Chapter 5
**
"Everything settled, Erin?" Gwen turns from the window, her eyes glinting cat-like in the firelit room, shadows moving in the corners as the flames dance in the hearth. She smiles, that odd, closed curve of her lips, and I think, as always, of the Mona Lisa or a Sphinx. I return the smile, tiredly.
"Yes… I guess. Well enough they’ll be okay tonight on the exercise. Why are adolescents such odd critters, Gwen? It seems to be natural for both our species… they just sort of go haywire, or cattywonkers, for a few years, and then you can talk with them again…" I sit on the arm of the couch and yawn, covering my mouth with a hand.
"What was that—cattywonkers? I like that. Sounds about right. Yes, they all go through it. You and I did, many years ago," Gwen chuckles, and comes to stand behind me. Her hands begin kneading my shoulders, smooth power tugging at the tenseness. I sigh and arch my back a little, relaxing into her grip. Odd how simple things like this give so much pleasure, so much reassurance, I think to myself. I reach up and stroke one of her long fingered hands with one of mine, and note the contrast.
My hands are small; Peter always joked with me that that was a perk in my line of life. He was such a cad sometimes. My hands are broad but short; my middle finger on my left hand is somewhat crooked, a souvenier of the Nimitz, and something I’ve never bothered to have fixed. The burn scars have been removed, though, years ago. Tanned, but not as dark as the hand I’m touching. Gwen’s fingers are long, tapering to slenderness, but steel strong. There’s a hardness to her that’s unlike any human I’ve ever known; the muscle beneath the skin is rock solid, like marble. The heat from her overcharged metabolism makes her fingers leave trails of heat across my neck and shoulders as she continues to touch me.
"Ready for bed, younglin’?" She nuzzles down into my dark blonde hair with her chin, and I can feel and hear her purr. I nod, silently, and she stands me up, then catches me up in her arms. I always worry, even though I know it’s silly, that she’ll strain herself or something, and her Draka hearing catches my subvocalization clearly. Her bronze, bell-like laugh echoes through the room, and a thrill races down my spine.
"Gwen…" I link my arms around her neck, delicately stroking my fingers down the sinuous curves of tendon and muscle, until I reach her collarbones.
"Mmh-hmmm?" She sets me gently down on the bed, turned back and ready for us.
The firelight makes a nimbus around her red hair, and my breath catches at the sheer leopard-like grace and beauty of her. Leaf green eyes, large in the darkness, look down into my hazel ones, full of… I pause for a moment, placing the expression. Tenderness… that’s what it is, I think to myself. She’s being so gentle, so tender right now…such a change from earlier. I shudder slightly, remembering her angry snarl. She feels my tremble, and begins kissing me delicately along my jawline, down my neck.
"Gwen, I…" How do I say this, I think frantically. I never say stuff like this, ever… I never find the need or the want to ask for something; I’ve always been comfortable with my lover taking the lead in situations like this. This feels so awkward… I clear my throat. "Muhmis… may I ask for something, tonight?"
Her head comes up, surprise in her eyes. She straddles me, and tosses her robe to the floor behind her, grinning. "Why, Erin… this is unusual. Yes, ask away, my sweetlin’…"
I take a deep breath, and then look up at her. I know my eyes are probably saying more than I ever can with words, but here goes… "Gwendolyn, would you just hold me for awhile?" My voice shakes, and inwardly I cuss myself out. Damn it, girl, get a grip. The worst she can say is…
No. No, you’re mine, and you’ll serve my pleasure. You’re my slave. You’re not allowed to ask for such. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. You’re stupid, or silly, or both. You’re a serf, I’m your owner. No. Or the worst… maybe not saying anything at all. My heart pounds, and I swallow, nervously. I’ve never asked her anything like this, in all the years now that we’ve been together.
"Sssaaa, Erin, my darlin’… don’t be so afraid to ask for what you’d like. You might just get it. Ssshhhh…" Her lips cover mine as I try to say I’m sorry. "Erin… it’s all right. You are mine, I am your owner… but more than that, I like you. You are precious to me, my little human wench. Precious, indeed. Now, lie here with me and let me hold you, like this… yes, that’s right… is this what you want?" Gwen’s voice is soft, barely a whisper, and I feel the kiss of air on my cheek as she speaks.
