He sat back, no longer touching her, his eyes no longer seeking to engage her in intimacy but seeming to evaluate her along with her words. This was not a side of Aari she had encountered before. “I see. So, in order to regain our love, we must have new shared experiences and—don’t deny it, I didn’t mean to read your thoughts without permission, but I couldn’t help it—I must somehow prove my mettle to you as I seem to have proved it by heroically undergoing Khleevi torture—and surviving it, of course. I wouldn’t have been any good to you had I not survived it.”
“Please don’t be bitter,” she said, reaching out to touch him again. But now he withdrew. “It isn’t like that. It will just take time. Maybe it will take a bit longer than it did the first time, because we aren’t being menaced all the time as we were before. I’m sure Rafik is right. Our feelings for each other will grow again.”
“Well, forgive me, but I have feelings for you already,” he said, standing. “I fell for you simply from the recorded memories of what a brave and beautiful lifemate you were. I thought that you would care for me now as you did when we—I—left. I appreciate you sharing your insight into this phase of our relationship, because you have given me some idea as to what I must do to win you again. At least now if I disappear again for a while, you won’t worry. You won’t care, really. But I hope to make you care when I return.”
“Aari—please, don’t be rash. Disappearing again won’t help. Staying and helping me get to know you again will help.”
“I have been here many days already. We have been on a mission together, and yet you are colder than ever. No. I must take action. Farewell, Khornya.”
He ran away through the tall grasses and up over a hill before disappearing from view. Disturbed as Acorna was by the exchange, which so far as she could tell resolved nothing, she was surprised to find that she was not sorry to see him go. In fact, a guilty sense of relief washed over her along with Dr. Hoa’s patented rain.
The remorse set in later, punishing her when she tried to rest. She tossed and turned and moaned in her sleep. Finally, she awakened bathed in sweat, her mane stringing into her eyes. Neeva’s voice spoke inside her head. (Khornya, dear. Whatever is the matter with you? I strongly suggest you return to MOO and visit with Rafik again. He comes this way so seldom, and I do think from the nature of your dreams you need more time away from here.)
Acorna sighed and sank back onto her sleeping mat. Her aunt was being tactful. (I’ve been broadcasting again, have I?)
(Yes, dear, you have. And frankly, it was frightening and upsetting to some of the more sensitive among us. Why did you keep imagining Aari being turned into a Khleevi? You know very well that the two of you helped end that particular menace, and yet you had them running amok among us again.)
Acorna winced and rolled over on her stomach, propping her chin up with her elbows as she stared out into the fog that enveloped the lowland area around the stream. (Is that what that dream’s about? I truly don’t know why I would dream such a thing.)
(Perhaps by making him an enemy in your dreams, you can justify the change in your feelings for him now?) Neeva suggested.
(I suppose that could be it,) Acorna admitted, though it didn’t feel exactly right. And hadn’t she had this dream or one very much like it before Aari’s return?
(I think you need to at least consider the possibility, my dear. I know it’s hard. We all have adjustments to make. Although many of us are separated from our lifemates for great periods of time, true lifemates do not seem to be so significantly altered in one another’s eyes when they rejoin as you and Aari have done. But of course, so far in my lifetime, lifemates have only been separated by space. You and Aari have been separated by time, as well. And no one has voluntarily given up their memories of loved ones in my experience. So we do understand. But we also would like to get our rest. It is very hard to relax when such a powerful sender as you are is so deeply troubled.)
Acorna smiled wryly. (Therefore, you would all appreciate it if I would take my noisy, scary imagination up to MOO and leave you in peace for a while?)
(Absolutely. But that’s not the only reason we’d like you to visit your human family. Rafik would surely like to spend more time with you, dear,) Neeva answered. (And your other friends as well. Much as we love you, we Linyaari are only half of your family and culture. It would be selfish of us to wish to be the only ones to offer you comfort.)
Acorna laughed and stood up. (They didn’t make you visedhaanye ferilii for nothing, mother-sister. You are the soul of tact and kindness, but have made yourself abundantly clear. I’ll put in a call for the shuttle.)
And so she found herself back on MOO in time to have dinner alone with Rafik once more before he returned to supervising the vast House Harakamian Empire. Their friends and relations allowed them the time together. But it wasn’t as if they had anything particularly private to say. They mostly ate in silence, she munching on grasses and flowers, he on more substantial human fare. They simply treasured being together in dear, familiar company.
With an added romantic and physical element, this was how it should have been between Aari and her, Acorna thought. Time with those who were truly bonded didn’t separate them, but deeply reinforced their attachment whenever they shared it.
“You are leaving very quickly,” she remarked.
“I hope to hunt down those crystals soon,” he said. “Our trademark signature on the stones, Hafiz tells me, has a homing device in it that should enable me to locate them if I’m in the right place at the right time. Like the markets of Kezdet, for instance. If I hurry, perhaps I can discover them before they are snapped up by black market dealers.”
On the far side of the garden, one of the dancers glided by. Somehow she managed to glide officiously.
