Real Love

by Charlotte Copper

  A female, dressed in a short white tunic and white leg coverings, hurried around the curtained sleeping area. “What’s wrong?” the stranger asked.

  “My cowl! Where is my cowl?”

  The female regarded her quizzically. She wore no cowl herself, nor had the female, Jansen, whom she met earlier.

  “My head covering. I cannot be seen like this. If Mistress Teevac were to see me…” A rope of panic began to knot in Monda’s stomach.

  “Don’t worry. It’s here. I’ll get it.”

  The strange female reached into the small chest next to the bed and removed the cowl.

  Monda took the obligatory garment and quickly arranged it on her head, her hair safely hidden away as it must always be if males were present and she were not yet mated.

  “I’m sorry. You had a head injury we had to examine. It appears that, along with the heat and all the excitement, is what caused you to faint. We didn’t realize the importance of your…?” The women scrunched her face and searched for the word.

  “Cowl.”

  “Cowl,” the female repeated. “I’m Malory, by the way.”

  The curtains surrounding the bed swung aside, and Dr. Green entered the space.

  “And how is our patient today?” he asked.

  Had her head injury caused any damage to her sensory perceptions? She concentrated on the emotions in the room. No. From the female, Malory, radiated an intense attraction and something close to worship toward the doctor. From Dr. Green came an extreme sense of self-pride and arrogance, with an element of physical desire toward the woman in white.

  Not mated, but…involved. Did Malory realize her feelings far exceeded those felt by the doctor?

  Leave it alone. It is not your place.

  “Malory, maybe you could find some food for our visitor,” the doctor said without glancing at the woman.

  “Certainly, Dr. Green, I’ll be right back.”

  The doctor studied the machine imbedded in the wall. Colored lights flashed, and a tiny beeping noise echoed repeatedly.

  Did his appearance pass as pleasing on this planet? Malory’s emotional projection said she certainly thought so. Monda wrinkled her nose. She did not find the pale color of his hair to be appealing, and the faded blue of his eyes gave him a rather sickly appearance.

  Now he, however…

  Lt. Lancaster stopped at the foot of her bed. His dark brown hair, cropped close to his head, accented a square jawline, and his unforgettable eyes were the deep rich brown of the sacred swasi tree’s bark. She watched the two men, light and dark, exchange words. They acted as friends, but an air of mutual dislike hung thick.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her when the doctor retreated beyond the curtains, leaving the two of them alone.

  “Fine, thank you,” she replied. “I did not get a chance to ask the doctor, how is Mistress Teevac doing?”

  “Still unconscious, I’m afraid.”

  Why could her own circumstances not be different? This handsome man radiated a presence both safe and strong. Perhaps her future mate would make her feel as protected.

  “Do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?” the lieutenant asked.

  A heady scent surrounded her as Lt. Lancaster stepped closer. “Yes,” she replied with shallow breath.

  “You said you were on your way to…to your new mate, but had no idea where you were headed?”

  “That is correct.” She smoothed the front of the crisp white gown she now wore.

  “Is Mistress Teevac your mother?”

  “No,” she said. “It was discovered when I was a young child that I had the ability to sense the feelings and intentions of others. At that time, my parents fostered me into the care of Mistress Teevac. She raised me and others like me. She worked with us to improve our abilities. We are hers until a suitable joining is made.”

  “Your parents sold you to this Teevac?” His brow folded in on itself, and his mouth turned down at the edges.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “No currency changes hands until I am delivered to my new master. At that time, Mistress Teevac receives payment. In turn, she will transfer a portion of the payment received to my parents.”

  A scowl marred the handsome lieutenant’s face. Her nerve endings tingled as his need to protect grew fiercer. Should she be honored or concerned? “I said something to upset you?”

  “People are not bought and sold on my planet.” Although his voice remained neutral, his displeasure rippled through the air.

  “Teevac fed me and clothed me. She educated me and bettered my life and that of my family. Do you not pay for such things in your world?”

