Discovery (2 page)

“Oh, Kent.” Lynn’s voice sounded amused. “You’re not bad-looking, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t attracted to you because of your looks. They were a bonus.”

A bonus. Great. So what had bawled
this guy is a chump
at her?

“Why?” He nipped back his scream of frustration and washed it back down his throat with another scalding mouthful of coffee. “Why? Why are you so damned cool about this?”

She set her mug of coffee on the table—the mug that matched his—the ones they bought together after going to visit the Oregon Coast Aquarium in Newport. That same weekend he’d proposed in that cozy bed-and-breakfast inn within sight and sound of the sea. Kent lost his taste for the brew in his mug and pushed it aside.

“Why?” he asked again.

Lynn shrugged. “You’re a nice guy, Kent,” she told him. “Good in bed, fun to go out with. Everyone likes you, and other women are so jealous of me when I’m with you, I love it. And you’re dependable. Better yet; you have a secure future even without the professorship you’ve been after. With those books and all you’ve done. And those lectures you have lined up all over—” Lynn took a sip of coffee. As if reporting the evening news, she dropped her bombshell. “I don’t love you.”

The strange sound Kent heard wasn’t his coffee mug getting swept from the table by his arm. That was the sound of his heart breaking into a million tiny bits.

“I never have,” continued Lynn, unaware or indifferent of Kent’s cardiac condition.

Maybe both, he told himself bitterly. Since she’s proving by the second she thinks only of herself. Still hoping this had all been a misunderstanding, he forced himself to listen to her words as she went on.

“I felt like I won the lottery when I met you and things worked out so well with us. I had a place to live, a guy looking after me, and lots of friends to keep me entertained when I had nothing better to do. Why throw that out? It was all working so perfectly. Love…” she shrugged. “Acting is what I love. The stage. The theater. But it doesn’t pay.” She took a sip of coffee.

“No,” he agreed. Kent couldn’t speak beyond his single word.
He’d
paid.

She became a little defensive. “It’s not like you didn’t get anything out of it. And I can do so much for your career. Listen, why stay here in rainy Oregon, in Eugene, where the most happening thing all year is who gets to be the Slug Queen at the Eugene Celebration? How this place made a Top 20 of places to live, I have no idea. And the U of O—it doesn’t even offer the programs you really qualify for! Just because you
like
Eugene?” She paused for another mouthful of coffee, looking at him as if she wanted an answer.

“Oh, I know you like the Outdoor Program and all, but you’re wasted here, Kent. You’ll never convince the board to make a new slot in the biology department. Even if you are ‘the Cascades of the New Millennium’s answer to John Muir’ like Professor Whatshisname said. I think that you should go for a real position in your field if you want to teach so much. I can help you find the best place. A
real
college. Like at UC Davis or Berkeley or somewhere like that.”

His lungs burned. He tried to speak. The insults to the state and school he loved—to himself—aside, the question remained. What does this have to do with us? Or what happened just before? The attempt to dislodge the frozen state of his tongue and the glacier in his throat with a mouthful of coffee helped nothing. Oh, she was an actress all right. And he’d been stupid enough to fall for it. To believe in the dream she’d offered.

A small pout curved her lips when Kent stayed still and silent. “We’d have a great time traveling on the lecture tour you lined up for this summer,” Lynn said. “I suppose there’s no chance of that now?”

This time, he awarded her a stare of pure disbelief. Her lovely face looked back at him with a mixture of worry and expectancy.

“Is there? Are we still getting married?”

Did I miss something here? wondered Kent. She expects me to keep up with this charade?

Lynn wasn’t stupid, not academically, anyway, and she never gave him any impression of being socially dumb, either.

I’m the only dumb one in this house,
thought Kent.
She is an actress, she’s acted brilliantly. And I’m the dumb Dudley Do-Right cluck who went along with it and trusted she was being as honest with me as I was with her.

His tenuous restraint snapped. “Get out, Lynn.” He hissed the words through teeth clenched tight. The last shreds of control were vanishing fast. “Get out. Pack up your stuff and get out of my house, my life, and most of all, my sight. Now. I’m leaving. I may be gone an hour or I may be gone for the duration of Spring Break, I don’t know. But I want you gone and out of here before dark tonight.”

“Where am I supposed to—”

“I don’t care!” screamed Kent. His fist slammed down on the table so hard Lynn’s mug went airborne, crashed to the brick floor, and exploded in a thousand pieces. Just like his had a few moments ago. Like his life felt at the moment. Like his heart was.

“That’s not my problem any more. Just get the hell out! You blew your act. Yeah, it was great while it lasted. Now go out and start auditioning for another guy who’ll…”

Words failed him again for a moment.
Who’ll believe in you. Who’ll be amazed at his incredible luck finding a gorgeous talented woman who wanted him, wanted to have his children.

“Who’ll take you in,” he finished, dragging in a deep breath from somewhere in the vicinity of Portland. A hundred miles away breath that took more effort to draw as any breath Kent ever took. “It’s over between us, in case you didn’t get the message! O-V-E-R. Done. Finished. The End. Take your bow, and exit, stage left.”

Feeling glad they’d not yet picked out a ring, Kent grabbed his laptop and camping gear and stormed out.  

T
HE NOISES STARTLED KENT OUT
of a sound sleep and straight to his feet. Since he was still zipped snugly into his sleeping bag, he accomplished nothing but an undignified belly-flop.

“Ooofff!”

