“I’m
never going to find you,” he said to the picture.
Fenaday
fled the room.
He began to walk the
Sidhe’s
corridors.
The ship ran on night watch with its smallest
crew.
Torn between his desire to see
people and the need not to be seen in this state, he drifted through the
vessel.
He dropped in on some stations
pretending to be inspecting.
He didn’t
stay long or talk much.
For a vessel
that looked so big from the outside,
Sidhe
held few places to go.
He stopped in the
mess for a cup of coffee and found no one there he could talk to.
Eventually,
he ended up in the corridor outside Shasti’s cabin on C deck.
Fenaday stood there for a few minutes,
irresolute.
Then he turned away.
It’s
not fair and it’s not right,
he thought.
The
door whooshed open behind him.
He turned
to find her standing in the doorway.
She
wore a kimono-style robe, black silk pants and looked at him with no readable
expression.
“Hi,”
he said, feeling foolish.
“I was just
walking by.”
“You’ve
been there for nearly three minutes,” she stated.
“Did you think I would leave the corridor
outside my own cabin unmonitored?
That
would make me a rather poor security chief, don’t you think?”
“Come
in,” she added, when he did not respond.
“No.
No, it’s all right.” he said,
embarrassed.
“Not your problem.”
“Robert,”
she said, quietly but with force, “come in.”
He
entered the cabin, and the door sealed behind him.
They stood in the low light by the doorway,
looking at each other.
Fenaday
dropped his eyes, then sighed.
“I
think,” he said slowly, “I am going to be dead in a few hours.”
He looked up.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
Shasti
said nothing, but reached forward for him.
He tilted back his head to kiss her.
His arms wound around her body.
“No
pasts,” she said, when they separated, “no tomorrows, and no promises.
Just tonight.”
He nodded and she led him to her bed.
They lay side by side, touching.
More than two years had passed since they’d
been together.
He wanted to take his
time; it might be the last chance for any tenderness.
Shasti’s
body was as splendid as he remembered.
Night black hair cascaded to her small waist.
Her perfect symmetry kept her powerful body
from appearing over-muscled.
Nearly
seven feet of goddess and here with him.
Fenaday was glad for the low light.
He felt ape-like by comparison.
She
opened her robe, guided his hand inside, filling it with a full breast.
As his fingers slowly caressed her nipple,
she made a soft sound of pleasure.
Her
mouth came against his and their breathing quickened.
Clothes dropped to the floor and their bodies
began to move together as one.
She
drove all thoughts of the future from his mind.
He reveled in the warmth between them.
Shasti responded as if they were created only for each other.
It surprised him.
The times before were exciting, but not like
this.
Perhaps,
he thought,
it’s the
nearness of danger.
He didn’t
care.
He’d gone so long without anyone’s
touch.
They
made love several times over the next few hours.
At first tenderly, then a frantic mood seemed
to take Shasti.
She growled, even biting
a little.
Her legs clasped him with
their full strength as if she wanted to pull him into her forever.
The next time she was more careful, as if to
display her skill, her almost perfect muscular control.
She
wanted to start for a fourth.
He smiled
at her, “I’m not eighteen, you know.”
“No,”
she replied, nuzzling him.
“Not very
breakable either.”
“Good
thing,” he said fighting a yawn.
“Or
you’d have broken something on me the second time.”
“That
a complaint?” she asked idly.
He
smiled.
“God, no.
But I could use something to drink.”
Shasti
slid off him, heading for the small refrigerator in her cabin.
Just
watching her walk is an experience,
he thought.
For the first time, he noticed the room.
It had changed from its formerly Spartan look
to something surprisingly feminine.
A
katana and wakizashi sat in their traditional holders by one wall, but
draperies and indirect lighting softened the room.
At
that point he noticed an easel and, curious, slipped out of bed for a closer
look.
He saw a forested, wintry
landscape.
In the middle of it padded a
wolf, threading his way through the trees.
The animal seemed to watch him wherever he moved.
Brushes below the unfinished piece made it
unquestionably hers.
The style matched
that of the two other landscapes on the walls.
She
came up behind him, stretching an arm over his shoulder with a Bellerian fruit
drink.
“They aren’t very good,” she
said.
“Not
true,” he protested.
“They are.
I can almost feel his fur.”
“I’ve
tried to learn,” she said.
“I take lessons
when we are not on board, and there are disks for the voyages.
I realized one morning that all my training—all
my life—was about killing.
I wanted
something else, something of my own.
I
want to be more than a bio-weapon.”
He
looked up over his shoulder at her but could think of little to say.
She
moved past him and picked up a brush, seeming to study it.
“I have a question for you.”
“Ask
away.”
“I
wanted to resolve our discipline problems by eliminating Greywold.
It’s a sensible move.
Eliminate a malcontent, quell further
dissent.
I didn’t understand your
reaction.
I know you were upset.
Why?”
Fenaday
sipped his drink before replying.
“I’m
not judging you, Shasti.
You've never
told me much about your past, but I see who you are and what you do.
It tells me about a hard life.
Who am I to judge anyone anyway?
I used to be a spoiled rich kid.
I didn’t learn about want until... well you
know about that.
