Love Partner

by Robie Madison

  She’d started watching stars when she was little. Not because they were pretty but because they offered innumerable potential avenues of escape from the restrictions of life in an orphanage. She’d planned an imaginary trip through the stars each night for years and never followed the same route twice. A person could get lost among the stars.

  When she had finally started traveling in space, her first few times out she’d been like a kid on a thrill ride, never wanting the adrenaline rush to end. It was only after she had gotten lost, just that one time, that she’d learned it was sometimes better not to get what you wished for.

  Despite the severe reality check, she still liked stargazing. The sky provided a large enough canvas to puzzle over and work out problems on. She didn’t need the numbers and the facts about the Outposters anymore. Her instinct told her she had the pieces in her head. She just needed to figure out how they fit together.

  She stepped into the observation lounge as soon as the elevator doors slid open and looked up. Big, black, vast. All she could see through the plexi-bubble was the universe rushing past. She lowered her gaze and turned, taking in the panoramic view.

  Chiara stood on the other side of the room, clutching her wig in her hands.

  Chapter Ten

  “Oh,” Myrina said at the unexpected sight of the Communications officer. “Hi, there. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

  “What are you doing here?” Chiara asked.

  Okay. Not the most friendly of welcomes. And under the circumstances she did not feel obliged to explain. Given the Second’s dedication to duty, she might not understand how stargazing would help solve the Hitani crisis.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Chiara said, as Myrina turned to press the button for the elevator.

  Myrina frowned, turned back and leveled her best no-nonsense stare at the older woman.

  “I beg your pardon? I wasn’t aware there were restricted areas aboard the Speedlite.” In fact, I know there aren’t because the Captain gave me the run of the ship. So, unless the observation lounge was suddenly declared your personal quarters, I can be here if I damn well please.

  The Second blinked. “My English is perhaps not the best,” she said, waving her hand in the air. She still looked serious and none too happy. “I did not say you could not be here, only that you should not be here. I come here every day before the midday meal to do my exercises and I have not yet finished dressing.”

  Since all her clothes were on, Myrina wasn’t quite sure what the woman meant. Then she noticed Chiara worrying the edge of her wig. She couldn’t help it, even though she was in clear violation of the other woman’s ethnic rights. Curiosity compelled her to raise her eyes and take a second look. Chiara’s hair was piled on her head, ready for the wig. It must originally have been a rich, copper color like Judan’s, but now it was liberally shot through with white hairs. Quickly, Myrina averted her eyes and turned away, but not before she noticed Chiara studying her necklace. Feeling as though she’d violated some taboo, she apologized for a third time.

  “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  She didn’t turn around again until the elevator doors had closed. Her chance for quiet contemplation among the stars gone, her stomach strongly suggested she should think about food.

  Hylla and Biali were in the mess room when she arrived and, in her humble opinion, they’d been sharing a lot more than food. Although the engineer was considerably cleaner than the last time they’d met, he hastily tucked his T-shirt into the pants he favored over the leggings worn by Judan and his brother. Nor was the navigator’s uniform as crisp as the one she’d worn the day before.

  Considering Myrina had hardly seen anyone the day before, it was a little disconcerting to be bumping into the crew right and left. At least Hylla’s and Biali’s greetings were warm and friendly. She poured herself a cup of semi-fresh coffee from the sideboard, evidence that Judan had been here recently, and liberally laced it with santan before joining the couple at the table.

  Hylla was in the middle of braiding her hair. Although neither she nor Biali wore a wig, Myrina was extra-sensitive about respecting whatever Dakokatan hair custom she’d transgressed with Chiara. Just because the Second’s manner had bordered on rudeness—after all she appeared to be gruff with everyone—didn’t mean Myrina could ignore her own discourtesy. She might be here to help these people, but she was still a guest.

  “Would you prefer if I left?” she asked, gesturing to Hylla’s hair. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  “Oh no,” Hylla said, her eyes shifting to Biali who grunted his agreement. “You aren’t. It just takes a little getting used to, that’s all.”

  Myrina raised her eyebrow at that, but concentrated on her coffee rather than ask. She had no clue if she or Hylla was the one who was supposed to get used to something. Biali must have seen her puzzled expression, though, because he attempted to explain.

  “We weren’t expecting this to happen,” he said.

  Well, that certainly clarifies things, doesn’t it? Given her innate curiosity, Myrina decided to take the plunge.

  “You weren’t expecting what to happen?” she asked.

  This time Biali exchanged glances with Hylla. The look seemed to say, “Your turn to answer this one.” Hylla’s eyes flickered to Myrina’s necklace, then back to the task of fixing her hair. Myrina tried to shut off the slow burn of a blush that threatened to creep up her neck. Evidently in choosing to wear the necklace, she’d become a walking advertisement for her tryst with the Captain. Based on the previous conversation then, it didn’t take too many skills to figure out what the crew hadn’t expected. She wished she’d at least kept the necklace hidden under her clothes rather than on display.

  After she’d finished braiding her hair, Hylla cleared her throat and looked across the table.

  Oh boy, here it comes. And I had to open my big mouth and ask.

