by Sahara Kelly
The man was smiling foolishly as his dinner date helped herself to dessert.
Boralle sighed.
She loved sex as much as the next person. Well, thanks to Rory, she loved sex. Actually, she really only loved sex with Rory. But this whole scene was starting to grate on her already-frazzled nerves.
She'd been feted, cheered, paraded through town back to her quarters, had a serenade dedicated to her by the Ageran E drum corps from which she was still recovering, and to top it all off, she hadn't had a moment with Rory since the contest had ended in such chaos hours ago.
She'd had a bare two minutes to clean up and dress before there were knocks on her door summoning her to the celebration, and Rory hadn't been there to greet her. She was caught—wanting Rory so badly, but knowing she had to finish up this whole business. Hoping he was all right, she left again, promising herself she'd get away at the earliest possible moment.
Which was now.
She wanted nothing more than to retreat unobtrusively back to her room, fall into bed with Rory and just hold him. Very tightly. Her common sense told her she might still be in shock, and her heart told her she craved the security she found only in his arms.
But she had to suffer through this damn-near pagan orgy of celebration, seeing as she'd caused it in the first place.
An older Frallien caught her eye and beckoned her over. Seeing as he was fully dressed and looked relatively sober, she judged it to be safe.
"Major North. I trust you sustained no injuries today?"
Boralle bowed her head politely. "Thank you. No, fortunately I'm fine. No injuries. Although I confess to still feeling a bit shaky." She tried for a polite smile, but then caught a look of sympathy deep in this man's eyes.
She allowed her exhaustion to show through for a moment.
"You are tired, girl. As well you should be. Let me just tell you something about what you have accomplished today, and then I'll officially dismiss you to your rest."
He guided her to a secluded couch and seated himself, patting the cushion beside him.
Boralle noticed a couple of aides making sure his privacy would be undisturbed. This wasn't your everyday Frallien citizen, she deduced.
"You blew up our power system, Major North."
Boralle's jaw dropped. "Oh my God. I'm...I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."
The man smiled. "I know. And you did no lasting damage, nor did anyone get hurt, so you can relax."
Boralle slumped back against the couch. What the rass else would fate dump on her today?
"Actually, it was the best thing that could have happened." His statement stunned her, and at this point she could do little more than stare at him. Her mind had decided it was long overdue for a vacation and had headed off to the Alpha Quadrant.
"We've been holding on to the Sexual Power Technology for far too long. We were greedy. We wanted to be the only planet with such a renewable energy source. It put us in a position of power amongst our peers. It was the only thing we had. Great sex is all well and good, but not politically useful. Well...perhaps now and again...you know what I mean."
He paused, thoughtfully looking out over the mayhem in the large function room. "But it was the wrong thing to do, Major North. It made our neighbors jealous and angry, and that's not good when one of your neighbors is Magus Prime." He smiled wryly.
Boralle shuddered, remembering the look in the Magan's eyes right before he pressed the trigger on her.
"With the damage we've sustained, we're going to have to ask for help from every scientist with any knowledge of power systems, and every physician who specializes in sexuality. It's been so long since we've worked on our power infrastructure that we've simply forgotten how."
Boralle blinked, and tried to apologize, but the words caught in her throat.
"Don't, my dear." He placed a hand on hers as it twitched on the couch between them. "There have been many of us who have yearned to change the way we handled the SPT. We've realized that the time had come to share. To spread this knowledge, not hoard it to ourselves. It had become a burden rather than a gift, something to be guarded, protected, and hidden. We were getting, to use one of your delightful Terran expressions, to be real tight-asses about it."
She choked back a laugh. "I find that hard to believe..." She smiled, also sparing a glance for the orgy that was now well underway.
