by S. L. Viehl
“Wait.” He turned to his console, downloaded several files, extracted a disk, and handed it to me. “This contains all the data you need on Terran sexuality. Study it, and then ask Reever whatever questions you have that it does not answer.”
He behaved as though shy and confused and embarrassed, as a girl coming into her bleeding time would. Perhaps it was something inherent to his species.
“I thank you.” I took the disk and tucked it into my tunic pocket. “Dapvea’s stumps should be ready for fitting preparations in five to seven days. Shall I have the lab begin manufacturing the necessary components?”
“We will see what his state of mind is next week,” Squilyp said, his disapproval quite visible now. “I don’t want him discouraged.”
“It is discouraging to lie in that berth and stare at the upper deck all day and night.” I switched off the chart. “We should encourage him toward recovery, not shield him from it.”
“That is a militant attitude, Doctor.” The Senior Healer made a sniffing sound. “Our patients are not soldiers being sent back to battle.”
“This is battle; a very personal one. Every day Dapvea will fight enemies he has never before faced: pain and physical limitation.” I placed the chart on the Senior Healer’s desk. “Sympathy cannot help him with these things. If that is all we offer him, he will lose heart again. I do not think we can shame him out of a second decision to end his life.”
Squilyp’s gildrells became spokes, but he kept whatever he was feeling out of his voice. “We will discuss this again another time. Good night, Doctor.”
I went to the lift that would take me to Reever’s quarters, nodding to crew members who greeted me as we passed each other. Everyone had to say something to me; one could not traverse a meter of space on this ship without someone offering some form of useless greeting.
Today I felt tempted to linger and speak with them.
For the first time since I had left Akkabarr, I did not look forward to returning to my husband’s quarters. What had been said between us on the observation deck had left me feeling unsettled. Reever did not behave like an Iisleg male. Sometimes he reminded me of Teulon, especially when he didn’t talk, for they shared that eerie ability for absolute stillness and silence. Yet when he did speak, Reever confused me. His continuing refusal to relieve his needs with me only made matters more puzzling.
Why had he insisted on taking me to wife if he had no desire to use me as one?
“Healer?”
I looked up into a scarred Terran male face and saw my reflection in his mild brown eyes. It was the one with wings … Hawk, they called him.
Beside him stood what appeared to be a larger version of Reever’s small feline. This beast walked upright, as a person would. It, too, only had four limbs, which seemed abnormal to me, as the jlorra, the only feline species on Akkabarr, had six. The feline’s scrawny body did not appear to be the result of abuse or starvation; its musculature looked normal for its lean body frame and its pelt had a healthy sleekness. That its fur was the color of shadows on ice and its eyes had no color at all was also no indication that it was ill-treated.
Perhaps it was, like Reever’s beasts, a domesticated companion. It did not wear a collar, but the Terran had dressed it in a strappy, gem-studded garment. “Yes?”
“You are standing in front of an open lift,” Hawk said, gesturing behind me. As he spoke, the dark-feathered wings growing from his upper back spread slightly.
I felt embarrassed to be found idle and lost in thought when I could have been working. “I think I will walk instead.” I moved to walk around him.
“Is the lift malfunctioning?” the feline said to me in a perfectly articulate voice. “Should I signal…?”
I backed away from it so quickly that my shoulder blades slammed into a corridor panel. I had never heard an animal speak.
Hawk looked at the freakish thing. “She does not remember you.” To me, he said, “Healer, this is Alunthri, from planet Chakara.”
The talking cat bared its teeth. “We are old friends, Cherijo.”
“We were?” Now I understood what my daughter had said about not killing things. You could not very well butcher and skin something that could have a conversation with you. “Why?”
“You helped me when we lived together on K-2. We were both classified as nonsentient.” Alunthri’s pointed ears flicked back and forth. “I am distressing you, forgive me. I have stayed away so that I would not.” It made as if to move closer, but stopped as I flinched. “Fare you well, Cherijo.”