  “Well, yes and no. We pay for education, but not in the same way. And when our education is over, we may choose where we go.”

  “And you chose to be on this vessel?” Things did not feel as straightforward as he seemed to be saying. I need to learn more about this man and his strange world.

  “Again, yes and no. I chose to be a soldier, but those in command tell me where I go.”

  “It does not sound so very different.”

  The silence grew. Had she said something to offend him? Maybe that was why Mistress Teevac always reminded her to stay quiet and observe.

  “I’m back,” announced Malory returning with a tray of food. The air which had been growing tense, suddenly changed. Lt. Lancaster’s mood shifted from anger to uncertainty.

  “Hello, Malory,” he said.

  “Hi, Patrick,” Malory replied as she raised a small table next to the bed. She placed the food upon it. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see how our visitors were doing.”

  Lie. Well, partial lie. What had she expected? Of course he had feelings for someone. Please let someone as kind and handsome be waiting for me wherever my new life may take me.

  Conflicting feelings of desire and doubt grew within the small enclosure. Monda picked up the long green food item and brought it to her nose. Did Lt. Lancaster know about Malory and the doctor? She dropped her eyes to the tray. Stay quiet and observe.

  ****

  “Thank you for offering to show me around the ship, Lt. Lancaster,” said Monda. She felt much better today. Her head no longer hurt, and Malory had cleaned and pressed her blood-stained tunic.

  The lieutenant stopped by yesterday, but the doctor had insisted she remain in the infirmary, and so it was with great pleasure that he had returned today to take her to the evening meal. Of course, her gratitude existed not just because of the outing itself, but due to the company of the handsome male.

  She walked attentively, absorbing everything around her as they traversed the many corridors that made up the maze of the ship.

  “My first name is Patrick. You can call me Patrick or Pat, instead of Lt. Lancaster all the time.”

  She did not yet understand the nuances of the name game among these people, but Malory had called him Patrick so it must be acceptable. “Thank you…Patrick.”

  They passed a small grouping of people, and then a second. “There are a large number of inhabitants on this ship. Is this your home always?”

  Although she spent much of her time at Mistress Teevac’s compound learning to read, cook, and sew—and of course enhance her sensory gift—the apprentices also spent a great deal of time outside in the garden and playing games. She would miss the feel of running barefoot and the wind against her face. But then, she had no idea what her final destination might be. It, too, could be a space ship, or she could end up on a warring planet where her time would be spent shut away in caverns or rooms.

  “It seems that way,” Patrick said, “but no, this is just a job. The Zeus is a relocation ship. We transport people from one planet to another. We don’t need much of a crew when we have no passengers. There are usually about a dozen, twelve, of us. We’re in the middle of a relocation right now which is why there are so many.”

  “And your tribe, and that of Lt. Jansen,
is identified by your dark shirts and leggings?”

  Everyone at the compound dressed in lose fitting tunics and robes, and all the unmated women wore cowls. She had been educated that true beauty lay within one’s self. Appearance—one’s hair or face or body—should be unimportant. Did Mistress Teevac truly believe her own teachings? Perhaps she simply taught it to the younger sensors so they would willingly accept whoever they eventually joined with.

  “Tribe?” Patrick repeated glancing down at his clothing and laughed. “No. Jansen, Captain Joseph and myself, we’re soldiers. These dull, monotone clothes are standard issue uniforms. We dress like this to show we are working.”

  “But Malory and Dr. Green, are they not working with you?”

  “Malory is the ship’s medic. People in medicine seem to wear white, although I’m not sure why with the blood and everything.” He shook his head. “She’s in charge of the infirmary when Dr. Green is not here.”

  Ripples of emotion shifted rapidly as he spoke of Malory and then of Dr. Green.

  “People do not like Dr. Green.”

  “People?”

  “Yourself. Lt. Jansen. A few others.”

