No Other Love

by Speer, Flora

  “It wasn’t the snow,” she began, wondering how she could possibly describe to him what had just happened – or, perhaps, what she had just imagined. She was spared the need for explanation when Alla came down the path carrying more boxes of medical supplies.

  “I thought you were working in the shuttlecraft,” Alla said to Herne in an accusing tone. “I came to help you. What have you been doing to Merin? Her jacket and coif are soaked and she’s shaking with cold.”

  “It’s nothing,” Merin responded, pulling herself together and trying to sound normal. “Herne was only demonstrating an ancient Sibirnan custom.”

  “It looks like an unhealthy custom to me, if it involves standing in the cold in wet clothing. Don’t either of you have any common sense?”

  “Alla, let me help you with those boxes,” Herne said after another hard look at Merin.

  “Put on some dry clothes, Merin,” Alla advised, heading toward the shuttlecraft.

  Herne followed her through the hatch, but Merin stayed in the same spot for a time, staring after him and trying to decide what it was that had just happened to her.

  * * * * *

  “Osiyar,” Merin said when the evening meal was done and they were the only two left at the table, “are there residual effects after your thoughts have touched another’s?”

  “Rarely, but they can occur.” Osiyar sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and waited serenely for Merin to continue.

  “I saw sunshine and felt warmth on a cold and snowy day,” she said.

  “Perhaps it was only a memory of your own,” Osiyar suggested.

  “I had never seen what I saw then,” Merin declared, “nor felt that emotion, either.”

  “Was it unpleasant?”

  “No, only unfamiliar. But it was unacceptable to me. I should not have felt what I did.” She knew Osiyar would understand what she was trying to say, even if she could not describe the emotion exactly. “I was somewhere else for a moment. The sun was at a higher angle in the sky. The light was different.”

  “How do you feel now?” Osiyar’s sharp blue eyes probed into hers.

  “Perfectly well,” she said. “It’s as though the episode never happened. It only lasted for an instant. Still, I thought I should report it to you.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Osiyar advised, smiling at her.

  After Merin left the table, Tarik sat down in her vacant seat.

  “I heard,” he said. “Has it anything to do with Herne? She has been rather pointedly avoiding him this evening.”

  “She is changing,” Osiyar said. “They both are. It was inevitable after Tathan. They need time now. Just a little more time….”

  Part II

  The Kalina

  Chapter 6

  The spaceship Kalina was a captured Cetan vessel, refitted at Capital in order to carry the colonists to Dulan’s Planet, and rechristened in honor of Tarik’s mother. Now in permanent orbit above the planet, the Kalina was never left unattended. Each colonist was periodically expected to serve a four-day stint aboard the ship. As he did with other routine duties, Tarik allowed the computer to make random selections of personnel for this purpose. Gaidar and Suria had just completed their turn on the Kalina, and Merin was assigned to the next four-day period. Herne was to be her partner.

  She wished she had the courage to ask for a reassignment. Always before she had gone aboard the Kalina with another woman. The thought of spending four days alone with Herne was terrifying. How could she possibly maintain the necessary tight discipline over herself if he was there, trying to touch her, to put his mouth on hers? The memory of his mouth and his tongue left her weak-kneed and breathless; the images of him standing in the sun and touching her cheek, of him beneath gray skies gently washing her face with snow came to her unbidden and far too often.

  “You needn’t worry,” he told her, as if he could read her mind. “I won’t attack you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

  “I’ll get my luggage. I won’t be long.”

  He watched her bow her head and walk away to her room. If she was upset about this assignment, he was even more disgruntled at the prospect of spending days alone with her. He saw only continuing frustration for himself.

  He could not begin to comprehend what motivated Merin. Each time he thought they might be approaching a more friendly relationship she withdrew into that invisible emotional fortress of hers. And the more she withdrew, the more Herne wanted to know what she was really like beneath her unemotional surface. He could not look at her without aching to put his arms around her and kiss her sweet, unresponsive mouth. He knew if he tried, she would only rebuff him once more. Damnation! How could a usually sensible, well-educated man be such a fool? Dreading the time he would have to spend alone with her, he tossed his softbag aboard the shuttlecraft and strapped himself into his seat.

  The voyage skyward was accomplished in silence except for the necessary comments pertaining to navigation of their vessel. When they brought the shuttlecraft into the docking deck of the larger ship, Gaidar and Suria were waiting for them, ready to help unload supplies before they boarded the second shuttlecraft to return to the planet.

  “There is something unusual to report this time,” Suria told them. “A slight fluctuation in the planet’s magnetic field, the result of electromagnetic storms caused by violent solar flares. There has also been occasional disruption of our communications with Home. It’s nothing dangerous yet; just something to be aware of and to watch carefully. We on the surface will probably have interesting aurora to observe over the next few nights. Other than that, the ship is functioning normally.”

  “Let me help you stow this cargo before we leave,” Gaidar offered, lifting a large water tank to his shoulder. “Bring the other one, Herne.”