  “The Rakanasmara, of course,” the navigator said. “No one expected it to appear while on a mission. Especially not with a…a foreigner.”

  Myrina set her coffee mug down before she choked or burned herself. Rakanasmara. She’d heard the term before, but couldn’t immediately remember where.

  “Rakanasmara?” she said, half to herself.

  Her memory of the conversation with Sonny and Kikki returned at the same time Hylla explained.

  “You and the Captain are life partners.”

  Somehow, some way, Myrina managed to drink her coffee, keep her mouth shut and smile pleasantly until Hylla and Biali left. She couldn’t do anything about her accelerated heart rate, though. Or the trouble she had breathing past the lump in her throat. Her appetite was shot, but since her body needed fuel regardless of her emotional confusion, she filled a bowl with nuts and dried fruit. Snack food she could munch on while she did some long neglected research.

  Of course, she wasn’t going to find the answer to her question by consulting Sonny’s data-chip. No, she’d have to go to the source for that one. The source being, of course, the big green guy himself. The question being, of course, why the freaking heck he hadn’t informed her of this little complication called Rakanasmara between them. A Dakokatan term for what in plain English meant marriage.

  Myrina muttered several choice words, courtesy of a Situsian boy she’d grown up with at the orphanage. She had to wipe her hands twice on her pants before her fingers were dry enough to snap Sonny’s data-chip into the GCS’ port. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. Sonora Austen’s organizational abilities were legendary and the data she’d compiled on Dakokatan culture was no exception. Myrina clicked the “Mating Rituals” icon and the word Rakanasmara flashed onto the screen.

  She couldn’t read past the definition. Rakanasmara wasn’t simply a marriage between two Dakokatans. It was a genetically imprinted identification device that could only be triggered by one person. A mate or
life partner.

  Swift and fierce, an emotional tidal wave swamped her, forcing her to grip the edge of the counter for support. For the longest time she simply stared at the screen, reading and rereading that single word.

  Rakanasmara.

  Unable to contain her agitation, she shoved her stool aside and stood.

  Rakanasmara.

  The notion that she was experiencing a genetically triggered mating signal was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Preposterous. And any other “-ous” words that might apply. Yet, try as she might, she could not deny the “symptoms” associated with the onset of Rakanasmara. She studied the list. The instant, heightened awareness, the sensation of electrical impulses across the body and especially to the hair, the almost hypnotic pull—she’d experienced them all.

  Damn, her hand—her entire body—was shaking like a piece of paper fluttering to the floor. Abruptly, she sat again before her wobbly legs gave out and she landed on her ass. If this was true, the implications were astonishing.

  If. Hylla and Biali could be wrong… There could be a more rational explanation for what’s happening between me and Judan. Like lust. I’ve been attracted to men before. Why not a tall, green-skinned Dakokatan?

  Only it wasn’t the lust part that needed explaining. That she could handle. Heck, she had been handling it right up to and including a full-body orgasm, the like of which she’d never experienced before in her life.

  My life.

  She was here to save a group of stranded Outposters. She was here to do her job. Not come face-to-face with her own damn destiny.

  A couple of deep breaths later she stood, shut down the GCS and walked out of the lab. She’d taken care of herself for twenty-nine years. Now that the initial shock had passed, she would damn well handle this situation, too.

  But she’d do it in private. A few minutes later she stood in front of the elevator and contemplated her destination. No way was she going to confront Judan on the bridge in front of crew members or worse, roam the ship like some pathetic creature searching for him. Finally she opted for his office, situated next door to his bedroom and two doors down from her own room.

  He wasn’t there. Not that she’d expected him to be waiting for her. She didn’t particularly mind. Unlike most of the Directors’ offices at TLC, Judan’s actually reflected the personal side of the man, not just the Captain of a Speedlite.

  His office was as big as her stateroom, with furniture that tended toward cleaner, less ornate lines. He favored wood and minimal metal accents and appeared fond of water images. Even the walls were painted a light shade of blue, a sharp contrast to the earth tones that dominated the rest of the ship. And the wall behind his large desk was filled with a space view of a large lake bordered by palm trees. His shelves were lined with books—some in English—and a few knickknacks. She recognized a water jug from Uppanat. A rare gift? It must be since the Uppanatians guarded their water vessels as zealously as their wells. In addition to the bank of lights above the lake picture, two cubic-shaped floor-to-ceiling glass tanks adorned the two corners of the office nearest the door. Filled with gently bubbling water, plant life and fish, they were illuminated with powerful beams of light set into the ceiling.

  She wandered over to one of the columns and watched the fish for a while. They paid her no attention and she wondered if they were as indifferent to the hyperslides as they were to her.

  Deciding she might as well sit down while she waited, she walked over to the chairs near the desk, which was seven feet long, over five feet wide and virtually empty. Shades of her own smaller-scale office at TLC, which was just as neat.