I watched the talking cat stride off. “I had a relationship with that creature?”
He nodded. “You were Alunthri’s friend and mentor.”
I knew Hawk to be the only other Terran on board the ship beside me, Reever, and Marel. Even so, Reever had explained to me that he was not fully human, but a hybrid, the child of a Terran female and a Taercal male. Hawk had been a special friend of Cherijo’s, but then the woman had dozens of those.
I was beginning to wonder if anyone besides me had ever dared dislike her. Maybe she surrounded herself with beasts for reasons other than companionship. Certainly no one had ever told Teulon they disliked him; his pet jlorra Bsak would have ripped off their heads.
Hawk was watching me. “Duncan said that you have no memory of anything that happened before Akkabarr. You don’t remember me from our time together on Terra.”
“I know of you.” I had read a little about him from the journal files. “You sing. You cared for Cherijo’s brother. You saved her and Reever. She thought well of you.”
“You speak of yourself as a stranger.” Like the others on the ship, he seemed appalled and fascinated. “I did not simply care for Jericho. I loved him.”
Judging by his tone, he was expecting me to react negatively to this declaration. There were some Iisleg men who desired other men instead of women, and the women of the skela had only each other, so his preference did not offend me. One found comfort where one could.
Or perhaps I was reading him wrong; it could be that he regretted how his relationship with Jericho had ended. “I am sorry that Cherijo killed him.”
“She did not. After he went completely mad, our tribe did.” He frowned. “Healer, has no one told you of who you were? I could—”
“Please.” I lifted one hand. “I mean no disrespect, but I have heard enough of what happened in her life.” I looked around. “Are there any other talking animals on the ship?”
“Alunthri is not—” He paused and grimaced. “It may seem like an animal to you, but it is not.”
I moved my shoulders. “If you say so, Kheder.”
“I also apologize for prying,” he said. “You must think us all rather obsessed with your past.”
“Cherijo had great value among this tribe. I understand that. I hope I will prove of equal worth someday.” I felt a little impatient. “Is there anything else you wish from me?”
“I had thought I would tell you … but no, it is not important.” He lifted his hand and touched my arm without warning, and then dropped it when I flinched away. “I won’t hurt you.” His facial skin darkened and his eyes became angry slits. “What did they do to you on that world?”
Hawk was not as big as the Jorenian males, but he was still larger and more muscular than me.
“Men only touch women who do not belong to them to use them or beat them. You have no desire for women.” Recalling how Cherijo had written of the man’s gentle nature, I felt ashamed of my reaction. “I mean, that is how it was on Akkabarr. Reever has said you ensleg are different, but it is hard to forget such things. Forgive me.”
“Don’t apologize.” The lines around his mouth disappeared, and he held out his hand. “Come, share a meal with me. I would like to know more about who you are, and what life on Akkabarr is like.”
My eyes stung. It was the kindest thing that had been asked of me since I left my homeworld. “I thank you but I cannot. Reever is expecting me to retur
n to his quarters. He will grow concerned if I do not.” I hesitated. “Could we do so another time, perhaps?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Signal me. I share my quarters with Qonja Adan. We would welcome you to join us whenever you wish.”
I did not recall the one called Qonja Adan—all these blue-skinned ensleg looked so much alike—but I nodded and thanked him again before I moved into the lift.
Reever had a meal prepared and waiting for me when I came in, and only offered a terse greeting. Marel came rushing out of her bedchamber to hug and kiss me before she launched into a description of her day at the educational facility. I ate sparingly—Reever always made too much food—and listened to our child’s bright chatter. After the meal, I cleared and sat with Marel while she read a story from her datapad and then played with the beasts. They seemed fond of her and the games she invented for them with bits of string, but I still kept a sharp eye on both cats. They might be tiny compared to Alunthri, but they had sharp teeth and claws. If they used them on my daughter, they would quickly meet one of my blades. So would that Chakacat.
