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Эта книга написана Сьюзан Сайзмор, на английском
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AUTHOR:
TITLE: [Romance] Sizemore, Susan Walking On The Moon
CODEPAGE: 1251
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WalkingontheMoon
Walking on the Moon
By
Susan Sizemore
Chapter One
"I’m hungry."
Shift Officer Denys Duchamp tried not to listen as he walked past
the men surrounding the information station; he’d heard the
complaint
too many times in the last month. The crew wasn’t hungry, not for
nutrition at least. It was lack of variety, lack of interest, lack
of
female companionship sublimated into food cravings. Or so the
medicomputer assured him. A third of the crew had been drafted
onto
military vessels, leaving the men of the mining ship HATTON
overworked
as well as bored. Boredom was starting to breed a sort of restless
discontent the captain didn’t want to hear about. Denys didn’t
much like
hearing about it, either, but he was the one who had to deal with
it.
He took the food tray from the serving niche and carried it to the
nearest table. He was careful not to look at or smell the glop on
the
tray as he wolfed it down. It was tasteless; it was good for him.
"I’m hungry," he complained under his breath after he was done.
It was an emotional not a physical lack. The words were a mantra
he repeated frequently with every tasteless meal. He liked to
think of
it as a sort of salt substitute. He sighed, and joined the rest of
the
men of Second Shift in watching the newscreens.
While the First Shift bridge crew was responsible for monitoring
the planet they orbited’s information networks for any sign of
detection, everybody else on the ship was spending their free time
glued
to old Earth broadcasts for entertainment. There was nothing
better to
do. Besides, it was educational; what they were watching was like
viewing living history. Except for the reruns of M*A*S*H, which
they’d
all grown up with anyway.
Denys slid into one of the seats placed in a semi-circle around
the bank of nine screens. Every one of them showed a different
channel.
The big main screen featured a bland-faced commentator on CNN.
Cartoons,
sports, a film with lots of explosions, music videos, a cooking
show, a
talk show and a weather channel filled the other screens.
Predictably,
the sound was turned on for the cooking show.
Denys decided to try for a bit of conversation with his men. "We
been spotted yet?"
"No," six voices answered. No ones eyes left the video screen,
which showed someone’s sure hands enthusiastically chopping
onions.
"Good," he answered. "The Stealth field’s working." He rubbed his
jaw thoughtfully. He felt like he was talking to himself. "You’d
think
somebody’d notice something. The HATTON’s over a mile long. I’ll
be glad
when we make the supply run and get out of here."
No one offered an opinion. Cleary made a shushing gesture in his
direction.
"Chili," said Harcort wistfully. "I haven’t had chili since..."
"Hotter ’n hell," Sakretis said. "That’s what she told the
interviewer."
"I’d love to meet her," Cleary added. "She’s gorgeous, and she can
cook. I’m in love."
"Who’s gorgeous?" Denys asked, completely puzzled by his men’s
comments.
"Claudia Cameron," Toffler said reverently. He pointed toward the
screen. "Her name’s Claudia. We’ve watched this tape for three
days.
Over and over and over." He sighed heavily.
"That’s her," Morrison said as the sight of sizzling onions was
replaced by the face of a dark-haired young woman.
"Beautiful," Cleary intoned.
"It’s been a long time since you’ve seen a woman, hasn’t it?" Fox
asked Cleary sarcastically. "She’s not that beautiful. But she
makes
prize-winning chili," he added fondly.
She was very attractive, Denys decided, in an average,
brown-haired, blue-
eyed, button-nosed sort of way. It was kind of interesting,
how the pink sweater she wore clung to all the right proportion of
curves. A very nice double handful of curves. He felt his body
heating
up as he stared at the woman on the flat view screen. How long has
it
been since I’ve seen a woman? he wondered, blinking rapidly to try
to
break the spell. Only a few weeks, he reminded himself. Get a
grip,
Duchamp. Set an example for your men, and all that.
She was still stimulating senses when he focused his attention on
her again, but this time it was his tastebuds that took notice.
"Chili’s about the perfect food," she said to the unseen
interviewer. "Deep red and brown and fragrant with all the heat
and
spice of the desert at high noon. I serve it with cornbread and
cheddar
wedges, and tart apples dipped in a caramel sauce."
Denys wiped the back of his hand across his watering mouth. He
agreed with Cleary; he was in love.
"It sounds like it’s worth every penny of your ten thousand dollar
cooking prize," the interviewer’s voice commented cheerily. "And
how are
you going to spend your prize money? Start a three star restaurant
in
Bradden Falls?"
"Oh, no. I’m going on a long, luxurious vacation."
"Someplace romantic?"
The cook smiled, it held a hint of mystery, a touch of
wistfulness, and a lot of sardonic amusement. "Who knows?"
That smile, and the touch of sultriness in her voice, had the
impact of a nova bomb on Deny’s tired brain. His breath caught in
his
throat. It wasn’t just his tastebuds reacting, but his whole body
warmed
in the glow of her smile. Of her taped and frequently re-run
smile, he
forced himself to recall. The woman might have a strong
personality, but
it was canned, she was on a video that had probably been taped
weeks
ago, it wasn’t like he was ever going to experience that smile or
voice
in any live-action, interactive sort of way. Which was a pity,
really.
Denys gave his head a hard shake. "I’m definitely going stir
crazy."
"You’re just hungry," Cleary sympathized.
Before he could answer, the ship’s comm sounded, "Second Shift to
the hangar bay," the captain’s voice said. "The shipment is in,
gentlemen. We can pick it up and blow orbit as soon as you lads
get
back."
Sakretis jumped to his feet first. "We’re about to touch the Earth
of our ancestors," he declared. Sakretis was the poetic sort.
"Greece.
My great-grandparents left Greece in the 21st Century. I’m
returning
to the home of my people." He rubbed his stubbly jaw as Denys
herded
them to the door. "I wonder if there’s anywhere good to eat?"
Everyone in the crew perked up at the question.
"Food." Cleary breathed reverently. "Hey, Duchamp, can we stop
somewhere to eat Earthside?"
Denys didn’t like the idea of interaction with the
planet natives, there was too much at stake for the crew of the
HATTON
to risk contaminating their own history, but he also figured he
might
have a mutiny on his hands if he didn’t let the men have at least
a
quick meal. There was morale to consider, here.
"Affirmative," he answered, hoping it wasn’t a mistake.
A cheer went up and everyone’s pace quickened as they hurried to
the catch the slidecar for the hangar deck.
"Ouzo," Sakretis said to the group as they climbed aboard the
slidecar. "My great-grandpa told me about ouzo."
##
Greece was everything Claudia expected, almost. The sun was
bright, the sea sparkled by day, and at sunset the water truly was
wine
dark. The scenery was starkly beautiful; ancient and full of
mystery.
Olive groves glowed dull silver-green in the heat haze and
the air smelled of verbena.
And exhaust fumes, she remembered as she strolled down the dusty
street of the little seaside town, a big carry-all purse tucked
under
her arm. She’d pulled off the winding mountain road onto a side
track
after following an ancient, wheezing bus for most of the morning.
She
coughed and swore a great deal as she followed the side road until
she
reached the little town her guide book said was Doros.
It was supposed to be a bustling sea port. If this was bustling,
she’d hate to see what the book would describe as a sleepy little
hamlet. She’d parked her rented car outside the town’s small hotel
and
walked down an empty main street to the harbor. Bustling was
apparently
defined by the presence of some fishing boats and one small
freighter tied up at an ancient stone quay. A large truck was
parked
alongside the ship. A very large truck, about the size of three
tractor
trailers. The sun glinted off its smooth, unmarked sides in an
almost
otherworldly way.
Funny looking truck, she thought. Sort of futuristic. She had
never seen anything so sleek and silver in the States. It was sort
of
like a space shuttle without the wings. Only much bigger. She’d
seen a
space shuttle landing on a visit to Edwards Air Force Base and
this
thing could easily hold the shuttle in its cargo bay. She didn’t
know
how it managed to maneuver on narrow European roads, but it must
handle
just fine or it wouldn’t have made it as far as the ancient dock.
"Must have one hell of a driver," she mused, then turned away to
enjoy the sights. "Wonder what kind of mileage it gets?"
There was a tang of salt and drying fishing nets in the air.
Claudia tilted her face up to the warm Mediterranean sun for a few
moments, then scrambled down a short slope to the harbor’s rocky
beach.
There was no one in sight, not a fishing boat in the distance or
any
kids playing on the shingle. Nothing. It was spooky. She told
herself
that she liked being alone, she really did. It was just that she
wasn’t
used to it.
She had a big family back home in Iowa. Everyone in the small
college town knew her, and she played mother and confidant to the
college kids who worked for her. She was hardly ever alone, which
was
one of the reasons she’d decided that a month or two on her own in
a
place she’d always dreamed of seeing would do her a world of good.
Only,
she admitted to herself, that seeing Greece with Mr. Right would
be ever
so much better. She’d had a firm image of what Mr. Right would be
like
ever since she was a kid and she’d read a lot of Mary Stewart
mysteries
set in Greece. Maybe she’d secretly hoped she’d come to Greece and
Her
Destiny would walk out of a novel and into her life. She
daydreamed of
sharing a moonlight rendezvous with destiny on the shores of a
wine dark
sea as she walked through Doros. Destiny would be about six foot,
blond,
and have a British accent, of course. Well, it never hurt to
dream. In
the meantime, she’d enjoy the scenery.
She’d already figured out that Doros wasn’t the most bustling
metropolis in Greece despite the glowing words of the guide book.
So far
the only activity she’d seen had been from a group of half a dozen
sailors getting happily drunk at the outdoor cafe she’d passed,
and a
lot of sea gulls occupying the quay. She hadn’t seen anyone else,
and
that didn’t seem right. Maybe it was siesta time, she guessed, or
whatever the Greek word was for it. The natives probably knew
enough
to stay out of the midday sun.
I feel like I’m the only person in the world, she thought, as she
walked the quiet stretch of beach. Except for him, she added
ruefully as
she came around a tall boulder and noticed the slender,
fair-haired man
a few feet ahead of her. He gazed out to sea with narrow-eyed
intensity.
His hair was windblown, his complexion pink from exposure to the
sun,
and he was totally oblivious to her presence.
It’s him! she thought, stopping in her tracks to stare, her heart
pounding hard in her chest. Destiny. Mr. Right in need of
sunblock.
She was thinking with her imagination, her heart and her hormones,
not wanting her logical brain to start making sense. Still, she
knew,
deep in her bones, that this was the man she came to Greece
to meet. She knew, with unreasonable certainty, that he was the
one
whose mysterious call had brought her from half a world away.
Romance.
Adventure. Velvet nights in far away lands... or something like
that.
Which was all nonsense, of course. But as long as he wasn’t
looking, she could pretend in destined love accompanied by soft
music.
Eric Clapton Unplugged would do nicely, she thought.
She smiled. It was a soft, gooey smile; she could feel it
spreading itself across her face as a warm glow started much
farther
down her anatomy. She couldn’t help it. He was just so handsome.
And he
was here....
Probably waiting for his wife...
Even as this cooling thought washed over her Claudia couldn’t stop
staring. She couldn’t help moving closer. She couldn’t help
looking at
him. Her view was of a sharp-edged profile: sharp chin, sharp
nose,
sharp cheekbones, sharply tilted eyebrows, sharply intelligent,
bright
blue eyes beneath long fair lashes. Faded jeans and a
tight-fitting
knit shirt emphasized his tall, wiry frame. He was about the
handsomest
man she’d ever seen. And so strangely familiar.
No. Not strange at all. I’ve been waiting for him all my....
Which was ridiculous, since she’d never seen him before in her
life. Though he did sort of look like Sting when he still had
hair, she
decided. Maybe he was Apollo --though you’d think Apollo’d be a
little
more beefy... sort of the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger and the
face of,
well, Sting. Did sun gods wear old jeans, and very nicely too?
Greek gods generally hung out in the nude, as she recalled,
chasing
hysterical dryads and nymphs who seemed to prefer getting turned
into
trees or mud puddles than fooling around with gorgeous nude gods
for
some reason Claudia had never been able to figure out. Ancient
Greek
women’s lib, maybe. Which meant that the women of ancient Greece
were
more sensible than she was at the moment. She knew very well that
romance was just fine and dandy in theory, but the reality was far
too
emotionally messy to deal with. So, dream on, girl, she told
herself.
It’s okay to look, but the best thing to do is leave the man
alone.
She took a mental deep breath and started to turn away just as the
man looked at her. Since it was too late to escape without being
rude,
she gazed squarely into his ice blue eyes, and said, "Hello. Sorry
if
I’m disturbing you."
The man turned pale beneath his light sunburn and looked like he
was going to faint when she spoke to him. "Wh- what -- "
"I didn’t mean to startle you," she added in a determinedly
pleasant voice.
It’s her! Denys realized as she spoke.
It’s the chili woman. In the flesh. On the beach. Standing in
front of him. This wasn’t possible. What happened to her pink
sweater?
No, that was the tape and that thin gauze blouse she’s wearing is
very
nice, too. Very clinging. She has such lovely, round....
He’d been minding his own business, and marveling at the HATTON’s
computer’s ability to order supplies by tapping into twentieth
century
computer networks. He’d also been watching the waves and being
homesick
when he’d noticed someone standing next to him. He’d assumed it
was
Cleary or someone else from the crew, come to announce their meal
was at
an end. Then he’d turned to find a beautiful woman staring at him
and
his reason had fled for a moment. It kept wanting to flee
again*STILL
HADN’T RETURNED? and urged him to take advantage of the
opportunity of
meeting a beautiful woman on a romantic beach.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded of the apparition. She
jumped back a good three feet at his harsh, near-shout. She looked
like
she was going to turn and run. He stepped quickly after her. "I’m
sorry.
I didn’t mean to startle you."
He had a British accent. Claudia took a step back toward him. She
couldn’t help it. A British accent on a Greek beach, he was like a
hero
in a Mary Stewart novel. Like the man of her dreams. He reached
out a
hand to steady her, and the contact of his fingers on the flesh of
her
upper arm sent a buzz of heat through her. She wasn’t sure which
of them
stepped back first.
She did catch her breath first. "I’m Claudia Cameron," she said,
voice not particularly steady. "American tourist."
He smiled, it lit his severely handsome face like a searchlight.
Are you married? she thought. Would you like to be?
"Denys Duchamp," he replied.
"Sounds French."
"I am French. My ancestry’s French."
"But with a British accent. Sort of like Captain Picard on Star
Trek." I sound like a complete idiot, she added to herself while
she
tried unsuccessfully to get her mind off the way his brief touch
still
had her tingling from head to foot. Maybe it wasn’t just his
touch,
but the added jolt she’d gotten from his smile.
Denys heard her speak, but his mind was momentarily disconnected
from his body as it absorbed the impact from just the sight of
her. Her
skin was so soft, with an almost golden glow in the bright light.
The
sunlight also brought out deep red highlights in her dark brown
hair. He
wanted to touch her hair, run his fingers through it. He wanted to
step closer to
her, to see if the glow from her skin would
warm him the way he knew it would. Even from a distance of a
couple of
feet -Then
Denys’s mind finally kicked back into working mode and he
caught the reference to what she’d said about spacemen with French
names
and English accents. He’d been watching a lot of old television
lately.
He almost let out a hysterical laugh. "Something like that. I’m...
Canadian," he
added, as he
remembered the forged papers he’d signed when they’d taken
possession of
the freighter’s cargo. The equipment they’d purchased was
supposedly
heading for Canada, wherever that was.
"Ah, that explains it." Not that the man’s accent needed
explanation. What was the matter with your her tongue? Why was it
mouthing such nonsense? Wasn’t she supposed to be a sophisticated
ex-
college professor turned businesswoman? Didn’t she know dream
men didn’t exist? Even if he was standing right in front of her,
big as
life and twice as gorgeous. "I’m here on vacation," she told him.
"I’m here on business," he answered. His gaze strayed past her,
looking up toward the quay. "We’re leaving any minute now."
She hoped her disappointment didn’t show. She’d been hoping he’d
be staying at the hotel. Hoping he was free for a moonlit walk,
dinner,
dancing, fathering her children. Goodness, but her mind was
leaping
about in an uncontrolled frenzy all of a sudden.
She cleared her throat. She tried not to feel disappointed; she
tried to ignore her instant, overwhelming, ridiculous, attraction
to
Denys Duchamp. She tried to make commonplace conversation. "Is
that your
truck? What make is it? I’ve never seen anything like it before."
The implication of her comments hit Denys like a hammer. Wait a
minute, wasn’t this attractive, distracting, charming woman
supposed to
be asleep? Where had she come from? They had put a wide beam sleep
ray
on the whole village. Were people waking up? He realized he’d
better
stop thinking about Claudia Cameron and get the crew and get out
of
here.
"Yes," he answered, surprised at how calm he sounded. Years of
dealing with the captain, he supposed. "It’s my truck. Did you
just get
to Doros?"
"Yes. I drove in a few minutes ago. Sleepy little place, isn’t
it?"
"It better be. Excuse me, I have to go."
He sketched her a quick bow and ran up the beach.
He would have liked to have spent a few weeks taking long walks,
watching sunsets, and fooling around on the beach and in every
other
lovely spot in the village with her, but this was not a vacation.
Duty
came first. He had to round up Second Shift and get out of here
before
everyone woke up and witnessed a UFO taking off from their harbor.
Claudia stared wistfully after the running man. His long, powerful
legs moving effortlessly across the hard-packed sand were a joy to
watch. He had a beautiful, athlete’s body. Everything else about
him was
totally confusing.
Why’d he take off like that? Why’d he bow? Maybe Canadians were
more formal than she thought. She shrugged. Maybe this was a
dream. Or
one of them was crazy. Better for her, really, that he was in a
hurry to
leave, even if his absence left an immediate lonely spot in her
being.
How odd, she thought, and how silly.
She decided she was just hungry as he disappeared from sight. A
picnic would be nice, she thought. She would not think about how
much
nicer a picnic might have been if Denys Duchamp had accompanied
her on
it. She thought she’d seen a food store on her way into town. She
would
buy some groceries then come back to the beach. Maybe bring along
a
bottle of wine and toast the beauty of the day and the memory of
having
met her notion of a hero, even if only for a few confusing
minutes.
Too bad Mr. Duchamp didn’t hang around long enough to find out
what a great cook I am, she mused as she followed his footsteps
back
toward Doros. The French, and she assumed this applied to French
Canadians as well, were supposed to appreciate good cooking.
##
"You mean it’s alcoholic?" Morrison asked in shock, and slid under
the checkered tablecloth. "Ouzo is liquor?"
They’d been passing the ouzo bottles to slake their thirst for
nearly an hour. Hand loading a cargo hauler was mighty thirsty
work.
"Tastes like licorice-flavored tar," Cleary contributed, voice
slurred. He held up his half-full bottle. "I like it."
"I’ve never had real alcohol before," Fox said. "You know, this
planet looks funny." He squinted, peering into the distance. The
flat-
roofed houses, the big pots of red flowers bordering the perimeter
of
the outdoor cafe where they sat, the boats in the harbor below all
wavered hazily in and out of focus.
"Are we drunk?" Toffler questioned.
"Not like a happy pill," Harcort contributed.
Sakretis smiled benignly. "No, it isn’t. These ancestors of mine
have a good thing here." He poked a fragrant mound on his plate.
"This
grape leaf stuff is good, too. But it’s not chili," he added
wistfully.
"I could really go for a bowl of chili."
"Me too," several voices chimed in.
It took him a couple of tries, but Morrison managed to pull
himself out from under the table. "Where’s Duchamp? My legs are
all
funny."
"Took a walk by the water," Fox said. "New Sydney’s a water world.
He’s homesick. I like the desert. Heat." He licked his lips.
"Chili."
"I’ve got an idea." Cleary declared, climbing unsteadily to his
feet. "Let’s go grocery shopping while everybody’s still asleep.
Sleepray’s a wonderful thing," he added. "While everyone’s asleep
we can
raid the commissary we saw up the street. Take back some real
food."
"Duchamp won’t like that," Harcort said.
"Don’t have to tell him," Fox contributed.
"We got an empty storage chest on the shuttle," Morrison added
encouragingly.
"Let’s do it," Sakretis assented.
"Yeah," Toffler chimed in, then gulped down the rest of the bottle
of ouzo.
They wobbled to their feet and trooped drunkenly a few doors up
the street. All was quiet and dark inside the little store. They
found
baskets and began filling them with anything on the shelves that
looked
like it might be food. Not that the crew’s vision or judgment was
any
too clear by this time.
They laughed and joked and made two trips to the shuttle and were
back for a third when the door opened behind them. Cans and bags
crashed
noisily to the floor as three of the drunken crewmen went for
their
sleeprays while the others began to speak all at once.
"Duchamp!"
"We’ll put it back!"
"We’ll leave cash for the supplies!"
"That’s not Duchamp!" Fox declared.
Long seconds went by as they came to realize there was a startled
woman standing in the shaft of sunlight by the open door.
She was a vision.
The answer to a hungry, drunken man’s dreams.
Six desperate men suddenly believed there was indeed justice in
the universe.
"It’s her!"
"Claudia!"
"Chili!"
"Get her!" Cleary shouted.
Three sleeprays fired as one.
Chapter Two
"Where have you been?" Denys demanded as he climbed into the
shuttle from the storage bay’s rear entrance.
He’d looked all over the small village for his shift crew before
giving up and heading back to use the ship’s recall signal. The
last
place he’d expected to find the crewmen was where they were
supposed to
be.
Three of them sat down hastily on a storage chest as he entered.
The other three started guiltily as he came toward them. Cleary
gave him
an innocent grin. The one he always gave when he was up to
something.
Fox began tunelessly whistling. They all smelled of alcohol.
Hmmm. Denys rubbed his chin as he tried to decide whether or not
to find out what they’d just stowed in the chest. It’s food, he
decided.
It’s what he would have pilfered if his Shift Officer had left him
on
his own long enough.
Should he confiscate it? Did they have time? There was a wide
awake woman running around Doros. She’d probably noticed a few
sleeping
citizens by now. Why hadn’t he thought to put her under? It
wouldn’t
have hurt her. He felt a pang of guilt for something he hadn’t
even done
to Claudia Cameron. It would have just put her to sleep -- but it
would
have seemed too much like hurting her, or cheating her. Never mind
Claudia Cameron. Think of duty. It’s better to just get out of
here, he
decided. Away from Claudia. He’d already had too many thoughts
about the
woman from the cooking show, even before he met her. Having met
her, all
he could do was flee the scene before he had an urge to grab her
and
bring her back to the ship to warm his nights with something more
than
her spicy cooking.
To keep from thinking about that improper fantasy<,> he looked
sternly at his men. "You better have paid for whatever you took,"
he
told the crew.
Several of them turned various shades of red. There were several
nods. Fox’s eyes closed, and he quietly passed out. The
men had either not done the required research about twentieth
century
Earth, or they had and had decided to try out some of the
available
stimulants. Duchamp sighed. Good thing he was the designated
driver.
"Let’s get these supplies to the HATTON. Strap in."
"Yes, sir!" five voices declared enthusiastically. Fox began
gently to snore as he was carried into the passenger compartment
by
Harcort and Sakretis. Denys followed after them, thinking how glad
he’d
be to get this mission over and get back home to the twenty second
century.
##
"Your load is two hundred pounds on the heavy side," Deck Officer
Smid told Denys as he stepped onto the hangar bay deck.
He’d seen Smid waiting for him as he opened the hatchway. Smid had
his beloved databoard clutched in his arms and the usual severe
expression on his rabbity face. The hangar bay was bustling with
activity as robot scooters hurried forward to unload the shuttle.
His drunken crew staggered out the hatch behind him. Denys ignored
Smid for the moment. "Head to Medical for some rays," he ordered
the
men.
There were nods and "Yes, sirs," and they lumbered off. Cleary
started singing.
Denys sighed, and turned his attention to the Deck Officer. "They
tried a local beverage," he explained.
Smid was glancing at the readings on his databoard. Smid rarely
took note of human activity. "Never mind the Shift crew," he said.
"What
about that extra weight?"
Probably the food, Denys thought. To Smid he explained, "The
electronic and computer parts we picked up aren’t as sophisticated
as
ours. Our weight guesses were only approximate."
"This is higher than the final estimate. The Book states -- "
"Captain Andrews give you a peek at the Book, did he?" Denys
interrupted.
"No, of course not."
Smid did not recognize sarcasm. He did, however, recognize the
authority of The Book. The Book --the HATTON’s secret orders --
was a
two hundred year old document. It had been in a sealed vault at
Government Prime for most of those two hundred years. Those sealed
orders had had EYES ONLY status printed on the locked cover for
Captain
Charles Andrews since long before he was born. No one but he knew
what
was in the Book. And Captain Andrews wasn’t likely to share any
more
knowledge than was necessary to his lowly crewmembers.
"Our job was to pick up spare parts we can adapt for a mining
operation," Denys reminded the Deck Officer. "We did our job. Now
it’s
time to get on with the mission." Denys planted his hands on his
hips
and demanded, "You want me to take it all back because it’s a few
pounds
overweight?" And miss the chance at my first decent meal in weeks?
No
way, Smid. "Or do I let Captain Andrews know you’re holding up our
leaving Earth for Phobos?"
Mentioning the Captain’s name had the desired effect. Smid’s nose
twitched when he was perturbed. It twitched now. No one wanted to
deal
with Charles the Terrible if they could help it.
"No need to get drastic, Duchamp," Smid said hastily. He scratched
an ear, then tapped a finger on the edge of his databoard. "But I
want
an inventory done immediately. I want this discrepancy explained."
"Fine," Denys agreed. "I’ll supervise the inventory myself. No
problem." Anything to soothe Smid’s little bureaucrat’s mind.
Denys was
sure they’d find some way to fudge the data; Cleary was an expert
at
that sort of thing. "Meanwhile," he said as the loaded scooters
whizzed
past them toward the cargo bay, "I want to let the bridge know
we’re
clear to leave, then get back in uniform."
He didn’t wait for Smid’s reply before heading toward the hangar’s
comm board. He was in a hurry.
So was Captain Andrews. Within two minutes of Denys relaying the
news of the shuttle’s safe unloading, the HATTON was on its way to
the
other side of the solar system, headed for Mars.
##
Kalamata olives. The last thing she remembered was staring at a
big glass jar of kalamata olives. On a shelf. Just inside a
doorway. Of a dim room.
She’d blinked, waited for her eyes to adjust to the difference in
light. Loud,
slurred voices came out of the dimness. There was a burst of light
behind her eyes. Darkness. Dreams of flying.
Claudia was pretty sure she was awake now, but she was still in
darkness. In a small, enclosed space. It felt like she was lying
on the
jar of olives. She felt like she had a Band-Aid strapped across
the
space between her lips and nose.
Where was she? What was going on here?
She tried pushing on the sides of the box, on the top. The
darkness pressed in on her. She yelled. There wasn’t enough room
to sit
up. She was surrounded by jars and cans and cardboard and plastic
containers. She could feel the papery smoothness of onions, smell
the
sharp tang of lemons. It was like she’d been packed away in a
cupboard
with a lot of groceries.
"Light? I remember the light. I went into the light? Like I’ve
read happens when you die?" she questioned in a confused mumble.
"Don’t
tell me I died and the friend waiting to greet me on the other
side was
a bag of onions! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!"
I am not dead. This was too ridiculous to be the afterlife.
Afterdeath? "No. I’m alive and doing fine. I just don’t know where
I am.
I was in Greece. In a grocery store. So I’m probably in a food
locker in
a Greek grocery store. Which doesn’t make as much sense as being
dead,
but is slightly more cheering to contemplate. Why am I in a Greek
food
locker? What’s the strategy behind my being here?"
Only one use for locking up American tourists came immediately to
mind. She sat up, hitting her head sharply on the top of the box.
"Help!" Claudia screamed into the fragrant darkness. She began
banging on the walls of her tiny prison with fists and feet.
"Help!" she
shouted, hoping someone would hear. "Help! I’ve been taken hostage
by
crazed terrorists!"
##
Denys rushed to get to the cargo bay before his shift crew. He
wanted to know what they’d brought aboard before they hid it away
from
him. He hadn’t counted on Smid’s interference when he’d turned a
blind
eye to bringing supplies on board. He should have. He shouldn’t
have let
his stomach overrule his reason. What if the contraband was full
of
disease-laden bacteria that would poison them all?
What if Smid caught them? And told the captain.
He didn’t know what the Captain would do if Smid reported any
deviation from the Book’s directives.
Deviation from the Book’s directives.
Dire words. Everyone knew any deviation from the Book was a
capital offense. Everything depended on their bringing back the
metaform. It was the edge they needed to defeat the Sirens. He
should
never have let this happen. How was he going to straighten out
this
mess?
Maybe he should find the storage container and flush it out the
waste disposer.
Good idea, he decided as he grabbed a databoard from the computer
station by the bay door. He ordered the lights up and took a quick
glance at the location map on the databoard’s liquid crystal
screen.
"I’m looking for cargo box DM-55," he told the cargo computer. An
orange
light quickly appeared on the map. He checked the grid location.
The box
he wanted was located in the farthest corner of the stadium-sized
hold. "Thanks," he muttered, and started down the long rows of
storage
aisles.
DM-55 was a seven foot long, three foot square
steel-gray box. It sat in a long stack of over one hundred other
identical steel-gray boxes. Second box, second row, about waist
level on
Denys. He approached it with anxious curiosity and quick,
determined
strides... until he heard the muffled banging and wailing.
He halted in surprise when he first heard the noise, frozen in his
tracks, thoughts slammed into incoherence. What the... who...
how... why... those
idiots! Those fools! Those, those drunken...!
"What have they done!"
A pitiful, frightened wail issued from Box DM-55, the sound dulled
by distance and the thick metal walls of the tiny prison. "Please
help
me! I -- I can’t breathe."
"Oh my God!" Denys sprang forward. He pulled the box out of its
crib and pressed the release in three quick moves. The lid slid
back on
a great, gulping gasp of air from the person trapped inside. "It’s
the
chili woman!" he exclaimed as he pulled her up and out of the box.
She crumpled onto the deck, gasping and panting, as her blue-
tinged skin quickly turned back to healthy tan. The breather strip
someone had been thoughtful enough to tape under her nose stayed
bright
blue, indicating she’d been on her last minute of oxygen. He’d
arrived
literally in the nick of time.
"What are you doing here?" he heard himself demanding for the
second time today. Then he knelt beside her, concern overcoming
annoyance. He tried to take her in his arms as he hastily added,
"I’m
sorry. I’m sure this isn’t your fault. But lady, we are in deep
trouble."
Claudia scooted backwards as the terrorist grabbed for her. The
light hurt her eyes, her head was pounding, her cramped muscles
were
screaming and she was so dizzy she could barely see. Her ears were
ringing loudly. She had to get away from the man. What was he
babbling
about? What did he want with her?
"What do you want with me?" Her voice was a rasping croak. She was
hysterical. She knew she was hysterical and being hysterical
wasn’t
going to help. She didn’t care at the moment. She wasn’t just
hysterical, she was terrified and furious.
"I don’t want anything with you!" Then Denys remembered that
He. d actually thought about bringing her on board? and why he. d
wanted to be
with her, and blushed deeply. "Really. Not me. I wouldn’t really
-- I’m not that
sort of -- Never mind."
Claudia paid no attention to the man’s words as she frantically
looked for a
way to escape. They were in a wide aisle surrounded by tall
shelves of metal
boxes. Metal boxes just like the one she’d been trapped in. The
aisle looked like it
stretched on for miles. The floor was metal, the ceiling high over
their heads was
also metal, crisscrossed by long strips of lighting tubes. The air
felt
and smelled subtly wrong. Were they on a ship? The freighter she’d
seen
tied at the Doros wharf?
"This isn’t Doros. Where am I? How long was I out? What are you
going to do with me? Where are you taking me? What do you want
with all
that goat cheese? Who are you?"
"Denys Duchamp. We’ve met. Remember?" His light, British-accented
voice was low, the tone attempting to be calm and soothing.
She was quivering with fear. She remembered him now. Her dream
man. She should have known that dreams had ways of turning into
nightmares. She worked hard to turn terror into indignation. If
she
could bury the panic, she could cope. She had to cope calmly and
reasonably with this man, no matter how vicious he might turn out
to be.
"Under false pretenses. I thought you were exciting and
adventurous. I
didn’t know you were a terrorist!"
"A terrorist? Me?" His outraged expression was almost funny. "No!
