No Other Love (29 page)

“Six Cetan shuttlecraft closing in on us,”
Herne announced. “At least they’re after us and not those poor
people on the ground.”

“Two more to port,” Merin said, her gaze
alternately on the viewscreen and the control panel. “Fire. Fire
again.”

A sudden blast from a Cetan ship sent the
shuttlecraft spinning. Merin fought to regain their position above
the city.

“Damnation,” Herne muttered. “Where’s Ananka?
If she lied to us, I’ll –”

“If she lied to us,” Merin responded, “there
is nothing we can do but die bravely.”

“I think you’re enjoying this.” Herne spared
her a quick glance before resetting his sights and firing at an
oncoming Cetan ship.

“I was thinking how much Jidak and Imra would
enjoy it,” Merin answered. “They both come from warrior Races. I
wish they were in another ship, fighting with us.”

“Watch out! Dive!” Herne’s warning came too
late. The Cetan ship fired straight at their bow. A stream of white
fire ran along the control panel, searing Merin’s hands. Screaming
with pain, she fell backward. Herne was out of his seat in a
heartbeat, burning his own fingers to put out the fire and set the
damaged controls on automatic.

Merin lay senseless, sagging out of the
pilot’s chair into the aisle. Herne unclasped her safety harness
and pulled her into his arms. Another bolt from a Cetan ship struck
them. Herne fell to his knees, still holding Merin.

In the center of the viewscreen a globe of
greenish white light formed.

“Ananka?” Herne’s voice was hoarse. The globe
of light grew larger and brighter, more purely white.

“Come on, Ananka,” Herne whispered. “You
promised. Don’t let her die. We haven’t much time left here. Do it
now. Please.
Please,
for her sake.”

The white light filled the shuttlecraft.
Herne looked down at Merin’s peaceful face, so thin and pale, and
felt her fragile weight in his arms.

“Until later, Herne.” Ananka’s laughing voice
came from the dazzling globe.

Herne looked into the light again, staring at
it without flinching, until his head began to spin and his ears
rang with the sound of a thousand bells. He stared until the
universe went black.

Home

Herne came onto the bridge just as Tarik’s
voice sounded over the speaker.

“The solar flares are much too frequent and
powerful,” Tarik said, his words accompanied by considerable
interference from static. “Stay aboard the
Kalina,
where you
will be better shielded than in the shuttlecraft. Merin, do you
hear me?”

“Heard and understood,” she responded.

“Narisa calculates it will be two to three
days before it’s safe to send Carlis and Alla to relieve you, and
for you to return to Home. I’m sorry about this, but it can’t be
helped. Is everything going well there?”

“As you know, we’ve experienced a few minor
problems, but they have been repaired.”

“How are you getting along with Herne?”

Well aware that others at headquarters might
be nearby to overhear whatever she said, Merin replied, “Herne is
always professional. He was most helpful when we had that trouble
with the disconnected cable.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I know he doesn’t enjoy
being confined on the ship. We’ll talk again later.” Tarik signed
off.

“So, we’re to stay a few days longer.” Herne
came toward Merin, smiling in a way that was not at all usual for
him. “Tarik is wrong, I don’t mind at all. Do you?”

“Not really. I like the
Kalina.”
Merin
started to rise in order to yield the science officer’s chair to
him while she made her end-of-watch report. She hesitated, struck
by sudden dizziness.

“Are you sick?” Herne had seen her waver. He
put out a steadying hand, catching her at waist level. Instead of
backing quickly away from him as she ordinarily would do, Merin
leaned toward him, placing her hand on his upper arm. They stood
thus in a half embrace while she marveled at the absence of
suppressed anger in him. There was a calmness about him that she
had never noticed before. He was regarding her with serious
concern, so it was possible that quiet competence was part of his
medical persona when dealing with a patient.

“I have been light-headed for the last few
minutes, but there is no reason for it,” she told him.

“I’ve been feeling a bit queasy myself,” he
admitted. “Perhaps it has something to do with the solar storms.
But there’s another reason why you should be dizzy. You haven’t
been eating. Sit down.”

