For Love and Glory

XLV

At their second meal after that, when Dzesi had finished the food suitable for her biochemistry, she rose and said, “I go to kshanta.” She slipped aft, currently down, to the dorm section. Lissa and Hebo heard the soundproof panel of her cubicle slide shut.

The man got up too. “Let’s sit more comfortably,” he suggested. Lissa nodded. They used the rungs along the bulkhead to climb the passageway to the control compartment. Behind them the table and benches retracted, converting the saloon to a small, cramped exercise area.

Settling into her chair, with no need for safety harness, Lissa looked out the viewscreen. Interior light was dimmed, making more stars than usual visible, gems of frost strewn through a crystal darkness. How often had she beheld this? Yet it never failed to stir awe deep within her.

Hebo took the seat on her right. All four were close together. For a moment she heard only the whisper of ventilation. Full health on a long trip required weatherlike variations in air. At the present stage of the cycle it bore a slight, electric tinge of ozone.

“What’s, um, kshanta?”

“I don’t know,” Hebo answered.

She glanced at him. The rugged profile turned and the blue gaze met hers. “You don’t?” she exclaimed. “After how many years with her?”

“Not steadily. Off-and-on partnerings. Total, maybe twenty years. And, no, I don’t.”

“Hasn’t she done it before when you were there?”

“Now and then. It involves being alone for several hours. She’s never said more, and I haven’t pried. Could be something private or religious or— I don’t know.”

“I imagine human xenologists have noticed it among her kind and tried to investigate.”

His smile twisted wryly. “Somehow, the casualty rates of xenologists on Rikhan planets went pretty high. They got discouraged after a while.”

She nodded. “That’s a fierce and touchy race.”

“Let’s just say that many people in it are. I wouldn’t call anything except their biology true of every culture and every individual in any race.”

Yes, he thinks. And he can sympathize. “Agreed,” Lissa said. “Seafell—But no, that’s merely another Asborgan House, nothing alien about it. And the members aren’t all alike by any means.”

“The basic biology really is basic, though. Also to ways of thinking, feeling, picturing reality. Has any human ever figured out how the sexual machinery of Susaians affects their psychology?”

Dear Orichalc—“We can be good friends.”

“But not like two humans, or, I suppose, two of them. The, uh, the aspects of nonhumans we can sort of understand and interact with in ways that sort of make sense, they’re those that happen to be enough like aspects of us. And vice versa, of course.” He spoke not intently, but earnestly, as if opening himself to her, something she hadn’t quite heard him do before. “For instance, I’ve gathered that Dzesi, Rikhans generally, can’t comprehend our idea of the Incarnation of God.”

Your idea, Lissa thought. It puzzles me too, a bit. I’d like to know more—because it is yours?—Veer off!

“So maybe Dzesi realizes I’d never understand her kshanta, however hard she tried to explain, and doesn’t bother,” Hebo finished.

“As I imagine you haven’t preached at her.”

“Or at anybody else. Who am I to say what relationship they have to God? Besides, I’d be lousy at it.”

Another archaism? Well, I catch the drift. He’s tolerant. By nature? Or did he have to learn to be if he was to survive as long as he has? I’d like to find out.

“She and I do have working knowledge of each other.” Hebo laughed. “Could be, she’s simply made an excuse to give us some privacy.”

“What?” Lissa murmured, and felt the blood in her cheeks and was angry with herself.

“She can be very tactful,” Hebo said. “Armed and dangerous folks had better be, most of the time.”

“But—you and I—”

“Our first chance to talk freely, just us two, isn’t it? And days ahead of us.”

Wariness: “Had you something particular in mind?”

“Yes,” he admitted cheerfully. “However, that’s up to you.”

“What do you mean?” As if she didn’t know full well.

“Don’t worry. I won’t repeat my mistake on Jonna. That’s one memory I made sure I’d keep.”

She didn’t reply at once. The air rustled, cooling off, smelling more and more like a rainstorm drawing nigh. He waited.

I could be evasive, she thought, but I don’t want to. Nor do I want to charge blindly ahead. Once was enough.

She met his eyes again and softened her tone. “You’re really a rather lonely person, aren’t you?”

He lifted a palm. “No, no, I can always have company when I feel like it.” He grinned. “I’ll bet you often do when you don’t feel like it.”

She let the little jape go by. “All those centuries, wandering—”

He shrugged. “Would’ve gotten scum-dull staying put.”

“But some people must have become dear to you, and then you drifted apart or—” She winced. “It’s already happened in my much shorter lifespan.”

He went almost somber. “Or they die. We may hang on for a long while, but one way or another, at last the Old Man is coming for everybody.”

“Don’t you find belief in a life after death comforting?”

“Mainly, to be honest, I think how nice it’d be if the faith is true. Whatever the facts of that are, we’ll never get back what we’ve got now. Let’s make the most of it.”

“Is roving around the only way? Didn’t you ever try making a home?”

“Three times.”

“And?” she murmured.

His voice flattened. “Twice, it simply didn’t last. The third, she died. An accident that was ridiculous, unless there is something beyond this universe that sets injustices right.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No offense.” He smiled. “Instead, I’m glad you’re interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He brightened further. “That’s a great question, coming from you.”

“We’ve already… been through… quite a lot… together.”

“And we’re still busy at it. Think you might like to keep it going afterward?”

Why am I suddenly so lightheaded? “I don’t know—”

“Why not try it out? No cost, no obligation.”

She regained balance. “Oh, there’s always a cost.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m willing to pay. Got a notion I’d make a mighty big profit.”

Does he mean that? wondered bewilderment. If he does, how much?—He didn’t have to come to Asborg from Earth, even for his purpose—

Hebo leaned closer and with an odd gentleness laid an arm around her shoulders. “The accomodations aboard aren’t exactly luxurious, and we haven’t a lot of time, but—”

“No,” she interrupted, stiffening beneath the touch. “We can’t afford to, to get involved.” Not yet, she thought while her pulse accelerated. Maybe not ever. Gerward—

But he was a phantom, pale and fading.

Hebo grinned. “Have no fears. I’m only talking good, honest lust.”

Is he? Am I?

We’re both grown, both tough, we can both think coolly in a crisis no matter what our emotions. Can’t we?

Anyhow, there’s no crisis today. If I were cautious and forethoughtful, I wouldn’t be here.

“Only?” Lissa breathed.

“No,” he said, quickly serious. “But you’re right, we’d better postpone anything more. Meanwhile, though—”

Their lips were centimeters apart. Fire kindled. “Well—”

The bunk was narrow, its cubicle cramped and bare. They hardly noticed.