I can explain everything -- almost everything. No I can’t. Listen,
no
one is going to harm you. There’s been an accident. A mistake.
There’s
nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be -- Goat cheese?"
She pointed at the hated box. "It’s full of goat cheese. And
onions and olives and and... me!" She began to cry.
Denys wished he hadn’t left his sleepray sitting on the recycler
on top of his civilian clothes. Until Claudia started crying. He
couldn’t stun a crying woman. Especially one who looked like she
hated
the idea of being reduced to helpless tears. Being trapped in that
box
had been bad enough, he couldn’t inflict another indignity on her
strained emotions.
He stepped toward her. She backed against a storage shelf. He put
his arms out on either side of her, resting them on the shelf,
trapping
her in a protective circle. She flinched. He leaned closer and she
looked up into his eyes.
"No one is going to harm you," he said. Except maybe the Captain,
he thought. No, he’d take care of her, Denys promised himself with
grim
determination. This was going to screw up his career. His and the
whole
crew’s careers. They all deserved to be court-martialed. Them for
doing this, him
for letting it happen even if he hadn’t been involved. He was
responsible.
Never mind who’s was to blame, he told himself. The important
thing was to take care of Claudia. He couldn’t let anything happen
to
her.
"I won’t let anything happen," he repeated out loud. He didn’t
know why he felt so fiercely protective of her. Maybe it was the
tears
rolling slowly down her soft cheeks, or because she was small and
vulnerable and lost. He was a sucker for lost things. Maybe
because he
wanted her, but this wasn’t the time or place for that kind of
feeling. There would never be a time and place for it. She needed
his
help. Helping her would have to be enough. And it would be so nice
to be
needed by a woman for once. "Claudia." He liked the sound of her
name.
It sounded of old Earth history. They gazed into each other’s eyes
for
what seemed a very long time. "Trust me."
At some point she’d stopped being frightened of him, Claudia
realized. There was something... nice about him. He looked
dangerous
enough, all sharp angles and nervous energy, but
there was nothing cold or ruthless about him. Her instinct was to
trust
him. Her instinct was probably wrong. She was going to have to be
on her
guard. She was going to have to pull herself together. She was
going to
have to ignore the concern shining out of his bright blue eyes.
She was
going to have to ignore the visceral reaction that was still
telling her
he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Visceral reactions and
instincts had to be overruled.
She wished she felt threatened by his closeness. The warm stirring
she felt by his nearness was totally wrong, inappropriate for the
situation. He wasn’t touching her, but she found herself
half-wishing he
would. Which was completely ridiculous, of course. He was a
kidnapper. A
fiend. Trust me, he’d said, and she wanted to. She couldn’t.
It’s just the English accent, she told herself harshly. She was a
sucker
for English accents. She forced herself to be logical, rational.
"Why should I trust you?"
He tilted his head, his lips curling in a faint smile. "Because
you have to, Claudia." His hand approached her face. She thought
for a
second he was going to stroke her cheek. Instead, he ripped the
Band-Aid
out from under her nose.
"Ow!"
He held up a blue band of adhesive material for her to get a good
look at. "This is a breather strip. It converts vacuum to
breathable air
for a couple hours. I haven’t the faintest idea how. The magic of
modern
science --only it’s not your modern science, Claudia, but the
science
of two hundred years in your future. The science that produced
this." He
waved the strip then gestured to take in the room where they were
standing. "This space ship, me, everything you see, is brought to
you by
the Federated Community of Worlds."
He looked at her expectantly after making this declaration.
Claudia didn’t react immediately. She thought about these odd
pronouncements for a few moments first. Suddenly the quiet
surrounding
Doros became ominous and unexplained. She remembered the
futuristic-
looking truck on the dock. She thought of the box and the odd
shape and
look of the room where they were standing. She had no trouble
believing
she was on a space ship and that Denys Duchamp was from the
future. She
should have, because it wasn’t logical, but deep in the intuitive
part
of her soul she did believe. Sometimes logic was for Vulcans and
Vulcans
came from outer space -- yeah, but Star Trek was fictional outer
space
where parallel evolution and other non-scientific nonsense made
sense.
This was real. And it was true. And it couldn’t be what it seemed.
"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed as the full impact of the situation
hit her. "You’re an alien!"
"Well, technically, yes."
If he was an alien, he couldn’t be what he seemed --tall, lean,
blond and gorgeous. A man. Parallel evolution wasn’t possible.
"What are you?" she demanded. "Some kind of lizard in a human
suit?"
##
"Our ancestors had a funny way of enjoying themselves," Toffler
said as the effects of the ouzo slowly faded from his system.
"Happy pill’s better," Sakretis agreed. "But they didn’t have it,
did they?"
Harcort stretched out on the diagnostic bed, skin glowing in the
healing rays from the overhead medlights. The medicomputer was
humming
and tsking to itself, adjusting the lights for their various
needs. The
hum had a distinctly disapproving air to it. "The food was
great, though," he added.
"Yeah," Fox said.
Morrison scratched his head. "There’s something I’m trying to
remember."
"Something we did," Toffler added.
"Something about food," Sakretis recalled. "We raided a store."
"Yeah." Toffler nodded. "Something else, too."
"Chili." Harcort rubbed his jaw. "Something about the chili -- "
"The Chili woman!" Cleary yelled. He groaned, then jumped to his
feet. "What have we done? The chili woman’s in the storage box!"
"In the hold?" Fox asked. "You’re joking?" There was a great deal
of head shaking. "We didn’t?"
"We did," Morrison declared. "I remember now."
"We better go get her," Sakretis said.
Cleary was already at the door. "What are we waiting for? Let’s
go!"
They ran from the room, leaving the medicomputer to chitter on
indignantly to itself.
Chapter Three
"You’re an alien lizard terrorist, aren’t you?"
"You’ve been watching too many movies, lady," Denys told Claudia.
"I’m an engineer. I’m as human as you are. I’m from the colony
world of
New Sydney."
"What are you doing on a space ship?"
"I was drafted."
"Right," she answered skeptically. Claudia ducked under his arm
and began backing down the aisle.
He followed her. "Don’t be frightened. This is all a mistake."
"Right," she said again. "Why did you bring me here?"
A flash of annoyance crossed his sharply etched features. "I
didn’t. You were drafted. By my shift crew."
"What?"
"Do you know about the effects of alcohol on judgment and reason?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, we don’t. Except as an historical footnote. We don’t use
intoxicants in our time. At least, not the same sort as you use,
not
in the same ways. Never mind." He shook his head, and a heavy lock
of
blond hair fell across his forehead. He brushed it aside while the
pair
of them moved slowly toward the door. "What I think happened is --
"
The door opened behind her, six anxious men ran inside. Denys saw
them coming.
"She’s alive!" A bellowing cheer went up as the crew spotted
Claudia.
Claudia turned, and saw a mob of disheveled men rushing toward
her, yelling loudly. She screamed, and found herself hiding behind
Denys
Duchamp. Her hands clutched nervously at his shoulders. "Help!"
He threw an amused glance over his shoulder at her as the men
surrounded them, but he didn’t try to peel her off as she clung to
him.
The soft heat of her body felt more than good in the cold cargo
bay.
"Cleary," he yelled. "I want an explanation, Mister!"
She peered from behind Denys as a red-haired, freckled man blushed
bright pink and said, "Me, sir?"
"Who else is responsible for screwups around here?" Denys’s
question was etched in sarcastic acid.
"Point taken, sir. Uh... It was an accident, sir."
"She fell into the box?" one of the others offered sheepishly. He
hung his head, and mumbled, "We’re sorry. We didn’t know what we
were
doing. It seemed like a good idea at the time. We’ll put her right
back,
sir. Promise."
"How?" somebody asked. "We can’t just ask the Captain to turn
around. Can we?"
"No," several panicky voices said together.
"We just wanted a decent meal," another one spoke up.
"We’re sorry, chili lady. We recognized you from the newscast and
thought you could come and cook for us."
"That’s all," Cleary added. "No harm intended."
Denys planted his fists on his hips. "No harm? This woman could
have been killed."
"She still might be if the Captain finds out," someone chimed in.
Claudia gained courage as she listened to the mens’ raving. They
seemed harmless, they seemed sincere. Most importantly, Denys’s
indignation and worry seemed real and she was having trouble
guarding
herself against the emotional effect he had on her. Maybe she’d be
able
to think clearer if she pried herself away from his hard-muscled
back.
She made herself step out from behind Denys and address the men
who’d
kidnapped her.
"Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You’re from the future?"
They nodded. "Okay. Fine. I’ll buy that."
"Oh, great," Denys muttered from behind her. "You’ll believe them,
but I’m a lizard terrorist."
She ignored him and went on. "Your ship was picking up broadcasts
from Earth and you saw the cooking show I was on?" There were
nods.
"Then you got drunk and accidentally kidnapped me?" More nods. "It
was a
coincidence -- my being in Doros the same time you were loading
supplies?"
"Fate," Cleary said. "Serendipity. Karma. Ouzo."
And the ouzo accounted for a lot, she decided. Well, she went to
Greece looking for adventure. "All right. I’ll buy it," she told
them.
"You believe them?" Denys demanded. "I mean, it’s true. But why do
you believe them?"
She turned to face him. "I walked in on them raiding a grocery
store. I got hit by a beam of light and the light knocked me out.
I woke
up in a high tech warehouse wearing a ’breather strip’. And you
all have
FCWS HATTON embroidered on the breast pocket of those blue
uniforms
you’re wearing. So I’m going to assume I’m aboard the Federated
Community of Worlds Ship HATTON." She crossed her arms and lifted
her
chin determinedly. "Take me to your captain."
There was a chorus of "NO!" Denys Duchamp’s voice was among them.
"Are you crazy!" Then her kidnappers began to gabble among
themselves.
"She doesn’t know what she’s asking."
"Does she want to walk back to Earth?"
"And us with her?"
"We’ll have to hide her."
"Yeah, but where?"
"The ship is mostly empty. What do you mean, where?"
She exchanged a glance with Denys. He gave her an apologetic
shrug. "They’re a good mining crew," he said. "but, I think -- "
"I think I’ve been kidnapped by the six stooges," Claudia supplied
for him. He looked vague for a moment, then nodded as he got the
reference. He’d had the same look when she mentioned Star Trek on
the
beach at Doros. She found it, somehow, endearing. She’d have to
guard
herself from that particular emotional trap around Denys Duchamp.
Without any conscious decision, they stepped away from the
babbling
mining crew. "Why can’t I talk to the captain?" she asked quietly.
"We’re on a secret mission," he answered. "We can’t risk
destroying our chance of success by deviating from our orders in
any
way." He gave her an ironic smile. "Of course, we’ve already done
that,
haven’t we?"
She nodded. "Looks like it to me."
"But as long as the Captain doesn’t find out..." His voice trailed
off, and he looked at her hopefully.
Claudia waited for him to go on, tapping her sandal-shod foot on
the slightly vibrating metal deck. Deny’s men gathered silently
around
them. Tap tap tap. "Well?" she finally demanded after Denys just
stood
there looking thoughtful and pleading for a while. It was a very
effective, boyish look.
"We’re going to have to make another supply run when the back
ordered parts come in," he said. "We could sneak you back to Earth
then."
His men nodded as one.
Claudia continued angrily tapping her foot. "So? What does that
mean?"
"It means we’d probably be able to hide you from the rest of the
crew for that long. The ship is practically empty. We’re working
with a
skeleton crew."
"Why do you have to hide me?"
"Because of the captain," the red-head named Cleary explained.
"He’d kill you if you were found."
"For the sake of the mission," someone else said.
"Kill us, too."
"Nah, he needs us."
"At least until the mission’s complete. Then -- " The man
dramatically drew a finger across his throat.
Denys stepped between his men and her. He put his hands on her
shoulders and looked her sincerely in the eye. "Captain Andrews is
a
tyrant. Your being on board won’t do any harm, but he wouldn’t see
it
that way." And he’d be right, Denys admitted to himself. Her being
here
could change history somehow. Maybe she already had. Not her.
Them. They
were responsible. Do I want to protect you, Claudia Cameron? Or am
I
just trying to protect my men, and my career? Better to
concentrate on
protecting the mission. At all cost. "You’ll have to promise not
to tell
anyone on Earth about this," he went on.
She laughed. She was very beautiful when she laughed. He had to
keep from letting that beauty effect him.
"Why shouldn’t I tell anyone?" she questioned. "People claim to be
kidnapped by aliens in UFOs all the time. No one believes them.
They
wouldn’t believe me, either. It’s not like this is going to show
up on
an episode of Sightings, or something."
Denys wasn’t sure he believed her matter-of-fact statement. Why
wouldn’t anyone believe her? The question bothered him, but he
refrained
from asking for now.
"Fine. Wonderful. It’s decided," Cleary said. "We’ll hide you. No
problem."
Claudia rounded on Cleary. "I never said I was going along with
this."
"But you have to," Sakretis pleaded.
"Please, chili lady," Fox put in.
Denys watched as her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared
angrily. He was suddenly aware that she might be little, but she
was no
pushover. He could tell she was going to be able to handle his
crew, and
he liked her for it. Liked and resented it at the same time. Damn,
the
woman was confusing.
"My name is Claudia," she told them. "No, Dr. Cameron to you
louts. Forget this chili lady nonsense. I do not cook for my
kidnappers."
"Dr. Cameron?" Denys wondered. "Doctor of what?"
"I didn’t always run a catering business," she said, still staring
down the eager looks on the crew’s faces. She wagged a stern
finger at
them. "I have," she informed them, "faced a hall full of rowdy,
know-it-
all fraternity jocks and beaten them into submission in less time
than
it takes to assign a half dozen research papers. I cook and I
manage a
cleaning business because I enjoy it, not because I see it as my
natural
place in the scheme of things. If you brought me on board thinking
I was
the perfect little woman who would just love to darn your socks
and stir
your soup, you most definitely have another think coming!"
"Yes, ma’am," a chorus of six voices answered.
"What?"
They came to attention. "Yes, ma’am, Dr. Cameron!"
"Good." She threw a smug look over her shoulder at Denys. "My
father was a drill sergeant," she told him.
He covered his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. "Yes, ma’am," he
said from behind his hand.
"Uh, Dr. Cameron?" Harcort questioned tentatively.
"Yes?"
"You do promise not to talk to the Captain, though. Don’t you?"
She grimaced, and tapped her foot a few more times, but finally
gave a grudging nod. "I promise."
There was a collective sigh of relief.
"Thank you," Denys said. "It won’t be hard to hide you." Suddenly
everyone’s eyes were turned eagerly to him for leadership,
including
Claudia’s. He smiled into hers, then caught himself and looked
swiftly
away. He spoke to the crew. "Maybe we can disguise her as a man."
There was general laughter.
He ran a critical eye over her small but lush form. Maybe we could
disguise her as a man from the waist down, he thought. No, not
with
those lovely curved hips and that cute little heart-shaped --
"Yeah, right," Cleary said.
He got the distinct feeling the shift crew were sharing his exact
thoughts. He didn’t like it. "Just check through stores and pilfer
her
some clothes that fit." There were nods. "All right, where can we
stash
her?" he went on.
Cleary spoke up. "Leave it to me, Duchamp. I know the perfect
place."
"Fine," Denys answered. Cleary, sober, was the one person he’d
trust with getting away with murder. The man had been born to beat
the
system. "Get her settled somewhere no one will think to look for
the
next two months."
"I will," he promised. "Leave it to me."
##
Claudia suspected Cleary of being responsible for the whole thing.
She distinctly remembered his voice saying, "Get her!" back in the
grocery store. She knew she should be distrustful and resentful of
the
man. Instead she found she’d liked him almost instantly as soon as
she
got over being frightened and furious at the situation.
She liked the room he brought her to as well. They reached it
after
about half an hour of skulking along deserted blue and cream
painted
metal corridors. She liked the room because she got an immediate
sense
as she stepped inside that she was on board a spaceship. The
furnishings, what little there were of them, were all curved and
futuristic-looking. She was immediately drawn to the viewport
which
looked out on the stars.
"That’s a projection screen," Cleary explained as Claudia peered
longingly out at blacker than black darkness dotted with cold,
sharp
pinpoints of light. "The only real viewport on the HATTON is the
Captain’s Walk. It’s a corridor up near the bridge; officers’
country.
This," he went on, running his hand over a control panel next to
the
fake window as she gave a disappointed sigh, "will show you the
view
from any point on the ship." The picture changed several times as
he
pressed the keypad. Actually it wavered and then showed the same
dark
image several times. "There’s not much to see at the moment," he
admitted.
Claudia sighed and moved away from the window. She let Cleary show
her the rest of her temporary quarters.
"What you’ve got here," he said, "is a living area. Table, chairs,
entertainment/educational center, shelves, personal lockers, head
and
bed alcoves." He pointed at each amenity as he told her about it.
Claudia took it all in, then said, "This room’s meant for double
occupancy."
He nodded. "All quarters on this level are. We sleep six to a room
on our deck. I thought you’d be more comfortable here." He gave
her a
very charming smile, then showed her how to open lockers and run
the
sonic shower in the head and call up games and information on the
e/e
screen.
She caught on easily and Cleary soon gave her another of his ready
supply of smiles. "Now I’ll go find you something to wear."
After he left Claudia sat down on the bed in the sleeping alcove
he’d suggested she use and tried not to think about the situation.
Or at
least not to think too seriously about the situation. All right,
it’s
not exactly believable, she admitted, but it’s interesting.
Unique. And
they seemed to be nice people. She felt like she should trust
them, and
decided she’d have to guard against that feeling. They might not
be what
they appeared at all. She was going to have to be careful of her
emotions, especially around the formidably handsome Mr. Duchamp.
Still, she was in space even if it might be some sort of sinister
plot. She couldn’t help but be happy about being in space. Okay,
the
view wasn’t spectacular, or even real, but she was in space.
She’d always wanted to be an astronaut when she was a kid. She’d
even gone to Space Camp. She was prepared... more or less. Space
Camp was
back in college, though, when she was an undergrad. A lot of time
and
changes had passed since those innocent, idealistic days.
She was not going to worry about it, she decided, sliding back on
the waterbed-like mattress. She was going to take things as they
came
and analyze the situation after she had some more data. That was
all she
could really do, anyway.
The sleeping alcoves were niches in the wall set on opposite sides
of the personal lockers. The niche contained a shelf and an
overhead
light as well as the single width platform bed. She lay down. The
bed’s
surface molded to her, soft and supporting at the same time.
Very nice, she thought. It almost felt it was giving off
comforting vibrations. She yawned and curled up on her side,
tucking her
hands beneath her cheek. She was tired. It had been a hell of a
day.
This was nice. It was as if the bed was trying to lull her to
sleep, she
thought, and fell asleep.
She woke realizing she wasn’t alone in the room; Cleary back with
some clothes, she supposed. She rolled over and opened her eyes
and
immediately noticed that Denys Duchamp wasn’t wearing a shirt. His
chest
hair was dark gold, not too heavy, but it did descend over
sculpted
muscles in a tantalizing V to his flat stomach. He was wearing a
tiny
pair of knit briefs. Bright blue. With a pronounced bulge.
Claudia licked dry lips, and forced her gaze to climb back above
the man’s belt buckle. Or, rather, where the man’s belt buckle
would be
if he were wearing a belt, or anything other than those tiny
little
Calvin Klein’s.
Claudia sat bolt upright. What the devil was she doing staring at
a nearly-naked man as though it was the most natural thing in the
world?
"Are you hungry?" Denys asked politely as Claudia’s gaze met his
own. He’d meant to ask her what she was doing in his former
roommate’s
bed, but from the expression on her face the question he’d asked
seemed
more appropriate. Besides, he could figure out for himself why she
was
in his quarters.
He watched her face go bright red as she quickly sat up. "What are
you doing here?" she yelled.
"I live here," he explained. I..."
"Get out!"
She looked like she was getting ready to scream. "What’s the
matter?" he asked, voice soothing, trying to make his manner
reassuring.
He took a step closer to the bed.
Claudia launched herself to her feet and toward the door to the
corridor. Denys Duchamp, most of his leanly muscled frame visible,
stepped in front of her. "Why haven’t you got any clothes on?" she
demanded.
"I took off my uniform," he answered reasonably. "I just got off
duty. I came home to relax

I found you asleep in Maureen’s bed.
So I
thought we should talk." He peered at her closely. "What’s the
problem?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Who’s Maureen?"
This was hardly relevant, but Denys answered anyway. "She was the
ship’s cook, but she got transferred to -- "
"Put some clothes on."
Claudia’s voice was shrill, and she was still blushing. He didn’t
like her being so uncomfortable. He got the impression she wasn’t
going
to calm down until he was dressed. He supposed there were some
cultural
signals he didn’t understand despite his knowledge of her time’s
history.
Must be some sort of body taboo, he decided. Maybe she found
waking up to find a nearly naked male looming over her
threatening. No,
she hadn’t looked threatened when she’d first woken up. Well, she
was
acting that way now. The last thing he needed was her rushing out
the
door and yelling for help.
He went to his locker and quickly donned his uniform once more. He
moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to provoke any panic
reaction.
Claudia watched him warily as he teased his way through a reverse
strip tease. She didn’t know why the man was moving so seductively
but
she tried not to pay attention. She concentrated on trying to get
a look
inside the closet-sized personal locker he pulled garments from
while it
was open. Gather data, she told herself, it’s more important than
watching Denys Duchamp.
She saw more uniforms, shoes and a hat on a top shelf, what she
thought was the shirt he’d been wearing when they met on the beach
hung
among the uniforms and other civilian garb. The contents of the
locker
left her in no doubt she was in Denys room.
"Why did Cleary bring me here?" she questioned when Denys turned
back to her. "What’s going on here?"
"Cleary." He said the name as though it was explanation enough for
everything that could possibly go wrong in the universe. Then he
went
on, "I was confused about it myself at first. Have a seat." He
waved her
to the pair of chairs at the room’s small table. She tried not to
notice
how gracefully he moved as they took chairs on opposite sides of
the
table. Once they were seated, he told her, "It makes a lot of
sense,
really."
He liked the way her eyes went round with surprise when he said
their being in the same room made sense. They both knew perfectly
well
nothing about this situation made sense. He shouldn’t even be
talking to
her. The less information she had the safer it would be for all of
them.
He also liked the way her sleep-tousled brown hair framed her
face. She
rested her hands on the tabletop and leaned forward a little,
giving him
a better view of her cleavage as her gauze blouse gaped open a
little
bit. He had no body taboos, just an appreciation of the
differences
between the genders.
His gaze drifted to the top of her breasts and stayed there as she
asked, "What makes sense, really?"
Some massage oil would make a great deal of sense, he thought.
Some warm, spicy scent, like capthera flowers. He’d like to spill
just a
drop, right there, at the spot at the base of her throat and watch
it
slide down into the soft shadows between her breasts, following it
with
just a fingertip, smoothing and gliding around and under and up to
--
"Denys? Are you all right? Are you hungry?" she repeated his
question from earlier.
"Starving," he answered, aware of the tight ache in his groin.
He cleared his throat and sat up straight. He looked at the
tabletop rather than at her breasts or meeting her eyes. He had to
keep
himself under control or this was going to be one painfully long
trip.
He had to remember that she was a danger to the mission, to the
crew.
Her lush, inviting body was definitely a danger to him.
"Cleary," he said, determined to get on with an explanation. "He
must have realized Smid, or someone else from Third Shift would
eventually notice someone using unoccupied quarters. Energy
consumption,
that sort of thing. So the most sensible thing to do was put you
into an
already occupied room. Somewhere where any extra energy usage
won’t be
easily noticed." He managed to finally look at her, and smile.
"I’ve got
room, the crew doesn’t," he told her. "So this really is the most
logical solution. I just wish Cleary’d asked my permission first,"
he
added. "You took me by surprise when I first walked in."
She looked around the room, gave a thoughtful nod, then back at
him. "It also looks to me as if Cleary’s putting me in here
incriminates
you first if I get caught."
He nodded his agreement. "I’ve thought of that, too."
"Explains why he didn’t ask first."
"You have a devious mind, Dr. Cameron."
"Yes, I do." He was glad she chose to take his words as a
compliment. She sat back in her chair. "I don’t like this."
"I’m sorry." Actually, he was getting tired of apologizing for his
crew imbecile behavior. It wasn’t the woman’s fault, he reminded
himself
sternly. But she was the outsider, the wild element that put them
all at
risk. He had to keep his dealings with her professional.
He should be polite, no more, fight the temptation to relax his
guard. He didn’t know why being with her made him want to be
charming
and accommodating, but he knew it couldn’t be good for the
mission.
"We’re both going to be inconvenienced by this, Dr. Cameron," he
said. "We might as well make the best of the situation, don’t you
think?"
His tone was reasonable, with just a hint of cool condescension.
Claudia chafed under his more reasonable than thou attitude, but
she had
to agree with his assessment. "Fine," she said. "But we’re going
to need
some groundrules if we’re going to be sharing quarters for a
while."
She looked as if she was uncomfortable with the idea of him as a
roommate. She seemed to assume some sexual connotations to the
arrangement. Not that he wouldn’t have minded getting into a
sexual
situation with her under other circumstances, but sex and living
arrangements had nothing to do with each other. Not in his world.
Not
that he could expect her to understand that. He was going to have
to be
patient, and he really wasn’t that patient a man. He would just
have to
humor her as much as he could.
"Of course," he said agreeably. "I’ll do whatever I can to make
you completely happy, Dr. Cameron."
Her eyes went round again, and the pink blush returned to her
cheeks. "You will? I mean... thank you."
He wondered if he’d used an inappropriate term, but didn’t ask for
clarification. It would be better if he didn’t try to get to know
her.
He kept his tone formal as he asked, "What do you want me to do?"
She bit her lip, then cleared her throat, then said in a tight
voice as though the subject were somehow embarrassing. "I’d
appreciate
it if you didn’t walk around in just your underwear."
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, then he remembered
about her body taboo. "All right," he agreed. It seemed a simple
enough
request.
He just hoped he had the willpower to remember her culture instead
of reacting to his own behavior patterns. Besides, he wanted to
take his
clothes off around her, and wanted her to do the same. Maybe this
was a
case of there being sexual connotations to being roommates.
Connotations
that he was going to ignore. Somehow.
It was Claudia who voiced his thoughts when she said, "It’s going
to be two very long months, Mr. Duchamp."
"I’ll drink to that, Dr. Cameron," he answered, and got up to get
them some of the tasteless hot beverage they laughingly called
coffee
aboard the HATTON.
Chapter Four
"I’m beginning to have suspicions about the bed," Claudia told
Denys as he came into the room.
"Lunch," he announced, holding up a laden tray for her inspection.
Claudia smiled weakly, and tried not to look. Her stomach curdled
anyway. "Thank you. About the bed..."
"What about it?"
"I think it likes me." She looked over her shoulder at the bed
alcove. "I mean, it’s got a mind of its own, doesn’t it?"
In the last few nights she’d found that it was very hard to lie
down on the comfortable mattress without falling into almost
instantaneous, peaceful slumber. There was something odd about it.
She
always woke refreshed, and with a sense that the bed got an almost
smug
sense of satisfaction at her rested state. It was beginning to
bother
her.
"A mind?" He gave her a winning smile. "No. It is equipped with a
medisensor, though. It’s got an empathic... never mind."
Denys did that a lot; started to explain something, then trailed
off and told her not to mind. That was beginning to bother her,
too. She
was a person who thrived on information. She was, and
admittedly, without shame, nosy. Explore Your World, as they
said on the Discovery Channel. Or, in this case, explore someone
else’s
world. Which she’d be happy to do if Denys would just let her.
The door swished closed behind him as he carried the dinner tray
to the table. "Oh, good," she muttered under her breath as she
joined
him at the table. "Glop again." She’d been served gray glop at
every
meal. Three days worth of glop so far. "You seem to have an
endless
supply of it."
He turned on the smile again as they sat. She concentrated on his
face, rather than look at the gray mess on her plate. "That is the
point. Of your being here, I mean," he said. "We have an endless
supply
of generative nutritional matter, and no one who knows how to do
anything with it. Except you, of course."
She look at the glop, then poked it with a fork. It writhed a
little. "I haven’t the faintest notion of what to do with glop. I
remember eating that pasty white glue back in kindergarten. It
tasted
better than this."
"You could try to learn how to program the kitchen computer, I
suppose." He said it with strained artlessness. "I mean, if you’re
really bored."
He knew she was really bored. It was mostly his fault she was
really bored. He’d let her play computer games, but he wouldn’t
let her
read history books. He’d let her watch the view as they approached
Mars
- - at least space was getting to be a little more interesting --
but he
wouldn’t let her play entertainment tapes from his century. He was
willing to let her learn how to use a cooking computer, but not
learn
anything else about how the ship was run. He hadn’t said so, but
she
suspected he was trying to protect her. Or trying to protect the
future
by keeping her from learning too much about it. Maybe he was
afraid
she’d inadvertently do something to change the future once she was
back
home if she knew what the future was suppose to be. Well, maybe
she
would.
And what was a mining ship from the future doing running around
the solar system in the 20th Century anyway? She was dying to know
what was really going on. She looked at the inoffensive glop on
the
plate. And she was dying for a decent meal. Maybe she could make a
deal
with him.
There’s so much I want to tell you, Denys thought as Claudia
distastefully considered her meal. But he couldn’t. Not if he
wanted to
get her back to Earth. Not that he really wanted her to go back.
He
liked having someone to come home to.
But I’m just lonely, he told himself. And you’re an attractive
woman who’s easy to be with and talk to and tease and listen to
and take
care of. I’m going to take care of you, Claudia Cameron. I’m going
to
ignore this instinct, longing, whatever it is that makes me want
to keep
you with me, growing in me to be with you all the time. I’m going
to get
you back to Earth even if I end up hating myself for doing it. I
owe it
to you. I’m not falling in love with you. I’m just a lonely
sailor.
At first he hadn’t realized how dangerous it is was for her to be
on board the HATTON. Never mind the Captain, Claudia was her own
worst
enemy here. She was too smart, too curious, too devious. She had
this
wonderful knack for putting facts together and figuring out the
ramifications faster than most computers. If she found out too
many
facts and figured out too much and, he couldn’t let her go home.
I’m sorry if you’re bored, Claudia, he thought as he watched her
pushing her meal around her plate. But bored is safer than being
permanently stranded in your own future because you have the
ability to
change it if I let you loose with too much knowledge in your own
time.
What he had to do was keep her busy. He knew how. It’d be good for
her. Good for the men and morale. He knew what she’d said about
not cooking a crumb for her kidnappers. He didn’t blame her for
being angry with the men.
But, face it, Denys admitted, Cleary had a pretty good idea what
the crew needed when he kidnapped her. He wished Cleary hadn’t
done it, but he was glad that he had because Denys knew he and his
men
could really use some decent food. He believed that the chili lady
would
see it that way soon. He was hoping she’d get bored and restless
enough
to reconsider poking her nose into the kitchen. That was the one
place
on the ship where her presence could help rather than endanger the
mission.
"So, what happened to your cook?" she asked, hoping this was a
topic he’d been wanting to bring up. "Maureen was her name,
right?"
He nodded. "Maureen Lansky. Best cook in the FCW. That’s what
Admiral Delvecchio said when Maureen was transferred off the
HATTON."
She stirred the glop slowly as an unhappy thought crossed
her mind, not for the first time. "Women are the cooks and
housekeepers
of the future?" She certainly hadn’t noticed any women among her
kidnappers. "Is that all we do?"
"No!" he said quickly. He threw back his head and gave a short,
harsh laugh. "If you only knew... never mind."
"What do you mean, ’never mind’? I do mind. If women are going to
make it into space we have a right to make it on equal terms with
the
men who -- "
"It was Admiral Shirley Delvecchio who snatched Maureen," he
interrupted. "Women don’t just cook, our cook just happened to be
a
woman. All right?" he questioned. His icy blue eyes were hard with
annoyance, but she got the distinct feeling the anger wasn’t
completely
directed at her.
She relaxed, and gave Denys a conciliatory smile. "Well, I worry."
He nodded, and went on briskly. "Maureen took her recipe codes
with her. Erased the files from the computer. We complained, but
Captain
Andrews agreed with her that she owned the data. She’s like you --
won
lots of cooking prizes and so forth. But not like you, I mean," he
hastily explained. "You’re not selfish or petty or that sort of
thing."