A short sob escapes past my clenched teeth, and I nod, unable to speak now. She cradles me, my head against her chest, feeling the thudding of her heart under my ear; her arms enfold me, rocking me gently to and fro. One long leg slides over both of mine, and I feel safe in her arms. The arms of my muhmis… the arms of the woman who owns you, who could kill you on a whim, says the tiny voice in the back of my mind, and Patrick’s words of shame rise up, branding me, crucifying me internally. The sobs come more openly now, and I feel Gwen’s grip tighten as she holds me close.
Long moments pass, and so does my crying jag. I feel Gwen move slightly, and she reaches back behind her, a long, double jointed arm easily finding the box of tissues above the headboard. She hands me several, and I blow my nose. I’ve never been a beautiful crier, I think to myself; I always get red and splotchy, and stuffy. That done with, I look up into her cool, aristocratic face. She grins down at me, her eyes gentle and warm. "Feel better, my sweet?"
"Yes, thanks… god, Gwen, I needed that… I’m sorry I cried all over you…" I dab at teardrops on her breasts, and she laughs. Her purr is louder now and her hands stroke me, circles over and over on my back, ranging down to my hips, my ass, my thighs, then back up. The delicate, precise touch is increasing in intensity, and I gasp softly. "Gwen…"
Her hair falls down over us as she mounts me, bathing us in a mahogany shower of silkiness. "Yes, my pretty-girl?" Her purr is rumbling deep from her chest now, and she begins to move on me, pushing me flat on my back, spreading my legs wide with hers. Our bodies touch, and the ancient rhythm begins.
"I need you. Oh, gods, I need you, Gwen… ahhh…" I arch up, into her arms, and her weight bears me back down; her lips on mine, tongue thrusting in past my sigh of arousal. Muhmis’ snarl of pleasure, of joy, fills my ears. Words are lost in the night; calls of arousal, excitement, and finally satiation replace them. Stars rise and fall unnoticed as we make our own universe within.
**
Ma?
Oh, ye gods and goddesses…what time is it? I rub my eyes with my one free hand, feeling the solid weight and warmth of my Muhmis next to me, curled into a ball. Our hair is tousled together; the morning sun is just now peeking over the horizon of fir trees. Patrick? Everything okay?
Yeah. A pause. Now that I have Alexa taking a shower… I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk with me, before breakfast. Please, Ma?
Okay. I’ll meet you in about ten minutes, out front. Okay with you?
Yeah, I’ll see you there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He chuckles, knowing that I’m not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and then his voice in my head is gone. The transducer helpfully tells me it’s 5:24 in the morning, and the temperature outside is 53 degrees Fahrenheit. Thanks. I needed that. Sighing, I gently begin the delicate process of disentangling myself from Gwen.
She stirs, mumbles once, and then she’s awake. Just like that; no muzziness, or bleary-eyed peering about. She smiles at me, and runs a hand through my hair. I’ve never been able to sneak out of bed without her knowing about it, unless she’s been busy with someone else at the time. Even then, she notes it and comes to check on me if I’m not back after awhile. "Hmmm…. Bed-hair!" She chuckles, and then begins tickling me.
Giggling, we roll around for several minutes, and then I realize I’m going to be late. "Hey, hey… Gwen, Muhmis… I have to go…"
"I won’t tickle you that much, pretty pony…" Muhmis laughs delightedly, both at her joke (she did tickle me too much once, and Jennifer and Alice haven’t let me live it down for long… packages of ‘Depends’ kept finding their way to my desk…) and at the blush she produces on my face.
