Free Yuen-Mong's Revenge by Gian Bordin

she was a very desirable woman. Without her limp she
would be rated highly on Palo.
          Would she agree to have sex with him? Somehow, yesterday’s events
had put her out of his reach. She must be still a virgin, he realized. He
had never been with a virgin and was not sure he liked the idea.
          When she had finished, he took a shower too, not wanting to be told
again that he stank. He wondered what to do about shaving. His stubbles
felt rather long and the skin itched, but what could he do without an
electric shaver? He did not trust himself to shave with a sharp knife, as
some old-fashioned barbers still offered the men on Palo for a special
treat at exorbitant prices. He had little choice but to grow a beard.
     
    * * *
     
    After her shower, Yuen-mong told Atun that she wanted to spend the
evening alone meditating. She climbed up to the top of her rock, taking
her flute along. As she had feared the storm had ripped away or flattened
most sweetberry bushes that grew from cracks and small earth patches,
safe up there from the night scavengers. Had she stayed at the cave, she
would have spent much of the morning harvesting the ripe berries before
the storm, but it was little use regretting things that could have been and
cannot be changed anymore. They would run out of this sweetener,
unless they traveled way north, where she knew of a few other sheltered
rock outcrops. Maybe the bushes there had survived. In half an Aros year,
her own bushes would have regenerated. Nature recovered fast on her
world.
          On her favorite spot facing toward the offshore islands of the night
hunters, she settled herself into a lotus position, the flute across her legs.
She removed her loose top and let the gentle breeze caress her chest,
shoulders, arms and face. She remained motionless, only allowing her
eyes to roam over the gradually fading light on the ring’s eastern section.
Then she closed them, listening to the softly changing murmur as day
creatures yielded to night creatures. The only other presence she felt was
that of Atun. It too seemed more steady, less searching. Have yesterday’s
events opened his eyes, made him more reasonable? she mused, or have
I only bought myself new trouble? She could still feel that stirring of
desire in him while she had washed herself. It was different from the
unbridled lust of the headman of the savages when his band had cornered
her and he believed that she would be his, just before she sent an arrow
through his throat. How is it to be with a man? But it was only a fleeting
thought. She did not want more complications. Her sole effort at this
point was to see whether her father’s idea of getting off planet could be
realized, although she immediately became aware of her own ambivalence about leaving the only world she knew, the world she had grown to
love.
          She felt the approach of the night hunters before she could see them
above the water and raised her flute to greet them with a tune full of
sadness and longing for her parents, a melody that had slowly grown and
become more intense with many variations as the years passed. It invariably drew the two night hunters to her rock. They circled above it
several times, their haunting call answering her song, before they
continued farther inland. She always thought of them as the souls of her
parents, united with her own for only a passing moment.
     
    5
    Over the next few days, Yuen-mong was heartened by the apparent
change in Atun’s behavior and attitude. He seemed to be eager to learn
and willingly helped with the various tasks. He always wanted to know
the whys and the hows, rarely questioning them. He wondered where the
water supply in the cave came from, and she took him to the top of their
rock, feeling a pang of regret to give away even that last refuge of her
own.
          It not only served as her place of contemplation and meditation, but
also as her garden for various herbs that she added to the