The ice in his eyes had been melting as he spoke. The look he gave
her
now was warming, his smile mildly teasing. "You’d never deny a man
a
decent meal, would you, Dr. Cameron? If you were ship’s cook, I
mean?
Which you’re not, of course."
Claudia escaped from his charm by hastily looking down at her
plate. "This stuff is some kind of nutritional proto-food, right?"
"Correct."
"Where does it come from?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"No. Okay, is cooking in the future done by using a computer to
turn glop into food?"
"Essentially."
"It’s a cross between computer programming and chemistry, right?"
"Right," he answered cheerfully. "I guess. I’m no good at it
myself. Maureen says it’s an art form."
"Of course cooking’s an art form," Claudia said, half indignant,
half amused. "I thought you were French."
He gave a very French shrug. "My family’s been on -- never mind --
a long time."
"You’ve never heard of Escoffier, I don’t suppose? Never mind,"
she added. "I’m not terribly good at French cuisine, anyway."
"How about Greek cooking?" he wondered.
His tone was so deliberately casual she had to smile. His lack of
subtlety was endearing. It didn’t hurt that his casually inquiring
expression was worn on a face she thought was the handsomest she’d
ever
seen. She’d enjoyed every minute they’d been together in the last
three
days. It wasn’t just that he was her only diversion, or that he
was
gorgeous. She liked him. He was fun to be with. She was beginning
to
suspect she more than liked him.
If it wasn’t for the bed’s friendly determination to give her a
good night’s sleep, she wasn’t sure how she could stand sharing a
room
with such a thoroughly masculine creature. It was so very
tempting,
having him in the bed just a few feet from hers. Right now he was
only
inches away, and it was very tempting.
Things fluttered; her heart, her stomach, her eyelashes. She tried
to ignore the pleasant, tingling, warm feeling she got from just
looking
at Denys Duchamp. She dragged her attention back to the subject of
food.
"Of course, you’re talking about the supplies I came with. I’d
forgotten that there’s real food on board."
"I haven’t. Neither has the crew. But they’re getting tired of
olives and tins of fish."
"I’d kill for an olive," she told him.
"Women are so aggressive," he teased back. At least she thought he
was teasing.
"And a sliver of goat cheese," she added wistfully. "I bet I could
do a lot with the supplies they stuffed into the box with me."
He leaned toward her and said in a low, seductive, conspiratorial
voice, "I bet you could do a lot with whatever you set your hands
to."
His voice, the softly spoken, beautifully accented words flowed
over her; made her feel like she was melting. And all they were
talking
about was cooking. She wondered how she’d react to more personal
comments. Remembering the
table was between them, and they were really talking about her
cooking
skills, kept Claudia from closing her eyes and waiting for him to
kiss
her.
What the man is offering you, she forced herself to think
logically, is a chance to get out of this room. Getting out of
this room would be the best thing for her. She had to do something
to
get her mind off of Denys Duchamp. Get out, meet people, do
things, work
off some energy. She needed to remind herself that he wasn’t the
only
person in the world.
I’m only feeling attracted to him due to his being the only
contact I’ve had
with the rest of the world, she told herself sternly. This
delightful ache I get from
looking at him is only because he’s the only thing I’ve had to
look at. I’ll go
crazy -- and jump his bones -- long before two months are up if I
can’t
get out of this room and away from him once in a while.
That’s it. That’s all it is. Claustrophobia. Okay, it was also
good old-fashioned lust. She could deal with lust if she could get
some
breathing space.
"You want me to cook for the crew?" Before he even had a chance to
nod, she said, "I’ll do it. Take me," she ordered firmly, "to your
kitchen."
##
Cleary and the others were already there when they arrived. The
big, white room she assumed had to be the kitchen was several
decks
below the quarters she shared with Denys. They arrived by a
roundabout
route involving service hatches and catwalks and ladders. Claudia
thought it was mysterious and fun.
The door slid closed silently behind her and Denys, just like Star
Trek --or at a grocery store. The crew stood in the center of the
room,
gathered around a narrow central island stacked high with the
foodstuffs
they’d liberated from Doros.
She ignored the food while she made a slow inspection tour of the
room. Denys tagged along behind; she felt the other men’s eyes
following
her.
The room was white on white on white. More like a NASA lab than a
kitchen, she thought. It didn’t look a thing like a kitchen, she
concluded after a few minutes. She saw control panels and computer
monitors instead of stovetops and prep equipment.
"There has to be a stove in here somewhere," she grumbled. "One of
those panels has got to be a microwave." She looked to Denys for
help.
"Doesn’t it?"
"We can ask the computer where and what everything is," he assured
her. He sat down at a control board. "Just tell me what you need."
The
men came up behind them as a blank screen above the board turned a
pleasant shade of blue.
She thought for a few moments, then said, "I’ll settle for a few
pots and pans and a good ten-inch French knife."
"Knife?" one of the men questioned incredulously. "Why do women
always have to be so aggressive?"
"It’s to chop up onions and things with, you twit," She heard
Cleary answer. "Cooking, the old-fashioned way."
"Oh."
Claudia turned to face the crowd. "Who are you people, anyway?"
she demanded. Introductions were quickly made. Everyone gave her a
friendly, hopeful smile. She got a strong impression of a pack of
helpful puppies.
"I’ve found a kitchen inventory file," Denys said.
She turned back to face the screen and ran her eyes down the list
Denys had called up. Within seconds she was reading off her
selections
and the crew was scurrying to storage bins and cabinet panels to
fill
her order. She soon discovered that there was indeed a microwave
--like
everything else she requested, it was considered an emergency
backup
unit.
"Amazing," she said and went off to examine the utensils the crew
had piled next to the supplies. It wasn’t long before she was
chopping
onions and eggplant and measuring olive oil and trying to remember
exactly how much nutmeg went into moussaka. Not that she needed a
cookbook for every little detail of a recipe. Cooking was
chemistry and
art, after all.
Denys breathed a satisfied sigh as he watched Claudia work. She
was definitely in her element at last. He wouldn’t have to worry
about
her curiosity as long as he could keep her cooking, he decided.
Though
it was best not to trust completely in her love of cooking to keep
her occupied.
He noticed how the Shift Crew were all watching her with rapt
devotion and sighed again. He also had to admit to a slight pang
of
jealousy, but he was able to control it easily enough. She’s not
mine to
be jealous of, he reminded himself. Or any of theirs, either.
It took some effort, but he managed to get the group. s
attention. He had them follow him to the door, far enough from the
preoccupied Claudia to be out of her hearing.
"First," he told them in a quiet, firm voice once he had most of
their attention, "hands off." He received six blank stares in
reply.
Sakretis’s stare was not only blank, he was loudly sniffing the
pungent
aroma coming from the microwave.
"Hands off the food, Duchamp?" Fox asked. "But, sir..."
"No, not the food," Denys answered. "Dr. Cameron. She’s to be
treated with the utmost respect. Am I understood?"
"We’re not supposed to put any moves on her," Cleary clarified for
him.
"Oh," Morrison said, nodding his understanding. "Of course not,
Duchamp."
"My wife wouldn’t like it," Toffler said. He glanced back over his
shoulder at Claudia, who was doing something with the knife and a
clove
of garlic. "She likes knives too. My wife, I mean."
"Mine’s into tae kwan do," Harcort said.
"Isabella’s learning small arms," said Fox. "She said she’s
getting special forces training in her last letter."
"Never mind your wives," Denys said in some exasperation. "We’re
talking about Dr. Cameron. I just wanted it understood that she’s
to be
treated as a lady at all times."
"He wants her for himself," said Cleary.
"That’s nice," said Toffler. "They make a nice couple."
"I do not want -- never mind." It seemed useless to Denys to try
to argue with the crew. "More importantly," he went on, "I don’t
want
any of you discussing any history, or current events, or our
mission
with Dr. Cameron. This is for her own good. If we want to return
her to
her own time we have to keep her ignorant of ours." He looked
around sternly.
"Got it?"
There were five thoughtful nods. Sakretis managed to nod
while continuing his appreciative sniffing. "Yes, sir," several of
the
men muttered. He supposed they must be taking him seriously if
they went
so far as to acknowledge his rank.
"Good," Denys said, and smiled at his crew.
"Hey, you guys," Claudia called as the group turned back toward
her. "Enough of this male bonding." She pointed at a dish she’d
set on
the table. "Gentlemen, dinner’s ready."
There was a collective sigh, and rush for the central counter.
This was going to work out just fine, Denys decided as he followed
his
men. Claudia met his gaze and they smiled at each other over the
heads
of the crew. Better than fine, he thought, pleased to have made
her
happy.
##
There was a six foot bunny in the doorway. Closer to seven,
Claudia decided as she noted the length of the bunny’s ears. He
had soft
gray fur, big brown eyes, and a pink, twitching nose. The bunny
was
standing upright. He was wearing a blue coverall uniform like
everyone
else on board the ship, and carrying a clipboard. Not carrying,
she
decided, cradling it lovingly. A bunny. In the kitchen doorway.
She
blinked, but the apparition didn’t go away.
"Oh my ears and whiskers," she whispered hoarsely, and tugged
on Cleary’s arm.
He was standing with his back to the door, having just opened the
microwave to peer inside. Denys made sure someone from the crew
accompanied her whenever she came to the kitchen. She had no
chance to explore on her own. Now that she was faced with her
first
alien, for the apparition had to be an alien of some kind, she was
rather glad she wasn’t alone.
She tugged on her companion’s sleeve again. "It’s night of the
lepus, Cleary. I really wish you’d pay attention."
She really wished she had taken Cleary’s advice and
left the kitchen an hour ago. He’d warned her that the members of
Third
Shift weren’t like Second Shift and it would be best to try not to
run
into any of them. The furry gentleman in the doorway was
definitely not
like any member of Second Shift.
Cleary finally turned around. "Hello, Smid," he said. "What are
you doing here?"
The bunny came over to the counter. He peered closely at Claudia.
"A human female," he said. He looked at his clipboard. "She’s not
on
your cargo manifest."
Cleary gave his most innocent smile. Claudia was warned by it,
she’d gotten to know Cleary’s rascally ways quite well in the four
days
she’d been cooking for the crew. She just hoped the bunny wouldn’t
be
warned by his sudden excess of blarney. "She’s cargo, Smid," he
explained. "Part of the extra two hundred pounds you were worried
about.
She came from Earth with the rest of the supplies."
He was telling the truth, more or less. Which was the best you
could expect from Cleary. She couldn’t believe it. She stared at
Cleary
in dumbfounded consternation. Was he turning her over to the
Captain?
She’d been given to understand that Captain Charles Andrews made
Captain
Bligh seem about as cold and cruel as Mickey Mouse.
Or maybe I was told he looks like Mickey Mouse, she thought,
eyeing Smid warily.
"The Book said we were supposed to pick up all necessary supplies
for the mission from Earth," Cleary went on. "Dr. Cameron’s a
necessary
supply. We’re just going by the Book."
Claudia listened closely to Cleary’s words. Book. Mission.
Necessary supplies. She was dying to find out what the HATTON was
up to,
what the mission was, but no one would tell her a thing. She was
willing
to bet Denys wouldn’t let them. Need to know and other security
nonsense. She’d always hated security nonsense, it was part of the
reason she’d left her post with the university think tank. Never
mind
worrying about the mission now, she cautioned herself sternly.
You’ve
got to worry about the rabbit right now.
She managed to dredge up a wan smile for Smid. "Hello," she
managed. "I’m happy to meet you."
She wished she had some fresh vegetables to offer him, but they
were pretty much out of supplies of any kind. She and Cleary’d
been
discussing her trying to learn how to program the food computer
when
Smid walked in on them.
"Care for a snack?" she offered the rabbit. "I think there’s a
couple of olives left."
"I have come for my dinner," Smid told her. "Welcome to the
mission, Dr. Cameron." Apparently he was satisfied with Cleary’s
clearly
lame explanation. "It’s nice to finally have the extra weight
explained.
Humans," he added with a disdainful twitch of whiskers as he sat
down at
one of the computer consoles. He carefully placed his clipboard to
one
side.
Smid had four<->fingered hands; they moved with sure knowledge
over the wide rows of keypads on the control board. The computer
screen
lit, the image of something which looked a lot like a head of
lettuce
slowly took form on the screen. Claudia and Cleary exchanged
surprised
glances and drifted over to watch Smid at work.
"You know how to run the food computer?" Cleary asked him as a
panel opened near the console, revealing a fresh-looking head of
lettuce
on a serving tray. "You know how to run it and you never told us?"
Cleary added with a pathetic whine.
"Maureen gave me some rudimentary instruction before she left,"
Smid replied. He turned in his seat to look at Cleary and Claudia.
"Maureen knew I was not interested in stealing any of her special
recipes."
Maureen sounds a tad paranoid if you ask me, Claudia
thought. She stepped back as Smid went to pick up his dinner tray.
She
knew the lettuce was formed somehow from the nutritional gray
glop. What
she needed to know was how the rabbit had done it. She’d tried to
follow
what he was doing with the computer, but knew she’d never be able
to
recreate the sequence on her own.
It’s a code, she thought. If she could get a few pieces of the
code she could figure out how to break it. She was good with
puzzles.
Besides, she wasn’t in this alone. There were seven hungry men who
were
willing to help with the code breaking. All she had
to do was convince Smid to show her how he did it. She thought she
knew
how.
She smiled slowly and stepped forward once, blocking the tall
rabbit’s exit. "I need your help," she said firmly. "For the good
of the
mission. By the Book," she added.
Cleary caught on immediately to what she was up to, and
persuasively
jumped in to explain to Smid just exactly what it
was she and the Book required of him. With the authority of the
Book as
incentive, Smid was more than happy to put off his meal long
enough to
teach her all he knew about the food program.
##
"You’re naked again," Claudia pointed out as Denys came out of the
head. She was sitting on the side of her bed, having already taken
her
turn at the sonic shower and put on the pilfered tee-shirt she
used as a
nightgown.
"I’m wearing a towel," he said. Then he smiled, looked her in the
eye, and slowly dropped the towel. "Now I’m naked." Watching her
cheeks and
other parts of her anatomy flame, he added, "You really must get
over this body
taboo, Claudia."
Denys knew he shouldn’t be teasing her, but he liked the way her
nipples were stirring beneath the tight fitting tee-shirt as she
stared
at him. Living with her was driving him crazy. He couldn’t help
but
tease occasionally. She was such a lovely woman. He’d never been
attracted to Maureen, though she was an attractive woman in her
own way.
But not like Claudia. Nobody he’d ever met was like Claudia.
He struck a bodybuilder’s pose and said, "There’s really nothing
wrong with looking."
"No," she agreed, and looked away. "I really wish you’d
stop it.. What she really wished was that he’d come
over to her so she could run her hands and mouth all over his
spare,
leanly muscled frame. She wanted to touch and taste every inch of
him.
"Go to bed, Denys Duchamp," she ordered. "Before you wreck all my
cultural taboos, and completely spoil me for Earth men forever."
"I wouldn’t want that." She heard the smirk in his voice, even
though she wasn’t looking at the one on his face. "Or would I?"
"You’re the one who doesn’t want me to know anything about your
time." And in a biblical sense, I really would love to know you,
she
added silently. She lay down on her bed and turned her back to the
room.
"Goodnight," she said firmly.
He laughed softly, said, "Sorry about the teasing. Sleep well,
Claudia."
Do I have a choice? she wondered, what with the magic empathic
mattress here to lull me off to dreamland the first chance it
gets.
Empathic. Responsive? Could the thing be programmed, she wondered.
It
was sort of alive. Maybe it took orders. She rolled onto her back
as
Denys told the lights in the room to dim. What if the bed actually
functioned like an alarm clock? Or had an emergency wake-up
setting? Was
it voice activated, like the lights?
"Okay," she whispered, "let’s see what this baby can do. Wake me
up in four hours," she instructed, speaking slowly and carefully.
Four
hours would be deep in the middle of Third Shift. Denys would be
safely,
deeply asleep. She might, if she was careful, be able to get out
of
their quarters and actually see something of the ship. Alone. On
her
own. What a wonderful idea.
If this worked she could go down to the kitchen and play
with the computer all by herself, she thought as she began to
drift off
to sleep. The boys had been a lot of help. They’d learned a lot
in the last couple of days, but she’d like some time to play with
the
combinations all by herself. She couldn’t really create recipes in
a
crowd. She needed privacy to practice her art.
And maybe she could get the kitchen computer to talk to other ship
computers while nobody was looking. Maybe she could finally start
to
indulge her curiosity. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. To finally find
out
what was really going on.
She yawned. Her eyes were getting heavy. Very heavy. All right,
she conceded to the mattress. I give in. Have your way with me.
Just
please remember to wake me up in -
Chapter Five
BOING.
What a strange noise, Claudia thought.
BOING, it came again.
The reading light came on.
As she opened her eyes to the pitiless glare, she realized the
bed was bouncing. Well, not bouncing, precisely. The water, or
whatever
material filled the mattress, was swaying in a gentle but
persistent
rhythm. The blanket slithered its way down her torso, leaving her
legs
bare as it folded itself neatly at the foot of the bed.
BOI--
"I’m awake, already," Claudia cut off the sound. The bed
immediately desisted from its wakeup efforts; the light dimmed and
the
mattress stopped moving. "Thank you, Thing," she muttered as she
swung
her legs over the side of the bed.
She dressed as quickly and as quietly as possible, all too aware
of the deeply breathing mound occupying the other bed. He’s such a
nice,
protective mound, she thought fondly of Denys as she tiptoed to
the
door. Only she didn’t need protecting, she added as she tossed one
last
look his way before slipping through the doorway.
Once out in the empty corridor she felt almost lost for a second,
slightly disoriented not to have Denys or one of the other crewmen
at
her side. "What’s your problem, girl?" she whispered to herself as
she
turned left and headed for the hatch that covered the nearby
service
duct. "This is what you wanted. Don’t be nervous now." Yeah, but
Third Shift’s supposed to be weird, she argued with herself as she
hurried along the well-known route. She spend some time going up a
ladder and then down another service passage. She counted
far-spaced
light panels and service hatches as she moved nervously along.
"What have I got to be nervous about?" she muttered to herself as
she ventured alone through the HATTON for the first time. "Maybe
there
are more aliens on board," she answered her question promptly.
"You
know, aliens like in Aliens and Independence Day. Big, nasty
things
with dripping fangs, lots of dripping fangs. With acid. Ripley,
I’m
not." Oh, come on, she countered silently, the only alien you’ve
met so
far is a bunny rabbit. And if you want to talk movies, Smid’s not
a
thing like Harvey, or Bugs Bunny or Roger Rabbit. He’s quiet and
totally
uninterested in us humans. She told herself that any other aliens
she
met were going to be the same way. That she was just nervous
because
Denys was overprotective. The way he acted, while somewhat
endearing,
did make her suspect that there was stuff she needed to be
protected
from.
"There’s nothing to be worried about," she told herself as she
climbed one last ladder and pushed open the hatch on the kitchen
deck.
She gave a quick, cautious scan of the corridor. Nobody around.
With a
sigh of relief, she scuttled out of the hatchway, across the
corridor and into her own private domain of the kitchen.
"Lights," Claudia called, and the overheads came dutifully on. She
rubbed her hands together as she approached the computer and added
cheerfully, "Camera. Action." She sat down to play.
Time passed, and she managed to figure out a recipe for cream
sauce. It was frustrating because she was trying to access
different
programs, not come up with a bland variation of bechamel sauce.
She had to
console herself with the thought that any new thing she could do
with
the computer was progress. "If only Marki were here," she
muttered,
thinking longingly of her faithful assistant back at her catering
business. "Marki’s a computer science major."
"Is that so?" a masculine voice said from behind her.
It was a British-accented voice, but with a very different
inflection than Denys’s, a much deeper timbre, older. A stranger
had
entered her domain, and she been too intent on what she was doing
to
notice anyone was there. Claudia’s fingers froze on the keyboard,
her
back stiffened tensely.
The voice went on pleasantly. "Studying artificial computer
intelligence is this Marki? She’d need some background in it to
play
with our toys here."
Claudia gulped and forced herself to swivel the chair around to
face the speaker. "Uh, yes," she croaked. "I guess she would."
He was tall, strongly built and looked to be about sixty. He had
silver hair, a strong beak of a nose and twinkling blue eyes
surrounded
by deep crowsfeet. He smiled and gave her a cheerful nod, then
tugged on
a lock of silver hair falling across his forehead and said, "You
can
call me Charlie, miss." He pulled up a chair and lowered his long
frame
into it.
Claudia was glad not to have to look so far up to see his face.
"Good evening, Charlie," she said politely. "Have you been here
long?"
"I was hoping for a cup of tea," was his answer. "I generally come
in about this time every evening in hopes the computer will
remember
what tea is." He looked at her hopefully. "Think you might have
any luck
with it, miss? I’ve information that you’re quite a hand with the
food
synthesizer."
Charlie looked so plaintive she couldn’t help but turn back to the
computer
and give it a try. Since Smid had shown her how to work the
program, she and her
helpers had been able to figure out any number of fruits and
vegetables, something resembling fund-raising banquet chicken,
tuna
pot pie and quite a few herbs and spices. She fiddled with the
herb
matrices, looking for a tea combination while Charlie moved his
chair
closer and peered over her shoulder.
"You are good at this," he commented as pictures formed and
reformed on the screen.
"Thank you. You’re Third Shift, then?" she questioned as she
continued to
work.
"Oh, I get around," he replied. "The crew’s duties overlap a good
deal, you know..
"No, I don’t know," she answered, a bit petulantly. "Nobody tells
me anything."
"Is that so?" Charlie sat back and crossed his long legs. "That
doesn’t seem fair. A lass who works hard to feed a lot of
ungrateful,
hungry men ought to know what’s what on a ship."
"I quite agree," Claudia responded. She found herself having to
repress the urge toward a self-pitying sniff. It was nice to have
time can
be fiddled with and a properly navigated ship can jump out at
precise
points in time -- past, present or future. The effect is sort of
like
winding an antique watch. As the engineers and physicists explain
it,
the actual time jump was accomplished by a dynamic tension we got
from
winding our way slowly into the past and then springing forward
into the
future. Actually, the jumping into the future part is still
theoretical.
We’ve managed to trip to the past, so we’ll probably make it
back."
"By winding into the past in order to spring into the future?"
He flashed her an edged smile. "Supposedly. We’ll find out about
that in a few weeks, won’t we?"
"We?" she questioned back, in a small voice. "I thought I was
going home."
"Oh, not you, m’dear." He waved her sudden worry aside. "I meant
the HATTON. We’ll be the first ship in history to attempt
traveling both
ways in time. The Book assures us we’ll make it. But what does the
bloody Book know, I ask you? It’s author lived and died a good two
centuries ago."
"What is this book?" Claudia asked with sudden suspicion. "Is it
some sort of mystical book of predictions? Like Nostrodamus?"
Charlie’s eyes twinkled merrily. "I think you’re probably right,"
he agreed. "But it’s more than my job’s worth to utter such
heresy. The
Book," he explained. "Is a computer disk -- a CD ROM sort of
thingy -which
has been passed down with due ceremony from generation to
generation from your time to ours. It was addressed to our beloved
captain, and no one but that august personage knows its full
contents.
Which hasn’t stopped generations of speculation about the mission
and
the destiny of the FCW. Book analysis is quite a lucrative field,
or so
I’m given to understand. There’s all the data you could ever want
to
read about the Book stored in the ship’s computer. Why don’t you
get
your young man to access it for you when he gets back from Phobos
tonight?" he added helpfully. Charlie put his cup on the console
and
stood. "Time for me to turn in." He stretched and yawned. "We must
chat
again." He turned to go.
Claudia had sat in frozen surprise as soon as he mentioned her
’young man’. "Denys?" she asked as Charlie made as if to exit.
"Phobos?
What’s Denys doing on Phobos?"
"Directing the mining team," he answered. "As he did yesterday."
The members of Second Shift had seemed tired at supper. Tired and
too quiet. "But we haven’t reached Phobos yet."
She remembered the viewscreen in her and Denys’s quarters. She’d
been watching them approach Mars. She’d been getting more and more
excited about the prospect of seeing the surface of another world
as the
red ball grew slowly to fill the night sky. She’d chattered on at
Denys
about her dreams of space travel and adventure and seeing distant
worlds
and times. She even told him about the Star Trek convention she’d
gone
to dressed as a Klingon. She’d never told anybody at the
university about that. She
hadn’t been embarrassed to tell Denys.
Denys listened and smiled and told her space travel really wasn’t
adventurous and not to get her hopes up about setting foot on Mars
when
they got there because they weren’t going to Mars, anyway. But she
was
determined, and said a Martian moon was almost as good as the
planet
itself. Denys frowned and she ignored the frown, becoming more
determined as the red ball grew slowly larger on the screen.
The red ball had been growing very slowly lately. Too slowly, she
realized now. Denys had been fiddling with the screen, hadn’t he?
Running a tape, probably. Making her think they were on their way
to
Mars when they had, in fact, already arrived. Denys. Denys who
tried to
hide everything from her, but couldn’t completely succeed. Denys,
who
for some stupid reason, she thought understood her dreams. He
didn’t
care about dreams, he was worried about security. He knew she knew
their
destination, but he’d be damned if he’d let her know any more than
that.
"Damn you, Denys Duchamp!" she snarled. She swiveled the chair
around and hit the console an angry blow with her fist. "I spend
my time
slaving over a hot computer to make you a decent meal and this is
all
the thanks I get!? You lie to me! You treat me like a child! You,
you..."
"I seem to have said something wrong," Charlie interjected
smoothly. "Forgive me." He sidled toward the door, his wary
expression
clearly saying he was afraid she was going to do something rash.
"Good
night." The door opened and closed and he was gone.
She felt like doing something rash. But not to Charlie. Charlie
was intelligent and civilized and treated her like she was the
same. Denys didn’t
deserve thinking about. "I’m going to get you for this," she
vowed, thinking about
Denys anyway. "And I’m going to find a way to get to Mars. Or
Phobos, at least.
It’s only a little moon, but I’ll take what I can get. And you,
Denys
Duchamp, are not going to stop me."
She stared at the computer screen. As her fingers played idly over
the keypads, she began to come up with a plan.
##
Denys woke up thinking about Claudia. There was nothing new in
this. He thought about Claudia all the time. He thought about her
smile
and her walk and how her body would respond if he gave in and let
himself touch her. He thought about her bright, inquiring
intelligence.
He liked the way she was so insightful and adaptable. There was so
much he
wanted to tell her, and so much he had to keep to himself. So he
listened to her,
encouraged her to tell him about herself and her world. The more
he got to know
her, the better he liked her. More than liked her. Which was a
very tricky
problem. As the days went past, he was becoming more and more
anxious
about the time when he’d have to let her go. And he was determined
to
let her go. He owed it to her. She didn’t belong in the future.
She
deserved to have her life back. To be happy in her own time and
world.
He was going to make sure she was happy, even if he ended up
miserable
doing it.
Claudia, he thought, as he swung out of bed. Sweet, funny Claudia.
She was going to hate him if she found out how he’d tricked her
about
Phobos. He wouldn’t blame her if she did, but it was for her own
good.
She’d see that eventually.
It’s my problem that the woman of my dreams is from the wrong
century, he thought. I’ll take the responsibility for your safety
and
keep my feelings to myself. He sighed unhappily, threw a longing
gaze
toward the other side of the room, and hurried to get dressed.
When Denys had still been somewhere on the far edge of sleep, with
the bed was in its initial, slow stage of the waking process he
preferred, he’d heard the door open and her moving about,
muttering.
That must have been a dream image, he decided, because of course
she
hadn’t left their quarters while he slept. He finished dressing,
his
mind still on the woman who slept peacefully in the other alcove.
He considered himself lucky that the dreams hadn’t been the
erotic ones last night. He really should be ashamed of some of the
things he and Claudia got up to in his dreams. He smiled to
himself as he stepped out into the corridor. I should be ashamed,
he
thought as he headed quickly for the hangar bay, but I’m not.
It was Sakretis’s turn to spend the day on board ship, to keep a
careful eye on Claudia. The rest of Second Shift headed back to
the cold
wasteland of Phobos and continued the work of digging chunks of
strange
metal out of the mine they’d set up at the bottom of Stickney
Crater.
The process was time consuming, and a hard day was put in by
everyone,
but the metaform wasn’t difficult to extract. In fact, it was to
be found mostly on or very near the rocky surface of the crater.
"I don’t know where this stuff came from," Denys mentioned to
Cleary as they piled into the shuttle for the trip back to the
HATTON,
"but I’m beginning to think somebody took a big scoop of molten
metal
and poured it into the crater. And not that long ago, either."
"Weird," Cleary agreed, settling into the seat next to Denys. It
was the only opinion of the metaform the crewman had to offer. He
gave a
tired grunt, and stared out the front port as the shuttle ascended
toward the hangar bay. "Wonder if Dr. Cameron was able to figure
out the
biscuit recipe she said she was going to try. I’d kill for a big
plate
of hot biscuits."
So much for any hope of scientific speculation, Denys thought as
he brought the ship into the hangar bay. He gave a disgruntled
frown.
She
wasn’t
interested in safety, just information. "It’s too late," he said
unhappily. He sat down at the counter and drank down his tea in
long,
miserable gulps. It needed sugar. It didn’t help.
She could see he was distressed, but she ignored it for the
moment. She perched on the stool opposite him and pressed on. "Why
is it
unavailable?"
"Because it gets mined out by us. It doesn’t exist in the future
because we came to the past to get it. You see?"
"No." She wrinkled her brow in thought. "Yes. It’s a time paradox.
Or time loop. Whichever. You go back in time to make something
happen
the right way in the future. And if you don’t do it right back
here,
the future will be all screwed up when you get back home. I’ve
seen all
the Back to the Future movies, and Time Cop, and Deep Space Nine
and Voyager
do time-travel episodes all the time, and Bab5 has a time travel
thing going where
John and Delenn and Lando. never mind, that. s all fiction" she
added, though
she didn’t suppose it was a very sensible explanation. Of course,
time travel
wasn’t a very sensible subject, really.
"I can’t let it be screwed up," he said.
He looked miserable. She wanted to hug him. "You won’t screw it
up," she reassured him.
"No," he agreed. The acknowledgment certainly didn’t seem to make
him feel any better. "I can’t let you go home, Claudia. You know
too
much. You’re a danger to the future now. I’m sorry, but you can’t
go
home again."
"What?"
"Claudia." He reached for her hands. She jumped out of her seat,
not the least bit interested in his comforting touch. He stood and
started to come around the counter toward her.
"Hold it right there," she said before he got too close. She
glared. He stayed on his side of the counter. Good God, she
thought.
Dealing with this man was like being taken on a roller coaster
ride.
First he saves my life, then he scares me to death, then he makes
love
to me like nobody ever has before, then he tells me he can’t do it
again, now he’s telling me I can’t go back to Earth.
His decision, not mine.
"Are you telling me I have no choice in the matter?"
"You made the choice," he countered. "You asked too many
questions. You could change the future if I let you go back now."
"How could I possibly change the future?" she countered back.
"You know what’s going to happen."
"Right. And who’d believe me if I told them?"
"I can’t take the chance."
"You can’t take the chance. What do you mean you can’t take the
chance? I’m responsible for my own actions, Duchamp." I might want
to
stay with you, she was thinking, but I will not be forced into it.
"I
will not be treated like an irresponsible child. Do you treat your
own
women like that? Do all those admirals and starship captains have
to
wait around for your decisions?"
"No. But you’re not from our time. You need someone to look after
you. You are irresponsible. And you know too much." He knew he was
putting this badly. He was letting himself get angry, he was
getting her
angry. This was not the calm, rational discussion it should be.
Nothing
was as it should be. He wanted to tell her why he wanted her to
stay,
why he needed her to stay. But those were personal reasons and had
nothing to do with the situation her curiosity had created.
"Claudia."
"Don’t you Claudia me!"
"Dr. Cameron, then. I -- "
"There is no way I could change history," she interrupted,
inexorable and furious. "I run a small business in a small town in
the
middle of a state full of pigs and cornfields. About the worst
damage I
could do if I told the world about what’s going to happen two
hundred
years from now is get written up on the back pages of the National
Enquirer. No one would care. No one would believe me. Science
fiction
movies are a hell of a lot more interesting than what’s really
going to
happen."
"I’m not going to argue about it," he said.
She planted her fists on her hips. "Well, I am."
"No," Denys said, coming determinedly toward her. "What you’re
going to do is come home with me and get a good night’s sleep. A
good,
long night’s sleep," he added, grabbing her by the wrist and
pulling her
toward the door.
