Free Anvil of Stars by Greg Bear

need you. I need someone to balance me."
    "I'm glad," she said, burying her face in his shoulder. She wore workout cutoffs, blue shorts and loose-fitting top. "The exercises are good," she said. "We're really into them."
    "I'm in the boneyard," he said, sweeping his free arm at electronic slate and books piled into his sleep corner. What they called boneyard was everything human stored in the Dawn Treader's libraries.
    "Tactics?" she asked.
    He grimaced. "Call it that."
    She hugged him again before moving away to riffle through the stack and pick up the slate. He didn't mind her curiosity; she seemed interested in everything about him, and he was flattered. "Marshal Saxe," she said, scrolling through the slate displays. She lifted a book. "Bourcet and Gilbert. Clausewitz, Caemerrer, Moltke, Goltz." She lifted an eyebrow.
    "Their armies could see each other, make sorties against each other," Martin said. "We don't even fight with armies."
    "These are the people T. E. Lawrence studied when he was young," Theresa said, surprising him yet again. "You've been reading Liddell Hart."
    He smiled in chagrin. "You, too."
    "Me and about twenty others. I asked for crew access records."
    Martin grinned ruefully. "I should have thought of that. To see what they're… thinking, preparing for."
    "Most are just doing your exercises. They respect you. They think you know what you're doing. Hans is doing a lot of extra research. Erin Eire. Ariel."
    "I'm glad they're keeping me on my toes."
    "We can't afford to take chances, even with you, Martin."
    Theresa had never spoken to him in such a tone before; was she implying lack of confidence? She smiled, but the question was raised, and she looked away, aware she had raised it.
    "I'm not criticizing you, Martin, but you—we—won't find many answers in Earth strategy books."
    "Right," Martin said.
    "We can't keep looking back."
    "It's all we have," Martin said.
    "Not so."
    Martin nodded. "I mean, it's all we have that's our own."
    Theresa put the books back and returned the slate to the text he had been reading. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't come here to talk about this."
    "I'm not just looking at Earth histories and texts," Martin said. "I've been going over everything the moms taught us. They haven't made up a drill for the external exercise—they seem to want to surprise us. I don't like that, but I see their point—"
    "Martin. You need a break."
    "There's no time!" he shouted, fists clenching again.
    "Are you thinking clearly?"
    He paused, shook his head, squeezed his palms against his temples. "Not very."
    "I'm here."
    He closed the entrance, reached for her, put the wand into quiet mode, kicked the books and slate aside as they moved against each other. "I don't want to be away from you for a second, not an instant," he said. "That's the bad part. I want to be someplace else with you."
    She looked at him intently, face showing none of the insinuation of her undulating body, lower lip under her teeth; hips moving with graceful need. He felt the motion of her stomach against his, the press of her curly hair, the flexing wet warmth startling, her small breasts hard against his chest; sought her neck behind her ear, knew she had closed her eyes, face still blank but for the bitten lip.
    The experience was more effort, less ethereal, with up and down reestablished. It was also more familiar to his inner mind, flesh and bones; somehow more real.
    They rolled from the ledge with half-purpose, falling into a glowing ladder, and were lowered gently to tumble down a slope into a pile of Martin's clothes.
    "I want to live with you always," Martin said.
    "I didn't mean to make you think I…" Tears came to her eyes. "I'm so clumsy sometimes. I trust you. It's pretty amazing how they trust you. The past Pans—Harpal, Stephanie, Sig, Cham…Joe—They're right behind you." She smiled. "Hans is just doing his job, I think. I can't read Hans all the time. He seems to hide everything