"Grrr… no, really… I’m going to meet Pat for a walk, before breakfast. He actually remembered to use his transducer this time…" I kiss her loudly on the forehead, and then more gently on the cheek. Her hands tug my head back down as I sit up, and she gives me a long, hard kiss, morning breath or no. It would be so nice to fall back into her arms, and do what she wants, I think, with a smile…
"Ah, wench… my pretty-girl. You buck so well for muhmis…" She wolf-grins up at me, and then pinches my fanny. I shriek a little, bolting upright, grabbing backwards at the offending hand. She nips me on the tummy, and then laughs as I wriggle away from her. She’s letting me go, I realize, and inwardly I thank her. She didn’t have to… Gwen, through her laughter, says, finally, "Run along. I’ll meet you for breakfast. An hour, say…"
"Yes, Gwen…" I finally make it to the side of the bed and stand. I reach back and stroke a strand of deep red hair back from her face, tucking it behind an ear. "Thanks, Muhmis… really… for last night, and now…"
"Sweet girl. Run along, before I change my mind and leap upon you. Hmm, that sounds fun…" She crouches in the bed, muscles and tendons moving like machined steel in oil. I grin and scamper away.
"I’ll take a rain check, Muhmis…" I manage to close the door to the bathroom before she gets to me, and quickly give myself a cat’s bath, trying to untangle my hair and wash the sleep from my face. I emerge a few moments later, and see that she’s on the deck, sitting in one of the chairs, eyes blank. Using her transducer again, I think, and silently get dressed. I pad down the hallway, and then race to the front door. Patrick’s waiting for me, sitting on one of the marble benches.
"You’re…"
"I know. Late. Sorry. You know how it is," I grin, hugging him one-armed. He returns the hug, with both arms, and while he holds me tight, he whispers:
"I’m sorry, Mama, for what I said last night. Can I take it back? I was being dumb, and angry."
My heart melts within me. "Yes, yes, my sweetlin’, my darlin’… no matter what you say, no matter if we disagree totally on something, Patrick, I will always love you. No matter what. Hear me, now?"
"Yes, Mama. Me too. You know." He blushes as a couple of Space Force personnel walk by us, through the doorway, bearing breakfast carts. Their fragrant odors make my empty stomach rumble appreciatively, and I notice Pat’s eyes following them, too.
"Let’s go on this walk thing, and circle on back around. We’ll capture breakfast before the Ingolfsson pride devours it all in less than a minute." I grin up at my son, and his hazel eyes mirror mine. He takes my hand in his, and we walk along a path by the buildings, fir trees and birch quaking before us in the morning breeze. The smell of the air is fresh, and sharp; the slightly musty smell of a forest, the tang of woodsmoke, and occasionally, as the breeze shifts, a tantalizing whiff of food.
"Alexa and I talked last night, after the exercise. Which was totally, completely, slaggin’ boss. That’s what I want to do, Mama. Terraforming, and stuff like that. That’s what Alexa thinks, too. We talked about that, too, later. But we talked about… you know, love and stuff."
"Yeah?"
"Well, we talked about how hard it is to define stuff, and stuff…"
"And stuff. Like, you know. Totally, dude…" I mimic, and we crack up. More seriously, I go on: "And what did you decide? You seem much happier today, my young man."
"She likes me most intensely, and I like her the same way. It’s different from the way I love you, or Alice, or Aunt Jenny, or Unk Tom… but it’s just as real. It’s also different from the way I love Vicki. You know. Sex and stuff gets involved, and then everything gets all fuzzy and hard to tell what’s what."
I kick a pine cone along as we walk. "Yep. Fuzzy it is. Know the feeling. You still ashamed of me, Pat?"
"No, not really. I don’t know why I said that, Ma. It just came out. There’s so much down inside, and sometimes it just comes out, and then I feel bonzer bad and rotten. I was just so mad, and hurt, and I guess I wanted to make you hurt, too. Forgive me for being a jerk?"
"Yes, Sir Jerklet. No, seriously, we’re friends, as well as being mom and son. That’s rare, in itself, and we have to work on it to keep it that way. I really value you as a friend, and… well, friends need to be able to say what they need to say, and if the relationship is strong enough, it’s gonna survive. I think ours can, as long as we keep working at it, keep honest with each other."
I stop and turn to him, noticing how the sunlight brings out highlights of lighter colored hair in his long, thick, dark mop. A feeling of love rushes through me, and I fight the lump in my throat for a moment. He looks like Peter, and like me; I hope he has the best of us both, I think, and missed the worst. "Patrick, listen. We’re going through a time in human history like no other. So many damn changes, and I don’t expect you to agree with me all the time. But let’s try to stay friends, stay where we can talk like this. I need that, and I think you need that, too."