Chapter Eight
The Shift Crew had adjourned to the recreation room rather than
the kitchen to eat their evening meal. It was glop again. Duchamp
wasn’t
allowing them anything but glop. The fact that he was sharing it
with
them didn’t add any sense of camaraderie to the meal. In fact, his
presence didn’t help the general dark mood at all. Duchamp was
sulking,
he was surly; he was angry and despondent by turns. He complained
or he
said nothing. He was acting like a Donakian bear
with a toothache and it was driving the men who worked for him
crazy.
Cleary had ventured to suggest Duchamp was in love. He hadn’t said
it
very loudly, and certainly not in Duchamp’s presence. Jefferson
Cleary
was not a suicidal man.
The crew missed Dr. Cameron. It wasn’t just the food. They missed
her company. From the furtive glances they dared turn his way, the
general consensus was that Duchamp missed Dr. Cameron more than
they
did. He sat glumly at the far end of the table, shoulders slumped
tiredly, eyes on his untouched plate of glop. He’d developed this
annoying habit of sighing loudly about once an hour. He did it
now.
It had to be connected with Dr. Cameron.
It had been four days since anyone had seen her. It had been noted
that Duchamp didn’t return to his quarters very often. No one knew
what
he’d done to her, but they were getting worried.
Cleary put his fork carefully on the table, looked at the anxious
men seated around the table, summoned up the necessary courage,
and
ventured to ask, "How’s Dr. Cameron, Duchamp?"
Six sets of shoulders flinched as Duchamp’s icy blue gaze rose
slowly to take them all in. "Sleeping," he responded. "She’s
having a
nice, quiet little nap." Each word was spoken with clear, cold
precision. His gaze dropped slowly back to his plate.
"Oh," was all Cleary said.
Which was about all there was to say considering Duchamp’s present
mood. Fortunately for everyone’s’ digestion, Duchamp threw down
his fork
and stormed out, grumbling, a few minutes later.
"What’s he mean, sleeping?" Sakretis wondered after he was gone.
"He’s off his feed," Fox said. "Looks terrible."
"The sighing’s the worst part," Morrison complained.
"Yeah," said Toffler. "Kind of reminds me of me when I first
met my wife."
"What’s he done to her?" Sakretis persisted. "I worry."
"He wouldn’t hurt her," Harcort pointed out. "He’s miserable. It
probably hurts him more than it does her."
"Whatever it is," Cleary added.
"He’s avoiding her," Fox decided. "I remember that phase with my
own missus. Ran till she caught me." He smiled at some fond
private
memories.
"Dr. Cameron didn’t do anything wrong," Sakretis said.
"We never did get our chili," Cleary added. He looked down at his
half-eaten glop. "Sweet woman like Dr. Cameron doesn’t deserve him
locking her away."
"She certainly doesn’t," Toffler agreed. "Why won’t he let us use
the recipe files she created?"
"Cause he’s suffering," Fox declared. "And wants us to suffer
too."
"It’s our fault he met her," Morrison pointed out. "Personally, I
think he ought to be thanking us."
"She’s the best thing that ever happened to him," Harcort agreed.
"He’s a lonesome sort," said Toffler. "Could use a wife. Dr.
Cameron’s not married, is she?"
"No. I remember she said she wasn’t on the cooking show," Fox
explained.
"Maybe we could get them together," Morrison suggested. "Somehow."
"Yeah," Sakretis agreed. "Somewhere with starlight and a romantic
atmosphere."
"What about their quarters?" Harcort asked. "They see each other
all the time."
"No," Sakretis protested. "It has to be somewhere neutral.
Somewhere romantic."
"She’s probably in no condition to talk," Cleary commented.
"Unless it’s in her sleep."
They all looked at him.
"Bet he changed the programming on her sleep unit," Cleary said
decisively. "Easiest way to keep her out of trouble."
"Should have thought of that sooner," Morrison said. "Before he
fell in love with her." He g

He gave a knowing smirk. "No wonder he
doesn’t
go home much. Bet he can’t stand watching Sleeping Beauty waiting
for
Prince Charming to come along."
"He’s not exactly charming lately," Harcort agreed.
"My point," said Sakretis. "They need a change of atmosphere."
"An airlock?" Fox asked sarcastically.
"I was thinking, maybe, of the Captain’s Walk," Sakretis
suggested. Everyone looked at him.
"But that’s up on top," Fox practically shouted. "Right next to
the Captain’s quarters."
"Yeah," Sakretis agreed. "But Captain Andrews is usually on the
bridge."
"I think it’s a good idea," assented Toffler. "The view’s got to
be romantic."
"It could work," Morrison agreed.
"We’ve got to get her up there first," Sakretis said.
"And Duchamp," Fox added.
"We have to wake her up first," Cleary pointed out. "When Duchamp
isn’t around."
Everyone looked expectantly at Cleary.
"All right," he agreed after a suitable two second pause for
deliberation. "You create a diversion. I’ll go get Dr. Cameron."
"When do we get Duchamp up to the Captain’s Walk?" Sakretis wanted
to know.
"Give me half an hour," Cleary decided. He got up to leave.
"Someday he’s going to thank us for this. If he doesn’t kill us
first."
##
The bed went BOING.
As soon as Claudia heard it, she had the feeling she’d
been waiting for the sound for quite a long time. She felt like
she’d
been asleep for days and days. And she’d had the worst dreams
about
yelling and screaming and pummeling at Denys’s broad chest while
he
insisted she stay still and go to sleep before he had to knock her
out.
Very weird dreams.
Very realistic.
The bed went BOING again.
"Dr. Cameron? Are you all right?" She felt a gentle touch on the
shoulder. "Dr. Cameron?" The voice was Cleary’s.
She remembered promising the Second Shift crew chili. She must
have overslept and Cleary had come to fetch her. She yawned.
"Chili,"
she said. "Coming."
"I wasn’t thinking about chili right now, Dr. Cameron," he said.
She cracked her eyelids open so she could give Cleary a skeptical
look. "Oh, yeah?" She sat up before the bed got the chance to make
that
odd noise again. She leaned forward on the edge of the bed and
rubbed
her face with her hands. "I am so groggy."
"The sonic shower’s pretty good for helping people wake up,"
Cleary suggested. "Why don’t I wait here for you while you get
cleaned
up?"
She stood up. Her legs felt mushy; like they could hardly hold her
weight. Her mouth was full of cotton. "My teeth feel like they’re
growing fur. You wait here. I’ll get cleaned up." Hadn’t somebody
just
suggested that? She rubbed numb fingers across her forehead. "Be
right back."
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Take this." he held out a
bundle to her. "Thought you might like a change of clothes," he
offered.
He shrugged as she took the bundle. "Found the spidersilk on
Berengar.
Been saving it for my girlfriend, but I think she’d rather have a
knife
instead." He gave her a charming, encouraging smile.
"Thanks," she said, accepting the gift happily. "Thank you very
much, Cleary." Clutching the bundle tightly she stumbled off to
the
head. She had to go to the bathroom really bad.
By the time she got around to getting dressed, she was feeling
much better, though still oddly disoriented. The physical affects
of too
much sleep were cleared away and she was ready to face herself in
a
mirror at last. She slipped into underwear, and then opened
Cleary’s
gift. The short, low-necked dress she held up was made of the
softest
silk she’d ever felt. It was a deep, shimmering scarlet, shot
through
with copper and gold threads. When she put it on<,> it didn’t
exactly
cling to her, rather it attached itself sensuously, accenting
every
curve and protrusion of her form.
"I look like I’ve lost a couple of pounds," she observed, twirling
around, enjoying how she looked. "Not bad," she concluded. "Not
exactly
an outfit for cooking in -- at least not hearty meals for hungry
miners," she amended with a giggle. This was a seductive
champagne-
and-cheesecake-on-a-moonlit-terrace sort of outfit.
Cleary handed her sandals to her when she came out of the head.
His eyes swept over her quickly; he gave an appreciative grin. She
thought she heard him mutter, "If this doesn’t work..."
"Where’s Denys?" she asked. She was being haunted by weird dreams
featuring making passionate love and fighting with Denys. She
wanted to
see him. She wasn’t sure what had really happened. She wanted to
talk to
Denys. She hoped and prayed Denys’s eyes would bug out when he saw
her
in the red dress. Especially if the dreams about making love
weren’t
dreams at all.
"Denys wants you to meet him somewhere," Cleary explained. He took
her by the elbow, directing her toward the door. "We have to
hurry," he
added. "Come along."
She smiled amenably at him, the odd disorientation keeping her
from questioning anything. "Okay."
He took her along a confusing route to a dimly lit, narrow
corridor with a glass wall. There was a rail along the glass wall
at
waist height. The view was stunning. Through the large window she
could
see Mars, almost as big as she’d seen it from Phobos, and Phobos
itself,
and a bright speck of light beyond that must have been the Sun.
She leaned against the rail, pressing her nose to the glass, like
a kid staring into a toy store. "Wow." She turned her head to grin
at
Cleary.
"Pretty, isn’t it?" he asked.
She nodded eagerly, then looked back at the view. "What’s that?"
she wondered, as several objects crossed in front of the sun and
were
illuminated by reflected sunlight. The objects appeared to be
falling
toward Mars and its little moons.
"Asteroid shower," Cleary answered. "Hope our shields are up. Got
to go," he added.
"But, Denys...?"
"He should be here any moment. I better not stick around. Bye."
She was more interested in the asteroid shower than Cleary anyway.
Though, after he left, she wished she’d asked him what he meant
when
he said he hoped shields were up. Oh, well, maybe Denys would
explain
it. Maybe Denys had wanted her to see the asteroid shower. She
sighed
fondly. How sweet of him.
##
"All right, I’ve looked at the aft hullplates," Denys told Fox and
Sakretis as he came through the airlock from the outside of the
ship. "I
didn’t see any damage."
Sakretis looked at the monitor box he held in his hands. "Must
have been a box malfunction," he said. "It’s not showing any
damage
now."
"Maybe it’s interference from the asteroid shower," Fox suggested.
Denys graced them with the most scathing look he could summon up
while he removed the breather strip from under his nose. He pushed
back
the hood of his environmental suit and shook out his hair. The men
looked uncomfortable. He was getting ready to order them to make a
thorough check of every shipboard monitor when the scanner band he
wore
on his wrist signaled for his attention.
"What the...?" He checked his wrist. "She’s awake." Awake and out
of his quarters or the alarm wouldn’t have signaled. He turned a
fierce
glare on his men. The fierce glare only encountered empty space.
Sakretis and Fox had already fled.
"I’m going to kill them," he declared. "The Shift. Her. Myself.
Why didn’t I think of that before? It’s the only possible solution
to
the whole impossible mess." While he was complaining, he
carefully worked the tiny function key of the scanner to
discover Claudia’s exact location. He was surprised to discover it
wasn’t the kitchen. A jolt of fear went through him when he
discovered
that she’d wandered into an off limits area.
"The Captain’s Walk? What’s she doing there? What if Captain
Andrews finds her? He’ll eat her alive! Oh my God!" He had to save
her;
get to her before the poor lamb ended up walking the plank into
the
vacuum of space.
##
Claudia was beginning to think Denys would never arrive when she
heard the pounding of running footsteps. Before she could turn,
her
shoulder was grabbed and she was spun violently around.
"Claudia!" Denys hissed angrily as he grabbed her by both
shoulders.
She smiled a welcome to him, her groggy haze lifting enough for
her to wonder how anyone could hiss a word with no sibilants in
it.
"Denys," she said, "I’m so happy to see you." She kissed his chin.
"Don’t do that." He held her at arm’s length. He looked like he
was getting ready to yell at her, then his eyes flicked up and
down her
form.
"I’ve been watching the asteroids. It’s sort of like a meteor
shower. Very pretty." She gave him a radiant smile. "Thank you."
She looked gorgeous. What was she thanking him for? There was a
great deal of soft, wonderfully curved, soft skin showing. What
wasn’t
showing might as well have been from the way the shimmering
spidersilk
dress clung to her. The dress was magnificent. She looked stunning
in
it. He wanted desperately to take it off her.
"Looking like that," he told her, knowing he should have
been yelling at her, "is illegal on some planets."
Her expression grew teasing and sensuous. She touched her tongue
to her full lips. Her eyes glowed with warm humor. She looked ripe
and
ready to be kissed. "On yours?"
He found himself shaking his head. He could hardly breathe for the
heat rising between them. "No. We definitely approve of beautiful
women
on New Sydney."
She tilted her head. Her silky brown hair sifted across the backs
of his hands. It sent a shiver through him. "You think I’m
beautiful?"
she asked, her tone more curious than vain.
"The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen," he admitted. He. d been
holding her away from him, he wasn’t quite sure when he’d pulled
her close. He
ran his hands down her back and felt her breasts pressing against
his chest. He
rubbed his cheek against her head, reveling in the scent and
texture of her hair.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
She was beautiful, the starry background of the setting was
beautiful. The place and the woman were perfect. He’d missed her
and worried about her for days. She fitted perfectly against him.
She
tilted her face up to him, lips parted, offering. He held her
close and
kissed her.
They were on the Captain’s Walk and he was an idiot.
There’s something familiar about this, Claudia thought when Denys
jumped away from her as though he’d been burned. There’s something
weird
going on here. The way her lips tingled and heat singed her nerve
endings she certainly felt like she’d been burned, but the
pleasant fire
wasn’t what bothered her. She blinked as real memories began to
separate
themselves from dream images.
He grabbed her shoulders again as he questioned angrily, "What are
you doing here? What are you doing out of bed?"
His fierce tone jogged her memory a bit more. "Cleary said you
wanted to see me." She began to suspect seeing her was the last
thing
Denys wanted.
He groaned and stepped away. "Cleary. Of course. I should have
known." He swooped toward her and grabbed her wrist. "Come on. We
have
to get out of here."
Denys. s deception became suddenly, painfully clear. She grabbed
hold of the guardrail with her free hand and refused to budge.
"You!"
she yelled. "You rat!"
"Shhh!"
"I will not ’shhh’, you alien lizard, terrorist rat. You knocked
me out," she accused. "You’re kidnapping me into the future."
"I’m taking a shot at it," he agreed, pulling on her arm. "Come
on."
"No."
"You want us to get caught?" He looked desperately around the
nearly dark, empty corridor.
"Yes," she decided. "Take me to your leader."
"No."
"You can’t do this to me."
"I’m doing it."
"Not without a -- a fair trial, or something."
"Claudia, you. re being unreasonable."
"Damn right I’m being unreasonable. You’re trying to ruin my
life."
"I’m trying to save it."
He gave an extra hard tug. She let go of the guardrail. The
momentum propelled her forward. They crashed together and onto the
deck,
Claudia sprawling across him.
"Mr. Duchamp," a bored-sounding voice drawled out of the intercom.
"Please report to the bridge."
"Oh, God." Denys closed his eyes as if he was in pain.
"Immediately, if you please," the voice added.
The disembodied voice sounded familiar to Claudia. "Who’s that?"
"The Captain. Let me up."
She stayed where she was, and looked him in the eye. "How
long have I been asleep?"
"Not long. A few days," he confessed.
"A few... days... Denys!" she sputtered, fury and hurt fought for
supremacy in her emotions. Hurt won. "How could you? I thought you
cared."
"I do. It was for your own good."
"Let me be the judge of what’s for my own good. Or at least a
participant in the decision making. Where’s your captain?" she
insisted.
"I want to meet him."
"No." Several minutes passed in furious silence as they tried to
stare each other down.
She knew from his stubborn look he wasn’t going to change his
mind. "Denys!"
"I have to get to the bridge," he told her. He grabbed her by the
waist and
pushed her off him. "Believe me," he said, helping her to her
feet, "you do not
want to meet our captain. He’ll kill you, me and the crew if you
get caught. He
wouldn’t send you home, Claudia."
"Kill me?" She gulped. "The crew? You?"
"Maybe not kill, but we could end up on a prison colony. All of
us."
"Mr. Duchamp," the captain’s voice drawled sarcastically from out
of the air, "I’m waiting."
Denys paled. "He doesn’t like to be kept waiting."
"I can tell. Do you think he knows about me?"
"I certainly hope not." Denys looked around as if he was expecting
a posse to come bearing down on them at any moment. "You’ve got to
get
back to my quarters, and I’ve got to get to the bridge." He
stepped over
to a communications outlet. "Cleary," he ordered.
"Duchamp, you’re supposed to be on the bridge," came the immediate
response.
"And we both know why I’m not there," Denys answered in acid-
etched tones.
"I’m on my way to the Captain’s Walk," Cleary responded.
"Good." Denys faced her. "Stay here," he ordered. "Cleary will see
you get safely back to my quarters."
She put her hands on her hips. "Then what? Another long nap?"
"It was for your own good."
"It was to keep me passive and obedient," she claimed angrily.
"You thought it was the only way you could get me to cooperate.
You were
wrong. I’ll never be sleepy again," she declared dramatically as a
door
at the end of the corridor opened. "I’ll never forgive you,
either."
Cleary approached them at a quick trot. "I’ll take care of her,
Duchamp."
Denys rounded on the other man. "What did you mean by bringing her
up here?"
"Figure it out for yourself," Cleary answered. "Come on, Dr.
Cameron," he said sympathetically to Claudia. "Let’s get you back
home."
Denys would very much like to have stayed and argue with the pair
of them. Unfortunately, there was somewhere more important he had
to be.
##
"Here at last," Captain Andrews said as Denys saluted before him.
The Captain ran a mocking eye over him.
Denys tried very hard not to flinch at the man’s cool assessment.
He’d been told his own eyes could look as cold as ice. The
expression in
Captain Andrews’s eyes was somewhere near absolute zero. The eyes,
coupled with the man’s aristocratically beaked nose and
distinguished
gray hair had a devastating effect. Without saying anything the
captain
was able to make Denys want to confess his and the Shift’s
transgressions of the last few weeks. He managed not to. Denys
stood
passively, just barely managing not to squirm with guilt.
"I see by your outfit that you’ve been messing about on the hull,"
Captain Andrew said at last.
Denys had forgotten he was still in his environmental suit. "Yes,
sir," he responded.
"I suppose that explains your leisurely response to my summons."
It was as good an excuse as any. "Yes, sir."
"Hmm." He rubbed his forefinger across the bridge of his
impressive nose. "I see. Note the viewscreen," he went on,
dropping the
subject of Denys’s slow response.
The ship’s main viewscreen covered one entire wall of the bridge.
The workstations were grouped around the viewscreen in a double
horseshoe, the Captain’s Chair and control station set in the
center of
the uppermost semi-circle. Denys observed that the rest of the
bridge
Shift was studiously avoiding looking at him and Captain Andrews.
He
concentrated on looking at the screen, while the captain’s fingers
drummed briefly on the edge of his console.
The view showed the clifftop and dark interior of Stickney Crater.
"It’s the mine site," he said after it became evident the captain
wasn’t
going to elaborate on anything before he got a response.
"Quite. It was the mine site."
"Was, sir?"
"How are craters formed, young man?" Captain Andrews asked, his
dreadful gaze still on the screen.
"Impacts from space debris, usually," Denys answered quickly. He
didn’t try to voice his confusion.
"Just so. And could asteroids be classified as space debris, do
you think?"
"Yes, sir."
"And is it possible for an asteroid to impact Stickney Crater at
the exact spot you set up your mining apparatus?"
Denys’s mind reeled. No. Impossible. "Yes, sir," he answered
calmly, despite the panic trying to take over his brain.
Captain Andrews sighed. "The sensors seem to indicate that is
precisely what has just happened. Do me a favor, will you?" the
cool
voice grated painfully across Denys’s already raw nerves. "Take
your
Shift down and assess the damage for me, if you please."
"Yes, sir," Denys repeated one more time, happy to flee the bridge
and the mocking annoyance of the HATTON’s commanding officer.
##
"I don’t get it," Fox said as they gathered around the damage.
"How could it destroy just the laser canon? It doesn’t make any
sense."
"Fate," Toffler said. "Karma."
"Damn bad luck," Cleary added.
"Right," Denys agreed. He shook his head. Not for the first
time since they’d arrived at the mine to discover what a tiny
fragment
of falling asteroid had done to their most important piece of
equipment:
flattened it.
"Nothing we can salvage," Morrison reported.
"The thing didn’t work right anyway," Cleary pointed out. "What do
we do now, Duchamp?" he wanted to know. The rest of the Shift
looked at
him with the same question in their expressions.
He shrugged. "We have to finish the job," he said. "We’ll have to
rebuild it, I guess."
"Out of what?" Fox asked. "The Earth ship didn’t deliver all the
spare parts we ordered."
"Yeah," Toffler recalled. "They replaced some important stuff with
’equivalent’ equipment. It didn’t work."
Sakretis scratched his jaw. "I remember the hands on the freighter
talking real fast about our order. I’ve been wondering what ’back
order’
and SNAFU mean, too."
Denys was getting a headache. "I better call the captain," he
said. He left his men to finished checking over the bits of fused
metal and rock
which had recently been their laser canon. He went back to the
shuttle to use the
communicator.
The conversation was brief, pithy, and mostly one-sided. Denys got
to say, "Yes, sir," a lot.
The men were waiting by the shuttle door when he came out. "We’re
going back to Earth," he told them. "Ship’s computer’s already
working
on ordering parts for a new canon. Let’s get back to the HATTON."
They
followed him on board.
Once strapped in, Cleary said, "What about Dr. Cameron?"
"What about her?"
"Well," Morrison ventured. "She can go home now. This is a stroke
of good fortune for her."
"You going to put her back to sleep?" Cleary questioned
disapprovingly.
It appeared Cleary was somewhat aware of his dilemma. "No," he
answered. "I’m not going to put her back to sleep."
Maybe I should, he thought, but I can’t. He let his hands work the
controls of the shuttle while his mind ranged over the problem of
what to do with Claudia Cameron. He couldn’t knock her out again.
It was
a stupid idea, and a cruel and totally unacceptable solution. I
may be
very stupid, he thought, but I certainly didn’t intend any
cruelty. I
robbed her of several days of her life. I hope she can forgive me
for
it. I hope she’ll let me try to make up for it.
Morrison was right. He should let her go home. This was a perfect
chance. A Godsend. Or it would be, if she didn’t know too much.
She
does. He couldn’t risk it. He didn’t want to hurt her. He’d do
anything
to keep from hurting her. Anything but take her back to Earth. How
did
he stop her? She was sure to insist on going home. Once the men
told her
she was bound to find some way of cajoling them into getting her
off the
ship. She had them wrapped around her finger.
What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
He caught the stray thought as it flitted across his consciousness
and held it up for closer examination. I tried to keep her from
knowing
about Phobos, he reminded himself. She found out anyway. Look what
happened then. He had fond, as well as frustrated, memories of the
experience. It’s the only choice I’ve got, he decided. She has got
to be
kept completely in the dark this time. Somehow these idiots he
called a
Shift crew had to be made to understand that she needed to stay on
board
the HATTON.
He suddenly remembered the aborted rendezvous on the Captain’s
Walk. He remembered the stunning scarlet dress. It knew it hadn’t
been by her
design, but it gave him an idea.
"Cleary, men," he said as he brought the shuttle easily through
the gaping bay doors. "I need your help. About Dr. Cameron and
myself
and her going back to Earth." The men waited for him to go on.
The bay doors closed and they waited while air pumped into the
hangar
deck. "Claudia and I are in love," he explained, trying to look
soulful and
lovestruck. He didn’t suppose it was hard.
"We thought so," Sakretis told him.
"If she goes back to Earth, I’ll never see her again."
"True," Fox agreed.
Denys sighed. "I don’t want her to go back. And she doesn’t want
to. Not really. But she’s still uncertain about making such a
drastic
change. She needs time to think," he went on sincerely. "I was
hoping to
have more time to convince her to stay."
"Which is why you put her to sleep, of course," Cleary said, not
quite sarcastically, but very close.
"It was a mistake," Denys said quickly. "I was trying to give
her. us. myself some time to think. It’s not easy falling in love
with a woman
out of the past."
"Even if she’s a great cook." Cleary was not buying this. Denys
was tempted to remind Cleary just whose fault this situation was.
"Sure miss her cooking," Cleary added before Denys could say
anything. "She was planning on making us chili before you tucked
her
into bed. Sure would like to have some of that chili. Wouldn’t
you,
boys?" There was a chorus of assent to Cleary’s question.
Denys was beginning to understand there might be a price for
Cleary and the crew’s cooperation. Fair enough. "I’d be happy to
let her
back in the kitchen if I can just get you to help me," he told the
men.
"Please."
"You going to marry her?" Sakretis wanted to know. "This isn’t
just a fling is it, Duchamp?"
"She’s definitely the marrying kind," Fox added.
"We wouldn’t want to see her get hurt," Morrison said.
Denys sighed. He was willing to tell them anything to get their
cooperation. "Of course I’m going to marry her. I’m an honorable
man."
The Shift Crew looked at each other. Nods were exchanged. "Okay,"
Cleary spoke for the group. "We’ll do it."
Chapter Nine
Claudia was not only miserable, she was bored. She played with her
dinner and wished she was anywhere but at the kitchen counter with
only
Denys Duchamp for company. Again. It was going to be another long,
miserable evening without even the view of Mars on the living
quarters’ screen to keep her company.
The Captain, Cleary had explained, had, in his legendary
dictatorial manner, revoked all viewing privileges for
the duration of the mission because of some minor rule infraction.
So
she had nothing to look at but Denys. Normally this would not be a
hardship, but looking at him now just made her miserable. Maybe
she
should try working on a new recipe after dinner was over.
The kitchen computer was about all she had to keep her company.
Denys hadn’t put her back to sleep, but he was leaving her alone.
And
she was leaving him alone. She was too angry with him to admit to
craving his company, and that seemed just fine with him. Except
that
they were always together.
She wasn’t quite sure what was going on. She was being encouraged
to cook, but the men were keeping their distance. They smiled
benignly
at her a lot, but they weren’t very good company. The surly,
silent
presence of Denys Duchamp was all she had. She did know that she
wasn’t
going to talk first. So she was being surly and silent too. She
supposed
she couldn’t blame the crew for not wanting to come near her and
the
Shift Officer.
In the three days since she’d woken up, her constant guide to
and from their quarters had been Denys. He sat with her at meals
while
the men took their trays and disappeared she knew not where. She
was too
stubborn to ask Denys and he didn’t volunteer any information.
The truth was, she wanted to talk to him, but her tongue kept
getting tangled up with seething anger at how he’d treated
her. She wanted to talk to him, but she wanted an apology first.
She
wanted an explanation. She wanted him to hold her and make love to
her
and tell her he’d make it all better. She told herself this last,
aching
want was ridiculous, superfluous and downright masochistic. He was
not
her lover or her friend or her confidant. He was a kidnapper, a
dictator, a blond-haired, gorgeous fiend.
She remembered how he used to tease her, how she’d enjoyed his
company in her first days on board the HATTON. She’d been happy
then.
Now they just sat across from each other, in the kitchen, in the
living
quarters, in frigid silence. She was not happy. She was not having
a
good time. The hours were dragging by so slowly, she almost wished
she
was back in her sound, dream-filled sleep again. Almost.
Denys looked at his dinner rather than at Claudia. While it was
true he didn’t think he could get enough of being with and looking
at
Claudia, he was going crazy from the way she’d been acting for the
last
few days. Not that he could blame her, of course. She was right;
he was
ruining her life. He couldn’t expect her to understand how it was
necessary to sacrifice her happiness for the success of the
mission.
Except She wasn’t alone. He was sacrificing his happiness as
well. She was going to hate him forever and he would always bear
the
guilt of hurting her. He wanted to tell her how painful this was.
He told himself he was just being maudlin; feeling sorry for
himself. He knew his feelings weren’t important. The mission was.
He was
also afraid that telling her one little thing about how he felt
would
open a floodgate. Next he’d be telling her how sorry he was, how
much he
loved her, how he wanted her to be happy and how the shuttle was
due to
land at Athens airport tomorrow morning. He’d offer her a ride
home just
to see her smile. That would never do.
At least the men were keeping out of this. They were leaving him
alone to bear the brunt of her fierce, silent displeasure. He
sighed.
She gave him an acid-etched look. She pushed her plate away. "I’m
going to bed," she said. These were her first words to him in
three
days. He got up. "I don’t need your help."
He trailed after her like a lost puppy anyway.
Claudia didn’t really trust the bed anymore. She knew it wasn’t
the mattress’s fault, but she was worried Denys would mess around
with
the sleep programming again. She’d tried sleeping on the deck in
front
of the personal lockers. It had proved very uncomfortable. Denys
had
looked at her reproachfully, and stepped over her a lot. She’d
eventually taken his point and moved back to the bed alcove. She’d
finally decided on the alternative of instructing
the bed to wake her up every three hours, just in case Denys
decided to
try anything. When she settled her head on the pillow, she knew it
wouldn’t be long before the bed went -BOING.
"Oh, lord, not again," she mumbled and turned over, clutching the
pillow to her chest. She was dreaming of Denys, she didn’t want to
be disturbed.
BOING.
"I’m awake," she whispered to the mattress. "Leave me alone." The
noise subsided.
She tried to drift off again. She turned over, put the pillow back
under her head where it belonged. She stared at the ceiling for
awhile.
She listened to Denys’s soft breathing from the other bed niche.
She
tried, but she couldn’t get back to sleep. She got out of bed and
got
dressed.
She went and stood by Denys’s bed, caught between the longing to
throttle him and the longing to brush his pale bangs off his
forehead
and give him a soft kiss. She wanted him. She ached to crawl in
beside
him and make love to him again. Instead, she put her hands behind
her
and backed away from his bed. She couldn’t touch him; wouldn’t
touch
him. He didn’t stir.
She decided to go down to the kitchen while she had a chance to be
by herself. She didn’t know what she’d do when she got there, but
the
chance of having some time alone to think was enticing enough.
Hopefully
she’d find some way not to think about Denys.
She got to the kitchen and turned on the computer, but she wasn’t
alone for long. When the door opened she jumped, she was sure
Denys
had come to haul her away by the wrist once more. "I have every
right...!" she began as she turned to the newcomer.
It was Smid. He nodded to her and said, "I came for my dinner, Dr.
Cameron." He took the place she’d vacated at the console and fed
in the
formula for his head of lettuce. After he retrieved it from the
serving
slot, he spoke to her again. "Will you be bringing fresh food
supplies
aboard tomorrow? I would like to request some fresh carrots if you
are."
Fresh food supplies? Tomorrow. She looked at the six and a half
foot bunny in stunned consternation. "What?"
"Carrots," he replied. "You will be accompanying the Shift Crew to
Earth, will you not? To supervise loading the food provisions?"
All she could think of for a few moments was that Denys had lied
to her again. Lied to her with silence. It hurt so badly she
couldn’t
breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but red.
When she came to her senses, she was grasping the terrified Smid
by the front of his blue coverall and shouting, "All right,
Thumper, I
want to see the captain right now --or I’m going to be trying out
a
recipe for hasenpfeffer!"
Smid’s nose twitched furiously, but he showed no other signs of
distress.
Claudia let go of Smid, thoroughly ashamed of her outburst and
threatening the poor bunny. "I’m sorry." She took a deep,
calming breath, and went on, "I would like to see the captain,
Smid. If
you don’t mind."
"I do not mind. But I’m sure the captain would. He would not wish
to be disturbed during Third Shift. I will go now."
Smid left before she could protest, or beg for his help. She stood
in the middle of the kitchen after he left, feeling helpless and
utterly
alone. Denys was determined to save his precious mission, and the
crew
was on his side. Which was only right and proper, she supposed,
saving their
world was more important to them than her personal problems. But
it left her with
no one to turn to, nowhere to go, powerless. She had no place in
the scheme of
things.
Place. She remembered the view of Mars from a glass-walled
corridor. What was the place called? The Captain’s Walk. If it’s
called
the Captain’s Walk, she wondered, does that mean the Captain’s
quarters
are nearby? Or maybe it means he hangs out there looking at the
view. It
may mean nothing.
She paced, and thought frantically. She had to do something. Her
heart ached at the thought of never seeing Denys again, but she
knew she
had to get back to Earth somehow. But how? The Captain had to be
the
answer.
"I’ll have to find the Captain’s Walk," she said to herself. "I
can’t depend on Smid, he’s not quite connected with human
concerns. I’ll
have to do it myself."
She remembered Second Shift’s fear of Captain Andrews. Fear on her
behalf. She told herself the man couldn’t really be a monster.