The evening rituals continued. Reever insisted the child use the cleansing unit before she went to sleep (he made the same demand of me; never had I been so continuously clean in my short life.) It was my habit to go to sleep with her on the pallet I had made in her room, but tonight I rolled up the linens and removed them. Reever had made me aware of his needs; I could no longer attend only to the child.
“Are you sleeping somewhere else tonight, Mama?” she asked.
I saw Reever standing in the doorway. “Yes. I will sleep in your father’s chamber now.” My revelation produced no distress in her expression. “You will come to me at once if you need me.”
“I will, Mama.”
“At any hour.” I brushed the golden curls back from her face. “Or call. You have only to say my name and you know that I will wake.”
“I’ll be fine, Mama.” She put her small arms around my neck and squeezed, and I breathed in her sweet scent before I left her with Reever.
I used the cleansing unit to wash myself, and changed into the soft, loose garments Reever told me were customary for one to wear for sleeping. Had the ship been as cold as Akkabarr, I could have understood the necessity. The interior temperature was kept at a comfortable level, though, so I could have slept naked like a proper Iisleg female and saved the clothing for when I left his quarters.
Perhaps that was contributing to our problem. Reever always kept me covered up, even at those times when I should not have been.
The sight of my body was not the only thing he denied himself. It was unhealthy for a man to go so long without fulfilling his needs with a woman. It would probably make things simpler if I feigned the desire Reever wanted me to feel for him. I disliked pretense, but the situation between us would not improve if I did not do something. Such seductions were not something a woman did, but these ensleg men would not talk about it. They were all politeness and disapproval.
What else was I to do but take the initiative?
Reever was not in his bedchamber or in the front room, and when I looked in on Marel I found her alone and sleeping. Since I doubted that my husband had hidden himself in one of the storage containers, I assumed he had left and went to the console where Cherijo had stored her journal files.
Reever had adapted the console to display both in Iisleg and a form of Terran I could understand. I chose the latter for the files’ display, as there were words she had used that did not exist in Iisleg. I went to the place where I had stopped reading—an entry she had made after a brief battle between wounded League and Hsktskt soldiers being treated for their injuries on the Sunlace.
Marel is asleep, and unharmed, thank God. I’m so angry with Reever I could dismember him with an Omorr challenge blade. Angry with myself, too. Why can’t I think straight when my child is in danger? Why do I still want to go down there and kill every one of those soldiers who put her in the middle of their stupid fight? I’m a doctor, I shouldn’t feel this way.
There was a gap in the data, an odd space that showed something had been erased. I had seen others like it scattered through the files, especially the earliest ones. She must have regretted what she had written and deleted it out of the permanent memory.
I wished she had not erased part of it, for this entry, like many others, confused me. Why did she hate herself for wishing to protect her Marel and avenge herself on those who would have harmed her? A mother did not ask for her sheltering instincts; she was given them for the benefit of her child. Under the same circumstances, I would not have sat and written about my feelings. I would have drugged or knocked out Reever, taken Marel, and left the ship.
I told him that if he ever did this again, I would take Marel and leave him, and he would never see either of us again. I meant it. He’ll be a proper father to our child, or no father at all, damn him.
I sat back. It was almost as if Cherijo had read my thoughts. All this time I thought her to be nothing like me.
“You have a great deal in common with her,” Reever said from behind me, making me jump. “However much you resent or dislike her.”
I looked up at him. “I did not hear you come in.” I switched off the display. “I do not really like or dislike Cherijo. To do so properly, you must know the person.”
“You don’t know me.”
The words hung between us. What was I to say that would not offend or anger him? “It is enough that I belong to you. With time, I will come to know you.”
“Is that enough, Jarn?” The words came slowly, painfully.