His hands on her shoulders made it impossible
for her to resist the order.

“Put your head down.” He pressed her head
forward until her face was touching her knees. “Stay there for a
minute.”

She could hear the soft whirring of his
diagnostic rod.

“You are constantly examining me,” she
complained.

“That’s because I worry about you.” He took
her wrist between his fingers. She straightened a little, not
enough to give him cause to scold her for lifting her head before
he had given his permission, but far enough to be able to watch him
counting her pulse.

“Isn’t that method a bit primitive?” she
asked.

“These things aren’t infallible.” He pocketed
the rod. “Your pulse rate is rapid, but otherwise you check out as
perfectly normal. Do you have any aches or pains that I should know
about?”

“My hands still itch, but you said they would
until the lacerations from the cable repairs heal. Today, there is
a burning sensation in my fingers, too.”

“That’s not unusual.” Herne turned her hands
palm upward to look at them. “They’re healing normally, though your
fingertips are a bit red. It could be a minor burn. Have you been
getting too close to the heating element in the galley?”

“Not that I remember. May I stand up
now?”

“Only if you promise to eat something. You
are much too thin.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m hungry.” She
sounded as surprised as she felt. She was never hungry, she simply
ate when it was time to do so.

“I’m hungry, too.” He put his arm around her
to help her rise. She did not protest the gesture, but went to the
hatch, where she paused to look back over her shoulder with a quirk
of her lips that Herne thought might have been the beginning of a
smile, except that Merin never smiled.

“In that case, I ought to prepare enough food
for two,” she said. “Vegetable stew, bread and fruit for both of
us, with a double serving of pastry for you.”

“Merin.” His teasing tone stopped her exit
from the bridge. She saw the harsh lines of his face softened by
amusement. “It’s still your watch for another hour. I am the one
who should prepare the food.”

“I forgot.” She put one hand to her head. “I
wasn’t thinking. I guess it’s because I’m so hungry.”

“Then I should bring your meal quickly, and
make it enough for four.”

When they passed each other, Herne heading
for the galley and Merin back to the science officer’s chair, he
patted her shoulder in a light, friendly touch. She stared after
him, wondering why she was not offended by what he had just
done.

The light-headedness washed over her again,
leaving her with a distinctly unsettled feeling, as though some
fundamental aspect of her being was in the process of shifting
position. She sank into her chair, rubbing at her itching, burning
hands. By the time Herne returned with their food the dizziness was
gone and she attacked the food on her plate with unconcealed
eagerness.

“I’ve never seen you eat like that before,”
he said, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed posture and smiling
at her. “I take your hunger as a healthy sign.”

“You’re different,” she told him.

“In what way?” He had been reaching for a
third piece of pastry, the kind he especially liked, stuffed with
juicy red berries. His hand stopped, hovering over the plate, while
his eyes flashed a sharp look at her that told her all she needed
to know.

“You are confused, too, aren’t you?” she
said. “Upset, unsettled, a little dizzy. And very hungry. You have
eaten twice as much as I have.”

“What of it?” He was trying to hide what he
thought was a weakness with his usual abruptness, but it wasn’t
working. She knew him too well for him to fool her in that way.

Knew him too well?
Why should she
think that? She didn’t know him at all.

“We are not sick,” Herne told her. “I have
checked both of us thoroughly. Nothing is wrong with the air
supply, the water, or the food on this ship. No toxic substances
are affecting us.”

“And yet?” she encouraged, more confused than
ever.

“And nothing.” He popped the third pasty into
his mouth and began to chew.

“Something is hovering around the edges of my
memory, but I can’t get it back,” she said. “I wish I could
remember.”

Herne swallowed the last of his qahf,
watching her. She knew he was watching her because she was looking
straight at him. She was looking right into his eyes without the
least twinge of embarrassment or shame. It seemed perfectly natural
to do so. His answering gaze warmed her, lifting her spirits. In
the blink of an eye, as she sat looking at him, she saw herself
going into his arms, felt his naked body against hers, his mouth
scalding her own. She felt him inside her.