He lay still for a moment or two, getting his breath, thankful for the Therma-Rest pad that cushioned him from the hard ground beneath. Another sound from outside prodded him into motion again. This time, he remembered to unzip himself from both sleeping bag and tent. It would be a little bit hard, after all, to quickly cover ground when one was still zipped into a nylon shell.

He wriggled into the frosty night. The full moon cast a light so brilliant he didn’t need a flashlight to see, not even in the shadows beneath the ponderosa pines. The lunar glow left most colors washed out, reminding him of something his grandfather always said:
at night all cats are gray.

Pushing back the stray strands of hair that had escaped his ponytail, Kent scanned the landscape. He didn’t hear anything now. Nothing but the rushing of water from the Deschutes River as it funneled into another rapids, and the softer sound of the breeze in the towering pines all around him. Had it been his imagination? A trick of his ears? Maybe the local coyote pack was up to fun and games again. He was careful to keep the food he carried away from his tent and out of the reach of wilderness creatures. Despite that, three days ago he’d returned from a day-long hike to find his campsite rifled and clear signs of the big canines.

Kent shivered and scrubbed his hands up and down his bare arms. He longed for the warmth of his sleeping bag, but something about the sounds that had awakened him kept him in place. Thump! He turned his attention only briefly to the right. That sound he knew very well—a large cone from a ponderosa. It hadn’t been a pinecone that awakened him from a sound sleep.

“Probably an elk or mule deer knocked some rocks loose,” he mumbled, blowing out a breath to again clear that wayward strand of hair from his eyes.

The vapor of his breath in front of his face reminded him he was freezing. He turned and crouched to reach inside his shelter of gray ripstop nylon. The sweatshirt and down-filled vest he’d been using as a pillow were right there, still warm from his body heat. He slid them on over his T-shirt, grateful for the hug of warmth.

There. Another sound, like falling bricks. His gaze swerved toward the outcrop of rock leading onto the cinder butte on his left. More rocks fell, and a thin but definite squeal, a soft grunt. Animal or human? He couldn’t tell, but he was very sure whatever was up there on the cinder butte was in trouble.

* * * * *

POVRESLE TRIED TO CONTROL
her panic. She was stuck, the rocks that enclosed her leg and foot unyielding. Her pack and equipment lay just beyond her reach. She’d been foolish. Impulsive and foolish to venture into unknown territory alone.

She had begged to come along on the cargo run, so much that the expedition leader had agreed. Retu H’renzek gave in, but only after making her promise a thousand times that she would stay in the protected area until he came back with the rest of the science team.

But the natural beauty surrounding Povre had lured her with the force of a black hole sucking in all visible light. It was supposed to have only been a short walk. Something to work the kinks out of her legs. This was her first long trip with Exploration and she felt like she’d spent half her life in hypersleep aboard the starcruiser. First, in a dreamless semi-death and at the mercy of the automated systems. Then, once revived, confined by the dimensions of the ship for several months as they approached this solar system and this intriguing blue-green world.

Her intentions to be the good Exploration scientist and follow orders had vanished as quickly as the small shuttle had disappeared, leaving her alone. Maybe it was the fresh, natural air, which filled her with tingling resonance from toes to hair and made her want to jump and run. All she remembered, exactly, was that prowling the limitations of the shield emitters wasn’t enough. And that she had stopped long enough to think that taking a light pack and a few tools in order to collect a few rock, soil, and plant samples would be a good idea. She would stay close, within sight of the landing spot. Surely that wouldn’t hurt. She would be back inside the protective circle in a few minutes with no one the wiser.

So, holding her breath, she took the first few, tentative steps outside the barrier. No alarms went off. She didn’t vaporize. At first, she was careful, but soon she was so enraptured that she stopped paying attention. Oh, how cool and sweet and natural the air! How brilliant this planet’s little dead moon.

This wasn’t the first time her people visited had visited this world, but this was Povre’s first time. Having lived in space most of her life, she had never before seen stars twinkle through atmosphere. The brilliant display and unusual patterns continually demanded her appreciative attention skyward. Nor could she stop admiring the rich and varied plant forms, although she understood this was the winter season and many plant, insect, and animal forms were dormant until the warmer days.

How she regretted her impulsive action now. She couldn’t even use the short-range comm-unit on her belt, not unless she wanted to ensure being in even more trouble than she was already. It was forbidden to activate comm devices outside the protection of a shield emitter. Besides, no one was in range to hear her immediately, and the signal would take forever to reach the ship without any sort of boosting.

She wanted nothing better than to curl around her injured limb and wail her frustration. Shivers rattled her so hard that more small rocks tumbled away, making her squeal in fear that the entire slope would collapse. She longed to see a friendly face. Even Retu H’renzek’s constant scowl—and the severe scolding he would be sure to give her—would be a comfort. But there was no one else to rely on. If she wanted to survive, she had to get her leg free and reach her pack. Once she managed that, she’d soon be out of this mess.

“I was careless. I was impulsive. I wasn’t paying attention. Oh Goddess, get me out of this, and back to camp, before they come back and find me gone!” She hoped the Goddess would hear, even though she was far from home. She knew what would happen if she did not make it back before the others returned. But knowing what would happen if she didn’t make it back to camp at all far outweighed her desire to avoid a reprimand.

She strained toward her pack, her every effort concentrated on making her arm longer than it was. Her position was bad, precarious at best. Even her slightest motions caused the loose rocks beneath her to shift, the larger ones to squeeze her leg harder and tighter than before. Another sound of pain escaped and she bit her lip.