That
they’d just been using him as a bogeyman to keep her under
control. She
took her courage in hand and left the kitchen. As she began
skulking
down the corridor, she thought, I suppose I’ll just have to find
out
for myself if he really is a man-eating minotaur after all.
She was totally lost within minutes of leaving the kitchen. In her
travels with Denys and the crew, she hadn’t had any conception of
the
size of the HATTON. A few minutes alone hunting up and down
unfamiliar
corridors soon convinced her the mining ship was enormous. It was
in the
middle of the ship’s night and she already knew her chances of
encountering anyone this late were practically nil. Normally she
was
glad the corridors and elevators were so deserted. Normally the
last
thing she wanted was to be seen by anyone from First or Third
shift.
Normally. Now that she was lost and completely confused, she would
have been delighted for the captain to arrive in the nearest cross
corridor accompanied by a squad of heavily armed marines.
She looked bleakly around and muttered, "This is all Denys’s
fault." She was seriously considering sitting down in the middle
of the
lonely intersection and having a good cry when a nearby elevator
opened
its doors. Charlie emerged into the corridor. He smiled upon
seeing her,
looking both dapper and elegant in the simple jumpsuit uniform.
Denys,
she thought as Charlie approached her, looks sexy in his uniform.
Charlie stopped before her, his elderly face a mask of avuncular
concern. "What’s wrong, m’dear?" he asked.
Claudia couldn’t stop the tears.
"He doesn’t love me!" she wailed and threw herself into Charlie’s
arms. It wasn’t at all what she’d meant to say, but her misery
suddenly
overwhelmed her. She needed a strong shoulder to cry on.
Charlie didn’t seem to mind her soaking his uniform with
tears. He patted her back and murmured the occasional, "There,
there,
poor lamb," until Claudia was able to get her outburst under
control.
"I don’t know why I did that," she confessed as she stepped away
from him. He produced a large, silver lame handkerchief from his
pocket
and gallantly handed it to her. "Thanks." She wiped her tears and
held
it out to him.
"Keep it," he said with a negligent wave. "A present."
"Thanks." She stuffed the crumbled cloth into her pocket.
"Who doesn’t love you?" he wanted to know in well-mannered
outrage. "Is he a blind fool? Shall I thrash him for you?"
She almost laughed. "It’s all so complicated."
"Tell me all about it."
She did. Starting with the clandestine trip to Phobos when Denys
saved her life and then their making love and his deciding
she might wreck the future so she couldn’t go home, not that she
was
sure she wanted to go home because she really loved
Denys. Or she did until he. d put her to sleep and then didn’t let
anyone tell her they were back at Earth because he couldn’t trust
her
not to run away because he didn’t think she was an intelligent
human
being, but some child who needed to be protected, which was sort
of
sweet, but completely politically incorrect, and he could at least
discuss the situation with her if he cared for her at all. Which
he
didn’t.
"So I want to go home," she concluded breathlessly. "And never see
or think about Denys Duchamp again."
"I see," he said, though from the way he was looking at her she
didn’t think he did. Not really.
Because she didn’t.
"I’ve never been so confused in my life."
"I can tell."
"Charlie, what am I going to do?"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think you should have some tea
and a lie down."
"I’ve slept quite enough lately," she retorted.
He nodded. "Yes, I suppose you’re right. In that case," he went
on, "I think you should go home. Get away from the whole situation
and think it through."
Go home. Back to Earth. Away from this madhouse. "Yes," she said.
"That’s exactly what I want. I have to escape." She grasped him by
the
front of his jumpsuit, looking up at him pleadingly. "Will you
help me?
Please? I have to get away from Denys."
She knew she had to get away before it was too late... Before I
can’t stand the silence anymore, she thought feverishly. Before I
apologize for making so much trouble for him just because I can’t
stand
him looking hurt anymore. It’s not my fault all this happened. I’m
the
one who’s been wronged. I want out of here. Really.
"Please," she pleaded again. "I have to get off the ship. You can
help me do that, can’t you?" She stepped back to look at him
hopefully.
"I was looking for the Captain, but I really don’t want to get
anyone
into trouble," she went on. "It’s much better to have someone I
know and
trust help me than throw myself on the mercy of a tyrant like
Captain Andrews. He might do something horrible -- not just to me,
but
to the whole Shift. Please, Charlie," she ended, once again
breathless.
He was frowning. "Tyrant? Denys told you Captain Andrews is a
tyrant?" She nodded. "Well, I suppose he is," Charlie conceded.
"Wouldn’t want you to be found, could be very bad, officially
speaking.
You being a stowaway and all."
"I am not a stowaway," she corrected him indignantly. "I’m a
kidnap victim. They stuffed me in the cargo locker!"
"Very impolite of them," he acknowledged. He ran his fingers
thoughtfully up and down his long beak. "Perhaps you could return
home the way
you were brought aboard."
"I’ve thought of that," Claudia said. "But I don’t know how. I
don’t even know how to find the hangar bay so I could sneak on
board
without anybody spotting me. Even Cleary won’t help me."
"Yes. I see your problem. You have to get past the Shift crew as
well as young Duchamp." He lapsed into another short silence, then
said, "I suppose I could arrange it."
"You could? Will you?"
"Hmm. Of course, you’d need a supply of breather strips."
Claudia remembered the breather strips she’d been handed when
she’d gone to the mining site. "I’ve got those," she told Charlie.
"And
an environmental suit."
"Useful, that." He rubbed his nose again, and gave her a confident
smile. "Let me think a moment."
As Claudia waited, she found herself beginning to believe the
distinguished older man was capable of performing miracles. It was
just
something about him.
"Tell you what we’ll do," he went on. "You wait in your quarters
in the morning until young Duchamp has gone. Then I’ll come fetch
you
and get you on board the shuttle before it leaves."
"But won’t they see me in the hangar bay?"
"Oh, I’ll manage some sort of diversion." He took her hand and
patted it comfortingly. "Never fear. We’ll get you in the back of
the
cargo bay while they’re fussing with something in the front.
They’ve
been busy adding more Stealth shielding to the shuttle. The
projectors
are mostly forward of the cockpit. I’m sure those fussy old men in
Third
shift -- " He smiled winningly. " -- will want them to carry out
one
last equipment inspection on the forward shields before they let
the
shuttle lift off."
He was very clever, indeed. She hugged him. "Thank you. I won’t
ever forget this." She grinned happily. "I’m going home."
"Indeed, you are. Now," he offered her his arm. "Let me escort you
at least part of the way back to your quarters."
Claudia was glad to take his arm and accept his guidance. The
HATTON was just too big and complicated to try to travel through
without
a guide. As they went along<,> he asked her about Earth. He’d
never been
there. It turned out he was from New Sydney.
Denys was from New Sydney.
Denys. She was really going to leave Denys. It hurt. So she tried
not to think about it. She tried to convince herself that she
didn’t
belong anywhere but on Earth, in her own time. She was going home.
Alone.
I want to go, she told herself as she accompanied Charlie through
the maze of corridors. I want to go home. And it’s going to hurt.
It already hurt.
##
Claudia was sleeping when Denys left their quarters. He paused to
kiss her cheek before he left, and gazed back at her still form
for just
a moment. He wanted to do more than kiss her cheek. He wanted to
make
love to her again. Then he wanted to talk to her, get things
settled.
Or maybe, he told himself ruefully as he headed to the hangar
deck, what we should do first is talk to each other, then make
love.
Whatever. He wanted her so badly that sharing a room with her was
driving him insane. He wondered if the Siren Song was anything
like the
pull he felt toward Claudia. No. He would not equate her with
those
things. They were monsters. She was wonderful. He should be
ashamed of
himself for the comparison. It was proof of how crazy with need
for her
he’d become that he could compare Claudia to the mindless reaction
men
had to the Siren Song.
He thought he was lucky to be getting some time away from the
ship, and Claudia. Maybe by the time the shuttle made the trip to
Earth
and back he’d be able to get his raging emotions under some
control. He
hoped distance and a little time would help him gain some
perspective on his relationship with Claudia. Such as it was.
The Second Shift crew were already gathered by the shuttle when
Denys arrived in the bay. Once again, it had been adapted to look
like
a 20th century truck. He approached them and gave a nod in
greeting.
"Think I’ll inspect the cargo bay and all the boxes," he told
them. He got groans and pained looks in response. "Never know what
might
be tucked in one of those boxes," he added as he climbed on board
the
small ship to begin the inspection. "Let’s pull them all out,
shall we?"
The men followed him truculently. They wanted to get the trip over
with. So did he. He also knew he’d left Claudia asleep in her own
bed.
He was wearing a sensor which would warn him the moment she set
foot
outside the small area of the ship he’d decided was safe for her.
He
also wasn’t taking any risks that she might have somehow fooled
him
and managed to sneak on board the shuttle. Call me paranoid, he
reasoned, but he was not taking any chances on losing her.
It took about twenty minutes for him to be satisfied there was no
possibility she could be on board. Cleary and the others were
looking
smug, as well as disgruntled, by this time.
"Can we go now?" Cleary wanted to know.
Denys would have been happy to answer in the affirmative
but, before he could, the hangar’s intercom sounded and a no-
nonsense voice announced, "Final inspection of Stealth Field is
required
before permission to lift off."
There were more groans, Denys’s among them this time.
"All right," he said to the grumbling men. "Up front everybody.
The sooner we check it out, the sooner we can go looking for
dolmata and
baklava."
And the sooner I can get back to Claudia, he added to himself. All
right, she doesn’t speak to me, but at least she’s safe. Maybe
someday
she’ll forgive me.
##
Claudia jumped out of bed as soon as Denys was out the door. It
had taken all of her willpower not to watch him as he got dressed
and
moved around the room. To take one more memory of the sight of him
with
her. She was depressed as she put on the clothes she’d been
wearing when
she drove into Doros, then managed to squeeze the environmental
suit on
over her Earth clothing. She checked her purse for wallet and
passport,
glad the drunken crew had stuffed the leather bag into the box
with her.
As a final, jaunty touch, she decided to tie the silver
handkerchief
from Charlie cravat-style around her throat. She checked a mirror
and
decided the effect was dashing.
She didn’t feel dashing. In fact, she felt just awful. She tried
to cheer herself up with the knowledge that she was going home;
that
she’d had the adventure of a lifetime. Instead, she kept thinking
about
never seeing Denys again.
She was almost ready to tell Charlie to forget the escape when he
knocked on her door. It was only by sternly reminding herself that
Denys
had betrayed her trust that bolstered her determination to go
through
with this. Besides, he didn’t love her.
She sighed, and glumly accompanied Charlie to the shuttle hangar.
They hid behind a storage locker until Denys and the crew were
diverted
to the front of the shuttle.
Charlie took the time to kiss her on the forehead. "This is it,
m’dear. Can’t say I won’t miss you."
She gave him a hug. "Thanks for everything."
"Always happy to help a young lady in distress."
Why couldn’t Denys be this charming? She scrubbed a quick
tear from her eye. Actually, she was well aware that Denys
could be terribly charming, but she couldn’t let it affect her
choice.
"Let’s do it."
It was a simple process to sprint across the open deck of the bay
and sneak into the rear of the shuttle. Charlie showed her how to
open
the cargo doors from the inside, pointed out a hiding place and
was
gone. A few minutes later she felt the shuttle rising from the
hangar
deck. She tried not to cry as the journey began. A part of her
really
was elated. She was going home. But the elation didn’t cancel out
her
misery at knowing she’d never see Denys Duchamp again.
Chapter Ten
The Stealth shielding did its job flawlessly Denys was happy
to note as he brought the shuttle to a halt on the hot tarmac. No
one at
the Athens airport had noticed him land the truck-shaped shuttle.
He
parked it at the specified hangar in a far corner of the airport
grounds. All was going as it should. They hadn’t been detected on
their
way down from the orbiting ship, either. No radar had picked them
up
over Europe. He sighed with relief. Now all they had to do was
collect
the supplies that waited for them in the hangar and get back to
the
HATTON. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.
He and the men moved efficiently to get on with the job. Safety
belts were soon unhooked and they piled out to stand blinking for
a few
moments while they got used to the bright afternoon glare of
Earth’s
yellow sun.
"Hot," Cleary commented, wiping the back of his hand across his
forehead.
"Real hot," Morrison added.
"So hot you could -- "
"Knock it off," Denys interrupted before Fox could finish his
contribution to this scintillating conversation. "Let’s just get
to it,
shall we?"
There were offended looks from the crew. Someone muttered, "Sounds
just like the Captain, sometimes," but they were happy enough to
shuffle
into the relative coolness of the hangar.
Denys went to deal with the paperwork, the crew went to check the
contents of the waiting boxes. Everything, so far, was going
according
to schedule.
##
Claudia had the door opened, was outside the hold, and the door
sealed again just as the passenger door on the side of the shuttle
opened. She ran, telling herself that freedom was more important
than
trying to look back for one last glimpse of Denys. It was too
late.
Besides, he might see her and the escape attempt would be for
nothing.
The heat and light from the sun seemed unnatural to her as she
sprinted across the hot tarmac toward a terminal building. The air
was
full of dust and jet fuel fumes. The air felt wrong in her lungs
after
she ripped the breather strip from under her nose. After a few
seconds
exposure to the polluted Earth atmosphere, she was wishing she’d
left
the breather strip on a few minutes longer.
It’s too late now, she thought as she reached turned a corner of a
building and found herself at the entrance of the international
terminal. Everything’s too late. Damn it, she was thinking about
Denys
again!
She joined a crowd of people heading for the door instead of
obeying the impulse to return to the shuttle and the man she’d
left
behind.
I’m back, she thought, I’m home. She looked around her. The people
were all strangers, the place was foreign. She felt miserable and
lonesome. But she was home.
I’m just tired, she reasoned as she walked through the high-
ceilinged, bustling terminal. She felt disoriented. There were too
many
people. They jostled her and looked at her strangely and spoke
languages
she didn’t understand. I’m just a tourist who’s been away from
home for
too long, she told herself. She tried to make herself believe
she’d be
fine as soon as she got home. To Iowa. To her own house. Her empty
house. With its empty bed.
"Home is all I need," she said, and stepped up to an airline
counter, Mastercard ready.
She was in luck, a flight for Chicago was leaving in less than an
hour. She’d worry about connecting flights once she got to O’Hare.
She’d
worry about the price of the flight later, well aware that the
price was
both monetary and emotional.
As she waited for her tickets to be processed she began to notice
the looks her skin tight environmental suit was drawing. Most were
curious, some were outright admiring. It was embarrassing, and she
didn’t want to do anything to make herself conspicuous. She
supposed she
was being paranoid. There was no one from the HATTON anywhere near
this
terminal.
The attention was enough to make her slip into the nearest ladies
room to peel off the environmental suit and the pretty silver
handkerchief she’d been wearing around her neck. Once she had it
off,
she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the shiny black jumpsuit.
She
stood in the middle of the washroom, thankful she was alone, and
held
the clothing up before her. In the big wall mirror<,> Claudia saw
the
reflection of a woman in shorts and a simple gauze blouse, her
slightly
ruffled brown hair dusting her cheeks and shoulders. The woman
looked a
little tired, there was unhappiness in her blue eyes, but she
looked
normal. A very normal, everyday sort of person. She didn’t look
like the
sort of person who had adventures, who stood on alien moons or
talked to
six foot rabbits. Or fell in love with mining engineers from far
future
colony worlds.
Had she really done all those things? The jumpsuit was proof she
had, a reminder of wild times, both good and bad. She sighed. She
didn’t
need or want any reminders of her time on the HATTON to intrude on
her
future. She was going back to a quiet life in a small town. She
was
going to do her best to forget that the whole incident had ever
happened. She was going to work very hard at forgetting Denys
Duchamp.
She didn’t need any reminders.
She stuffed the jumpsuit into the trash container next to the row
of sinks and walked out the door. Checking her watch, she realized
she
had to hurry to catch her plane.
She was firmly belted into a window seat near the wing when she
remembered that she’d stuffed Charlie’s silver scarf into the
pocket of
the jumpsuit when she’d taken it off. She had meant to keep his
present,
now it was too late to try to retrieve it.
She sighed, and settled back to wait in lonely misery for the
airplane to take off.
##
Denys had just signed the last of the shipping forms when his
wrist went off. He looked at the vibrating sensor strapped to
his wrist and swore.
The man standing beside him looked at him strangely. "Odd looking
beeper."
Denys tapped the indicator control on the sensor. "Damn the
woman!" he muttered in a low, angry growl. "What’s she doing
here?"
"Huh?" the man questioned as the sensor continued its steady
bleeping.
"Have to call the home office," Denys improvised the explanation.
He shut off the audio, keeping the tracking function lit. "Excuse
me."
He ran out of the hangar yelling, "Cleary!"
Cleary jumped out of the cargo bay. "Yeah, Duchamp?"
Denys stalked angrily up to him. "Where is she?"
Cleary blinked. "Who, sir?"
Denys held his wrist up to show the crewman the activated sensor.
"Claudia. Where is she?"
"Back on the HATTON, sir," was the swift response.
"No she isn’t. Where’d you hide her?"
Sakretis followed Cleary out of the shuttle. "We didn’t bring her
with us," he told Denys.
"No, sir," Fox said, putting in an appearance.
"You got her bugged?" Morrison asked. He gave Denys a fatuous
grin. "Ah, love."
"He worries about her," Toffler added as he joined the crowd
around Denys.
"You’ve got a sensor," Harcort pointed out. "If you want to find
her all you have to do is -- "
"I know what I have to do!" Denys shouted. He raced off, following
the sensor coordinates.
He’d only gone about a dozen yards when he thought better of his
quick exit. He halted just long enough to order, "Finish the
loading and
don’t move from this spot until I get back." He didn’t trust them,
not
for a single minute.
He followed the sensor light into a busy terminal, then pushed
through a thick crowd until he reached an empty loading gate. The
hard
plastic seats were empty, the desk in the center of the gate was
empty.
The sensor blinked steadily, indicating she was no more than a few
yards
away. Denys looked around frantically.
"Claudia!" he shouted, as worried as he was angry. He had to get
her back. He had to get her home. He didn’t know what he was going
to do
if he didn’t get her home. He was going to have to drag her out of
the
building in front of a crowd, wasn’t he? How was he going to
manage to
get her away from the airport without getting himself arrested?
"Claudia!"
Heads turned his way. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone that
was not Claudia. Where the devil was she?
Then he noticed the jet easing slowly away from the building. He
watched helplessly as it taxied toward a nearby runway, blinding
sunlight glinted off its wide wings. The indicator readings began
to
show his target receding, moving away from the building. Claudia
was on
the jet.
Of course Claudia was on the airplane. She wanted to go home.
How was he supposed to get her off a moving airplane? Denys swore
again, and made his way as quickly as possible out of the
building. Once
outside he tore at top speed across the baking tarmac, sweating in
the
hot sunlight.
Back at the shuttle, he shouted at the gaping crew. "Wait here!"
He rushed into the cockpit and started the engine. While the
systems
came on line he made one more quick dash outside. "Don’t," he
ordered the stunned sextet, "touch anything. And stay away from
the
ouzo."
With those words of wisdom spoken, he hurried back to the control
board, switched on the Stealth shield and lifted the shuttle from
the
ground at breakneck speed. He made detailed and inventive promises
about
what he was going to do to Claudia Cameron once he got his hands
on her
as he set off chasing the unsuspecting airliner.
##
Claudia slept through most of the flight, waking up occasionally
to complain that the bed wasn’t doing its job. Then she’d remember
she
wasn’t on board the HATTON, and that the seat was just a seat. An
impersonal, inanimate object with no dutiful interest in the
comfort of
its occupant. Which was as it should be, she’d remind herself, and
drift
off again.
At O’Hare she got through Customs quickly. Lord knew she had
nothing to declare but a broken heart, and nobody would be
interested in
hearing about that. She splashed lots of cold water on her face in
a
washroom, drank some very bad, overpriced coffee in one of the
airport
cafeterias, then boarded a commuter plane for Dubuque. Her own car
was
waiting in the airport’s long term parking lot for the three hour
drive
home to Bradden Falls. She was exhausted, but she made it to
Bradden
Falls on a fistful of candybars and the radio tuned to a station
playing
Alternative rock music, which she couldn’t stand. Sugar and sheer
dislike kept her awake long enough to pull into her driveway.
She got out, unsteady on her feet, and looked with bleary vision
at the beautiful, two-story restored farmhouse she called home.
The
house was painted white, with blue trim. A wide porch full of
mismatched
lawn furniture wrapped around the front, a bay window thrust out
on the
side. The house was set on wooded land, with roses in the front
and a
big vegetable garden out back. A huge oak tree shaded the side
with the bay
window.
She liked to watch the squirrels and birds gathered around the
feeder hung on a tree branch from the bay window. She had a
peaceful, normal life, and she loved it. She canned a lot of her
own
vegetables, baked bread in her high-tech kitchen, and built
fires in the living room fireplace in the winter. There was a
braided
rug her grandmother had made in front of the brick hearth.
She’d worked very hard to make it a picture-perfect, American
folktale, Midwestern sort of home. Home. She found herself
beginning
to sniff. She had a rocking chair. She’d always thought it would
come in
handy if she ever got around to having a baby.
But she was never going to have a baby because Denys was on a
starship hundreds of years in the future and she was stuck in
Nowhere,
Iowa all by herself! How could she go back to such a dull
existence
after her adventures on the HATTON? How could she bear to be
alone? Even
in a picture-perfect, Midwestern sort of house. The picture was
all
wrong because instead of having anyone to share it with, she was
all
alone.
"I’m tired," she said, shaking tears off her cheeks. "That’s all.
Just tired. He didn’t dump me here, I came back voluntarily. I
don’t
belong in his world."
She’d forgotten for a moment that this was where she really
belonged, not on board the HATTON. Certainly not in Denys
Duchamp’s bed.
She knew she was just suffering from exhaustion or stress or jet
lag.
Probably all three. Reaction was making her feel weak and lost and
lonely. She told herself she’d be delighted to be home as soon as
she
got a good night’s sleep. All she needed was some rest, and time
to put
the whole experience on the mining ship into some perspective.
A couple hundred years would probably be all she needed to sort
out her feelings for Denys Duchamp.
She dragged herself wearily up the porch steps, found the spare
key in the mailbox and trudged into the house. She didn’t waste
time looking
around her home. She knew it was neat and clean, after all, her
own cleaning
service was contracted to show up twice a week. She didn’t bother
with checking
her voicemail, or the pile of mail on the hall table next to the
phone. She had no
interest in checking her computer for e-mail messages, either. She
didn’t care
about anything but getting some rest.
He’s so handsome, she found herself recalling as she climbed the
stairs to her bedroom. She missed him. Even though she hadn’t
talked to
him for a few days, she missed the sound of his voice. Even though
he
was a rat who never gave her any choices and thought he knew what
was
best for her and treated her like an idiot, she couldn’t forget
that he was handsome.
And protective, and caring, and intelligent. And handsome. Sexy,
too. Incredibly
sexy. And a wonderful lover.
Damn.
She entered the bedroom at the top of the stairs and threw herself
on the Battenburg lace spread without bothering to
slip her sandals off. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in
it.
He had the most devastating cheekbones I’ve ever seen, she thought
as she waited for sleep. And such a nice little rear end. It was
always
so cute when he forgot his towel and I....
##
Denys parked the shuttle outside the blue and white house and
climbed out cautiously to look around. The sensor beeped
quietly, its indicator light pulsed rapidly, the distance
indicator
telling him Claudia was inside. He could only hope no one else
was with her.
He stretched tiredly as he squinted in the late afternoon
sunlight. If this was Claudia’s home, he certainly

he certainly didn’t blame
her for
running back here the first chance she got. He looked at
the white and blue house with its spreading oak tree and rose
bushes and
gave a wistful sigh. The house and grounds were hopelessly
old-fashioned, of
course, even in this time. There was certainly nothing on New
Syndey to compare
with this place’s rustic charm. Still, it was just the sort of
place he’d like to come
home to. Especially if there was someone like Claudia waiting for
him there.
No. Not someone like Claudia. Just Claudia.
He sighed, and cautiously made his way to the door. If she saw him
and ran screaming for help, he didn’t know what he’d do. The
nearest
house was about a quarter mile away, but if she made a loud fuss,
that
quarter mile wasn’t very far. The last thing Denys intended to do
was
call attention to his presence. The point was to get in, snatch
Claudia,
and get out as quickly and quietly as possible. It was a shame he
didn’t
have a sleepray on him. They hadn’t expected to need any weaponry
on
this supply run.
The porch steps creaked. His steps sounded far louder in his ears
then they
actually were. No dogs barked, no alarm systems went off. The door
wasn’t even
locked. He moved cautiously into the hallway. The floor was some
golden,
polished hardwood with a long, rose-patterned runner leading down
a long
hall. A wide doorway to the left of the entrance led to a living
room,
one on the right to a dining room with a bay window. A
rose-carpeted
staircase with a wooden banister led to the house’s second floor.
There
was another doorway at the end of the hall and two more doors
halfway to
the kitchen entrance, on opposite sides of the hallway.
Denys heard nothing. The house might as well have been deserted.
His sensor told him Claudia was on the second floor. He did a
quick
search of the downstairs to make sure she was alone. Besides, he
was
curious to see the rest of her home, to know how she lived, what
her
taste was like, what sort of things were important to her.
One of the rooms was a library/office. There was a computer on the
desk; the books on the many shelves were a combination of
cookbooks and
military history texts. There was a game board set up on a side
table
with maps and miniature metal figures in ancient armor. After
examining
the pieces, Denys decided the display had something to do with
Alexander
the Great. He moved on to the other room off the hallway, and
found a small
bathroom. He went on to the kitchen.
Denys smiled as he stepped into the big room. The color scheme was
gray and mauve and copper, and as complex as the kitchen on board
the
HATTON. No, more complex, he decided after he took in some of the
details of the place. A big window over the triple sink looked out
at a
vegetable garden; a window shelf held small pots of fragrant
herbs. The
stove was in the middle of a long center island, it had more
controls
than the cockpit of the shuttle. There was a wall oven and
microwave and
a gigantic refrigerator/freezer. Lots of cabinets and work space
held
what was probably every cooking appliance and gadget known to the
late
twentieth century.
"I’ve seen less complicated ship’s bridges," he murmured. He
smiled fondly as he added, "I think I’ve just found Claudia
Cameron’s
true home." A stab of regret accompanied the words. He hated
dragging
her away from this comfortable, creative place.
He could only hope he’d be able to give her something like it
someday. If she’d let him. They had to talk. She had to be made to
understand that he wanted her in the future with him. It wasn’t
just the
need to protect history, though, of course, that was the most
important
reason she had to return with him. Would return with him, whether
she
wanted to or not. He had no intention of kidnapping her a second
time
just because he desperately needed her. Duty, he told himself,
though he
had no intention of examining just how honest he was being with
himself.
He headed determinedly toward the front stairs. Fortunately, they
didn’t squeak. He, however, had to stop near the top of the stairs
to
contend with a jaw-cracking yawn.
I am so tired, he thought as he wearily finished the climb to the
second floor. He didn’t know how many hours it had taken him to
finally
catch up with Claudia but he’d had to be intensely alert every
minute.
What with concentrating on the sensor, following the various
airplanes,
monitoring the Stealth field, and avoiding getting hit by air
traffic
which couldn’t see him, he’d had one hell of a day.
He didn’t think he could repeat the performance any time in the
near future.
When he found the empty bedroom at the top of the stairs, the
temptation to take a short nap almost overwhelmed him instantly.
Instead
he followed the sensor signal down the hall to the second bedroom.
The door was open, and Claudia was there, in the middle of the
four poster bed. Fast asleep.
"Lucky woman," he grumbled.
She was curled up on top of a white-on-white, lacy bedspread,
her head buried in a thick pile of pillows.
Denys stood frozen in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her as
she turned onto her back. She sighed, and mumbled something, but
remained
soundly asleep. She was dressed in the familiar clothing she’d
worn onboard, but
she looked different. Her tousled brown hair was spread out around
her in a dark
silk wave, the white bedcovering emphasized the length and
shapeliness of her tan
legs and thighs. He was intensely fascinated by the gentle rise
and fall of her
breasts as she breathed. She was beautiful.
She’d always been beautiful. He thought she was the most beautiful
woman in the world. Not just on this world, but on any world. But,
somehow, maybe because this setting was where she belonged, she
was most
beautiful to Denys right here on Earth.
He shook his head tiredly. He was disoriented, the dregs of the
adrenaline which had fueled his chase of Claudia were giving out.
His
head was buzzing and his body wanted desperately to just drop to
the
floor and get on with being unconscious. He knew he should wake
her,
force her into the shuttle and take off.
Only he didn’t have the strength for a fight. And, assuming she
came peacefully, he’d probably crash the shuttle into a cornfield
during
takeoff while trying to stifle a yawn.
No, he decided, we aren’t going anywhere for awhile. He had to get
some rest.
The temptation was to lie down beside Claudia, wrap his arms
around her, and sleep for a week. He opted for the spare bedroom
instead. No use waking her when he wasn’t up to dealing with her
hysteria. He dragged himself to the other bedroom and fell onto
the
mattress. He just barely remembered the bed would have no interest
in
his well being and set the sensor to sound an alert in seven hours
before he fell deeply asleep.
##
Claudia woke, thought unhappy thoughts about Denys, took a shower,
and dressed to the smell of coffee. She didn’t even notice the
aroma
until she’d finished combing her hair. Somehow, it just seemed
like a
normal part of the atmosphere, something that ought to be mixed
with oxygen and the scent of roses from the garden.
When she realized someone was in the house, in her kitchen,
messing with her coffeemaker she wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Or
worried. She wasn’t quite sure what the day was, but if someone
was in
the house, it was probably Monday or Thursday and the light
housekeeping chores were being neatly attended to.
It’s probably Lana Kosmiki, she decided, as she went downstairs to
join the housekeeper for breakfast. Marki, Elsbeth and Roger, her
other
permanent employees, were all tea drinkers. Except for Marki, who
was
from Bradden Falls, the students she employed from the local
college
were all off for summer vacation.
"That’s the problem with hiring college kids," she was saying to
herself as she entered the kitchen. "They insist on leaving town
when
school’s out."
And then she was standing in the doorway, gaping like a fool, as
Denys Duchamp turned away from the counter and smiled at her. His
pale
hair was highlighted by a shaft of sunlight from the window. Tight
jeans
and a t-shirt snugly outlined his wiry, muscled form. This was no
dream.
This was Denys all right, with his blade-sharp cheekbones and cool
blue eyes. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, and her body lit
up
with a confusing combination of fear, surprise, and longing.
His lips curled up in a friendly smile. He held a mug of coffee
out to her. "I figured out how to work the thing," he said
proudly. "We
have time for a cup before we’re on our way."
"What are you doing here?" she shrieked. "Get out of my house!"
"Soon," he agreed affably. "Nice house." He added, "I’ll give you
time to pack a few things, and grab something to eat, but we have
to be
going soon." His tone was very no-nonsense.
She didn’t pay it any mind. "How did you find me?" she demanded.
His smiled turned to a satisfied smirk. "We have our little ways."
She was furious. Not only was she furious, she was happy to see
him. Elated. Overjoyed. Being happy to see him was the most
annoying
part of all. She took an angry step toward him, not sure what she
was
going to do. Their eyes met.
She ended up taking the offered cup of coffee and downing a long,
bracing gulp. "Damn!" she sputtered when she was done.
"What?" he asked anxiously. He took a step closer to her. They
were standing nose to nose next to the center island.
"This stuff tastes great. How dare you make great coffee as well
as be the most gorgeous thing I have ever -- "
"You think I’m gorgeous?"
He blushed. He actually blushed. She certainly did. She didn’t
bother to answer. She drank some more coffee.
He took the cup from her hand and put it on the island. "Claudia,"
he said, voice low and intense. "Surely you understand we can’t
stay
here."
"’Don’t call me Shirley.’" It was a dumb line from an old movie,
but it was the only thing she could think to say. Having him so
close,
his eyes looking deeply into hers, his presence so very masculine
and
compelling, was totally confusing. Totally wonderful. He came
closer.
Their bodies touched, heated and totally attuned to each other.
She
forgot her anger as his lips covered hers.
They were deep in a passionate kiss when the kitchen door loudly
slammed shut. Marki’s shocked voice exclaimed "Boss!"
It took a few seconds for the interruption to penetrate Denys’s
consciousness. When it did, he jumped, then lifted his head to
glare angrily at the pretty young woman standing just inside the
room.