  She picked up the single picture frame that adorned the desk top and turned it over to take a look. The frame itself was studded with seashells, continuing the watery theme of the room. Inside was a picture of a smiling boy. He was young with dark brown shoulder-length hair and a dimple in his right cheek. The angle of the picture was such that he appeared to be staring right at her. Or Judan, whenever he sat at his desk. His green eyes were bright with a hint of sun and his smile was one of pure delight. And unabashed love.

  Myrina didn’t doubt the boy had indeed been looking at Judan when the picture had been scanned. She checked the back of the frame but found no clue to the boy’s identity. The only thing she knew for certain was that he wasn’t one of Judan’s brothers. The boy looked nothing like the dead Outposter or Vand and she didn’t think Judan would keep a picture of his eldest brother without also displaying images of the other two.

  “That is Zane,” a familiar voice said as if he’d heard her silent question.

  Myrina spun around, the picture still clutched in her hand. Sure enough, Judan stood just inside the doorway watching her.

  “Oh, he must be someone very special to you,” she said and could have kicked herself. Surely she could have said something more intelligent rather than stating the obvious.

  “Zane is an orphan,” he said, meeting her gaze and holding it. “My cousin’s child. My mother is raising him.”

  With care, she placed the picture back on the desk, in part to hide her tumultuous feelings. She was familiar enough with Judan’s quirks by now to know that his stark answer and the presence of the picture on his desk hid some deep, special connection to the boy. Yet for all that had passed between them, he hadn’t trusted her enough to share. The knowledge hurt and made her wary.

  “You have a habit of collecting orphans then?” she asked.

  He gave a hoarse laugh, making her wonder if he’d entertained the exact same notion. “Yes, it would seem so,” he acknowledged.

  Myrina’s heart sank. If he saw her as an orphan, and one “to be collected” at that, what did this say about the attraction between them? About his feelings for her?

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. That wasn’t really what she wanted to know, but it was a place to start.

  “Would you have accepted Rakanasmara if I had?”

  For a man who specialized in enigmatic shifts in conversation, he had a bad habit of being painfully direct. Nor was there anything like hearing him utter that particular word to make it real. A stark fact to be dealt with.

  “Dammit,” She glared at him, ignoring his answering frown. “Don’t you dare answer a question with a question. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He strode towards her then, his hair swirling around him, his face an impassive mask. He wasn’t giving her a single clue about what was going on inside that head of his.

  “This has never happened before, finding a life partner outside our race,” he said, coming to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze. “I thought it possible you would deny what was happening between us.”

  I have never denied the attraction, the connection between us.

  “Is that what you think, now? That I’m someone outside your race who wouldn’t understand?”

  He reached out and rubbed his thumb against the side of her cheek. It took every ounce of willpower to hold her head steady and not lean into his softness. The smoothness of his hands still amazed her, each and every time he touched her, even as her body remembered and yearned for more.

  He smiled down at her and for a moment he appeared highly amused. Then he shook his head. “It is a fact, Myrina, that growing up within the Confederacy you are not familiar with Dakokatan customs. The wooing seems to be going well, though.”

  “The what?” she asked, biting back an astonished laugh.

  He hesitated and she tried desperately to sober the grin that threatened the corners of her mouth.

  “Wooing,” he said. “Dinner dates, flowers and chocolate. Though I didn’t think you’d be interested in the last two ideas so I chose Dakokatan rituals instead.”

  “Which include hot and heavy sex, huh? That’s some technique you’ve got there, Judan Ringa.”

  A slight frown marred his forehead and she almost regretted teasing him. He must have consulted the TLC database to come up with his archaic ideas of w
ooing. Which was actually kind of sweet, but still didn’t answer her question. If this Rakanasmara between them meant he viewed her as some sort of charity case, she wanted no part of it.

  “Then you like flowers and chocolate?” he asked, still stuck back on first base.

  With a sigh, she nodded. “Wildflowers and dark chocolate,” she said, seeing no reason to complicate matters and admit that no man had ever actually wooed her with these items. “As for dinner dates, I like to eat, too. And I’m not complaining about the sex, which has been pretty fantastic, but so far it sounds like we’re having an affair.”

  At the word affair, Judan scowled. “I thought we’d established that already. I want you, Myrina deCarte. We are not having an affair.”

  “Why not? Hylla and Biali are.”

  He shrugged, apparently not surprised at all by her revelation. “They are having a “cheap thrill” affair. They do not have what we have, Myrina. There is no Rakanasmara between them.”

  “How do you know? They look very happy together.”

  “Because, Little Warrior, all crew members aboard this ship, now save one, are single. It is a requirement of service before a mission for a crew to gather to determine whether or not they have found their life partner. If so, neither person can serve.

  “And before you ask, no, this rule does not apply if life partners meet, as we have, while on a mission.”

  She laughed and shrugged off his ability to read her objection before she’d voiced it. However there was a bigger issue that went beyond their admittedly mutual captivation with each other that needed to be dealt with.

  “Okay, I get it, no affair. But since you didn’t tell me about the Rakanasmara, what did you expect me to think?”

  His hand slid around the back of her neck, holding her fast. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, sending shivers down her spine. Then he pushed her head up a little so he could look into her face.

  “I did not expect a dissection of Dakokatan tradition or my motives,” he said.