“How are the new security officers working out?” Acorna asked.
“Rather well,” Rafik said. “They are remarkable women. Aziza leads them better than a general could. It has been quite the success story. Karina’s been puffed up with pride for suggesting it. Oh, you’ll be happy to know that Layla’s doing fine. I know Fatima would be grateful if you came to say hello, so she could tell you that she is—ah, grateful.”
Acorna smiled. “I’ll do that. They must be settling in well. You’re on first-name terms with them already?”
“We’ve become friendly, yes. I felt it necessary to get to know them better. I was worried about their hiring. I wouldn’t want to be leaving Hafiz’s safety to a stranger, would I? I try to learn from mistakes. Smythe-Wesson was someone Hafiz hired in haste when Nadhari left. My uncle knew very little about him except that he was highly recommended by the commander of the nearest Federation outpost. That man kept to himself. I have not allowed Aziza and her troupe to do the same. I’ve spent enough time with her to learn what those women have been through and what incredible lives they’ve led. In fact, Aziza reminds me a little of you, Acorna.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Like you, she is seemingly a fey, graceful, fragile creature, and yet she is amazingly strong and resilient, with wonderful leadership qualities and, when you get to know her, a charming sense of humor. She has managed to keep herself and the others alive by the use of her wits as well as her talent. These women learned thievery to survive, and learned it so well they have become highly sought after by the criminal world as accomplices. I don’t want you to think she or any of them are actually immoral women. They learned their dancing skills as slave girls, and used their less socially acceptable talents to escape the slavers and become independent agents.”
“You really seem to admire them, in spite of their participation in the theft of the catseyes,” Acorna observed.
“What’s a little larceny among friends?” Rafik said. “It’s not as if House Harakamian was founded without it. Hafiz admires them, too, but Karina makes sure he doesn’t admire them too often or too closely.”
They shared a grin over that.
He laid his purple brocade na
pkin beside his plate and rose. “Well, all good things must come to an end. It’s been so good to see you again, sweetheart. I hope that boyfriend, or husband, or whatever of yours gets his act together pretty soon. Or we may have to introduce your people to the quaint Terran custom of divorce.”
Before Acorna could answer, three of the security patrol surrounded them, or more accurately, surrounded Rafik. Layla’s hair was growing back nicely, and there was of course no sign of a scar on her heart-shaped face. All three women chattered happily at Rafik, who, to Acorna’s amusement, blushed a little when Aziza teased him. “You cannot leave yet! I must have you empty your pockets to make sure you are not running off with the family silver implements for eating.”
“You watch her, Rafik,” Fatima said, batting at him playfully with the tassel from the end of her belt. The women had made rather unique security uniforms out of their black cat-burglar garb. It was practical really, if they wanted to sneak up on some evildoer. “She told me she intends to do a strip search!”
Rafik held up his hands laughing, “Ladies, please, not in front of my daughter!”
Layla looked curiously at Acorna. “You are his daughter?” she asked. “That’s funny. You don’t look anything like each other.”
“Sure we do,” Rafik said. “She has my chin and elegant jawline, don’t you see?” He ran a tickling finger along Acorna’s jaw.
“If he was wearing his horn, you’d see the resemblance right away,” Acorna told Layla with mock earnestness.
“No way!” Layla said. Clearly she had been keeping company with the Maganos Moonbase kids.
Acorna gave in. “Oh, yes. I have his chin and my other father, Gill’s, eyes and gift of gab. My third father, Calum, says I get my brains and engineering talent from him and that I must be a throwback to his Highlander ancestors, who were tall like me. Gill says white hair like mine is very common in his family, as the Irish tend to go white early in life.”
Layla looked increasingly puzzled. “Wait. You have three fathers and you look like all of them. What about your mother?”
Aziza pretended to pout. “This sounds like a very strange arrangement, Rafik. Three fathers and no mother for your daughter? You don’t like women?”
“Of course he likes women!” Acorna said staunchly, twining her arms around Rafik’s neck in her best imitation of a clinging vine. “He loooooves me, don’t you, Rafik?”
“You’re getting me deeper in the mire all the time, Acorna.” He laughed. “I think I’ve picked a fine time to go. But I’ll be back.” Turning to Aziza, he flirted seriously for a moment. Acorna was amused and pleased to see him use his beautiful dark eyes and long lashes to good advantage. Apparently it pleased Aziza, too, who shamelessly flirted back. “I should make you go with me. I’m going to go find those rocks you stole from us. If Hafiz didn’t need you, I’d make you sit on the nose of the ship with the sensor and search for the homing beacon.”
“How grateful I am not to be forced to submit to such a stern lord and master,” Aziza said. “But I—and my troupe, of course—will wait breathlessly for your return, for in reclaiming your treasures you redeem our honor.”
“Always happy to oblige,” Rafik said.