  He laughed, but it lacked any humor. “So it’s that obvious? Well, Dr. Green is not one of the crew. He’s one of the people we are relocating.” He stopped suddenly, a frown marring his brow. “He’s just an annoying ass who can’t stay out of the way.”

  A door hissed open, and several people came out. One of the females had bright red hair; not as vibrant as Tisla’s, but it brought back memories of home. She missed her friends. Had Tisla and Loka met happiness on their new worlds?

  “Come on. In here,” Patrick said, and she followed him through the door which the group of people had just exited. His spicy scent paled at the sudden olfactory assault.

  The room held many more people than she expected. Long tables ran in rows, with benches on each side, and people squeezed together along the tables.

  “So, what would you like to eat?” Patrick asked handing her a tray similar to the one she had used in the infirmary.

  A line of food lay out before her. Except for the white, grain-like substance, she did not recognize anything from her previous meals. At her noon repast, Malory had given her something called a ham-sam-wish. It tasted quite good, but she did not see any of those. She inhaled deeply trying to pick out the smell of something she might recognize.

  Patrick chuckled. “Okay, let me help.”

  He picked up a spoon. “This is rice.” He put a scoop on her plate. “You will eat a lot of this on the ship.”

  Rice. The same grain from last night. Bland but palatable.

  “This is meat,” he said, offering up another food item. “I can’t tell you what it is exactly, depends what planet we got it from. But they say everything tastes like chicken.” He chuckled.

  Chicken? Whatever that was, it must be funny. Hopefully it tasted good.

  He scooped a third item on her plate, but he did not know its name either. A vegetable of some sort, he said. It looked similar to gumwee but smelled much stronger.

  “And this, this is ice cream. Or at least something pretty damn close.” He placed a small white dish on her tray. “You’ll like it.”

  With her tray full, Monda followed Patrick past several of the tables.

  “May we join you?” he asked, and Monda smiled when she saw Lt. Jansen.

  “Please do,” said the friendly pilot.

  “Greetings, Lt. Jansen.” Monda slid down the bench toward the familiar woman.

  “You can all me DJ, if you’d like.”

  “Would it be all right if I did not?” asked Monda. She hoped not to offend her new friend. “DJ sounds a lot like deeja which on my planet means to bring back up that which you just ate.”

  “Ew, yuck. Ok, how about Demonna then? Demonna…like Donna.”

  “Thank you, Demonna.”

  “And this is Sergeant Winnie Clark.” Demonna introduced the woman who sat across from her. The two women were dressed alike.

  Monda sensed immediate doubt from the stranger. What had she done wrong? Do not let the feelings of others influence you. Be open and approachable. Words she had grown up with.

  Like Patrick, the female had dark hair and eyes which reminded her of home and the swasi. Unlike Patrick, however, the deep rich brown of the sacred tree also colored her skin.

  “Greetings, Sgt. Winnie Clark. I hope it is acceptable for me to say, but your coloring is beautiful. I have seen no one else on the ship with such lovely skin.”

  Sgt. Clark smiled, her bright white teeth breaking the darkness of her complexion. “That is a perfectly acceptable thing to say.” She slid over to make room for Patrick. “Please join us. And call me Winnie.”

  Voices, loud and plentiful, rung in Monda’s ears, while dozens of emotions buzzed around her head like persistent insects. If she concentrated on the hum of a particular person nearby, she could focus on their feelings and intentions. Demonna’s air read as open as the woman herself: proud, loyal, and trustworthy. Monda believed the woman’s offer of friendship to be genuine. Winnie’s air suggested someone more guarded, and a little less sincere in her friendliness. Her reading of Patrick, however, came across less focused. Brave and protective, his confidence would often blur with uncertainty, his loyalty with doubt.

  And confusion. Did it belong to Patrick or herself? She had never experienced the sensation before and would have to ask Mistress Teevac about it when the teacher healed.