His senses were reeling and his body was demanding for him to get
on
with making love to the woman he loved, and he growled out, "What
the
devil do you want?" before he recalled where they were and what
they
were supposed to be doing.
What they were supposed to be doing was leaving. He’d momentarily
lost sight of the intended goal. But Claudia’s lips were so soft
and
willing and her body fit so perfectly against his...
Stupid, incredibly stupid! And now he had this girl to get rid of
before he could hustle Claudia out of the house.
"Excuse me," the flustered girl said, red from her hairline down
to the base of her throat. "I... that is... uh. Claudia." She
seemed to
catch onto the name like a lifeline.
Denys grabbed Claudia around the waist. He had no intention of
letting her go. The girl would assume it was a sign of affection.
He
shot Claudia a warning glance to make sure she didn’t let on
otherwise.
The girl came into the kitchen, looking worriedly at them as she
did so. "Boss, are you all right?"
"She’s fine," Denys answered for her. "We were just leaving..
Claudia’s friend ignored him. "We’ve been so worried," she went
on. "You didn’t even send any postcards. And then your car turned
up in that Greek town where the UFO was sighted."
"UFO?" Denys and Claudia spoke together. They exchanged looks. She
grinned. Denys felt himself going red.
"What UFO?" Claudia asked.
"Who’s your friend?" he asked before the girl could go on.
"Marki Anderson. I’ve told you about Marki."
"The college senior you let run your business. I remember now. I’m
Denys," he said, with as friendly a smile as he could manage. He
pulled
Claudia even closer. She grunted softly at the pressure.
"We’re very close," she said. He wasn’t sure if this was a
complaint or some sort of explanation for Marki. "What UFO?" she
questioned again. "What are you talking about?"
"In Doros," Marki said. "Don’t you know about it? The tabloids
reported that a whole town was put to sleep by a UFO and that you
were
kidnapped by space aliens." She grinned at Denys as she looked him
over
from head to foot. "You don’t look like a space alien to me." She
glanced back at Claudia. "Where have you been, boss?"
"To Mars and back," she answered. "Well, on one of Mars’s moons,
actually."
Marki laughed. "Yeah, right."
"We were on my ship," Denys explained. "A romantic Mediterranean
interlude."
Marki gave a wide, understanding and slightly leering smile. "I
bet," she agreed. "I’m sorry I interrupted, but I was so surprised
to
see the boss. I saw your car in the driveway," she added. "And the
fancy
semi, and I didn’t know what to think. Why the truck? You moving
or
something?"
"Truck?" Claudia questioned.
"My truck," Denys reminded her. "I chased her all the way home,"
he said to Marki. "I almost caught up to you around O’Hare," he
told
Claudia. "But I couldn’t find a place to park."
Marki laughed again. "He’s cute, boss."
"Oh, he’s cute all right," Claudia agreed. She shot Denys an angry
look. "Will you let go of me?"
"If you promise not to run away."
She batted her eyelashes at him. "Would I do that?"
"Yes."
She shrugged. "I promise not to run away, Denys."
Of course I’m not going to run away, she said to herself as he
gave her one more tight squeeze, then stepped away from her. This
is my
home and I’m staying right here. You’re the one who’s going to go
away,
and without me.
But how could she keep him from dragging her off when no one was
looking? The answer seemed obvious. He wouldn’t drag her off as
long as
there were witnesses. He was determined to keep history from
changing in
any way. If he kidnapped her from the middle of a crowd there
would be
questions, a manhunt, media coverage, a segment on Sightings.
Surely, such goings on would have some small effect on history.
Denys
must realize that. So, Denys wouldn’t think of kidnapping her with
anyone around. All she had to do was make sure she was constantly
surrounded by people. Marki was only one person, but she was a
start.
What I need is a crowd, Claudia thought. A big crowd. "I know,"
she said to Marki, as she crossed the room to throw open the wide
freezer door. "Let’s have a picnic. Call all the relatives and the
staff
- - everybody in town -- and get them out here for a party." She
grinned
triumphantly at Denys. "A welcome home party. Right now."
Denys had been content to bide his time, be friendly and wait
until Marki left. "Now, wait a moment -- "
"We are having a picnic," Marki chimed in. She bounced over to
join Claudia at the freezer. Marki, Denys observed, was nothing if
not
perky. She reminded him, somehow, of Cleary.
Cleary. And the others. What were they doing? He’d let them loose
on an unsuspecting city. Well, Athens was just going to have to
manage
to survive on its own. He had to get Claudia away from here.
"A picnic?" Claudia questioned brightly. "Who? Where?"
"At Chatswell Pond. It was your Mom’s idea. The whole town’s going
to be there. I came by to get a few dozen of your homemade
hamburger
buns from the freezer."
"Oh, Denys," Claudia gushed. "We can go too!"
She began pulling out plastic bags full of baked goods. She smiled
over her shoulder at him as she and Marki began packing them in a
canvas
bag Marki had with her. "Isn’t that wonderful? I can hardly wait.
You
can meet my folks."
Claudia never gushed. She was doing this to him on purpose. He
knew what she was up to. And he couldn’t see any way out of it.
Not
without causing a scene that was sure to be remarked on. The whole
point
of this fiasco was that he wanted to leave history alone, not to
cause a
single ripple in time. He couldn’t hit her over the head and run
off
with her with people watching -- as tempting as it might be. And
she
knew it, too. Very clever, Dr. Cameron, he thought, with grim
amusement.
But it won’t work. Not for long, anyway.
"All right," he agreed, forcing his tone to be cheerful. "We’ll go
on your picnic. I can hardly wait to meet your folks."
It didn’t help his mood to realize that there was a part of him
that was happy to have an excuse to stay on Earth a few hours
longer.
There was a little boy inside, jumping up and down with glee at
the prospect of going on a picnic.
He did, however, insist on driving his ’truck’ to the picnic
sight, just so he’d be ready for a quick getaway once the
festivities
were over.
Chapter Eleven
There was one out, and Cousin Joey was at bat. The pitcher stood
slim and poised on the mound, considering the situation with all
the
gravity it deserved. Claudia strained forward from her perch on
the
picnic table to watch. She could feel the tension mounting in the
two
people flanking her. Her mother was holding her breath, and Dad
was
muttering under his.
Cousin Joey was already responsible for the opposing team’s three
runs. He had two strikes and three balls. The next pitch would be
decisive. The score was three to two and it was the bottom of the
seventh. The game was dragging on through the middle of the
afternoon as
the sun and the barbecue grills were heating up. The mingled
aromas of
hot dogs, hamburgers and brats permeated the air.
Claudia’s stomach was of the opinion that it was time for the game
to be over. Just about everybody in town was either playing or
gathered
around the field to watch. The shouting was loud and partisan. The
members of the two teams were among the loudest and rudest of the
noisemakers.
The pitcher coolly ignored all the activity around him. He nodded
to the catcher’s signal, wound up, and threw.
"Strike three!" Uncle Carl shouted.
Joey threw down the bat and stomped away amid loud boos and
cheering.
Claudia was nudged in the ribs by a bony elbow. "That boy of yours
sure throws a mean fastball."
Claudia eyed her father worriedly. This was the first time in
living memory Sergeant Marcus Cameron, US Marines, Ret., had ever
expressed any approval of a man she’d brought home.
And it had to be Denys. Dad liked an alien lizard terrorist
kidnapper when his opinions of two university professors, a race
car
driver and a photographer had been that they were all lower than
pond
silt. Denys he liked.
So did she, of course, which only served to make her father’s
approval of Denys Duchamp even more disconcerting. Of course,
Denys
had been absolutely charming to both her parents. He’d kissed
Mom’s
hand. And Aunt Kate’s, and Grandma’s, too. To make things more
embarrassing, the Tysan twins, who were sixteen and full of
hormones,
had been flirting with him all day. They’d nearly died when he’d
helped
them shuck a couple bushels of corn. She knew from the looks she
was
getting from everybody that Marki had spread the story
about finding them kissing in the kitchen to the entire population
of
Bradden Falls. She’ll probably fax it all over the state tomorrow,
Claudia concluded with a dismal sigh.
"I like him," her mother contributed.
"Looks like Claudia’s got a good one this time," her father
judged.
"About time." The senior Camerons had always had this way of
holding discussion as if their children weren’t present. The
children
were used to it. Claudia sighed, almost not hearing the
conversation
that went on as if she weren’t sitting between the older couple.
"She met him on a Greek island," her mother said. "How romantic."
"No. It was on the mainland," her dad corrected. "The one the
Enquirer wrote all that UFO nonsense about."
"That’s right." Her mother reached across her to pat her dad’s
hand. "You’re right, dear."
Dad’s right, Claudia agreed silently. We met on the mainland. And
the tabloids got it right for once, there was a UFO involved. Or
maybe
it was an identified flying object. And what would the tabloids
make of
our kissing in the kitchen? she wondered. Would the headlines read
Alien
Follows Lover to Iowa?
She glanced at the cloud-dotted blue sky overhead, then to the
pond where a group of shrilly-shouting kids were splashing. She
looked
at the laden picnic tables under the trees, the barbecue grills
set up
downwind of the tables, the edges of the field where most of the
community was gathered, and finally back at the center of the
baseball
field. Denys stood there, in the center of it all, poised and
slender
and incredibly handsome, the intense concentration of his
expression
emphasizing the severe attractiveness of his features.
What’s he doing out there? she wondered. How did he get to be in
the center of it all? Of my town? My life? And why does he look
like he
belongs there? She sighed heartily, exasperated, though her toes
were
curling with longing at the sight of him and there was a
fluttering
around her heart she thought was pride and she also had a feeling
there was a certain smug possessiveness about the way her lips
couldn’t
help but curl into a smile at him every now and then.
It didn’t make much sense. She’d forced him to come to a crowded
picnic to escape being kidnapped by him, and here she was, feeling
like she was showing him off to all her relatives and the populace
in
general. And he was acting like he was having the time of his
life.
Shouldn’t he be trying to hustle her off to the HATTON?
"He’s got such a lovely accent," her mother went on. "Doesn’t
sound at all like I expected an Australian to sound."
"Australian?" her father questioned. "He from Australia?"
"He told me he’s from somewhere around Sydney. That’s the place
with the opera house, dear."
"I know that."
"He must have gone to college. I mean, most Australians talk like
Crocodile Dundee, don’t they?"
"Mother!"
"Says he’s an engineer," Dad went on over Claudia’s exclamation.
"It’s about time Claudia brought home somebody with a decent job.
Knew
she’d get sick of those artsy fartsy types eventually."
"Dad!"
"Not that Claudia isn’t doing very well supporting herself," her
mother went on. "But she’s thirty four and the only one of the
children
who isn’t settled down yet."
"I have mortgage payments. People with mortgage payments are
settled down!"
"You just want more grandchildren, woman," her father teased her
mother.
"Nothing wrong with that. Denys is gorgeous. Just think what
handsome grandsons he and Claudia will give you." Dad chortled.
Claudia decided she couldn’t take any more of this. She got up and
strode purposefully away. Denys had just struck out Uncle Tony and
the
teams were switching on the field for the eight inning.
Denys was standing by the bench gulping Gatorade from the bottle
when she came up to him. One of the Tysan twins, Brittany, she
thought,
was standing next to him, watching him with adoration. She gave
the girl a stern
warning look, which the teenager promptly ignored. Brittany
remained close by
even after Denys finished drinking and handed the bottle back to
her.
Claudia knew she should be glad there was no privacy to be had in
the vicinity. She had, after all, arranged for them to be spending
the
day in the most public place possible. She knew she should be
delighted
she was here among her friends and family, foiling Denys from
dragging
her off. She was having a good time. It was just galling her that
he was
too.
"Why aren’t you gnashing your teeth in frustration?" she demanded,
ignoring Brittany since she couldn’t get rid of her. The Tysan
twins
were known for sneaking off to rock concerts in Chicago and were
widely
supposed to be deaf as posts anyway.
"Why? We’re winning the game," he answered. He looked slyly
amused,
with just a hint of triumphant glee in the curl of his lips.
"And where did you learn to play baseball?"
"I’ve played baseball all my life. It’s New Sydney’s national
sport. Well, surfing is, actually, but baseball’s very popular."
"My parents like you."
"I like them too." To demonstrate this, he leaned around her and
waved in the direction of her family’s picnic table. "Nice people.
Lovely town. I like big families. Come from a big family myself. I
like
small towns, though towns on New Sidney don’t exactly look like
this.
Geography and architecture’s different but -- "
He rambled on. She tried not to be effected by the wistful
pleasure he was taking in the day. She tried to stay angry at him,
instead. He obviously didn’t understand that she was trying to
warn him.
"You better get out of here," she said.
"Not without you, love."
"I’m not going anywhere."
"Then neither am I. Besides, I’m hungry and I’m looking forward to
sampling the potato sala-- "
"Fine. I hope you won’t mind large weddings."
"Large weddings are lovely."
He was grinning at her, totally oblivious to the danger he was in.
"You had better get on your ship and never see me again."
"Can’t do it. You’re coming with me."
"No, I’m not."
"Then I’m staying here until you change your mind."
Claudia crossed her arms and gave an emphatic nod. "I see. Would
you prefer a short or a long engagement?"
"A short or long what?"
"I don’t know about where you come from, but around here an
engagement is a period of time between the proposal and the
wedding."
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I see. What’s that got to do with
us?"
It was her turn to give him a triumphant smile. "My family has
decided we’re engaged," she informed him. "You better get in your
shuttle and get out of here before they drag us off to the altar."
He rubbed his jaw again. He didn’t seem the least bit terrified of
the scenario she’d just presented. "Your father did mention
something
about your starting to get a little long in the tooth, and that it
might
be wise if we hurried along the courtship so we could start having
babies before it was too late," he answered. "So I suppose a short
engagement’s what he was getting at whe-- "
"My father said what?" Claudia exploded.
"Shhh," Denys advised. He looked around.
She followed his glance. Brittany had become just one member of
the crowd gathered around them. A crowd of friends and relatives
who
were all watching and listening avidly and had probably heard most
of
the conversation. Most of them were grinning like idiots.
She’d completely forgotten they weren’t alone. She’d arranged for
them not to be alone. This public scene was all her doing. It was
Denys’s fault, but it was her doing. Denys who she wanted to
strangle
and kiss at the same time. Her mother had once told her that she
frequently felt the same way about her father.
She decided to ignore the crowd.
"My father said what?" she repeated.
Denys gave a quick glance at the listeners, and then concentrated
his attention on Claudia. She was looking both furious and lovely.
He
liked the combination. Her combativeness didn’t bother him, and he
found
her flustered confusion adorable. He liked her stubbornness, her
resourcefulness -- He knew he liked her long legs and her really
great
behind and the way the vee neck of the red blouse she was wearing
dipped
down to show the cleft between her firm -- Which had nothing to do
with
this conversation. But was distracting nonetheless.
He wanted to put his hands around her slim waist and pull her
close. He didn’t care if they were in the middle of an amused and
gawking crowd, her mouth looked luscious and he was going to do
it.
But just as he started to reach for yer, his name was called.
It was his turn at bat.
"Where are you going?" Claudia demanded as he started to turn
away.
"I’ll be right back," he promised, and trotted off, determined to
promptly strike out.
He hadn’t been paying attention, it turned out to be the third
strike out and
he was back on the mound to pitch the bottom of the inning before
he could get
back to Claudia. By the time he got a chance to look over at the
crowd, she wasn’t
there. He swore, but the catcher called for his attention and he
decided the best
way to get back to Claudia was to get the game over as quickly as
possible.
"Why’d I ever get involved in this stupid sport anyway?" he asked
himself as he wound up for the pitch.
Claudia, he answered himself. Obviously. Claudia had been skittish
and suspicious and altogether too brightly cheerful when they
arrived at
the picnic. She had made effusive introductions, and made sure he
was
surrounded constantly by her kith and kin. He’d known what she was
doing, known she was just trying to put as many people and as much
time
between his getting her alone again as possible.
He’d known it, and he’d still gotten caught up in the spirit of
the day. He liked her family, he liked the community atmosphere,
he
found himself having a wonderful time. It was a beautiful day, the
picnic was set in a park with rolling hills, a nice-sized pond
with
woods behind it. There was a playground and the baseball diamond;
everything was green and blue and earthy. It was different than
home,
but it still felt like home, and he was a very homesick man. So he
got
caught up in the spirit of the day.
And he was enjoying impressing Claudia’s family and friends.
Somehow, for some insane reason, it was important for him to
impress the
people she loved. Maybe it was the way she kept looking at him.
First
with annoyance which relaxed grudgingly throughout the day to the
pleased and affectionate and occasionally jealous glances he’d
been
catching when she didn’t think he was looking at her looking at
him.
And he enjoyed looking at her whether she was looking at him or
not. She was in her element here, even more than in a kitchen or
in her
lovely house. Here in Bradden Falls, surrounded by her family, was
obviously where Claudia Cameron really belonged.
It really was too bad they couldn’t stay. Too bad she couldn’t
stay, rather. Of course he couldn’t stay. While he was having the
time
of his life, he had to get back to his men and his ship and his
mission.
And Claudia was coming with him.
He was just glad she would have this perfect day with her family
to remember once she was living in the future. He just had to get
her
back to the future and it was taking more time and energy than
he’d been
prepared for. God knew what was going on in Athens and on board
the
HATTON while he was pitching a friendly game of baseball in an
Iowa
community.
"What am I going to tell Captain Andrews?" he muttered. He made it
a quick three up and three down inning then told the coach he was
out of
the game.
The coach was Claudia’s sister, Julie. She favored him with a
pleased smile. "I heard the news. Congratulations. Make it a short
engagement. And don’t let Claudia do the catering for her own
reception.
She’ll have enough to do just being the bride." She patted him on
the
rear as he turned away. "You go find her and we’ll finish pitching
the
game."
Her family likes me, he thought. The knowledge was warmly
pleasing. He headed toward the picnic tables, but a half dozen
people
pointed toward the path leading into the woods. Several called
out, "She
went that way."
He headed into the woods to the sound of applause and cheering. He
savored the moment, but was also aware that, if he and Claudia
didn’t
emerge from the woods with a formal engagement announcement,
things
could get ugly. He found himself wondering if lynchings were as
much a
form of entertainment as baseball in rustic backwaters like
Bradden
Falls. Probably not, but he had run across the term ’shotgun
wedding’ in
his exhaustive research for his liaison duties between the HATTON
and
twentieth century Earth. He hoped he wasn’t about to find out
exactly
what the term meant.
"Not that I mind marrying you," he said as he turned a corner,
pushed aside a low hanging tree branch, and caught sight of
Claudia
perched glumly on a boulder beside the path.
She jumped to her feet. "What do you mean you don’t ’mind’?"
"I mean I don’t mind." He stepped up to her. "Your family thinks
I’m going to marry you and I don’t mind them thinking it."
"Of course you don’t mind," she countered. "You won’t be here much
longer. You can make them believe whatever you like and then just
go
back to the future and leave me with all the explaining to do."
"You won’t have anything to explain. You’re coming with me."
"Am not."
"Are too."
Denys realized that while the intelligence level of this
conversation wasn’t high, there really wasn’t any other way of
stating
their positions. She was determined to stay. He was determined she
return. There was no room for compromise on either side.
He could hear the gurgling of a stream not far away. The air
smelled of moss and wildflowers. The droning of insects, the
occasional
call of birds, and the shouts and laughter from the picnic area
filled
the background. It was all very soothing. He didn’t want to fight.
Denys held out his hand. "Come with me," he suggested.
Claudia bristled. "Back to the HATTON?"
"Not right now. Come on," he coaxed. "Show me the stream. Please."
She couldn’t resist the look in his eyes. The way he said ’please’
melted her inside. He managed to combine the tone of a helpless
little
boy with the sultry suggestiveness of a lover with just one word
and the
way he ducked his head and looked at her from under half<->lowered
eyelids. If he ever said please about returning to the ship, she
supposed she would be lost. She had it bad. Very bad. If it wasn’t
for
the little matter of his wanting to take her away from her home
without
her permission, everything about Denys Duchamp would be perfect.
She stood and took his hand. It was very warm and strong and
masculine. "This way," she said, and guided him down the narrow
path
down to the stream bank. He didn’t follow her, but put his arm
around
her waist, fitting his body close to hers so they could walk side
by
side. She could feel every slender muscle on his wiry frame as
they
moved along. She was very tempted to stop and explore every muscle
in
loving detail.
When they reached the stream bank Denys gave a contented sigh.
"Water," he said. The stream was narrow and quick running here,
the
banks covered in velvety moss and deep orange wood lilies. He
knelt on a
flat boulder and dipped his palm in the cool water. He turned a
bright
smile on Claudia. "I like it here," he told her.
"It’s pretty," she agreed. "I remember swimming here when I was a
kid."
He bounced to his feet. "Can we go for a swim?"
Claudia looked around the small clearing. She was delighted with
the suggestion, but -- "Aren’t you supposed to be kidnapping me?"
"Later." He gave her his coaxing look again. "I’m sweaty and
sticky and hot and I love water. This is a hundred times better
than a
sonic shower."
That was certainly the truth. "Okay," she agreed. "We can go for a
swim."
She gave him a wicked smile, put her hand flat on his chest, and
shoved. He landed with a whoop and a mighty splash. Claudia
cackled,
kicked off her sandals and jumped in after him. She bobbed to her
feet
in chin high water. He surfaced beside her and grabbed her around
the
waist, his laughter filling the air, his presence filling her
senses.
She thought she might be in for a dunking, until their hips
touched and his hand came sliding up, pushing aside the clinging
material of her blouse. His hands covered her breasts, her nipples
growing hard against the pressure of his touch. The combination of
cold
water and the heated texture of his palms sent a shiver of desire
shooting through her.
"Denys," she said, and covered his mouth with hers before he could
answer.
Claudia’s tongue slid smoothly against his, teasing and erotically
demanding at once. His hands moved from her breasts to cup her
buttocks
and pull her closer. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest,
the
peaks pebble hard against his sensitized skin.
He groaned, and pulled his lips reluctantly from hers. "If we keep
this up," he warned, "we’ll drown."
She wrapped her thighs around his, letting the water and his hands
support her. "Good," she murmured, then began kissing his throat.
His wet, clinging jeans were growing very uncomfortable as his
body responded to her every seductive movement.
"Claudia."
Her mouth moved up to nibble on his earlobe. "Hmm?"
He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to drag
her out of the water and make love to her for hours and hours. But
he
couldn’t, because love, not just sex, was the issue here.
It took all his willpower, but Denys firmly pushed her away. He
kept his hands around her waist, lifted her and settled her on a
flat boulder which thrust out into the stream. It took him a few
fumbling seconds to pull himself out of the water and join her. By
the
time he did she’d readjusted her clothes, and he was able to move
more
comfortably in the clinging denim which constricted his thighs.
Sunlight was pouring down onto the boulder. Claudia turned her
face up to it. A stiff breeze combined with the heat was already
starting to dry her clothing. She felt both cool and warm, and the
sensations were utterly wonderful. Denys had felt utterly
wonderful. She was still
tingling, inside and out, from their watery embrace. She still
wanted him, she
didn’t know why he’d stopped. She didn’t know whether she was
angry or glad
they hadn’t gone any further. She shouldn’t want to make love to
him. She was
supposed to hate him.
She didn’t hate him. She just didn’t want to run off to some other
time and planet with him. She wished he could stay here with her.
And why hadn’t he wanted to make love to her?
She opened her eyes and gave him a baleful look. "Afraid of
scaring the fish?"
He looked down at the water. "Are there fish in there?"
"Yes."
"I love to fish."
"Denys!" she hissed. "What is the matter with you?" What’s the
matter with me? she meant, but didn’t dare ask him that.
He took her by the shoulders, turning her so they were face to
face. "I love you, Claudia," he said, earnest sincerity in every
line of
his face. It filled his bright blue eyes.
A melting sensation spread from her brain to her toes. "You do?"
"I want to marry you," he went on, more earnest still. "To be with
you forever."
"Oh." She sighed happily. She leaned forward to kiss him.
"And I want you to come back to the ship with me right now," he
added before her lips could touch his.
"Damn!" She jerked back. All the sincerity had disappeared from
his expression, like it had never been there at all. He’d lied.
And he
was letting her know he’d lied.
"How could you -- you -- " Indignation overwhelmed speech.
He was smiling a little, but his eyes were serious. "I see you
take my point."
"P-p-point?!" His thumbs began stroking her collarbone slowly. It
did nothing to help calm her down. But it felt nice.
"If I tell you I love you," he explained, slowly, as if speaking
to a child. "If I make love to you, you’re bound to think it’s
because
I’m trying to get you back to the ship. And to be honest, it will
be."
"It will?"
Not really. Not entirely. Hardly at all, actually, he thought. He
didn’t share his thoughts with her. He watched the hurt and anger
growing in her eyes and hurried to explain. "I don’t want to
seduce you
into returning to the HATTON with me. I don’t want to do that to
you. I
do care for you."
More than you know, he added silently, but I won’t use love to
manipulate you. What chance would we have later if I told you the
truth
now? Even if I didn’t try to use it, you’d think that that was
what I
was doing. That’s what I’d think if you tried to use love to get
me to
stay here with you. Which, he had to add though he didn’t like the
thought, you might be trying to do. Not consciously, of course, he
automatically defended her theoretical behavior. You’re not like
that.
"You care for me?"
He nodded. "You know I do."
"Then leave me alone!"
The words exploded out of her. She wanted to hit him, and might
have if he hadn’t grabbed her wrists. He was very strong. He was
very
masculine and very confusing and she didn’t know what she was
going to
do about it. She wished he hadn’t followed her, not to Earth, not
into
the woods. She wished she hadn’t followed him into the water. She
wished
he hadn’t tossed her right back out.
"Leave me alone," she repeated. "Go away."
"I can’t, Claudia."
"You don’t love me." She didn’t know why she was harping on this.
It’s not as if love is the most important thing in the universe,
she
told herself sternly. My freedom’s at stake here. That’s more
important.
Isn’t it? If he said he loved me, I might go with him.
"I didn’t say I don’t love you," he pointed out, voice coolly
reasonable. "I just said I wasn’t going to use it to manipulate
you."
"You love me?"
He frowned. "I didn’t say that, either." He was so frustrated he
was tempted to shake her. Where was the sensible woman he
remembered?
"Don’t you see what I’m getting at?"
"No."
"Bloody hell! Why not?"
"Just go away, Denys."
"That’s no answer."
"No, it isn’t," she agreed. "I don’t have an answer. All I’ve got
is this -- longing. Which, by the way, I don’t like one little
bit.
You’re an alien lizard terrorist and I don’t want to be in love
with
you. Go away."
She didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. She didn’t want to be in
love with him. Well, that was fine, too. It wasn’t, of course, but
he’d
deal with the pain of it later. Right now, he had to remember the
Mission. He had to get her out of here.
"I should never have come to this picnic. I thought it would help
to let you say good-bye to your family. It was a stupid, bloody,
sentimental mistake."
"I’m not saying good-bye to my family. You shouldn’t have followed
me."
"I didn’t have any choice."
"I’m not going back," she told him firmly. "I’m just going to run
away again. Run so far and hide so well, you won’t be able to find
me.
You’ll have to go back to the HATTON eventually." She gave an
emphatic
nod. "Then the captain will kill you for taking so long with the
supplies. And I’ll get on with my life."
"The captain will probably kill me," he agreed. "But I’m not going
back without you." He ran his fingertips up her cheeks and through
her
damp hair. He couldn’t help the gesture, and she didn’t try to
pull
away. "I’ll follow you wherever you go, love."
She wished his words were a declaration of undying devotion
instead of a declaration of his nuisance value. "Oh, yeah?" she
challenged. "How you gonna find me?"
"The tracer implant I -- " Denys bit down hard on any further
explanation.
Claudia grasped on to what he’d just said. "Tracer? Implant?
You’ve got some alien whatchmathingy inside me?"
He nodded, bleakly.
She thought she’d been angry with him before, but this new
revelation of his duplicity, of his need to control her life, was
more
than she could take. Her skin was suddenly itching all over.
"Take it out," she demanded, voice cold and hard. "Right now."
"I can’t. And I wouldn’t if I could," he added. "I don’t know how
you managed to block the transmission yesterday. You had to come
into
contact with silversilk somehow, that stuff’s the only substance
that’ll
block it. But there’s no silversilk on Earth and you’re not
getting away
from me again."
Silversilk? Charlie’s scarf was silver. Was it made of this
silversilk stuff? Could Charlie’s scarf block the signal from
whatever
Denys had put in her? How’d he done it? Where’d he put it? And
why’d she
forget and leave the scarf in an Athens bathroom?
"Go away," she told him.
"Come with me."
"No."
"Yes."
They glared at each other, both equally still, both equally
determined, equally silent while the sun beat down, the stream
gurgled, and brown and black butterflies flitted between the wood
lilies. They might have gone on like this for hours if a hesitant
voice
hadn’t eventually intruded upon their wordless argument.
"Ahem. Excuse me. Dear. CLAUDIA LIVINIA CAMERON!"
Claudia winced and turned her head. "Yes, mother?"
"Livinia?"
She shot a scathing look over her shoulder at Denys. "My
grandfather Tiberius was into Roman history, all right?"
"Sure." He snickered. "Fine. Claudia Livinia."
She ignored him and said sweetly to her mother, "Yes?" She got to
her feet. "Want me to come help with the food?"
Her mother stepped off the path and up to them. "Not exactly."
Denys got up and took Claudia’s hand, tightly. "What can we do for
you, Mrs.
Cameron?
She beamed at Denys. "Don’t be so formal, dear. I think Mom’s
appropriate,
don’t you?"
"No," Claudia said.
"Mom it is, then," Denys said over her objection.
She snarled at him. Her mother ignored her. She was smiling
benignly at Denys. Claudia wanted to object to her mother’s
obvious
affection for Denys, but how could she tell her the truth without
sounding like she ought to be locked in a padded room?
"What do you want, Mom?" she questioned sharply instead.
"She gets jet lag," her mother said, explaining Claudia’s tone to
Denys. "Makes her grumpy."
"I’ve noticed," he answered agreeably, as though it was a secret
they’d agreed to share.
"What do you want, Mother?" she tried again.
"I was hoping I could get the two of you to run to the grocery
store. The Mactaggert clan just showed up and they totally forgot
to
bring food."
"What do you mean, ’forgot’?" Claudia questioned irritably. "All
fifteen of them?"
"They’re a forgetful family," her mother apologized. To Denys. "So
we thought we’d send to the store for some more hamburgers and
buns and,
well, you know, everything. And since you brought your truck,
dear, and
Claudia’s such a wonderful shopper -- did you know she’s the
thriftiest
shopper you’ll ever want to meet -- and you’d probably like to see
more
of Bradden Falls and be alone together -- "
"We’d love to run your errands, Mom," Denys interrupted this flow
of words. He squeezed Claudia’s hand. "Wouldn’t we, love?"
"No, we wouldn’t." No way was she letting him get her alone in the
shuttle.
"No even for your mother’s sake?"
The question was put gently, he was looking at her with open
warmth and affection. And she got the distinct impression he was
threatening her mother. He was a desperate man. She knew he had a
temper.
Was it possible? Was Denys -- ? Could Denys -- ?
"Nooo..." She said the word on a long, drawn out breath.
He nodded slowly. The glint in his eyes was icy, despite the sweet
tone of his next words. "You know I’ll do whatever’s necessary,
Claudia."
It was a bluff. Had to be. But she didn’t dare call it, did she?
This was her mother -- who was smiling at him like he was her long
lost
darling and had no idea what a vicious rat she was dealing with.
She had
to protect her mother.
"You lizard," she said softly.
He tugged her forward along the path. "Come along, love. We better
hurry. Wouldn’t want the Mactaggart clan to starve," he added to
her
mother. "Back shortly."
"I should have threatened bodily harm sooner," he whispered in her
ear as he hustled her toward the roadside where the shuttle was
parked.
"I’m sorry," he added. "But this is really for the best."
"I hate you."
"I know. You should." When they reached the shuttle, he added,
"Let’s go."
Chapter Twelve
Denys supposed he should be elated to finally have Claudia’s
cooperation, but all he felt was a nasty sense of guilt. He didn’t
know
what he would have done if she’d called his bluff. He supposed it
didn’t
matter now, since Claudia was seated beside him in the cockpit of
the
shuttle.
She glared at him and said, "Lizard."