  Suria saw the men out of hearing distance before she spoke again to Merin.

  “You don’t look well.”

  “It’s the shuttlecraft.” Deeply distressed by the need to tell yet another untruth, Merin gave the first excuse that came into her mind. “Riding in it always makes me feel ill.”

  She wished it were not necessary to dissemble so much, but she could not tell Suria that the real cause of her queasiness was the pat followed by a gentle caress that she had seen Gaidar administer to Suria’s buttocks before he went off with Herne to stow the water tanks. But Suria had good eyes and a well-trained memory. She was a midwife as well as a navigator, and was therefore accustomed to asking intimate questions without seeming to pry.

  “You don’t like to see men touch women in a familiar way,” she said. “I’ve noticed your reactions before. Why is that?’

  “I cannot speak of it.”

  “Did a man hurt you sometime in the past?”

  “What you suggest would never happen on Oressia. There, no one harms another.”

  “It must be an unusual planet.”

  Merin could not see Suria’s expression because her eyes were directed to Suria’s feet, but she heard the sarcasm in Suria’s voice.

  “The men have returned,” Merin said, hoping to change the unpleasant subject.

  “If you really don’t feel well,” Suria said, putting out one hand but not quite touching Merin, “speak to Herne about it. That’s an order. We can’t afford to have our people falling ill.”

  After Suria and Gaidar had gone, and Herne and Merin were in the shiny black passageway that led to the bridge, Herne stopped walking.

  “I heard what Suria said. If you are ill, you should have mentioned it before we left Home. Someone else could have taken your place here.”

  “I am not ill.” She would have continued on her way, but Herne stopped her, catching her by the shoulders and holding her still beneath one of the recessed ceiling lights so he could examine her features more closely.

  “Look at me, woman. I’ve told you before how much I dislike it when you won’t look at me while we talk.”

  “And I have told you before not to tou
ch me. What made me ill was the way Gaidar touched Suria. Sickening. Disgusting.”

  Her voice was quiet, but so compelling that he lifted his hands from her shoulders and stood there looking into her eyes, his hands still raised, until she feared he would catch her face instead of her shoulders and kiss her. He did not. His hands fell to his sides, but his eyes remained locked on hers.

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “you flinch every time you see anyone touch another person. It isn’t just men touching women, as Suria thinks; it’s anyone at all showing affection or emotional concern. Why? What’s in your past? What kind of conditioning did you undergo on Oressia?”

  “You know I cannot answer any questions about my home planet,” she said. “I ask only that you respect the customs I am compelled to observe.”

  “How can I respect them when I don’t know what they are?” Herne asked.

  “I have told you,” she replied with forced patience. “Do not look directly into my eyes. Do not touch me. And do not, ever again, put your lips on mine.”

  “But I want to,” he said, a barely suppressed smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “I want to do all of those things, along with other things that would doubtless shock you to the depths of your Oressian soul. The human psyche is so constituted that if you forbid a person to do something, you only make him want to do it more.”

  “Herne,” she said sternly, “we have a large amount of work to accomplish before we return to headquarters. I must insist that we concentrate on it, and that you behave in a professional manner toward me. If you do not, I will complain about you to Tarik.”

  “Merin.” But her eyelids were lowered again, the glory of her brown and purple eyes hidden from him. Her face was carefully blank, every feature sharp and tight, revealing nothing of her feelings.

  Herne’s own strongest feeling at the moment was despair. He had seen hints of another woman behind her controlled façade, a woman of strength and spirit. A woman he wanted to know. He had to find a way to convince her to reveal her true self to him and to talk freely about her mysterious past.

  “As you wish,” he said, looking for some sign of relaxation in her. He saw nothing. The real Merin was gone again, hidden behind the mask, and he could think of no way to make her return. He gave up the attempt to reach her – for the moment. “Let’s get to work.”

  * * * * *

  The rule for those serving aboard the Kalina was an eight-hour watch, the last hour overlapping with that of one’s partner. During this overlap meals were eaten together and reports were made. Merin had chosen the first watch, so it was Herne who prepared their meal and carried it into the conference room just off the bridge.

  “Another large storm is moving across the northern hemisphere. There will be heavy snow at Home,” Merin reported. “There have been two more major solar flares, and a series of large sunspots has appeared. A message has been received from Capital. I relayed it to Tarik at once.”

  “From Capital?” Herne looked up from his soup. “Anything serious?”

  “Commander Tarik’s mother wishes him a happy birthday. The lady Kalina’s timing is accurate, if not her wisdom or sense of propriety.”

  “I assume from your tone of voice that you don’t think Kalina should be using official communication bands for personal messages,” Herne noted.

  “Tarik may well be embarrassed by the contents. In any case, only the most urgent messages should be sent to us,” Merin said. “Each transmission makes Cetan detection of our settlement more likely and thus jeopardizes our mission here. Were the Cetans to discover that we are monitoring their activities, they might decide to abrogate their treaty with the Jurisdiction.”

