Free No Other Love by Flora Speer

taken your place here.”
    “I am not ill.” She would have continued on
her way, but Herne stopped her, catching her by the shoulders and
holding her still beneath one of the recessed ceiling lights so he
could examine her features more closely.
    “Look at me, woman. I’ve told you before how
much I dislike it when you won’t look at me while we talk.”
    “And I have told you before not to touch me.
What made me ill was the way Gaidar touched Suria. Sickening.
Disgusting.”
    Her voice was quiet, but so compelling that
he lifted his hands from her shoulders and stood there looking into
her eyes, his hands still raised, until she feared he would catch
her face instead of her shoulders and kiss her. He did not. His
hands fell to his sides, but his eyes remained locked on hers.
    “Yes,” he said slowly, “you flinch every time
you see anyone touch another person. It isn’t just men touching
women, as Suria thinks; it’s anyone at all showing affection or
emotional concern. Why? What’s in your past? What kind of
conditioning did you undergo on Oressia?”
    “You know I cannot answer any questions about
my home planet,” she said. “I ask only that you respect the customs
I am compelled to observe.”
    “How can I respect them when I don’t know
what they are?” Herne asked.
    “I have told you,” she replied with forced
patience. “Do not look directly into my eyes. Do not touch me. And
do not, ever again, put your lips on mine.”
    “But I want to,” he said, a barely suppressed
smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “I want to do all of those
things, along with other things that would doubtless shock you to
the depths of your Oressian soul. The human psyche is so
constituted that if you forbid a person to do something, you only
make him want to do it more.”
    “Herne,” she said sternly, “we have a large
amount of work to accomplish before we return to headquarters. I
must insist that we concentrate on it, and that you behave in a
professional manner toward me. If you do not, I will complain about
you to Tarik.”
    “Merin.” But her eyelids were lowered again,
the glory of her brown and purple eyes hidden from him. Her face
was carefully blank, every feature sharp and tight, revealing
nothing of her feelings.
    Herne’s own strongest feeling at the moment
was despair. He had seen hints of another woman behind her
controlled façade, a woman of strength and spirit. A woman he
wanted to know. He had to find a way to convince her to reveal her
true self to him and to talk freely about her mysterious past.
    “As you wish,” he said, looking for some sign
of relaxation in her. He saw nothing. The real Merin was gone
again, hidden behind the mask, and he could think of no way to make
her return. He gave up the attempt to reach her – for the moment.
“Let’s get to work.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    The rule for those serving aboard the Kalina was an eight-hour watch, the last hour overlapping
with that of one’s partner. During this overlap meals were eaten
together and reports were made. Merin had chosen the first watch,
so it was Herne who prepared their meal and carried it into the
conference room just off the bridge.
    “Another large storm is moving across the
northern hemisphere. There will be heavy snow at Home,” Merin
reported. “There have been two more major solar flares, and a
series of large sunspots has appeared. A message has been received
from Capital. I relayed it to Tarik at once.”
    “From Capital?” Herne looked up from his
soup. “Anything serious?”
    “Commander Tarik’s mother wishes him a happy
birthday. The lady Kalina’s timing is accurate, if not her wisdom
or sense of propriety.”
    “I assume from your tone of voice that you
don’t think Kalina should be using official communication bands for
personal messages,” Herne noted.
    “Tarik may well be embarrassed by the
contents. In any case, only the most urgent messages should be sent
to us,” Merin said.