They all began strolling toward the docking bays, for which Acorna was grateful. The atmosphere in the dining alcove was becoming a bit clogged with hormonal emanations. Being a telepath was not always comfortable. Other Linyaari could send as strongly as she could under certain circumstances, and there were certainly other sentient species with some form of telepathy. Both Rafik and the women, particularly Aziza, were sending unspoken messages back and forth that were more intimate than she cared to hear. At least she felt reassured that the women were sincerely reformed and loyal employees of House Harakamian now. The regular meals, good beds, respectful treatment, and Hafiz’s rather lavish idea of what constituted bare minimum pocket money for his security officers had a lot to do with their loyalty.
Acorna felt a little wrench of pain when she hugged Rafik good-bye and he disappeared into his vessel. To her surprise, however, Aziza and Fatima each put an arm around one of her shoulders, and Layla took her hand. “Come,” Aziza said. “We three are no longer on duty. You will have tea and cakes with us in our quarters, and you will tell us all about your childhood, yes?”
Six
Former Red Bracelet and former chief security officer of the House Harakamian Moon of Opportunity, Win Smythe-Wesson was well-known to Nadhari Kando. Had she been consulted, she would have advised Hafiz Harakamian against hiring him. In her opinion, Smythe-Wesson was essentially a faithless man and a mercenary to the core. And, as he had so recently demonstrated, even when his allegiance was well paid-for, it was temporary and for the most part imaginary if pledged to any but himself and his own best interests. But Hafiz had been unable to ask Nadhari. And, unlike Hafiz, Smythe-Wesson was quite pleased with the way his recent employment had turned out.
Like other untrustworthy souls, Smythe-Wesson himself trusted no one and nothing but himself, his own cunning, and the proof he saw before his own eyes.
After escaping in the Heloise’s shuttle, he had exchanged the shuttle for a ship he had stashed on a desolate planet within range of the shuttle. The battered sphere was one of the worlds the Khleevi had destroyed. It consisted mostly of melted rock, cooled and hardened into a surface stable enough to hold the ship. What little atmosphere it had was pure poison, however, so he needed a repair suit to make the transfer from shuttle to ship.
Once away from the dead planet with a fueled and responsive ship to call his own again, he did not immediately set out to sell the catseye chrysoberyls the Akelimsin dancers had stolen for him. He had heard many claims for the powers of the stones, and he wanted to test those properties himself before he offered the stones up to the highest bidders. He also wanted to develop a capability for the stones that he had seen hinted at in some classified files. The stones, which could be so helpful as particle beam accelerators to intensify lasers for terraforming, could also be used as weapons. If he could demonstrate this use, he knew he could find buyers quite different from the ones who’d planned to buy the stones from House Harakamian. And, if he was right about what those stones could do, the sky was the limit for what he could charge for them.
But he needed somewhere to test the powers of the stones. A dead moon wouldn’t work, or an asteroid, or even one of the planets already gutted by the Khleevi. He needed to test the effect of his weapons on living things. He needed to show just how effective they could be as weapons of war.
But he wanted an area far enough from MOO that House Harakamian’s ships wouldn’t find him, and closer to Federation space than MOO and Vhiliinyar were.
And he had just the right place in mind.
His unconventional “acquisition” of his new property had been planned for several weeks—since he first learned of the stones, actually. And his careful planning was working like a charm. So far, events had gone just as he had projected.
Back in those heady days of planning, he’d spent a great deal of time finding the right target area. At last he settled on a mustard yellow planet that stank and bubbled with viscous, nasty-looking liquids, eye-watering gases, and volcanoes oozing bright orange magma. It was absolutely full of life of the primitive kind, brimming with it in each fetid breath, and blotched with it all over the bits of land that stood still long enough to let it thrive. Never in Smythe-Wesson’s life had he seen a place that so deserved to be sliced and diced.
And he had just the thing to do it. His ship was already fitted with a laser torpedo array, and it took him very little time to adapt it to accommodate one of the catseyes. Once the stone was in place, he trained the weapon on the planet’s surface and set out to excise the top of a volcano.
Unfortunately, the slice was so clean that, although he could tell he had done some damage by the small avalanches cascading from the incision, otherwise the top of the cone merely sat there on its base, just as it had pre
viously. He sliced the top vertically into smaller slices and these fell away from the mountaintop with far more satisfactory crashes than his first attack had, spilling boulders to the valleys below. The boulders were rapidly joined by magma newly released from the burning core of the planet.
That was all very well and good, but he couldn’t really consider mere rock and boulder as living substance, nor would his prospective buyers. He searched for another target and found a vast forest of strangely shaped trees, occupying the top half of the continent just below the one containing his resculpted volcano. Zooming in on them for a more detailed view, he saw that they were mustard yellow and drooping with gold-brown mossy foliage. Their trunks were lumpy, as if bulging with some sort of growths. With glorious precision he sliced away the lumps on the first trunk, one at a time. He then lopped off the branches before rendering the tree into a stack of wafer-thin slices. Ruthlessly, he excised the extending branch of the nearest tree, which fell against the sliced trunk, toppling it into a sliding pile of slightly overlapping segments.
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