The lake glittered in ice-rimmed winter blue and the bare trees swayed in the cold wind. Dressed warmly against the chill, Tarik and Osiyar had come to the shore to greet Merin and Herne on their return to headquarters. The shuttlecraft appeared on schedule, spiraling downward to settle on the snow-dusted beach.
The main hatch opened and a woman stepped out. She wore a vivid blue heat-conserving jacket over her orange treksuit, but her head was bare. Gleaming hair the color of well-brewed qahf was coiled neatly at the back of her head, controlled except for a few stray wisps caught by the wind. She turned her head to say something to her companion, who was still inside the shuttlecraft. The sound of laughter drifted toward the watching men.
“Merin?” Tarik gaped at the smiling woman coming toward him. “Is that really you?”
Herne jumped out of the shuttlecraft and followed Merin up the beach. When he reached her side he put an arm across her shoulders. She regarded him with open affection.
“She looks different without that cursed coif, doesn’t she?” he asked with a big grin. “I convinced her to take it off and dump it into the recycling chamber.”
“One must wonder,” murmured Osiyar, “exactly how you achieved that notable end.”
“Can’t tell you.” Herne’s arm tightened around Merin. “Medical confidentiality, you know.” With that, he and Merin headed for the warmth of the building at the center of the island.
“I did say,” Tarik remarked, watching them, “that they wouldn’t mind a few extra days alone together.”
“It is as I had hoped,” Osiyar mused, also looking after the lovers. “I was not wrong about Merin. She knows, though she has forgotten what she knows. It is enough. She will find her way, and so will Herne find his.”
“I won’t pretend to understand what that means.” Tarik began to walk toward the headquarters building, toward Home. Osiyar went with him, Jurisdiction officer and telepath together, friends in spite of the cultural and psychical gulf that should have separated them. Tarik spoke again. “There are more things in heaven and earth than we can know.”
“If Narisa could hear you,” said Osiyar, “she would doubtless warn you about misquoting poetry.”
Tarik’s only answer was a wicked chuckle.
* * * * *
“I thought you would be interested to learn,” Narisa told Merin, “that Tarik and I have finished cleaning and analyzing the recorder you found at Tathan.” She gave a copy of the report to Merin, who shook her head in disbelief as she read it.
“What’s wrong?” asked Herne.
“I held both recorders at the same time, one in each hand while we were in Tathan. I know the numbers match,” Merin said, “but there must be some mistake. The laws of physics –”
“We have talked about the peculiar effects of the Empty Sector before,” Tarik said, joining them. “Where is your recorder, Merin?”
“I took it with me to the Kalina in case I should need it.” She spoke slowly, going over in her mind the last seven days aboard the spaceship. “I put it in my cabin, on the shelf by my bed. I saw it there every day, until three days ago. It seemed to me I had taken it with my other gear when we went to the shuttlecraft to leave. But we didn’t leave, we stayed on, and I haven’t seen it since. I looked everywhere for it. It’s lost.”
“Why would you pack and go to the shuttlecraft when you knew you would have to remain aboard for several more days?” Tarik asked.
“We didn’t pack,” Herne put in. “We just continued with our alternate watches, as you wanted us to do.”
“Then why does Merin remember packing to leave?” Tarik’s dark blue eyes searched her face.
Merin rubbed at her forehead, trying to better focus her thoughts. Her memory was oddly indistinct about the hours in question.
“Perhaps I was thinking about the last time I served on the Kalina, with Suria,” she said.
“Perhaps.” Tarik looked unconvinced.
“May I see the recorder?” Merin asked.
“Of course. It is yours.” Tarik nodded to Narisa, who hurried to the storeroom, returning at once with the instrument. It had been cleaned of centuries of encrusted dirt, so it looked old and well-used, but still serviceable.
“It will work now, but too poorly for daily use,” said Narisa. “We tried to obtain any information that might have been stored in it, but nothing made any sense, except for a couple of sentences about bolts of lightning.”
“That means nothing to me,” said Merin. “I don’t remember recording anything about lightning. Did you check the data I put into the main computer?”
“We found nothing that matched the phrases on the recorder,” Narisa said.
“I’ll issue a new recorder to you.” Tarik took back the old one. He held it for a moment, weighing it. Then he looked from Merin and Herne to Narisa. “This represents a mystery we may never solve. Tantalizing, isn’t it?” He gave the recorder back to his wife.
“Where is the book with Dulan’s notes?” Merin asked suddenly. “I want to read it again. I would also like to review the historical tapes the telepaths left here. And Tarik, when you make your next archeological trip to Tathan, I want to go with you. Herne?”
“Yes,” said Herne, “I’ll go too.”
“I see,” said Tarik, winking at Narisa. “Will that be as colleagues, or as husband and wife?”
“As both, if you will be good enough to marry us,” Herne answered. He turned to Merin, taking her in his arms. She made no resistance at all, but went to him with complete trust and love. “Our hearts have found a way through all the differences and the rigid laws that once separated us.”
“’Our hearts have found a way,’” Merin repeated, frowning a little. “I have heard something like that before. I wonder where?”
“Does it matter, so long as we are together?” Herne gazed into her eyes and made his pledge. “Wherever you go, I will go, too, until time ends. And for me, through all of time, there will be no other love.”