"Well, yes. I spoke metaphorically, of course." He shared her amusement. "However, the Magans were getting increasingly demanding and warlike. It was a major concern for many of us. We love our planet, and certainly would not have wanted a war." He paused thoughtfully. "Of course, with the data and information provided by that young Sub-commander, Magus is now back-tracking away from that Bendrick person so fast they're tripping over their own tails. Even offered us their top scientists too. Don't know if we're going to take them up on that offer, but that's not something you need concern yourself about."
He smiled gently at Boralle. "Thanks to you, the interplanetary situation in our little corner of the galaxy has now radically changed. In fact, I'm going to propose a constitutional amendment to the Frallien council in the morning. I'm going to suggest—no, I'm going to insist—that our Olympiad will now be a scientific one, not a sexual one."
Boralle gaped. Only one person could insist on anything to the Frallien council.
The Frallien Prime Minister!
"Sir..." she stuttered, unsure of what to say or do.
"Thanks to you, my dear, there will be a new age of research and cooperation here on Frallien."
A loud scream of pleasure interrupted his words, and he winced a little. "Of course, our people will continue to enjoy their well-deserved reputation for wild and wonderful sex. That's a given."
"Of course," murmured Boralle politely.
"But from now on, there'll be a yearly Olympiad, and I have great hopes that there will be much good to come from it. In fact, it would please me enormously if you would permit us to rename it the Frallien North Olympiad. In your honor."
Well, okay. That would be it. The Universe, in all its mysterious glory, had finally delivered the ultimate blow to Boralle's struggling brain.
She simply sat there, jaw flapping, eyes wide, unable to do more than whisper the first words that popped into her mind.
"Oh rass."
A very wicked grin crossed the Minister's face. "Quite."
"I—um—er..."
He laughed. "Go home, Boralle North. You've had a very busy day. Go and get your well-deserved rest."
Beckoning an aide over, the Minister rose, as did Boralle, although she struggled to her feet a lot less gracefully.
"See Major North reaches her quarters. She is not to be disturbed." He turned to her. "Thank you, my dear. On behalf of Frallien. I'd better go, or I'll end up as drunk as that lot..." He nodded at the party, and grinned. "Much as I enjoy a good time, I have other duties to attend to."
He left, trailing aides and hangers-on in his wake.
The remaining aide gestured politely for Boralle to precede him and she made her way silently through the competitor's quarters to her room.
Well, this had certainly been one hell of a day.
It was heaven to hear the door close behind her and find herself finally alone. Almost alone.
The door to the shower opened and there was Rory, in all his wonderful naked glory, smiling at her.
She ran into his arms, thudding against his broad chest with a feeling of joy and relief.
"Rory, oh Rory," she babbled. "Rory, I blew up...the Prime Minister...Rory, the Olympiad...they want to call it the Frallien North Olympiad...oh Rory!"
Grinning and holding her tight, he chuckled. "Easy, lass. First things first. Are you all right?" He ran his hands up and down her body, caressing her and making her sigh.
"I don't think I'll ever be all right again," she said ruefully. "But I'm a whole hell of a lot better now." She cuddled against him, which made it rather hard for him to get her out of her
clothes.
Being a resourceful Scot, however, he managed, and within a couple of seconds she was as naked as he was.
He half-carried her over to the bed and lay her down, sliding beneath the covers with her and tugging her against him.
"Ah, Boralle-lass. This is where I've wanted you for hours, now."
"Me too," she mumbled into his chest. "Oh God, I'm so tired."
"I know, sweetheart. Rest now. Our job is done. No need to worry any more."
She snuggled herself onto his shoulder. "I have so much to tell you, so many questions..."
He dropped kisses on her hair. "And I'll answer all of them, love. But now, just sleep. When you wake we'll talk. All right?"
She longed to tell Rory everything, but given the last few hours, her brain cells were in the process of throwing up their hands, packing their bags and leaving town. She surrendered to exhaustion and closed her eyes, breathing in Rory's sweet scent and feeling at peace for the first time in many hours.
Rory leaned over and she felt him press light kisses to her eyelids.
"We're going on a wee trip, Boralle, ma love. A little vacation for both of us..."
