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 touch 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 could 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.”
“Your humor is misplaced,” she said. “Since neither of us is an experienced pilot, a forced departure from Dulan’s Planet is not a pleasant prospect.”
“I have piloted this ship before, several times,” he replied, grinning. “So, if Tarik decides he wants us to leave orbit, you will just have to trust me, won’t you? I promise to trust you, whether you have ever acted as pilot on a large ship, or not.”
Refusing to respond to what she regarded as a deliberate provocation on his part, which was designed to lure her into revealing something more about herself, Merin did not answer. She flipped a couple of switches, reset a dial, than stood and made ready to leave the bridge.
“It’s your watch, Herne.” With that, she officially turned the ship over to him for the next eight hours.
“See that you eat something,” he called after her. “You have been starving yourself.”
Again, she did not answer. She knew he had been monitoring her food consumption, but she did not care.
She moved easily through the ship, comfortable in the confinement of its black and grey walls, secure in the knowledge that so long as Herne was on the bridge she would meet no other person. In the galley she poured a cup of hot qahf. Herne had left a tray of pastries on the counter. He had a tendency to eat sweets when something else would have been a better nutritional choice, and he assumed that others would want sweets, too. Merin thought it was an odd attitude for a physician. She would have preferred a piece of fresh fruit. Reminding herself that personal preferences were irrelevant, she picked up a piece of pastry and took it with the qahf to her cabin. It was almost time for sleep.
* * * * *
She was back in the grotto at Tathan, watching the globe of white light grow larger and more brilliant, until she could clearly see every inch of Herne’s naked body. He was a glorious creature, beautiful to her eyes, totally, excitingly male.
A wave of emotion swept through her, shaking her to the foundations of her being. Everything in her - heart, spirit, mind – yearned for him. Her body ached for his touch. Herne took a step toward her and Merin felt the air stir against her bare skin. She was without clothing. Even her coif was gone, so that her hair tumbled freely down her back.
She waited for him, her heart pounding, knowing that in another moment he would take her into his arms. His skin would touch hers. Her breasts would be scratched by the rough brown hair on his chest. His mouth would be on hers, his tongue inside her. She would be held…touched…kissed…caressed.
“No! No!” She awoke, sitting up on the bunk in her cabin aboard the Kalina, clutching a blanket to her chin. She still wore her treksuit and her coif remained firmly fastened to her head. On the shelf beside the bunk was half of the pastry and the empty qahf cup, her recorder next to the food.
She had been dreaming. It had been a terrible, a terrifying dream, but nothing more. Only a dream, and it was over. All was well. Nothing had happened. Herne had never seen her unclothed. No one had, not since the day when she had first put on garments. She understood the need to stay completely covered at all times, except for the very brief moments required for hygienic purposes. She had never failed to obey that rule. Until recently, she had always obeyed the rules.
It was her mind that had betrayed her into that forbidden dream, her thoughts and the emotions she ought not to have – could not possibly have – would not allow herself to have. Not after so many years. She had passed all the tests. She would have made a perfect Oressian had it been possible for her to remain on Oressia. Even during her years at Capitol she had never faltered for an instant. Not wanting to know about forbidden subjects, she had deliberately kept herself apart from the activities of humans while she lived in a city where access to any vice was possible so long as one had enough money and free time. Merin had never been tempted. Not once.
Only since coming to Dulan’s Planet had she begun to weaken. She was not certain whether the fault lay with the planet itself, or with the other colonists. Perhaps it had begun when Osiyar’s mind had touched hers. Or with Herne’s kisses. Herne’s kisses….
Merin lay down, pulling the blanket up to her nose and tucking it tightly around herself, to make herself feel safe. In the dream she had felt air on her skin because once a day she removed all of her clothing to bathe. She had felt her hair loose and falling down her back because, twice a day she took it down and brushed it. But she had not felt the touch of Herne’s naked flesh on hers because a dreamer could recall only the sensations that had been experienced in waking life. The trouble was, she should not have had the dream at all. That she had was a sign of how dangerously far she had fallen from Oressian discipline. Were she on Oressia, she would have been honor-bound to turn herself over to the Elders, to be exterminated for the good of society.
But here, outside Jurisdiction boundaries, on a lost planet in the Empty Sector, there was nothing to stop her from dreaming again – and again.
* * * * *
“There’s food ready for you.” Herne indicated the tray next to the science panel. “I fixed it for myself, but I couldn’t eat. No point in wasting it.”
“Thank you. Relieving you of duty.” Neatly avoiding any opportunity to touch him Merin mounted the two steps to the science officer’s seat. Herne did not leave the bridge promptly, as she had hoped he would. Instead, he stood on the deck directly behind her. She could almost feel him there. If she moved her head backward just an inch, it would rest upon his chest. Then he would surely put his arms around her. She could relax against him.
Vile, disgusting thought! Never touch again…never allow anyone to touch…. She stiffened her back, sitting rigid before the panel of blinking lights. He had to leave the bridge before she lost control of her emotions. He had to….
Herne leaned forward, his left shoulder brushing against her coif, his right hand pushing a button.
“Pay attention to what you’re doing, Merin. You might have missed that solar flare. You know we are supposed to watch and record each one, no matter how small.
“The computer will do it,” she said absently.
“Not if the flares interfere with the computer’s power, which is a distinct possibility.” He spun her chair around so quickly that she gasped in surprise. “What’s wrong with you? I can see you aren’t concentrating. The records in ship’s store indicate that you have scarcely eaten since we came aboard. Does my presence offend you so much that you lose your appetite?”
“I seldom eat much,” she said. “You didn’t eat the latest meal yourself.” She glanced toward his untouched tray.
“Look at me.” She had heard him use that voice before, when he was performing surgery and meant his orders to be instantly obeyed. She could not deny his command. Intense, worried grey eyes bored into hers. He pulled from his pocket the diagnostic rod he always carried and used it to scan her body quickly, from head to toe. “You are a bit undernourished and dehydrated, but otherwise healthy. See that you eat properly and increase your fluid intake. That’s an order.”
“Please,” she whispered, “keep your eyes lowered.”
“You said once that to an Oressian, a direct glance constitutes a challenge,” he recalled, setting one hand on each arm of her chair so she could not escape him. “A challenge to what? Physical combat? Lovemaking?”
“No.” It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep herself from giving way to total panic, and so the truth slipped out before she could stop the words she ought not to say. “Never lovemaking. Leave me alone, Herne.”
“Why do you find me so repulsive while I find you incredibly attractive?” he wondered, half to himself. When she did not answer, but sat wringing her hands in distress at how much she had revealed to him in the last few days, he added, “Can’t we at least be friends?”
“Friendship is forbidden.” That much she was permitted to say to anyone who might approach her.
“No love, no friendship. Yours is a cold world, Merin. An inhuman world. Yet you are human. I have just proved it with this diagnostic rod.” He straightened, releasing her from the prison of his closeness. He paused before leaving the bridge. “Someday, even you will know how human you are. I hope that day is soon, before you break from all the emotions you are repressing.”