"You know, you’re right. I was thinking about that this morning, Ma." His teenage face looks older for a moment, and I see how he’ll look when he’s my age. "We have to work together, even if we don’t agree all the time. And you’ve been around Draka longer than me, so maybe you can give me some hints or pointers."
"Glad to try, old boy. Glad to try. Unk Tom will be happy to help, too, and Andri. They’d have more of a guy’s perspective on stuff. But that’s great. I feel so much better now. This stuff is damn hard to work out by yourself, but friends help. I wouldn’t have made it through all the changes I went through, back before the Project, and the Arrival, without Peter, and Alice, and Jennifer… Tom, Shawonda, Ruthann… they all pitched in and helped me, and I helped them. We survive that way, honey."
My voice turns hard for a moment. "We survive. That’s the goal right now. One day, freedom, and the universe, but right now, survival of the human race. I don’t want us to be erased like…"
"Like what a certain Archon wants? And plans on doing?" His voice lowers instinctively, and I glance from side to side, involuntarily. I think: Sensors can pick up our whispers, no trouble at all, thank you very much, but maybe no one’s listening. Or if they are, they won’t care too much. I am a Councilor, after all; not much in the way of power, but there is some leeway built in.
"Yes. You know who, and what they’re doing. Muhmis is fighting that, and some other stuff…"
He nods, his eyes darkening. "I know. Truly. Can’t talk about it, but I know."
"Oh?" I look over at him, and reach out for his hand.
"Yeah. So, I understand, kinda. It’s just hard sometimes, Mama…"
"Ach, that’s what they all say… men, schmen…" I imitate Jenny’s heavy New Yawk accent, and we laugh together, his husky baritone and my lighter contralto mixing. "Come on, let’s go eat. We can talk more, if you want to, whenever you want to. Although I must say, I’m more of an evening person, if you catch my drift, young man…"
"Yeah, yeah… but so’s Alexandra," Patrick chortles, blushing as he realizes what he just said. I squeeze his upper arm, feeling the smooth strength of muscle beneath the sweatshirt, and laugh softly.
"Gwen is any time at all… in fact, I just managed to escape her this morning, so I could come talk with you…"
He looks down, still blushing. I roll my eyes. "Hey, Patrick, if we’re going to be friends, you have to get over this embarassment thing about me and sex."
"You’re a good one to talk. That one vidshow Alexa brought back from the PrimeLine had you hiding your face, and your ears turned crimson…"
"Well… I just never saw anything like that in all my born days. I didn’t know you could do some of the things they were… well, doing. In a manner of speaking. Gads… that was embarassing. You can’t tell me you didn’t blush at all, kiddo…"
"Not as much as you, Madame Most Fair Complected… you and Alice about had a ‘conniption fit’, or something…" Laughing, arm in arm, we walk back to the building, and breakfast.
**
I close down the connection and begin to smile. Then I begin to laugh.
Alice shivers a little and looks up from her desk. "Who got skinned?" she says.
"Alexis," I say, and my laughter peals out over the office. "He just doesn’t realize it yet, and oh, how surprised he’s going to be."
"You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?" she asks, smiling at me.
"Oh, yes. He shouldn’t have tried to push me. Everyone who’s ever tried that has ended up sorry and sore, or very dead. Alexis is a very formidable fellow, but he just doesn’t know where to stop – and I got a number of others to agree that he has to be shown some limits. It didn’t occurr to him that even people who agree with his policies might want him slapped down." I snarl, loud and harsh. "Had to pay for it, but I got the support I need. Now it’s all over but the gloating. Until next time, of course."
Alice shivers again, and smiles; I cut back my pheromones. She’s not really frightened though – or rather, she is but she’s not mentally frightened; she knows the aggression isn’t directed at her. And she enjoys the physical sensations a bit, knowing she’s safe. Like being on a roller-coaster, as she put it.