Chapter 23
Birds were singing. Very loudly.
Torn between the urge to tell them to go shove their beaks up their feathered asses and leave her in peace, and a very strong need to pee, Boralle slowly opened her eyes.
This was definitely not the competitor's quarters on Frallien IV. In fact, she had no idea where this was.
She was lying on a long couch, tucked up in a very soft blanket, and the sunshine was warming her naked shoulders. Through open windows she could see endless masses of brilliant flowers and tall trees, which were, presumably, home to the annoying chorus of birdsongs that had wakened her.
Suddenly a sense of familiarity stole over her.
This was the place from her dreams. Oh rass.
She was in Anyela.
"Ah, ye're awake, my lass." Rory strode into the room looking... well...looking refreshed, handsome and...damn it, he looked sooooo good.
Boralle's mouth watered.
"I expect you'll be wanting a wee freshen up then, sweetheart." His smile could have charmed the songs right out of the birds. In fact, as she sat up and her head swam a little, she rather wished it would. They were very loud birds.
"Um..." It wasn't much, but at least her throat had made a sound.
Rory laughed. "Come on, up with you." He tugged her from her cozy bed and pulled her behind him to another room where there was a real water-type shower and what looked like a real water-driven toilet. Not a disposal unit in sight.
Boralle sighed in pleasure.
"Enjoy, lass. Make yourself at home. I'm going to see about some food." He kissed her hard, and rushed out, full of enthusiasm. Within moments Boralle was investigating the bathroom and having more fun with the water than she could remember.
Much refreshed and swathed in the soft towels she'd found next to the shower, she finally emerged, to see Rory seated at a small table by the window.
He waved her over to the other chair.
"We have fruit, some fresh bread and coffee. It's not unlike that stuff you drink, only better." He beamed at her as he seated her.
"Rory...this place. I saw it in my dream. It's Anyela, isn't it?"
He smiled appreciatively. "No flies on you, lass."
She looked around for insects.
He chuckled. "It's an expression. Never mind. Yes, it's Anyela, and this is my place. I asked the Guardian if I could bring you here for a wee vacation, and he was pleased to say yes. Do you mind?"
He looked inquiringly at her.
She snorted. "As if I'd mind. I'm with you, aren't I?"
His eyes darkened and he took her hand across the table. "Ah, Boralle, I do love you so enormously."
She squeezed his hand in response. "I know. Me too."
Swallowing back some emotion, Rory passed her a bowl of fruit and made her eat. "After our meal, the Guardian has asked if he may meet you. Do you feel up to it, lass?"
"Of course," she said, leaning back with her coffee mug and sighing contentedly. "I'm not sure if any of this is real, or if I'm dreaming it, but what the heck. I'm ready for anything now. I'm clean, fed, I have this...whatever you call it..." She took another sip. "Which is really excellent, by the way...so bring on your Guardian."
She looked down. "Um, I probably should wear more than a towel, though?"
He rose from the table. "Never fear, love. All taken care of." He pulled her to her feet and over to the bed. "Do you like it?"
Lying in splendor on top of the covers was a robe, similar to Rory's, only in the softest shade of blue. Deep blue flowers were embroidered around the slit neckline and the hem, and glints of silver were threaded through the stitching. It was beautiful.
She turned grateful eyes toward him.
"Try it on lass," he said, forestalling her words. "I canna wait to see it on you."
She obligingly slipped the towel off and allowed him to lower the robe over her head, noting how his hands managed to stroke her naked flesh most pleasantly as he released the silk.
"Ah, Rory," she sighed, swaying toward him.
"Boralle," he murmured, closing the gap between them.
"Good morning," said a third voice.
The couple jumped apart.
For some obscure reason, Rory found himself blushing as a pair of cool turquoise eyes surveyed them. This man carried an air of leadership about him the way women wore perfume. It was almost unconscious, a part of him, but was very definitely present and made itself felt in those around him.