For me, it had to be. For him, I could not say. “Among the Iisleg, a man takes two women. I do not resent sharing you with the memory of another.” I rose and went to him. “Reever, we are not children. I wish to make the best of this. You have said the same. We cannot do that if you live in a past that is lost to me.”
“We can’t be together if you go to bed with me merely to placate me.” He glanced at Marel’s room. “That was what you were thinking when you told her that you would be sleeping with me.”
“I did not think of how my place is with you, but it is. I did not think of how I wish to please you, but I do. It is selfish to think I might gain some pleasure from it for myself, but that thought, too, appeals to me.” I shrugged. “If you would rather just sleep—”
He made an odd sound and pulled me into his arms. “No.” A moment later he was carrying me into his bedchamber.
Once there, he enabled all of the light emitters. There would be no shadows in which to hide, so I kept my expression calm and resisted the urge to cover myself as he undressed me. Seeing my body seemed important to him, for he looked all over me.
I did not know why. I was small and healthy, but hardly a beauty. Men enjoyed plump, well-endowed women; there was not enough of me to be appealing.
After Reever pulled off his own garments, we stood naked before each other. His long, pale-skinned body was quite attractive, if a little too lean yet from many months of fighting during the rebellion. I touched a scar on his shoulder, and saw another further down, on his side. There were others; scars he had carried for many years—too many for a man who used words instead of weapons.
Scars were a sign of courage and masculinity among the Iisleg. They reassured me as well, for a man who could survive so many injuries possessed strength and luck. What did the ensleg think of them?
I stopped counting at fifteen and covered the scar on his shoulder with my palm. “You have endured much.” I moved my hand over to stroke his shoulder blade and felt ridged flesh. A strange rage began to burn inside me. Who had whipped him? “So much I do not know.”
“While you have not?” He covered my hand with his, and I felt it shaking. “I live for you and Marel.”
Unwilling to begin this in anger, I gentled my thoughts. “That is enough for any woman.”
Coupling with an ensleg proved an awkward business at first. There was the kissing to
start with, of which I had no experience, and no small amount of apprehension. My fears turned out to be needless; it felt far more pleasant in reality than it had sounded in theory. Had he not been in such need, I could have spent several hours exploring what we could do with our mouths together.
That Reever wanted me was, as with Iisleg men, something impossible for him to hide. An aroused Terran male’s body changed from a bow to an arrow, and yet from the sweat on his skin and the bunching of his muscles, I sensed he was attempting to control himself. Teuton had done the same thing during the night that Resa and I spent together with him. I appreciated the concern, but I was not interested in Reever holding back with me, not when we were here and together alone.
I pulled him down to the floor, and straddled him, holding his hands against my breasts as I opened myself to him. There was a brief interval of discomfort—Reever’s shaft was very hard and swollen—and then I adjusted to the unfamiliar penetration.
“Wait.” He clasped my hips, and held me still when I would have shifted. “Let me feel you like this for a moment.”
“Wait. Yes.” I took several deep breaths, trying to be patient, but he was hard and deep inside me, and I wanted to move. The moment he wanted was taking too long. “Reever—”
He rolled with me, putting me under him, pinning my wrists to the floor when I would have embraced him. His eyes had turned to a bright, brilliant blue.
“You’re my wife,” he said, punctuating his words with deep thrusts into my body. “My woman. My love. Mine.”
I could not think what I was. He was all over me, inside me, and the thing I had expected to be pleasant had grown enormous and hot and streaming through me like pulse fire, until everything was gone and there was only us and what we were doing to each other.
He bent his head to say my name against my mouth. My name, not hers. It snatched me out of the delicious torment and flung me helpless into a dark place. He didn’t come after me. He was waiting for me there.
In that moment, at last, we belonged to each other.
Someone must have reprogrammed the morning alarm chime, for it began to make noise only two heartbeats after I closed my eyes that night. I groaned and rolled over, groping for the panel switch, only to find another hand there before mine. Reever sat fully dressed beside me.