"Let’s go for a walk," I say. I had to pay a price for this, but I won… there are times I’d like to just blow the link with the Prime Line, though. There are a hundred thousand of us here now, and a full tech base – and it would be impossible to reestablish, if we didn’t put out a beacon… oh, stop daydreaming, Ingolfsson.
Fall is a lovely time of year here in the Bluegrass, and most of all in the evenings. Indian Summer, the local humans call it; full of a lingering light and old magics. One of the house dogs drops in beside us as we leave the west-wing exit; it’s a retriever, mostly May’s, looking bored and friendly and waving its feathered tail. The gardens have a few lingering flowers, and I nod as we pass a gardner raking faded-gold leaves into piles like a child’s picture of pirate treasure. The lawns have that last burst of greenness that comes with the first frosts. I take the cool-musty scent of it, a long deep breath. We walk down the tree-lined lane to the Quarters, nodding now and then to passers-by, a farm-wagon, a floater full of vegetables going up to the manor. Along the way we pass a plow-team resting by the edge of the field before calling it a day, and the scent of the dark-browned turned earth in the furrows is as rich as new bread, mingled with the sweat of horse and human. The plowman bows, and I nod – so does Alice, a little regally.
The Quarters are a little village now, with several hundred estate-saafn; there’s a generation coming up born here, or raised most of their lives. There are tree-lined streets of stone-and-tile cottages with lawns and kitchen-gardens out back; brick sidewalks and glowglobes, a church – several, in fact – school, a clinic and town hall with swimming pool, tennis courts and stage for amateur theatricals, besides the utilitarian buildings on the other side of the creek. Folk are bustling about the green square in the center of town, children playing on the grassy center around the empty white bandstand; May’s dog exchanges whuffles and sniffs with the mutts chasing frisbees and tumbling-wrestling with the young saafn. There’s a crowd in the bleachers at the school, watching a Little League game, and another in the Bluegrass Arms – there’s a big holoprojector in the taproom, and I can hear a massed groan as they follow a football match somewhere. I’m down here fairly frequently, on business, or sometimes to take my pleasure with a saafn who’s caught my eye, and everyone knows Alice as well. A ripple of informal-level bows accompanies me, but nobody intrudes; some of the people on the verandahs call greetings. Here the smells are more of woodsmoke from the chimnies, heathy humans, and the evening meal cooking.
"Pat’s a bit different, since you got back from the Space Force training center in Tennessee," Alice says.
I nod. "We had a bit of a crisis, but it was resolved fairly well," I say.
"Erin told me," Alice says. "It’s not an easy time of life… I talked it over with Alexa, too."
"No," I agree. Good to hear she did, I think. Alexa’s close to bother of them – even closer than I was to Marya. They can talk over more, and more frankly. "Not easy for either of them, but I think they’re bonding very well now. I’m glad; I like the boy."
"Me too," she says. "He’s a right bloody pain now and then, but that’s just spirit."
I nod again. "Alexa rides him with a lighter rein than I would, but it seems to work," I say. "We’re still working out how… things will be arranged here on Earth/2."
We come to a pond, a little lake I had made by damming a stream – crik, they call it here. It’s a teardrop shape of blue deepening to indigo as the sun sinks, turning the high billowy clouds in the west to salmon-pink and cream-white. Alice and I sit on a log bench under a babylonica willow and watch fish jump after insects – the mosquitos don’t bother us, I smell wrong and the new genegeneered version we’ve spread here won’t bite humans, either. The rings of water ripple out in a soothing symmetry; a flight of ducks comes in, V-formation, and lands. Their wakes are a series of smaller V’s. I look up; a few stars are coming out, though a human wouldn’t see them yet. On its hill the manor lights are a blaze of color, looking out over the quiet landscape. I can hear birds, small beasts, a deer further away, the lumbering scuffle of a bear in the woods a quarter-mile to the south – this district is beginning to get a decent amount of wildlife back, now that it’s all under Draka settlemement. Lights go by overhead, aircars and heavier lifters; I can see the fast-moving glow of half a dozen orbital habitats, as well.
Alice sighs and leans her head against my shoulder. "Pretty," she says.
We kiss, and I stand, pulling her up. "Dinnertime," I say. "You’ll eat with me tonight."
**