He flinched and started the engine. The engine itself was silent,
but the simulated rumbling of a mighty diesel engine could be
heard by
the picnickers as he drove slowly away.
"First to Athens," he said, trying to sound cheerful about the
prospect of the journey.
"Nope."
"Claudia," he snarled in exasperation. "This in not the time to
start fighting about it again."
"I’m not fighting with you," she answered coldly. "I’m going back
to the HATTON, and I hope you’re happy."
"Not really," he admitted. "About your -- "
"We’re going to a grocery store," she cut him off. "Just a quick
stop for some fresh vegetables, then we can be on our way." She
crossed
her arms, set her jaw, and looked stubbornly out the window
instead of
at him.
"Vegetables? What do you want vegetables for?" You’re just trying
to make my life miserable and complicated, he added to himself.
And he
didn’t blame her a bit.
"Smid asked me to pick up some carrots," she explained.
"Carrots. I see."
"And I might as well pick up a few other things while we’re
there," she added. "If I’m going back to work as the ship’s cook,
I
want to use ingredients I know for awhile."
Denys considered while he carefully drove the shuttle down the
empty country road from the park toward Bradden Falls. He could
just
take off, there was nothing but cornfields out here, no traffic.
No one
to see the shuttle disappear from regular to Stealth mode. But he
had
Claudia’s psychological well-being to consider. And the crew’s.
And his
own. Especially his own, as rooming with Claudia was going to be
really
miserable for awhile anyway. The less upset she was, the easier it
was
going to be on both of them. Might as well make a friendly
gesture, let
her have her vegetables.
It’ll help her adjust to the inevitable, he told himself. And it
won’t take all that long.
"All right," he agreed. "We’ll stop at the store before we leave."
"Fine."
"Then you can call your folks from Athens."
She finally looked at him. "What?"
"To explain our disappearance," he said as the shuttle reached the
outskirts of the small town. He spotted a large building with a
Super
Foods sign on top and a large parking lot. He turned in to the lot
as he
continued. "You can tell them we decided to elope and
are heading for Australia."
"Australia." She sighed, and went on listlessly. "Yes, of course.
Australia." She sighed again. "Let’s just get the carrots and get
out of
here." Before I start crying, she added to herself. Not that he’d
understand.
##
There was a lot of crowd noise in the background, music and
laughter and the occasional dismayed shout. Claudia tried to
ignore it
all. Sakretis was standing next to her in the alcove near the
doorway,
doing guard duty while Denys rounded up the rest of the crew. She
didn’t
know how he’d tracked them to this small taverna in one of the
less
savory neighborhoods of Athens, and she didn’t particularly care.
She
was tired and suffering from jet lag, though the trip from the
grocery
parking lot to Greece had only taken two hours. They’d still
crossed
several time zones and she was feeling the effects.
The alcove had a pay phone. She was trying to make an overseas
call.
"Retsina?" she heard Denys’s voice clearly cutting through every
other noise, including the echoing ring of the phone she held to
her
ear. "Didn’t I tell you to stay away from -- "
"Ouzo," Cleary finished for him. "We did. This is different. It’s
wine."
"Sneaks up on you," Fox added. "But we were ready for it. We’re
sober."
"Almost," Harcort added.
"Hello?" her mother’s voice finally answered.
Claudia gave Sakretis a quick look. He was alert and sober and
knew what she was supposed to say. "Mom," she said cheerfully.
"Where have you been? The Mactaggert’s -- "
"Sorry. We forgot about the groceries."
"You forgot?"
"And those ladies," Morrison’s voice came from the bar. "Why do
they keep taking off their clothes?"
It’s a strip joint, she thought. I’m not sure those guys are
really sailors. She made herself stop thinking about the crew to
concentrate on talking to her mother.
"Denys and I -- "
"Where are Denys and you?"
"We tried paying them to put their clothes back on," Toffler said.
"It was embarrassing. We didn’t want any trouble. Cleary said he
liked it."
"Uh. At O’Hare," Claudia improvised. "Waiting for a flight to
Australia. We talked it over and decided to elope."
"Elope!"
"Sorry. We -- we decided -- Mom." She couldn’t go through with
this. "I love you, Mom. I -- "
"When will you be coming home?"
Sakretis must have heard the question, because he shook his head.
Denys herded the others through a bead-curtained doorway and she
was
suddenly surrounded by the crew. Denys’s hand came around her
wrist.
"Claudia?" her mother’s faraway voice questioned.
"I don’t know," she answered. She met Denys’s eyes. The look of
sympathy in them almost overwhelmed her hatred of him. Why did his
touch
feel so reassuring? Why was his presence beside her almost
welcome? He
was dragging her off to an unknown fate in the far future. She
should be
yelling into the phone for help. Instead, she had the distinct
feeling
she wouldn’t be minding this at all if he had seduced her into it.
Did she love him enough to abandon her home and family for him?
The disturbing answer was, yes, maybe she did.
Not that she was going to let him know it. What he was doing was
wrong, it was foolish, it was completely unnecessary. He was just
being
paranoid about his damn fool Mission.
"I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too. I’ll miss you. Have to
go. Bye." She hung up the phone and glared at Denys. "There.
Happy?"
"Lovely. All right," he addressed the crew. "Let’s get back to the
airport and finish loading the supplies."
They all looked at him as if he were crazy. Which, Claudia agreed,
he was.
"We were finished loading," Cleary said.
"That’s why we thought it was kind of crazy when you took off
without us," Sakretis explained.
Denys’s fair skin colored as his lips thinned to a narrow line.
"Right. I forgot."
"You were acting pretty crazy," Fox commiserated.
"We could have helped you look for Dr. Cameron," Harcort said.
"But you -- "
"Let’s just get in the shuttle and go," Denys announced loudly.
"Right now."
"Calm down, Duchamp," Cleary advised. "We’re going."
"I get the copilot’s seat," Claudia chimed in as Denys tugged her
out the door with the others. Denys didn’t argue, but she defended
her
choice of seat anyway. "If I have to abandon my homeworld, I want
a good
last view of it."
He groaned as they took their seats. "Go ahead. Make me feel more
guilty than I already do."
She settled in the chair beside him. The crew stumbled with half-
drunken gracelessness into the other seats.
"Am I making you feel guilty?" she asked with acid sweetness.
"You know you are."
She sighed again, this time with a certain amount of feigned
contentment. "Good."
##
Three days after leaving Earth to return to Phobos, Denys was
still suffering the affects of the tongue lashing Captain Andrews
had
given him. He’d told the captain they’d had to wait for the
supplies to
arrive at the Athens warehouse. The Shift crew had backed his
story.
They’d been dismissed. Captain Andrews’s reprimand had been for
him
alone. He’d been accused of goldbricking, dereliction of duty,
misconduct, incompetence, lying, sightseeing and fraternizing
intimately
with the female natives in the captain’s cold, precise tones. He’d
gotten off with a dire warning and threats about black marks on
his
permanent record.
"But only because you’re the only mining, electrical, laser, and
mechanical engineer I’ve got. Now get out of my sight, rebuild
your
bloody laser cannon and make sure it works ten times better than
the
last one. We’re just going to have to backtrack those days through
the
time spiral to get back on schedule -- and you know how expensive
that
is."
Denys had hurried off the bridge, and stayed in the design shop
most of the flight to Phobos, doing exactly what the captain
ordered. It
was done, and it was going to be the best, most efficient laser
cannon
built out of antiquated parts anybody had ever seen. Building it
had
been the perfect excuse to stay out of his quarters and away from
Claudia.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what the captain had said, though.
The worst part was that Andrews was correct on all counts. Denys
had
almost been tempted to tell him what was really going on, to ask
for his
advice and help, to turn Claudia and the situation over to the
captain’s
competent hands. It was only the fear of certain death for all
concerned
that kept him from spilling his guts to the fierce, high-handed,
older
man.
Of course, he realized as he sat alone with the newly complete
laser cannon, competent as the captain was, he couldn’t solve
Denys’s
problem with Claudia.
Denys ran his hands through his hair and said, "Claudia."
Her name echoed through the open, empty space of the big room.
He’d been doing nothing but think about Claudia while he worked
the days
away. The work had been a good excuse to stay out of her presence.
Not
that she was in the cabin the few times he. d come in to shower
or change or sleep. The ship was very nearly at Phobos, and they
hadn’t
spoken at all during the journey. She’d kept to the kitchen, he
supposed. He knew the men were well-fed and content. He was
anything but
content. He was lonely and miserable and confused.
"And it’s got to stop," he said, coming to the decision he’d been
working toward all through this lonely period. He stood and dusted
imaginary grime off his long-fingered hands. "And it has to stop
right
now..
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked with
determined strides to the kitchen.
She was sitting in front of the cooking computer when the door
opened, chin resting on her raised fist, staring glumly at the
screen.
"Claudia," he announced, stepping up to her. "I love you."
Perhaps he should have started with more explanation, but he
somehow didn’t feel as if he had much time.
She jumped to her feet, and turned to face him. "Pardon me?"
"I love you," he repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest and
went on determinedly. "I may have been wrong --not letting you
stay on
Earth, I mean. The more I think about it, the more irrational my
behavior seems. Maybe you were right. Maybe you couldn’t affect
history.
I don’t know. Maybe I just couldn’t let you go."
She was staring, blue eyes getting wider and wider. "Excuse me?"
she questioned. "Did you say -- "
"I’m sorry I took you from a place and people you love," he went
on earnestly. "You have every right to hate me for what I did. But
I
don’t want you to hate me. I -- " He gulped. "I love you," he
repeated.
He was vulnerable and afraid of rejection, but he forced himself
to
speak his mind and his heart. "I want us to spend the rest of our
lives
together. I know we’re from different times and worlds and you
feel like
I betrayed you and perhaps I did. But I’ve loved you since the
moment I
saw you and I think we belong together. I’d like to try to make
you
happy if you’ll have me."
Then, courage spent, he turned and walked from the kitchen before
the stunned woman could say a word, either of rejection or
acceptance.
Claudia sat down again, mostly because she was shaking too hard to
stand. It was a struggle to even try to speak and by the time her
tongue
was able to form words he was long gone.
"Denys?" she said. "Oh, my."
She sighed, folded her hands in her lap and stopped thinking.
She’d been thinking for days while, all the time, her emotions had
been struggling to come to grips with just how she really felt
about
Denys Duchamp. She’d tried to ignore her emotions. Tried to make
the
fiery love she felt for him

shooting through her.
"Denys," she said, and covered his mouth with hers before he could
answer.
Claudia’s tongue slid smoothly against his, teasing and erotically
demanding at once. His hands moved from her breasts to cup her
buttocks
and pull her closer. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest,
the
peaks pebble hard against his sensitized skin.
He groaned, and pulled his lips reluctantly from hers. "If we keep
this up," he warned, "we’ll drown."
She wrapped her thighs around his, letting the water and his hands
support her. "Good," she murmured, then began kissing his throat.
His wet, clinging jeans were growing very uncomfortable as his
body responded to her every seductive movement.
"Claudia."
Her mouth moved up to nibble on his earlobe. "Hmm?"
He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to drag
her out of the water and make love to her for hours and hours. But
he
couldn’t, because love, not just sex, was the issue here.
It took all his willpower, but Denys firmly pushed her away. He
kept his hands around her waist, lifted her and settled her on a
flat boulder which thrust out into the stream. It took him a few
fumbling seconds to pull himself out of the water and join her. By
the
time he did she’d readjusted her clothes, and he was able to move
more
comfortably in the clinging denim which constricted his thighs.
Sunlight was pouring down onto the boulder. Claudia turned her
face up to it. A stiff breeze combined with the heat was already
starting to dry her clothing. She felt both cool and warm, and the
sensations were utterly wonderful. Denys had felt utterly
wonderful. She was still
tingling, inside and out, from their watery embrace. She still
wanted him, she
didn’t know why he’d stopped. She didn’t know whether she was
angry or glad
they hadn’t gone any further. She shouldn’t want to make love to
him. She was
supposed to hate him.
She didn’t hate him. She just didn’t want to run off to some other
time and planet with him. She wished he could stay here with her.
And why hadn’t he wanted to make love to her?
She opened her eyes and gave him a baleful look. "Afraid of
scaring the fish?"
He looked down at the water. "Are there fish in there?"
"Yes."
"I love to fish."
"Denys!" she hissed. "What is the matter with you?" What’s the
matter with me? she meant, but didn’t dare ask him that.
He took her by the shoulders, turning her so they were face to
face. "I love you, Claudia," he said, earnest sincerity in every
line of
his face. It filled his bright blue eyes.
A melting sensation spread from her brain to her toes. "You do?"
"I want to marry you," he went on, more earnest still. "To be with
you forever."
"Oh." She sighed happily. She leaned forward to kiss him.
"And I want you to come back to the ship with me right now," he
added before her lips could touch his.
"Damn!" She jerked back. All the sincerity had disappeared from
his expression, like it had never been there at all. He’d lied.
And he
was letting her know he’d lied.
"How could you -- you -- " Indignation overwhelmed speech.
He was smiling a little, but his eyes were serious. "I see you
take my point."
"P-p-point?!" His thumbs began stroking her collarbone slowly. It
did nothing to help calm her down. But it felt nice.
"If I tell you I love you," he explained, slowly, as if speaking
to a child. "If I make love to you, you’re bound to think it’s
because
I’m trying to get you back to the ship. And to be honest, it will
be."
"It will?"
Not really. Not entirely. Hardly at all, actually, he thought. He
didn’t share his thoughts with her. He watched the hurt and anger
growing in her eyes and hurried to explain. "I don’t want to
seduce you
into returning to the HATTON with me. I don’t want to do that to
you. I
do care for you."
More than you know, he added silently, but I won’t use love to
manipulate you. What chance would we have later if I told you the
truth
now? Even if I didn’t try to use it, you’d think that that was
what I
was doing. That’s what I’d think if you tried to use love to get
me to
stay here with you. Which, he had to add though he didn’t like the
thought, you might be trying to do. Not consciously, of course, he
automatically defended her theoretical behavior. You’re not like
that.
"You care for me?"
He nodded. "You know I do."
"Then leave me alone!"
The words exploded out of her. She wanted to hit him, and might
have if he hadn’t grabbed her wrists. He was very strong. He was
very
masculine and very confusing and she didn’t know what she was
going to
do about it. She wished he hadn’t followed her, not to Earth, not
into
the woods. She wished she hadn’t followed him into the water. She
wished
he hadn’t tossed her right back out.
"Leave me alone," she repeated. "Go away."
"I can’t, Claudia."
"You don’t love me." She didn’t know why she was harping on this.
It’s not as if love is the most important thing in the universe,
she
told herself sternly. My freedom’s at stake here. That’s more
important.
Isn’t it? If he said he loved me, I might go with him.
"I didn’t say I don’t love you," he pointed out, voice coolly
reasonable. "I just said I wasn’t going to use it to manipulate
you."
"You love me?"
He frowned. "I didn’t say that, either." He was so frustrated he
was tempted to shake her. Where was the sensible woman he
remembered?
"Don’t you see what I’m getting at?"
"No."
"Bloody hell! Why not?"
"Just go away, Denys."
"That’s no answer."
"No, it isn’t," she agreed. "I don’t have an answer. All I’ve got
is this -- longing. Which, by the way, I don’t like one little
bit.
You’re an alien lizard terrorist and I don’t want to be in love
with
you. Go away."
She didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. She didn’t want to be in
love with him. Well, that was fine, too. It wasn’t, of course, but
he’d
deal with the pain of it later. Right now, he had to remember the
Mission. He had to get her out of here.
"I should never have come to this picnic. I thought it would help
to let you say good-bye to your family. It was a stupid, bloody,
sentimental mistake."
"I’m not saying good-bye to my family. You shouldn’t have followed
me."
"I didn’t have any choice."
"I’m not going back," she told him firmly. "I’m just going to run
away again. Run so far and hide so well, you won’t be able to find
me.
You’ll have to go back to the HATTON eventually." She gave an
emphatic
nod. "Then the captain will kill you for taking so long with the
supplies. And I’ll get on with my life."
"The captain will probably kill me," he agreed. "But I’m not going
back without you." He ran his fingertips up her cheeks and through
her
damp hair. He couldn’t help the gesture, and she didn’t try to
pull
away. "I’ll follow you wherever you go, love."
She wished his words were a declaration of undying devotion
instead of a declaration of his nuisance value. "Oh, yeah?" she
challenged. "How you gonna find me?"
"The tracer implant I -- " Denys bit down hard on any further
explanation.
Claudia grasped on to what he’d just said. "Tracer? Implant?
You’ve got some alien whatchmathingy inside me?"
He nodded, bleakly.
She thought she’d been angry with him before, but this new
revelation of his duplicity, of his need to control her life, was
more
than she could take. Her skin was suddenly itching all over.
"Take it out," she demanded, voice cold and hard. "Right now."
"I can’t. And I wouldn’t if I could," he added. "I don’t know how
you managed to block the transmission yesterday. You had to come
into
contact with silversilk somehow, that stuff’s the only substance
that’ll
block it. But there’s no silversilk on Earth and you’re not
getting away
from me again."
Silversilk? Charlie’s scarf was silver. Was it made of this
silversilk stuff? Could Charlie’s scarf block the signal from
whatever
Denys had put in her? How’d he done it? Where’d he put it? And
why’d she
forget and leave the scarf in an Athens bathroom?
"Go away," she told him.
"Come with me."
"No."
"Yes."
They glared at each other, both equally still, both equally
determined, equally silent while the sun beat down, the stream
gurgled, and brown and black butterflies flitted between the wood
lilies. They might have gone on like this for hours if a hesitant
voice
hadn’t eventually intruded upon their wordless argument.
"Ahem. Excuse me. Dear. CLAUDIA LIVINIA CAMERON!"
Claudia winced and turned her head. "Yes, mother?"
"Livinia?"
She shot a scathing look over her shoulder at Denys. "My
grandfather Tiberius was into Roman history, all right?"
"Sure." He snickered. "Fine. Claudia Livinia."
She ignored him and said sweetly to her mother, "Yes?" She got to
her feet. "Want me to come help with the food?"
Her mother stepped off the path and up to them. "Not exactly."
Denys got up and took Claudia’s hand, tightly. "What can we do for
you, Mrs.
Cameron?
She beamed at Denys. "Don’t be so formal, dear. I think Mom’s
appropriate,
don’t you?"
"No," Claudia said.
"Mom it is, then," Denys said over her objection.
She snarled at him. Her mother ignored her. She was smiling
benignly at Denys. Claudia wanted to object to her mother’s
obvious
affection for Denys, but how could she tell her the truth without
sounding like she ought to be locked in a padded room?
"What do you want, Mom?" she questioned sharply instead.
"She gets jet lag," her mother said, explaining Claudia’s tone to
Denys. "Makes her grumpy."
"I’ve noticed," he answered agreeably, as though it was a secret
they’d agreed to share.
"What do you want, Mother?" she tried again.
"I was hoping I could get the two of you to run to the grocery
store. The Mactaggert clan just showed up and they totally forgot
to
bring food."
"What do you mean, ’forgot’?" Claudia questioned irritably. "All
fifteen of them?"
"They’re a forgetful family," her mother apologized. To Denys. "So
we thought we’d send to the store for some more hamburgers and
buns and,
well, you know, everything. And since you brought your truck,
dear, and
Claudia’s such a wonderful shopper -- did you know she’s the
thriftiest
shopper you’ll ever want to meet -- and you’d probably like to see
more
of Bradden Falls and be alone together -- "
"We’d love to run your errands, Mom," Denys interrupted this flow
of words. He squeezed Claudia’s hand. "Wouldn’t we, love?"
"No, we wouldn’t." No way was she letting him get her alone in the
shuttle.
"No even for your mother’s sake?"
The question was put gently, he was looking at her with open
warmth and affection. And she got the distinct impression he was
threatening her mother. He was a desperate man. She knew he had a
temper.
Was it possible? Was Denys -- ? Could Denys -- ?
"Nooo..." She said the word on a long, drawn out breath.
He nodded slowly. The glint in his eyes was icy, despite the sweet
tone of his next words. "You know I’ll do whatever’s necessary,
Claudia."
It was a bluff. Had to be. But she didn’t dare call it, did she?
This was her mother -- who was smiling at him like he was her long
lost
darling and had no idea what a vicious rat she was dealing with.
She had
to protect her mother.
"You lizard," she said softly.
He tugged her forward along the path. "Come along, love. We better
hurry. Wouldn’t want the Mactaggart clan to starve," he added to
her
mother. "Back shortly."
"I should have threatened bodily harm sooner," he whispered in her
ear as he hustled her toward the roadside where the shuttle was
parked.
"I’m sorry," he added. "But this is really for the best."
"I hate you."
"I know. You should." When they reached the shuttle, he added,
"Let’s go."
Chapter Twelve
Denys supposed he should be elated to finally have Claudia’s
cooperation, but all he felt was a nasty sense of guilt. He didn’t
know
what he would have done if she’d called his bluff. He supposed it
didn’t
matter now, since Claudia was seated beside him in the cockpit of
the
shuttle.
She glared at him and said, "Lizard."
He flinched and started the engine. The engine itself was silent,
but the simulated rumbling of a mighty diesel engine could be
heard by
the picnickers as he drove slowly away.
"First to Athens," he said, trying to sound cheerful about the
prospect of the journey.
"Nope."
"Claudia," he snarled in exasperation. "This in not the time to
start fighting about it again."
"I’m not fighting with you," she answered coldly. "I’m going back
to the HATTON, and I hope you’re happy."
"Not really," he admitted. "About your -- "
"We’re going to a grocery store," she cut him off. "Just a quick
stop for some fresh vegetables, then we can be on our way." She
crossed
her arms, set her jaw, and looked stubbornly out the window
instead of
at him.
"Vegetables? What do you want vegetables for?" You’re just trying
to make my life miserable and complicated, he added to himself.
And he
didn’t blame her a bit.
"Smid asked me to pick up some carrots," she explained.
"Carrots. I see."
"And I might as well pick up a few other things while we’re
there," she added. "If I’m going back to work as the ship’s cook,
I
want to use ingredients I know for awhile."
Denys considered while he carefully drove the shuttle down the
empty country road from the park toward Bradden Falls. He could
just
take off, there was nothing but cornfields out here, no traffic.
No one
to see the shuttle disappear from regular to Stealth mode. But he
had
Claudia’s psychological well-being to consider. And the crew’s.
And his
own. Especially his own, as rooming with Claudia was going to be
really
miserable for awhile anyway. The less upset she was, the easier it
was
going to be on both of them. Might as well make a friendly
gesture, let
her have her vegetables.
It’ll help her adjust to the inevitable, he told himself. And it
won’t take all that long.
"All right," he agreed. "We’ll stop at the store before we leave."
"Fine."
"Then you can call your folks from Athens."
She finally looked at him. "What?"
"To explain our disappearance," he said as the shuttle reached the
outskirts of the small town. He spotted a large building with a
Super
Foods sign on top and a large parking lot. He turned in to the lot
as he
continued. "You can tell them we decided to elope and
are heading for Australia."
"Australia." She sighed, and went on listlessly. "Yes, of course.
Australia." She sighed again. "Let’s just get the carrots and get
out of
here." Before I start crying, she added to herself. Not that he’d
understand.
##
There was a lot of crowd noise in the background, music and
laughter and the occasional dismayed shout. Claudia tried to
ignore it
all. Sakretis was standing next to her in the alcove near the
doorway,
doing guard duty while Denys rounded up the rest of the crew. She
didn’t
know how he’d tracked them to this small taverna in one of the
less
savory neighborhoods of Athens, and she didn’t particularly care.
She
was tired and suffering from jet lag, though the trip from the
grocery
parking lot to Greece had only taken two hours. They’d still
crossed
several time zones and she was feeling the effects.
The alcove had a pay phone. She was trying to make an overseas
call.
"Retsina?" she heard Denys’s voice clearly cutting through every
other noise, including the echoing ring of the phone she held to
her
ear. "Didn’t I tell you to stay away from -- "
"Ouzo," Cleary finished for him. "We did. This is different. It’s
wine."
"Sneaks up on you," Fox added. "But we were ready for it. We’re
sober."
"Almost," Harcort added.
"Hello?" her mother’s voice finally answered.
Claudia gave Sakretis a quick look. He was alert and sober and
knew what she was supposed to say. "Mom," she said cheerfully.
"Where have you been? The Mactaggert’s -- "
"Sorry. We forgot about the groceries."
"You forgot?"
"And those ladies," Morrison’s voice came from the bar. "Why do
they keep taking off their clothes?"
It’s a strip joint, she thought. I’m not sure those guys are
really sailors. She made herself stop thinking about the crew to
concentrate on talking to her mother.
"Denys and I -- "
"Where are Denys and you?"
"We tried paying them to put their clothes back on," Toffler said.
"It was embarrassing. We didn’t want any trouble. Cleary said he
liked it."
"Uh. At O’Hare," Claudia improvised. "Waiting for a flight to
Australia. We talked it over and decided to elope."
"Elope!"
"Sorry. We -- we decided -- Mom." She couldn’t go through with
this. "I love you, Mom. I -- "
"When will you be coming home?"
Sakretis must have heard the question, because he shook his head.
Denys herded the others through a bead-curtained doorway and she
was
suddenly surrounded by the crew. Denys’s hand came around her
wrist.
"Claudia?" her mother’s faraway voice questioned.
"I don’t know," she answered. She met Denys’s eyes. The look of
sympathy in them almost overwhelmed her hatred of him. Why did his
touch
feel so reassuring? Why was his presence beside her almost
welcome? He
was dragging her off to an unknown fate in the far future. She
should be
yelling into the phone for help. Instead, she had the distinct
feeling
she wouldn’t be minding this at all if he had seduced her into it.
Did she love him enough to abandon her home and family for him?
The disturbing answer was, yes, maybe she did.
Not that she was going to let him know it. What he was doing was
wrong, it was foolish, it was completely unnecessary. He was just
being
paranoid about his damn fool Mission.
"I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too. I’ll miss you. Have to
go. Bye." She hung up the phone and glared at Denys. "There.
Happy?"
"Lovely. All right," he addressed the crew. "Let’s get back to the
airport and finish loading the supplies."
They all looked at him as if he were crazy. Which, Claudia agreed,
he was.
"We were finished loading," Cleary said.
"That’s why we thought it was kind of crazy when you took off
without us," Sakretis explained.
Denys’s fair skin colored as his lips thinned to a narrow line.
"Right. I forgot."
"You were acting pretty crazy," Fox commiserated.
"We could have helped you look for Dr. Cameron," Harcort said.
"But you -- "
"Let’s just get in the shuttle and go," Denys announced loudly.
"Right now."
"Calm down, Duchamp," Cleary advised. "We’re going."
"I get the copilot’s seat," Claudia chimed in as Denys tugged her
out the door with the others. Denys didn’t argue, but she defended
her
choice of seat anyway. "If I have to abandon my homeworld, I want
a good
last view of it."
He groaned as they took their seats. "Go ahead. Make me feel more
guilty than I already do."
She settled in the chair beside him. The crew stumbled with half-
drunken gracelessness into the other seats.
"Am I making you feel guilty?" she asked with acid sweetness.
"You know you are."
She sighed again, this time with a certain amount of feigned
contentment. "Good."
##
Three days after leaving Earth to return to Phobos, Denys was
still suffering the affects of the tongue lashing Captain Andrews
had
given him. He’d told the captain they’d had to wait for the
supplies to
arrive at the Athens warehouse. The Shift crew had backed his
story.
They’d been dismissed. Captain Andrews’s reprimand had been for
him
alone. He’d been accused of goldbricking, dereliction of duty,
misconduct, incompetence, lying, sightseeing and fraternizing
intimately
with the female natives in the captain’s cold, precise tones. He’d
gotten off with a dire warning and threats about black marks on
his
permanent record.
"But only because you’re the only mining, electrical, laser, and
mechanical engineer I’ve got. Now get out of my sight, rebuild
your
bloody laser cannon and make sure it works ten times better than
the
last one. We’re just going to have to backtrack those days through
the
time spiral to get back on schedule -- and you know how expensive
that
is."
Denys had hurried off the bridge, and stayed in the design shop
most of the flight to Phobos, doing exactly what the captain
ordered. It
was done, and it was going to be the best, most efficient laser
cannon
built out of antiquated parts anybody had ever seen. Building it
had
been the perfect excuse to stay out of his quarters and away from
Claudia.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what the captain had said, though.
The worst part was that Andrews was correct on all counts. Denys
had
almost been tempted to tell him what was really going on, to ask
for his
advice and help, to turn Claudia and the situation over to the
captain’s
competent hands. It was only the fear of certain death for all
concerned
that kept him from spilling his guts to the fierce, high-handed,
older
man.
Of course, he realized as he sat alone with the newly complete
laser cannon, competent as the captain was, he couldn’t solve
Denys’s
problem with Claudia.
Denys ran his hands through his hair and said, "Claudia."
Her name echoed through the open, empty space of the big room.
He’d been doing nothing but think about Claudia while he worked
the days
away. The work had been a good excuse to stay out of her presence.
Not
that she was in the cabin the few times he. d come in to shower
or change or sleep. The ship was very nearly at Phobos, and they
hadn’t
spoken at all during the journey. She’d kept to the kitchen, he
supposed. He knew the men were well-fed and content. He was
anything but
content. He was lonely and miserable and confused.
"And it’s got to stop," he said, coming to the decision he’d been
working toward all through this lonely period. He stood and dusted
imaginary grime off his long-fingered hands. "And it has to stop
right
now..
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked with
determined strides to the kitchen.
She was sitting in front of the cooking computer when the door
opened, chin resting on her raised fist, staring glumly at the
screen.
"Claudia," he announced, stepping up to her. "I love you."
Perhaps he should have started with more explanation, but he
somehow didn’t feel as if he had much time.
She jumped to her feet, and turned to face him. "Pardon me?"
"I love you," he repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest and
went on determinedly. "I may have been wrong --not letting you
stay on
Earth, I mean. The more I think about it, the more irrational my
behavior seems. Maybe you were right. Maybe you couldn’t affect
history.
I don’t know. Maybe I just couldn’t let you go."
She was staring, blue eyes getting wider and wider. "Excuse me?"
she questioned. "Did you say -- "
"I’m sorry I took you from a place and people you love," he went
on earnestly. "You have every right to hate me for what I did. But
I
don’t want you to hate me. I -- " He gulped. "I love you," he
repeated.
He was vulnerable and afraid of rejection, but he forced himself
to
speak his mind and his heart. "I want us to spend the rest of our
lives
together. I know we’re from different times and worlds and you
feel like
I betrayed you and perhaps I did. But I’ve loved you since the
moment I
saw you and I think we belong together. I’d like to try to make
you
happy if you’ll have me."
Then, courage spent, he turned and walked from the kitchen before
the stunned woman could say a word, either of rejection or
acceptance.
Claudia sat down again, mostly because she was shaking too hard to
stand. It was a struggle to even try to speak and by the time her
tongue
was able to form words he was long gone.
"Denys?" she said. "Oh, my."
She sighed, folded her hands in her lap and stopped thinking.
She’d been thinking for days while, all the time, her emotions had
been struggling to come to grips with just how she really felt
about
Denys Duchamp. She’d tried to ignore her emotions. Tried to make
the
fiery love she felt for him turn into cold ash. It would seem the
ashes
had no intention of burning out. All the man had to do was say ’I
love
you’ and all the heat and intensity sprang instantly back to life.
"But --He -- I --"
She banged a fist in frustration on the cool, white counter. Her
fingers brushed across the keyboard and the computer beeped
reprovingly
at her. She stuck her tongue out at the screen.
"Denys."
She just said the name, and feelings and repressed memories of the
man came tumbling to fill her mind.
Denys trying to calm a terrified stranger he’d just pulled out of
a storage chest. Denys teasingly whipping off a towel to
shamelessly
display his gorgeous body. Denys saving her life and dragging her
off in
monumental, righteous fury. Denys making love to her. She
remembered his
touch and taste, smooth skin and hard muscles, the sculpted
tension of
his face transformed by passion.
Denys --manipulating and high-handed and self-righteous and
obsessed with duty and responsibility.
Denys -- who made the best of a crazy situation. Who did what he
thought was right. Did the best he could.
At what cost to him? she wondered, at last.
He says he loves me. Do I love him? Is love enough? You’re
thinking too hard, her emotions accused. Will you just go with
your gut
reaction for once, Claudia Cameron, and get on with your life?
You’re stuck in Denys. s time. Could you ask for more than to be
stuck with him?