  “Oh, come on, Merin; that’s taking one short message too seriously. Hasn’t your mother ever done something affectionate that embarrassed you? Even my mother, much as she disapproved of me, embraced me in public once or twice and smoothed down my hair in front of my friends. When I was still very young, of course. Never after I reached the age of six.” Herne’s amusement faded as he watched Merin freeze. He decided he was not going to let her get away with that old routine. Not this time. He was going to push at her reticence until he learned something more about her. “Tell the truth, now. What did your mother do that embarrassed you?”

  The uncomfortable silence stretched on and on until Herne thought she would never answer. But, eventually, she did, in a small, strangled voice.

  “I have no mother.”

  Damnation! Every time he opened his mouth with her, he made another mistake. Almost at once he realized it hadn’t been a mistake at all. He had hurt her by bringing up sad memories, but he had also succeeded in opening the door to her past by just a crack. He knew from his work with patients that if he wanted more information, he had better continue asking questions right now, while she was still upset.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Were you very young when she died?”

  “I have never had a mother.” Still that same, pinched voice. She pushed back her tray and rose from the table. “Thank you for the food, but I find I am not at all hungry.”

  She was gone, leaving Herne cursing himself for his clumsiness and his stupidity. Merin wasn’t a patient, compelled to answer his questions in order to procure the best medical treatment he could give; she was someone he wanted for a friend, and for more than a friend. He thought he understood what his prying had done to her. He had reopened an old wound.

  Death in childbirth was rare, but it did occur now and then, and when it did it was a terrible tragedy that left its scars on the entire family. The one most hurt was always the child whose birth had caused the loss. The death of her mother when Merin was born could explain a great deal about her character, especially if Oressian fathers were distant and unloving, like Sibirnan fathers.

  Believing this was what had happened to her, Herne thought it was no wonder that Merin found it difficult to give or accept affection. She had probably never received it as a small child. Yet he had seen her begin to unbend toward others, particularly toward Osiyar. It was possible that she would eventually learn to trust Herne, too, and even to care for him. That sweet reward would be worth any amount of patience on his part.

  * * * * *

  Merin sealed the entrance to her cabin and turned off every light, even the red emergency bulb that was supposed to be lit at all times. She stood in the middle of the blackened room, taking deep breaths, willing herself into a peaceful state, the condition she had known in First Cubicles and had seldom achieved again since. Advancement to Second Cubicles had brought light, stimulation, order, and rules. From then on it had been one rule or law after another, all of them to be memorized and obeyed. Failure had meant instant extermination. She had seen others moved out of Cubicles, never to return. But she had a mind well suited to detail, and memorization was easy for her. She had advanced faultlessly through the milestones of her tenth year, her fifteenth, her twentieth. At twenty she had learned her fate, had taken her oath of silence, and then had left Oressia. And now, every day, she broke another rule, violated another Oressian law.

  She should never have spoken those words to Herne. They had been the truth, yet they would mislead him, would make him believe something other than the truth. Nor would he stop asking questions. Just as his touches and his kisses would continue and increase with the passage of time, so would his questions besiege her mind and her heart. The advice she had been given just before leaving Oressia was correct. The slightest opening, the least breach of secrecy, would lead others to pry more and more deeply, would make those others eager for the truth.

  So it would be with Herne. He would not stop until he knew everything. And when he knew, he would never again look at her with tenderness, or take her face in his hands, or put his mouth on hers. To him, she would be an abomination.

  Merin stood in the dark, fighting the tears that ran down her cheeks in salty betrayal of all she ought to be, searching for the peace she had known as a Young One, a peace that c
ould never more be hers.

  * * * * *

  During the next few days the solar flares increased in size and frequency. As the electrified particles emitted by the flares streamed toward Dulan’s Planet, the upper atmosphere began to glow. The resulting auroral displays were visible from the Kalina. When her duties permitted, Merin left as many bridge lights off as she could and sat watching the curtains of light sway and change color from green or blue to pearly white and back to green again. So entranced was she by the show that she was only momentarily distracted when Herne slid into the seat next to hers.

  “Magnificent,” he breathed, his face glowing with reflected light. “Look there. And there.”

  “It is tempting to forget one’s duties,” Merin agreed. “You are early, Herne. You aren’t required to be on the bridge for another half hour.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Perhaps I sensed what is going on out here.” He waved a hand toward the rippling curtains of light.

  “I have noticed some minor instrument malfunctions, which are to be expected under the circumstances,” she told him. “Tarik is growing a bit concerned about the increased solar activity.”

  “The atmosphere will protect the planet,” Herne said, “and the Kalina is well shielded. We should be safe enough.”

  “But not in the shuttlecraft, which has less shielding. We may have to remain on board for more than the usual four days.” Merin’s distaste for that possibility sounded in her voice. “Tarik has also suggested that if there is a chance of the more sensitive instruments here being damaged, we ought to take the Kalina out of orbit and travel elsewhere for a while until the sun calms down.”

  “Lost in a solar storm,” Herne murmured. “Adrift on a sea of ions.”