"Welcome to Anyela, Boralle North. Shall we sit?"
"You...you're the Guardian." Boralle's eyes were wide with disbelief. "We spoke...in my dream?"
"Useful things, dreams," said the Guardian enigmatically.
Rory rolled his eyes. "Aye. Very convenient too."
The Guardian grinned. "Come you two. Sit. We have things to discuss."
He led the way out into the garden and took a seat in the shade of a large flowering bush.
Rory and Boralle followed, seating themselves on the low chairs nearby.
"You have fulfilled your mission, Laird McAllen," began the Guardian approvingly. "We are very pleased."
Rory's chest swelled with pride. Words of praise from the Guardian were most welcome.
"And you, Boralle, you have behaved with a great degree of courage and no small amount of honor. Would you agree, Rory?"
"Oh aye," he answered, looking lovingly at her.
She cleared her throat and blushed uncomfortably. "Um, thanks."
"Of course, the question before us now, is what happens next? Do we send you back to your life as a lawyer, Boralle? And clear your mind of any memories of this experience? It used to be our routine to do so, and also to erase all recollections of you from Rory's mind. Thus freeing him for his next assignment."
Rory's blood rose. "Ye canna do that, man." He half stood, fists clenching, until Boralle's hand pulled him back down. "This woman...she's...she's...ma life. Ma heart. Take away her memories and I mebbe won't remember her, but I'll know there's a hole in me. In ma soul...I'll no be the man I am without her."
Rory knew his words were slipping into a brogue that he thought he'd left behind. But his heart was pounding, his mind was screaming, and he was forgetting his diction.
He was not forgetting Boralle. Ever!
The Guardian ignored his outburst. "Boralle, would you like to go back to your time? To your life? We would eliminate all your memories of Rory, so that you could go on as the now-notorious Major North, who single-handedly changed the course of history? It would be a powerful and very different life for you there." He paused, staring into her eyes. "You would be showered with just about everything the Fralliens have to offer. Then, I should imagine, you could name your own fees for things like speaking engagements. Not to mention book deals. You could live the rest of your life in
luxury and want for nothing."
He paused, letting the impact of his words sink in.
Boralle raised her head. "You don't know me very well, Guardian, if you think that I'd ever say yes to such a thing. If I have to leave Rory because of some horrible time-warp deal, then I suppose I'll have no choice. But he'll always have my heart. I won't go willingly. Not for all the riches in the galaxy. There's nothing that could make me leave him. He is my man."
It was a simple statement, but one that touched Rory all the way to his soul. He reached out his hand and grasped hers, unable to speak for the emotions that clogged his throat.
The Guardian thought for a moment. "Well, in that case, I have good news and I have bad news."
Their grip on each other tightened.
"The good news, Guardian?" asked Boralle hopefully.
"Well, the good news is that recently things changed around here. We don't wipe our genie's memories any more, unless they request it. And we no longer insist on years of service to the Guardians of Time. You are free to choose, Rory McAllen. If you'd like to continue these assignments, traveling through time to wherever your skills are needed, we'd be happy to encourage you to do so."
Rory bit down on his response and tried for some control. It was not easy, and he wondered if his robe was starting to melt around the edges. "And the bad news?"
The Guardian looked at them both somberly.
"Well, the bad news is...if you two decide you really want to stay together, then you will have to give up your association with Anyela. You will become as mortal as Boralle here, and have no memories of this world at all. It will be like a fresh start."
Rory snorted. "No offense, Guardian, but that's the bad news?"
The Guardian raised his chin. "We consider it so, Laird McAllen."
Rory detected a wee twinkle in those enigmatic eyes. "And so what would a Scots warrior find to do with a Galactic lawyer?"
"Oh lots, I should imagine," giggled Boralle. She blushed as she realized she'd said it out loud.
The Guardian covered his smile behind a hand. Sighing, he stood and paced the lawn slowly, stroking his chin and thinking.