With a gasp she leapt out of her seat and
across the bridge. How could she imagine something so dreadful, so
completely foreign to her training? What was wrong with her, to
make her feel this way, to make her allow passionate emotion to
suddenly take such strong control of her mind? She knew as well as
anyone else that the coming together of male and female was the
most terrible crime of all under Oressian law.

Her thoughts reeled in confusion. Her body
was telling her something her mind dared not accept. She knew,
knew
absolutely, that union with Herne would bring with it
not pain and physical destruction but an intense, sweet joy, and
the beauty of their joining would endure for the rest of their
lives. Her certainty of that heretical belief was so strong it was
as though her body understood something her mind did not know, or
had rejected, or had forgotten.

For one long moment of nearly unbearable
conflict, Merin’s strict Oressian training fought against her deep,
complicated feelings for Herne. She wanted him. She could
not
want him. It was impossible, vile, unnatural. She wanted
to be a good Oressian.
She wanted Herne.

She clamped her mouth shut on a groan,
refusing to express by any sound her terrible inner turmoil.
Unaware of Herne’s reaction to her stiff posture or her tense,
withdrawn expression, she was completely focused on the battle
taking place inside her deepest self.

It was a painful struggle. For a time it
seemed her sanity would be utterly destroyed by the strain of it.
But at her weakest moment, when any hope of integrating two totally
antagonistic desires seemed impossible, there rose into her
thoughts the image of a blue-robed figure with an ageless face.
From the figure radiated so much affection and strength, so much
pure friendship, that Merin, her courage renewed, was able to set
herself once more to find a way through anguish and uncertainty
back to reality.

Finally, as if a thousand tiny clenched fists
had opened themselves in her mind to set her emotions free, the
complex web of Oressian laws and rules and training that had held
her bound for her twenty-five years of life drifted into the back
of her consciousness. She knew the web would never be entirely gone
from her. She did not want it gone. There were valuable qualities
she had gained from her childhood: her respect for order over
chaos, for peace over violence, her love of learning. But there
were advantages to other ways of life, and strong emotions were not
necessarily destructive. Miraculously, she could now accept those
revolutionary ideas. She could accept Herne, and her need for
him.

“Merin, speak to me.”

She realized that Herne had been talking to
her for some time, while she had been silently undergoing the most
amazing internal transformation. He was holding her shoulders, as
if he thought only his strength could keep her upright. She laid
both of her hands flat upon his chest and lifted her face to
his.

“Please,” she whispered with the oddest sense
that she had said the same words to him before, “please kiss
me.”

“Don’t ask unless you mean it,” he growled,
stepping back a pace. She took one of his hands and laid it over
her breast. He made a sound in his throat, a low primeval moan of
rising male passion.

“Kiss me, Herne.”

“If this is some weird aberration of Oressian
hormones caused by the solar flares,” he groaned, pulling her
toward him, “I don’t want to hear the scientific explanation.”

“It’s no aberration,” she whispered, her
mouth against his, “it’s me. It’s what I want.”

His mouth was hot on hers, his arms held her
tightly. Her lips parted to let his tongue surge into her. Merin
put her arms around his neck, raised herself on tiptoe, and gave
herself completely to his kiss. It was wonderful; it was everything
she had known it would be. It ended too soon.

“We are supposed to be watching the ship,” he
said, his voice a little hoarse.

“Could we put the instruments on automatic
for a few minutes?” she asked.

“A few minutes?” He shook his head. “More
like a few hours.”

He did not let go of her. Perhaps he was
afraid she would change her mind if he did not continue to touch
her. He kept one arm around her waist while he transferred all of
the
Kalina’s
instruments to automatic.

“Our cabins are too far from the bridge,” he
said. “It’s not that I’m unromantic, but I’d like both of us to
stay alive through any emergency that might occur. We will have to
use the conference room.”