“Despite
everything that I’ve survived in the last few years, I’m not really tough enough
for this job.
I just can’t have a man
killed in cold blood.
This isn’t the
sort of thing I learned growing up.
I
studied how to run ships, balance trade ledgers, make a profit for the
line.
Murder’s not in me.
Maybe it should be.
In a lot of ways, you're more fit to command
Sidhe
than I am.
I guess it’s not the sort of thing I could do
and look in the mirror each morning.”
“I
still don’t understand,” she said.
Sadness underlay her words.
“I’m
almost an artificial life form, Robert.
I sometimes wonder how much of what makes a real human has been left out
of me.”
He
smiled.
“Being ordinary isn’t all it’s
cracked up to be.
I’m plenty
ordinary.
Sometimes I think it might be
great to be one of the men from your planet.
Wouldn’t you prefer a partner more in your scale?”
He stopped.
Her face had gone rigid.
“No,”
she said in a harsh whisper.
“Sorry,
I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No”
she repeated much more softly.
“No pasts
here tonight.
Not yours and, assuredly,
not mine.”
He
finished his drink quietly.
“I
feel I could sleep for a few hours now,” he said trying for lightness.
“Good,”
she replied, also trying to close the awkwardness of the moment.
“Do
you mind sharing?
I don’t think I
snore.”
Shasti
gave him a frank look.
“I want you to
stay.
I don’t want to be alone
either.
I guess I am at least that
human.”
They
slid back into the bed and lay next to each other.
Fenaday dropped into sleep almost
immediately.
Shasti,
who needed far less sleep than an ordinary human, lay awake for a while.
Memories she had never shared with anyone,
surged in her, tearing at her nerves.
Finally, she invoked mental disciplines learned long ago and banished her
past.
She altered her body chemistry and
entered REM sleep by an act of will.
Shasti
woke, her mind sharp and alert, at exactly 6 A.M. as she’d ordered her body to
awaken.
She rose out of the bed
smoothly.
Fenaday
stirred next to her.
It took him longer
to wake up and his head ached.
He had
that skittery feeling of too little sleep and too much caffeine.
Morning seemed somehow unreal.
Shasti
finished in the shower before he could get his mind together.
He smiled at her wanly.
As usual, she didn’t smile, but she seemed
well-pleased with the world.
Looking at
her he thought,
one wouldn’t think extinction
might be only a few hours away.
Fenaday
got into the shower, letting hot water beat down on his head.
He wanted to stay there forever.
The idea of taking a fighter down seemed
insane.
More than ever, he wanted to
live.
Despite everything, he wanted
desperately to live.
Shasti
pulled the curtain back.
He looked up at
her.
“Time
to go?” she asked, as if it were out to a movie.
Then he noticed her flight suit.
“Where
do you think you’re going?” he asked, turning off the shower.
“One
of the
Wildcats
is a two-seater,” she
replied.
“We’ll take that one.”
“No,
you don’t,” he said.
“There’s no reason
to for you to get killed in this.”
“Assume
we aren’t killed,” Shasti said, throwing him a towel.
“Once down on the planet, it’ll be hours
before the shuttles arrive.
Telisan is
incompetent in ground fighting, and you need me to watch your back.”
“No,”
he said, firmly.
“Has
it occurred to you,” she replied, “that arguing with me while you are stark
naked and soaked doesn’t enhance your authority?
See you on the flight deck.”
Before
he could summon a reply, she left.
He
could either run naked down the corridor after her, or have a major blowout
with her in front of everyone on the flight deck.
She had him mouse-trapped.
Fenaday
found his clothes and returned to his cabin to get into proper gear for the
flight.
A cup of Irish tea sufficed for
breakfast as he didn’t want much of anything on his nervous stomach.
Fenaday considered adding a shot of courage to
the tea, then decided against it.
Rummaging
through the weapons locker a cautious captain learned to keep in his quarters, Fenaday
chose a heavy laser pistol and a tri-auto carbine.
Then he reached for his father’s ancient
Scottish dirk.
It seemed a pitiful
weapon to take against what had devastated the planet below, but there was no
guarantee that more modern weapons would fare any better.
Perhaps, as his father had thought, there
might be luck in the ancient blade.
Fenaday
looked around the cabin, realizing he would probably not see it again.
He walked to the bedroom and looked at his
wife’s picture.
“Good bye,” he said,
silently adding a plea for forgiveness.
Then he left for the flight deck.
Shasti
stood on a ladder, making alterations to the ejection seat in the stubby matte
black
Wildcat
.
Her oversized frame meant he would have even
less leg room than usual in the small fighter.
A
sizable crowd gathered in the hanger bay.
Hangar crew prepared the fighters, which had been brought in from the
wing mech-link stations for a thorough check.
The other shuttles, large
Dakota
class transports stood ready as well.
They’d launch and assume an orbit for a later landing if disaster didn’t
overtake the fighters.
A number of the
crew gathered to watch them launch.
This
deprived Fenaday of his last chance to have a quiet battle with Shasti.
Not, he reflected, that it was likely to
work.
He walked up to her.
“You fight dirty, you know that.”