She didn’t know. She did know she had to see him.
She found him in a room that reminded her of a high school shop
class, only more high tech. He was sitting next to a complex,
dangerous-
looking device. He was gazing into a heads-up display on the
device’s control panel. He didn’t look up as she approached.
"I know a weapon when I see one," she said. Though that wasn’t
what she’d intended to say.
"Of course you do," he answered. "You’re a girl. Besides, it’s not
meant to be used as a weapon. It’s for mining."
"Oh."
"Our laser cannon was hit by an asteroid."
"Cleary told me."
"Oh."
"He told me I’d find you here, too."
Denys finally raised his head to look at her. "Oh."
The unhappiness in his expression, the bleak chill in his pale
blue eyes hurt her. She instinctively rushed forward, taking his
hands
comfortingly in hers.
"You said you love me," she told him.
"I do."
"I love you, too," she admitted. The words came easily. She
smiled, as much in surprise as in joy.
Some of the pain left his eyes. "You do?"
She nodded. "I wish we’d met differently. No, I don’t," she added,
the sudden recollection striking her sense of humor. She chuckled.
"No.
It was perfect." He was looking at her curiously, so she
explained, "I
just remembered that I went to Greece to find the man of my
dreams."
He tilted his head to one side, causing blond bangs to fall across
his
forehead. A teasing tilt captured his lips. "I’m the man of your
dreams?"
"I think, maybe -- "
"Mr. Duchamp," a cool, familiar voice announced over the ship’s
intercom, "I will be wanting you on the bridge immediately."
Denys pulled his hands from hers. "The captain!"
"Captain?" Claudia felt as if she should quickly find a place to
hide. "What does he want?"
He gave her a reassuring smile and pat on the shoulder. "Nothing
important. Probably just wants to discuss setting up the new laser
cannon at the Stickney mine. He always sounds like it’s the end of
the
world." Denys started toward the door. He threw her a look over
his
shoulder. "When I get back, we’ll -- "
"And do bring Dr. Cameron with you, Duchamp," Captain Andrews
added, his cool, precise drawl filling the room.
And chilling both their bones.
##
"I’m not going in there," Claudia said as the elevator reached the
bridge. She pressed the hold button and looked around desperately.
She
suspected she was as pale as Denys, but not as resigned to meet
her
fate. Or the captain. She’d heard too much about Captain Andrews
to want
to meet him. All right, once she’d demanded to meet him, but she’d
been
hysterical at the time. Upon hearing her name spoken by the
dreaded
Captain Andrews, all she had wanted to do was hide.
Denys had squared his shoulders and insisted they face the
consequences manfully. She’d pointed out she wasn’t a man. He’d
dragged
her to the elevator anyway. She’d sworn at him a lot.
He gave her an exasperated look. "Let’s just get it over with," he
insisted. "What’s the worst he can do?"
"I don’t know. You tell me."
He shrugged. "Maybe he’ll send you home. And he can’t kill me
until after the mission’s over. He needs me."
"But Denys I don’t want to go -- "
"Will you two stop bickering and get in here?" the caustic voice
of the captain came through the elevator’s communications speaker.
The
door slid open despite her finger pressing firmly against the hold
button.
Denys took her hand, gave her a reassuring smile and stepped
bravely forward. She sighed, and followed after.
The room was dominated by a giant viewscreen showing Mars, its
moons, and a small streak of silver light. Claudia gave the
impressive
view a cursory glance, then took in the rest of the place. The
room was
cool, and chillingly silent, even though there were people at the
rows
of workstations that curved around the bridge. The people came in
two
categories, she noted, those staring at her openly, and those
concentrating determinedly at their consoles. The ones staring
wore
mingled expressions of shock, horror and hope.
She didn’t get it.
She didn’t have time to stop and ask anyone as Denys led her
swiftly to the man standing by a chair in the exact center of the
room.
The man was tall, big-boned but slender, silver-haired and hawked-
nosed, his expression stern and commanding. He exuded fierce
energy and
intelligence, and a definite impatience with lesser beings.
He held out his hands and smiled as she approached. "Claudia, my
dear. So good to see you."
Claudia stopped before him. "Charlie," she demanded. "What are you
doing here?"
"Got drafted," her tea-drinking friend answered affably. He rubbed
his forefinger along the length of his nose, and winked. "Then an
admiral handed me the bloody Book and told me it was my destiny to
save
the Federated Community of Worlds. I’ve been a bit difficult to
live
with ever since."
"Difficult! That’s putting it mildly," Denys muttered under his
breath. "Wait a moment," he went on, addressing the captain.
"You’re
Claudia’s Charlie?" For some reason his fear of Captain Charles
Andrews
had disappeared. For some reason Claudia’s being involved with the
captain made perfect sense. It was as if there was some reason for
it.
The light was dawning on him. "You knew she was going to be
brought on
board," he accused Captain Andrews. "It’s in the Book, isn’t it?"
"Precisely, my boy," Andrews answered with an encouraging nod.
Claudia wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. She wasn’t sure
if she was outraged or amused. She was certainly confused. "You’re
the
captain? But you helped me escape!"
"He did?"
"We’ll discuss all that later," Charlie said, brushing both her
and Denys’s comments aside. "If there is a later," he added.
The serious tone of his last words sent a chill up Claudia’s
spine. "What do you mean, if?"
Charlie faced the screen. "Look at this. Magnify."
There was an audible gulp from one of the men at the control
consoles. Charlie send the man a vehement look which galvanized
him
enough to get his fingers moving over his keypad.
"Can’t get decent help," Charlie grumbled as the image on the
screen altered, concentrating and magnifying the silver streak,
showing
it to be a sleek-hulled starship.
Fear nearly overwhelmed Denys. He did not scream. He wanted to. He
grabbed Claudia instead, and held her close. "Sirens! Don’t look!"
Claudia pushed away from Denys’s chest. She saw the terror in his
eyes, and the struggle to remain calm. "It’s all right," she
soothed.
She touched his cheek. "What’s the problem?"
Somebody said, "I can hear them."
"Nonsense," Charlie answered the shaky voice. "That’s your
imagination. They aren’t close enough yet."
"They followed us," Denys said. "Somehow caught on to what we’re
doing. Followed us through the time vortex."
"Afraid so," Charlie answered. He favored Denys with a reproving
look. "Nothing in the Book about this, my boy. Any suggestions?"
The
question wasn’t for Denys, but for Claudia.
"What’s a Siren?"
Everyone gaped at her, but no one rushed to give any explanations.
She knew there was a war on with the Sirens, and that the HATTON’s
mission was to acquire a weapon to use against them. That wasn’t
very
much information. Claudia grimaced in exasperation back at the
staring
men. She looked at the screen. She had no idea how close the enemy
ship
was. Hopefully much further than the screen’s magnification made
it look
like.
"Why aren’t you doing something?" she demanded of Charlie.
"Calling a red alert or whatever."
"This isn’t a fighting ship," Denys told her. He took her hand.
"There’s nothing we can do against the Sirens. We don’t have any
women
on board, so we’re going to die. I’m sorry."
"Of course we have a woman on board," Charlie pointed out. "What
I’m doing about the approaching Sirens, Dr. Cameron, is relying on
you."
"What?"
"She’s not a fighter," Denys told Charlie. "She’s not like our
women. She can’t help us."
"What do you mean, I can’t help?"
"I’m sorry, darling."
As she looked at Denys, she saw his eyes were full of protective
tenderness and sorrow. She wanted to slug him. "What’s having
women on
board got to do with anything?" she demanded. "Why won’t anyone
explain
about the Sirens? Wait a minute," she remembered. "Men can’t fight
them,
can they?"
Charlie cleared his throat. She returned her attention to the
captain. He was blushing bright red from his silver hair to the
collar
of his blue uniform.
"It’s a hormonal problem, you see. When we hear the Sirens’ call
we become, um, uh, how can I put this? Preoccupied."
"Preoccupied?"
She didn’t get it. She looked from Charlie, to Denys, to the rest
of the men on the bridge. None of them would meet her eyes.
Everyone but
Denys and Charlie were staring in blank terror at the approaching
ship.
And there was a noise. As she waited in confused silence for
someone to
offer her a proper explanation, she began to become aware of a
faint,
almost imagined, humming.
She swung to face Denys. "What’s that?" she questioned.
A languid, seductive smile quirked the corners of his lips.
"Sirens," he said. He didn’t seem terrified anymore. "It’s the
Siren
Song beginning."
All she could hear was an irritating buzz which had grown just a
bit louder as Denys spoke.
"Siren Song? Wait a minute." She grabbed him by the shoulders and
shook him as the explanation became clear to her. "Like the Sirens
in
Greek mythology? The creatures who lured men to their deaths with
their
singing? The ones whose song no man could resist?"
"Got it in one, love," Charlie answered. "Help us. You’re the only
one who can."
Help them? How could she help them? "Do they drive you mad? Or
what?"
A faint sheen of sweat was forming on Denys’s skin. "Mad," he
agreed hoarsely. "With longing."
"For them. Only for them," someone’s voice said in the background.
The noise was growing. Several of the men began humming and
swaying back
and forth. "Beautiful. So beautiful. It’s beautiful."
Claudia closed her eyes. She listened, and tried to concentrate.
She supposed that all over the ship the crew was hearing
beautiful,
seductive music. Hearing and being paralyzed by the aching longing
of
the Siren Song. She didn’t hear it. She heard noise all right, but
it
wasn’t beautiful. What she heard were words. Words spoken in
harsh,
arrogant demand.
"This is the ship METAFORM. Alien vessel you will surrender to us
and die. This is the ship METAFORM. Alien vessel you will
surrender to
us and die. This is the ship METAFORM. Alien vessel you will
surrender
to us and die. This is the ship -- "
"Metaform?" She shook Denys’s shoulders again. "Did you hear that?
The enemy ship’s called the METAFORM."
But the metal they were mining was called metaform -- The metal
Denys had told her looked like it had been poured molten into
Stickney
Crater. If metaform the metal was also METAFORM the ship -- An
idea was
beginning to occur to her.
"Denys!"
He blinked stupidly at her. "What?"
Charlie touched her shoulder. "What did you say?" She could hear
the fight for control in his strained voice.
She turned her attention to Charlie. "Has any Siren ship ever been
captured?"
He took several deep breaths and shook his head as if trying to
clear it. "No," he said. "Never. They self-destruct before they
can be
captured."
"Atomize themselves," Denys added.
More of the men were humming along to the Siren call. It reminded
Claudia of a bad a capella version of ’Stairway to Heaven’. She
ignored
the noise.
Denys licked his lips. The look in his eyes was sultry. She felt
his skin growing warm with desire under the material of his
uniform.
Thankfully, he managed to give her a few pertinent facts despite
his condition. "We think the Siren ships are completely
computerized.
That the Song is a computer program. They’ve enslaved races with
the
Song, but no one’s actually seen a Siren. We haven’t been able to
communicate with the ships. Haven’t been able to shield against
them. Or
bounce the Song back to them off our own shielding."
"The Book says the metaform will shield us from the Song," Charlie
added.
Because it’s made from the same material as a Siren ship, Claudia
thought. No. "It is the Siren ship. That’s the time paradox. You
destroyed the METAFORM so you could mine the metaform," Claudia
told
them triumphantly. She pointed at the screen. "So destroy the
ship,
already!"
Charlie and Denys just gaped at her. The rest of the bridge crew
continued humming, with eyes glazed and lascivious smiles
plastered on
their red faces. She began to realize that the men weren’t going
to be
any help at all.
"This is women’s work," Charlie told her.
She wanted to scream. Instead, she recalled that mission analysis
- - military strategy and tactics -- used to be her job. This was
woman’s
work -- since she was the only woman around and the men were going
to be
writhing on the deck in orgasmic ecstasy pretty soon. She wondered
how
long they had before the Sirens opened fire on the helpless mining
ship.
Was there time enough to set a trap? Time? Time. Time was
the answer, wasn’t it? She had an idea, but she had to have help
if she
was going to be able to pull it off.
"Listen," she said earnestly, "you’ve got a hold full of metaform
and a brand new laser cannon."
"Yes?" Charlie asked eagerly.
"What do you want us to do?" Denys wanted to know. "Hurry. We
can’t hold on much longer."
"Charlie, you said you the ship has to go backward in time before
it could spring forward to the future."
"Yes."
"Can you do that now? Go back to before you arrived? Can you get
the METAFORM to chase the HATTON back through time?"
Charlie nodded slowly. The effort to concentrate was evident on
his strained features. "We’re already on a backward spiral. I
could
speed it up. It would look like an evasive tactic."
"Good. Do it. First get non-essential crew into the hold with the
metaform," Claudia suggested. "Denys and I will work on modifying
the
shuttle. We can modify the shuttle, can’t we?"
"Yes," Denys said.
"Right," Charlie agreed. "We better get moving. Not much time."
He turned to the communicator and began bellowing orders. Claudia
hoped fear of the Dread Captain Andrews would overcome the Siren
Song long enough to get the men to the hold. She grabbed Denys’s
hand
and pulled him toward the elevator.
"I’ll fill you in on the rest of my idea on the way to the hold,"
she told him as they ran.
Chapter Thirteen
This will work. It did work. It has to work. The words rolled over
and over in her head. She was scared, and using the words as a
focus for
all her nervous emotion.
"Please, God, let it work," Claudia prayed fervently as the
shuttle sank into the darker-than-night shadows under the belly of
the gigantic mining ship. To all intents and purposes, the HATTON
was
dead in space, all its systems abandoned, the men completely under
control of the Siren Song after the short, futile chase. Claudia
just
hoped it wasn’t true. The HATTON was supposed to look like it was
drifting toward Phobos, about ready to crash into the wide crater
at the
moon’s north pole.
In reality, all the men but Charlie and Cleary were in the hold
with the metaform. Charlie was carefully piloting the ship with
the aid
of backup systems. Cleary had volunteered to help him navigate,
claiming
his sense of direction was better than any multibillion credit
navigation system. Both men were wearing lumps of metaform,
imperfectly
shielding themselves from the Siren Song.
She and Denys were out here in the shuttle. With the laser cannon
hastily attached to the front. It stuck out at a sharp point,
reminding
her of a mosquito’s stinger. She just hoped it was more effective
than a
mosquito against the oncoming menace of the METAFORM.
"Please, God," she repeated. "Let this work."
"Amen," Denys added. He was beside her, in the pilot’s seat.
She looked at him. He was sweating, his features strained, but he
gave her an encouraging smile.
She smiled back. She looked at him, drinking in his form and
presence, just in case they were about to die and this was the
last time
she ever saw him. Then, refusing to be maudlin, she looked
pointedly at
the conspicuous bulge near his thigh and asked, "Is that a lump of
metaform in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
He looked surprised for a moment, then he threw back his head and
laughed. "Claudia Cameron," he declared. "I love you, but it’s
mostly metaform.".
He turned his attention back to the controls. "I have to
concentrate. I can still hear
them. My body’s going crazy with need, but at least I can think.
Can you hear
them?"
"Yes." Not the Song, but the message, over and over. It made her
very angry. Angry enough to almost forget being scared. Angry and
possessive. How dare the Sirens do this to her man! How dare these
creatures try to capture Denys with their mechanical seduction?
Not only
were they trying to strip away his free will, they were stealing
the
sexual attraction that was rightfully hers to evoke from the man
she loved. And it was a computer program doing it!
"I want to melt that ship," she said angrily.
"We will," Denys assured her. He gave her a quick, sidelong
glance. "They get to you, don’t they? Make you furious? Make you
want to
destroy them? That’s how our women react."
She nodded. "Oh, yes. I’ve never been so angry in my life."
"Now you know how our women got to be so mean. Now you know why
we men don’t want to talk about it. It’s humiliating to have to
give in to
the Siren Call. When we take the metaform back we’ll finally have
a
chance to fight for ourselves. They’re closing," he added.
The shuttle had been hiding beneath the HATTON, waiting to swing
up behind the Siren ship when it came in to attack. The HATTON
appearing
dead in space was a diversion. The diversion appeared to be
working. It
was time to set the counterattack in motion.
Denys wished he could spare another quick look at Claudia as he
piloted the shuttle away from the HATTON, but his hands were full,
controlling the overburdened little ship. Her job was to fire the
laser
from a jerryrigged remote control panel. "Just point the thing and
push
the button," he reminded her.
"I know," was the tense reply.
"You remember which button?"
"I remember!"
"Fine. Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
"Good."

No more time for conversation. He couldn’t help but smile as he
maneuvered the craft carefully into position, coming up behind the
enemy
vessel as quickly as he could. There were lumps of metaform
hastily
welded to the surface of the shuttle. It was hoped they’d shield
the
little ship from detection.
Denys was happy to note that the METAFORM stayed intent on the
much larger prey of the mining ship as they drew closer and closer
to
it. The HATTON tumbled a mile above Stickney Crater, the METAFORM
hovered over it, like a hawk above its helpless prey. The mining
ship
looked like it was heading for certain doom, from the enemy’s
weapons,
or impact with the moon.
Denys checked his instruments very carefully, then checked again,
concerned that his physical condition was interfering with his
judgment.
He wanted to get this over with, to grab Claudia and make quick,
passionate love to her. Not the Sirens, but Claudia. The enemy was
responsible for the burning need that was driving him crazy, but
the
need wasn’t focused on them. Maybe it was the metaform shielding
him.
Maybe it was just love. He couldn’t let himself think about it. He
could
not let that longing get out of control.
He licked dry lips, scanned all the readings on the control panel,
then spoke one word. "Now."
The HATTON’s engines roared to sudden life. The ship veered
sharply away from the moon in an incredible rush of speed, leaving
the
METAFORM silhouetted against the dead background of the deep
crater.
"Got it?" Denys asked Claudia.
"In my sights."
"Fire!"
She had aimed for what she hoped was the enemy ship’s weapons
array, a rounded projection on the front of the METAFORM’s
wedge-shaped
hull. Her guess must have been correct because a bright, silent
explosion
destroyed the projection the instant the laser beam touched it.
"All right!" she shouted triumphantly.
"Keep firing," Denys advised.
She did, intensifying the beam, slicing it back and forth across
the alien ship. The metal began to melt like butter. The ship was
close
enough to Phobos’s slight gravity field so that the molten metal
fell
down into the crater instead of dispersing into space.
"It’s working," Denys said. His sigh of relief sounded loudly in
the shuttle cockpit.
Claudia barely heard him above her own muttered mantra of, "It has
to work. It did work. It’s working."
She repeated it continually until the last of the METAFORM
disappeared into the crater . where, next week, it would be mined
as
the metaform now sitting in the HATTON’s hold. Time paradox.
Claudia
decided she didn’t want to think about it.
Instead she sat back in her chair, grinned at Denys and said, "Now
I know how Luke Skywalker felt when he blew up the Deathstar."
Denys soared with the elation. "We did it!" he crowed, beaming
joyfully at Claudia. "You did it!"
He set the controls to auto-pilot on a slow orbit of Phobos. Then
he jumped out of his seat and pulled Claudia up out of hers. She
came
into his embrace and he kissed her with eager hunger.
She responded with possessive thoroughness, all her nerve endings
sizzling. She held him tight, reveling in the smooth hardness of
the
body beneath her hands. They were alive! They were together -- and
nothing and no one meant as much to her as Denys Duchamp!
"Did you mean it?" he questioned when they came up for air.
Claudia didn’t understand him at first. "Mean what? Oh. Marry
you?"
"Yes." He looked worried.
"Of course I meant it," she assured him.
The teasing light came back into his eyes, mingling
with the heat of desire. He pulled her closer. "Good. Because
this," he
said, pressing his masculine hardness against her thigh, "isn’t
just
metaform I’ve got in my pocket."
"You’re happy to see me," she announced with sultry humor.
He ran his hands swiftly over her, heating her blood with his
touch while he expertly unfastened her blue coverall. He quickly
repeated the same process with his own.
Claudia began to shake -- with laughter, with joy, with relief.
She brushed her lips lightly across his and said, "You’re crazy,
and I
love you."
"I need you," he told her.
"Won’t the captain be worried if we don’t get right back to the
ship?"
He arched one pale eyebrow at her. "Do you care?" he intoned, in a
perfect mimic of Charlie’s sarcastic drawl.
"No," she admitted. "I don’t care." After the fear and danger and
excitement of the last hour, she needed the release as much as he
did.
She welcomed the physical confirmation that his desire was for
her, and
not caused by the Siren Song. "Charlie can wait."
He smiled knowingly, and guided her to one of the passenger seats.
He adjusted it to horizontal. They lay down together, bodies
joining
immediately in quick, urgent arousal. He covered her and she rose
to
meet his swift entry. She gasped at the shock of flesh against
flesh,
and soared out of her self.
Desire built with hurricane swiftness, coiling into tighter and
tighter spirals of raging pleasure until the tension exploded
through
her in a lightning flash of release.
She held Denys tightly as his passion followed hers to completion
moments later.
It ebbed into a sweet, sweaty afterglow, leaving them sated,
gently cuddling, exchanging slow, enervated kisses and whispered
endearments.
Meanwhile, the shuttle swung in a slow orbit around Mars’s little
moon. And Captain Andrews voice occasionally squawked for their
attention over the communicator.
##
Charlie was waiting for them in the main corridor when they
stepped hand in hand through the hangar airlock. He was a big,
distinguished looking man, all hawk nose and arrogant dignity. As
she
looked at him now, Claudia was surprised she hadn’t realized
sooner who
her tea-drinking friend must be.
He gave them a typically scathing once over as they stopped before
him. "About bloody time," he announced. "I assume you made the
most of
this little interval?"
Claudia blushed. Of course what they’d been doing was probably
obvious, but he didn’t have to be so -- She tossed her head,
ignored the
jibe, and said, "Hello, Charlie."
"Hello, m’dear," he answered, a familiar, paternal smile breaking
over his stern features. "Nice to see you two have finally made
up. I
was quite worried for a time."
Denys looked at the captain in blank confusion. "You were worried
about us?"
"Most desperately concerned," Charlie told him. "Didn’t want to
risk changing the future."
"Huh?" Claudia asked.
"What?" Denys added.
Charlie waved them into the nearest elevator. "Let’s have a spot
of tea while we get on with the debriefing, shall we?"
They followed him to the kitchen in stunned silence, where a pot
of tea and a plate of scones was waiting. They took seats around
the
central counter and Captain Charles Andrews, terror of the Space
Service, ceremoniously poured the strong, hot liquid into cups for
them.
"Cheers," he said, raising his own cup. "Congratulations on saving
the Federated Community of Worlds."
"And our behinds," Claudia added.
"The destruction of the METAFORM was spectacular," Charlie said,
looking at them with fond pride. "You did a fine job. So did
Cleary and
I," he pointed out. "Did you know Cleary was a navigation officer
before
he was busted for insubordination? I’ve offered to recommend him
for
promotion, but he says he prefers his present employment, thank
you.
He’d rather have cash."
Claudia giggled. "That’s Cleary all right."
"I’d be happy to take a promotion," Denys offered. He gave Claudia
a significant look. "I’ll be needing the extra income."
Which left Claudia wondering just what she was going to do to earn
her keep once she got to the future. She decided not to think
about it
just now, not when there was a victory celebration to get on with.
It was a subdued celebration, but she figured Charlie had arranged
this little get together so she and Denys could satisfy their
curiosity.
Well, she had plenty of questions for now. And plenty of time to
worry
about the future later. Maybe if she had some of her questions
answered, she wouldn’t have so much worrying to do.
"What are you going to do with the new metaform?" she wondered. "I
mean, you’ve already mined the metaform once but now it’s there
again.
Only now it’s there for the first time waiting for you to come and
get
it. So you could mine it again right now. Or could you?" She
scratched
her head. "Or... if you mine it now, would it be there when you
came
back to mine it the first time, which you did in the past but you
haven’t yet done in the future. But the future -- "
Charlie reached over to pat he hand. "There there, m’dear. It’s
all right. Let’s not worry about it. I have every intention of
leaving
the remains of the Siren ship in Stickney Crater. I’m taking my
load of
metaform and going home. Where," he concluded, "I’m going to turn
it
over to the Admiralty and give up time traveling for good. I think
I’ll
retire and go to cooking school. Always wanted to be a chef. Runs
in the
family, you know."
"Does it?" Denys inquired politely.
"Oh, yes. Famous for it on me mum’s side."
"Why did you help me escape?" Claudia asked, suddenly remembering
their scheming, and his gift of silversilk. "If you knew you
needed me
to destroy the Sirens -- "
"I didn’t know I needed you to destroy the Sirens," Charlie
corrected her. "The attack wasn’t in the Book. We’re lucky you did
come
back. I didn’t even know you would come back. Thought Duchamp
might stay
with you."
"Sir!" Denys exclaimed indignantly. "Why would I -- ?"
"And why did the Book mention me in the first place?" Claudia cut
in over Denys’s protest.
"One question at a time," Charlie chided. "If you must know about
our little escape drama," he went on. "I suppose I’ll have to
confess that I was trying my hand at matchmaking. You were so
miserable,
m’dear. Crying and making a fool of yourself because you didn’t
think
Duchamp loved you."
"You were?"
"Be quiet, Duchamp. Well, I helped you get back to Earth because I
assumed Denys would go after you."
"You did?"
"Yes. I thought Claudia’s home in Iowa might prove to be a neutral
ground where you could work out your differences, but I didn’t
think
Denys would then bring you back to the HATTON."
"I thought she’d change the future if she stayed on Earth."
"Hmmph. You weren’t thinking with your head, either. Not that I’m
complaining now, of course. If it weren’t for Claudia, we wouldn’t
be
alive. Don’t blush, m’dear, it’s true."
"But what do we do now?" Denys wondered.
"First off, I think you should make an honest woman of her.
Especially since your most recent amorous episode in the shuttle."
Claudia giggled. She was not normally given to giggling, but she
felt as giddy as a teenager. "Yes, Denys," she said. "You really
must
make an honest woman of me. And I’ll do the same for you."
"I’m not a woman."
"An honest man, then."
"Good," Charlie said. "We’ll make it official right away. Won’t
we, Duchamp?"
"Yes, sir," Denys acknowledged. "As soon as possible, sir."
"I shall be delighted to officiate."
Claudia and Denys exchanged a quick hug. "Wait a minute," she
said, curiosity reasserting itself. "How did the Book know about
me? It
was all an accident. Wasn’t it? The men did just get drunk and
throw me
into the box by mistake or because they’re idiots, or...
whatever."
"Fate," Denys said. "It must have been meant to be."
"What do you mean, ’meant to be’? Meant to be what?" She eyed
Charlie suspiciously. "How could your Book know about me?"
He was looking at her with bland amusement. "The author of the
Book knew every detail of the mission," he told her. "Every little
thing." He gave a Denys a sour look. "He just left out a few
pertinent
details toward the end."
"You really didn’t know the Sirens were going to attack?" Denys
questioned. "The author probably wanted to save it as a surprise.
Add a bit of
dramatic tension to my otherwise calm life," Charlie said
sarcastically. "The
bastard."
Claudia was still very confused. "But how could the Book know
everything?"
Denys gently stroked her cheek. "That’s the question we’ve been
asking for two hundred years."
"But who wrote the Book?" she wondered. "How was it transmitted to
your time?"
Denys shrugged. "No one knows."
"Ahem."
They looked at Charlie.
"I know," he reminded them. "My destiny and all that."
"Well," Claudia demanded. "Who wrote it?"
The Captain of the HATTON took a sip of tea. He pushed the plate
of scones toward her. She realized she was starving and bit into
one of
the currant-dotted buns. It tasted marvelous. The silence grew as
she
drank her tea and finished the scone and gazed questioningly at
the
Captain. Charlie gave her a teasing smile. It was familiar
expression,
though she was used to seeing it on Denys’s face.
"I’ll get to that presently," he promised.
"I’m glad this is over," Denys said. He put his arm around her
shoulder. "I just want to take Claudia home to New Sydney and get
on
with life."
Charlie scratched his beak of a nose with a long forefinger.
"Hmm."
"Hmm?" Claudia echoed suspiciously. "What do you mean, ’hmm’?"
"I mean," Charlie explained, "that you won’t be going home to New
Sydney with Denys. You’re going back to Earth, Dr. Cameron. It’s
in the
Book," he added, trying to cut off Denys’s shocked protested.
He didn’t cut it off for more than a second.
"I don’t bloody care what’s in the Book! Claudia’s coming home
with me. We’re going to get married."
"Yeah!" Claudia agreed loudly. "You volunteered to perform the
ceremony. Remember?"
Charlie gave a firm nod. "So I shall. It will be a lovely wedding.
It will be on the Captain’s Walk. A very romantic setting. Cleary
will
catch the bridal bouquet. We will all cry. Then we will drink
toasts
with the Greek wine Cleary smuggled on board. It will be a lovely
party."
"Is all that in the Book?" Denys asked.
"No," Charlie replied. "I have a vivid imagination. And Dr.
Cameron is still returning to Earth."
"No," Denys stated, rising to glare down at the still seated
Captain Andrews. "I won’t let you send her back. We belong
together."
"Especially after such a nice wedding," Claudia agreed. She was
beginning to be amused. She could see where this was leading.
Denys didn’t know what to think. "But -- She --I -- We belong
together. Claudia Cameron, what are you smirking about?"
She covered her mouth and mumbled, "Nothing." She decided he
deserved a bit of teasing, since he was so good at it himself.
Denys’s arms came around her. "If you send her back, I’m going
with her. The hell with the mission. I’m staying on Earth.
Besides," he
added, whispering in her ear. "I really like your house and family
and
wouldn’t mind living in Bradden Falls -- or anywhere as long as
you’re
there with me. Can we have a dog?"
She looked into Denys’s eyes and said, "I feel the same way about
you. Anywhere’s fine as long as you’re there with me. I suppose
so."
"Oh, Lord, spare me," Charlie snorted in disgust. He waited until
they looked back at him before adding, "Of course you’re going to
Earth
with Dr. Cameron, Duchamp. Who do you think wrote the Book?"
"Who?" Denys asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"My great great, great, grandfather, that’s who," Charlie
answered. He pointed at Denys. "You."
"Me?"
"You. Denys Duchamp is the author of the Book. And it’s been
handed down with due ceremony from generation to generation until
it was
dumped in my lap. We’ve circled through time and come back to the
beginning. You have to write the Book because you’ve already told
us in
the Book that you did. Will. Whatever. It’s all a load of rubbish,
really."
"Make’s perfect sense to me," Claudia said. She looked Charlie
over suspiciously. "You’re our descendant?"
"Why do you think I took the trouble to play matchmaker for the
pair of you?" Charlie demanded. "Because I want to get born,
that’s
why."
"Ah."
"Besides, you make a charming couple."
"I’m going to write the Book?" Denys was really too stunned to be
paying much attention to the rest of what was going on. The Book
was the
most important thing in his life. He couldn’t quite equate himself
with
authorship of such an important, world-shaping document. It didn’t
make
any sense. He couldn’t deal with it.
So he ignored this bit of information and concentrated on the most
important aspect of his trip through time. He’d met the woman of
his
dreams. They were going to be together. Have a home. Have babies.
Who
cared where or when it was? It just was. It was wonderful.
"I’m going to return to Earth with Claudia?"
"Yes, you do," Charlie said, speaking slowly and gently, as though
Denys were a little simple-minded. "We will leave you in Greece,
where
you will have a long, peaceful honeymoon. You will then return to
Bradden Falls and have many children. And a dog. All the documents
you
need to get along on Earth are prepared. New passports, Social
Security
Number, academic credentials, that sort of thing. You’ll end up
teaching
engineering at the local college. You’ll have a wonderful time.
Then,
when you’re eighty or so you’ll write the Book, including the
access
codes I’ll give you so our computers will verify the Book’s
authenticity
to future generations. Nothing to worry about. So you can stop
looking
as if a large weight just dropped on your head."
Denys smiled wanly. "I’ll pull myself together in a moment," he
promised Claudia.
She kissed his cheek. "I’m sure this will take a while to get used
to. It’ll be fine. We’re going home."
"Yes. Home," he agreed. "I don’t care about the Book. I care about
you."
"I know."
Claudia didn’t care about the Book, either. She didn’t care about
the future. At least, not the grand scheme of things. She cared
about
the fact that she’d set off for Greece to find romance and
adventure.
She’d found more than she’d bargained for. Her heart was full and
her
life was full and she and Denys were going to be together forever
and
ever.
She sighed contentedly, and kissed him, deeply and passionately.
And to think, it was all because she made a great bowl of chili.
The End.