  She glanced down at the plate of food. It appeared equally as confusing. The eyes-cream started to liquefy, so she picked up one of the utensils and began to eat. Delicious. Would they let her have more when she finished? She devoured it with a ravenous hunger, looking up when Winnie and Patrick started to laugh. All three of her new friends stared at her.

  “So you like it, do you?” Patrick smiled.

  “It is very delicious. May I have more?”

  “Yeah, sweetie, but you have to eat your veggies before you get another dessert,” Winnie said with a chuckle.

  Monda’s brows knit in confusion. She turned to Demonna.

  “Dessert—ice cream—is something we eat as a treat at the end of our meal,” Demonna explained.

  Monda put the spoon down. Had she offended her new friends? She lowered her eyes to her plate.

  Patrick put a light hand on her arm, and she jumped at the contact.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to say that it’s not usually done, but you don’t need to worry. I know a lot of people who would like to eat dessert first. Especially with some of Chef’s meals.”

  She studied Demonna and Winnie through lowered lashes. Both women smiled and nodded in agreement. She relaxed and released the breath she did not realize she had been holding.

  Her arm continued to tingle where Patrick had touched her. She tried to forget the feeling and focus on something more important. Specifically, which item to eat next.

  Meals were quiet occasions at Mistress Teevac’s, not so on the Zeus. Her dinner companions regaled her with tales of planets they’d visited and the various peoples they met. She listened in fascination and awe, her life boring and cloistered in comparison.

  Captivated, she sat riveted by Patrick’s every word. Not just because of her attraction to him. His stories were honest, interesting, and often funny. Winnie and Demonna were likewise amused, Winnie wiping away tears of laughter at more than one of his stories.

  Monda told a few stories of her home, but remained quiet for most of the meal, trying to learn and absorb from the conversation.

  “Ugh, I can’t stand that man,” Demonna said through gritted teeth.

  “Who can?” replied Winnie, and Monda turned to see Dr. Green entering the room.

  “Malory seems to be the only one,” Monda answered. “She likes him very much.”

  “Really?” said Winnie laughing.

  “Oh, yes. She gets playful and extreme
ly aroused every time he comes by.”

  “Fuck!” Patrick said.

  The word sounded like a curse. He glanced quickly up at her and then back at his tray, but her heart froze in those mere seconds. The previous lightness of the evening, vanished.

  “I gotta go.” Without saying another word, he slid off the bench, picked up his tray, and left.

  Confusion, both Patrick’s and her own, washed over her. “Did I say something wrong? I spoke only the truth.”

  Winnie patted her hand. “Let’s just say everyone on our ship isn’t as open to the truth as they should be.”

  ****

  Patrick stood outside the door and shifted from one foot to the other. Why had he been so rude last night? Monda had not meant to upset him. She’d only spoken what she sensed. Something he knew deep to be the truth. Wasn’t it time he accepted it?

  He had acted like a child, running back to his room, and then he sat on his bed unable to concentrate on the report he’d been reading. His thoughts kept returning to Monda. He’d seen confusion in her beautiful eyes immediately following his outburst. She’d done nothing wrong.

  And then today, images of her kept popping into his head. He watched for her at evening meal to apologize, but she had been and gone.

  He swiped his hand in front of the orb and waited. The door slid open, and his chest constricted. His breath cut short.

  “Lt. Lancaster,” Monda said, “how may I help you?”

  “First, please call me Patrick.”

  “Patrick,” she said with a smile, “how may I help you?”

  “I…I thought maybe you would like to finish our tour from last night.”

  Where had that come from? He had planned to simply apologize. And yet this felt better. It felt right. He would amend for his rudeness.

  “I would like that very much, Lieu…Patrick.”

  The floral hint of her perfume enfolded him as she exited the room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced his cement laden feet to move. He fell into step beside her, a comfortable peace surrounding them. They walked in companionable silence.

  When had he last felt so at ease?

  “I want to apologize for yesterday, at dinner. I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”