking in how strange this all sounded, talking to a little boy who wasn’t really there about something that was only an idea; then, she continued, “…I’m going to Daddy’s planet.”

  The boy’s face lit up even more. “You’re going to meet Daddy?”

  Even knowing the boy was a simulation, Sierra could not help feeling moved by how well the algorithms conjured up the pure love of a child. Her voice almost cracked at her answer: “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “And you’re going to stay with him, and we’re going to be a family?” The child almost quivered with excitement.

  “Well, that’s the idea. If we really like each other, I suppose we could be.”

  “You’ll like each other!” the boy said, beaming. “And you can pick out a name for me and everything!”

  The way this programmed digital illusion of a child melted her heart almost embarrassed her. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, we can.” And in her thoughts, she added, but we’ll have to make you real first.

  “It’ll be good, Mommy,” said the boy. “You’ll like Lacerta, and we’ll have fun together. You’ll see, it’ll be good.”

  “I know it will,” Sierra said. “But Mommy has to rest now. Tomorrow is an important day, and it’s going to be a long trip.”

  “Okay,” the boy said, his innocent love unwavering. “Good night, Mommy.”

  “Good night,” she said.

  “Sleep well.”

  “I will,” said Sierra, wanting to reach out and ruffle the pixels of the boy’s hair. To the computer, she called, “Store simulation and discontinue.”

  Like a ghost, albeit a ghost of someone yet unborn rather than someone who had died, the simulation of Sierra’s son with Tynan Moran faded away.

  Sierra lay down across the bed and let herself feel the strange warmth of something that she had programmed from her own recorded genome, combined with a generic simulation of a male child and data on the planet Lacerta. It was all just her imagination rendered in pixels and digits, but such was the craft of the computer that everything she might want her child to be was there—everything but his father’s specific data. She had been talking to, and charmed by, her own wishes of what it would be like to have a child who adored her as only a child could.

  People did this all the time, she knew, pouring their imagination into something dreamed of and hoped for, and hoping that the reality would be the equal of what they imagined. Most of the time, she also knew, there were many degrees of separation between imagination and reality. Most of the time, the reality of something hoped for and the actuality of it were two different things. But it was important to imagine, important to dream, because life is what happens in the pursuit of the stuff of dreams.

  Speaking of which, Sierra knew, it really was about time to be off to sleep. This particular reality, whatever it would prove to be, lay on the other side of a good night’s dreaming.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In all the known galaxy, there was never a prison designed to be beautiful. The dungeon facility outside of Silverwing, the planetary capital of Lacerta, was no exception. It was a plain stone building with dark windows, not at all like the elegant and shimmering cityscape on the opposite side of a patch of forest. It had been tucked away here as a dull, dreary, and forlorn place to which the lawless were sent, segregated from the rest of society as miscreants and lawbreakers had been for time out of mind.

  Only the grounds and land surrounding the dungeon were of any beauty, as green and lush as any land on the planet. It was onto the grounds of the dungeon that an unsmiling and powerfully built male member of the Dragon Corps, clad in the standard silver armor skin of his rank, led a much smaller figure to sit and wait on a stone bench.

  The smaller individual that the guard led out for a short stay in the open air and sunlight was a Visanian, Daxav by name. To all appearances, he was no different from any other inhabitant of the planet Visan. A clammy-skinned humanoid mollusk with mottled brown skin and a partial shell on his head, Daxav sat with his yellow eyes cast down and his guard standing by.

  His restraining collar was tight around his neck as a matter of procedure and protocol. If he should attempt to bolt and escape, he would find himself absolutely no match for the man-dragon attending him—especially since he was now bereft of the one thing that all Visanians possessed that most other sentient life did not.

  Daxav looked up at the approach of another figure striding towards him. The Corps guardsman acknowledged the new arrival: “Prince Tynan, good morning. The prisoner Daxav is here, per your directions.”

  “I see that,” said Tynan, drawing near to the guard and prisoner. Tynan had dressed in skins of muted color for this visit; it seemed somehow appropriate for a Prince visiting a dungeon. Tynan was never comfortable with the title, regardless. “If you’ll stand by, please…”

  The guard nodded and stepped away to watch the Prince sit down on the bench beside the alien. “Good morning, Prince Tynan,” said Daxav.

  Tynan decided not to ask the little being to refrain from calling him by that title; he ignored it instead and simply asked, “How are you doing this morning, Daxav?”

  “As well as could be expected,” replied the alien. “My head feels as numb and stuffed with seaweed as it’s been since I submitted to the project. When I was first apprehended, I was sedated and always groggy. Now, I’m always numb. All things considered, numb is better. At least I’m fully conscious.”

  “I suppose you have a point,” said Tynan.

  “I’m surprised you’ve come to check on me yourself,” said Daxav. “Especially with the news that I’ve heard of your future plans—the test of the fertility drug.”

  “It’s true; ordinarily, I wouldn’t have come, nor my brothers,” Tynan acknowledged. “But all the preparations for the test have been made, and now it’s only a matter of waiting for my partner in the test to arrive from Earth. I was getting restless and decided to give myself something to do by substituting myself for the usual proxy. And, after all, I’m somewhat close to the situation.”

  “Yes,” said Daxav, sounding as forlorn as the place of stone walls behind them. “You may report back to your nest and the authorities that the telepathic inhibitor you’re testing on me is still fully effective. I haven�
��t heard the thoughts of another living being or been able to transmit so much as a syllable or a flash of an image, since I was taken off the sedative and switched to the inhibitor. I feel like a creature deafened to sound, living in a world where I must strain to hear the faintest music. I’m as much a prisoner in my shell as I am in my cell.” And he made a little hissing, sucking sound at that, the Visanian equivalent of a hushed and bitter laugh.

  “I understand,” said Tynan. “Everything you’re going through will be taken into account, I promise, when your next hearing comes due. I understand you’ve been a model prisoner.”

  “What else could I be?” asked the little mollusk being. “I am a small and weak Visanian in a place filled with rogue dragons. We are a physically unaggressive species by any measure. Our strength is in our minds, and that is denied me now. I should have made better use of my faculties when I was in full possession of them.”