Chapter 2

**

The weights clank down softly as I finish the set, and I sit up, stretching. Man, that burn feels good, I think to myself, looking in the mirror. My arms bulge slightly, and the situps have definitely smoothed my abs. Not bad for a fifteen year old human, eh? I grin to myself. Then look down. Ooops. Glad no one else’s in the gym. An irrepresably horny fifteen year old guy’s grinning at me in the mirror. I need a cold shower, and bad…

After the shower, I wrap a terrycloth robe around me and pad back into the gym, picking up my clothes as I go. Mama always insists that I do that, and it bugs the hell out of me. But I do it, anyway, even though the servants are supposed to. There are some perks associated with being the personal saafn of Alexandra Ingolfsson, Mama, I think crossly. Why can’t I enjoy all of them?

I smell better now, although my sweat doesn’t stink, I muse; but clean is better, I guess. I drop the soggy workout clothes into the hamper in the dressing room, and get back into my regular tunic and shorts. I like the blue and gold colors, and the Archonal fist is cool. I pull the tunic over my head in one movement, and jump into my shorts. Sandals next—I wonder if the fish we caught is ready for dinner yet? I’m starving.

The path to the main House here on Andros is shaded by swaying palm trees; the pine needle mulch underfoot is fragrant with woodscent. Over everything is the tang of the ocean, something that’s always stirred a longing in me, some kind of feeling like I want to go somewhere, an adventure. I wish I could be a hobbit, or one of those cool elves in the Lord of the Rings. Or Strider. I’d show that Dark Lord a thing or two. Give me a sword, and I’d… I pick up a handy branch, the length of my arm, and begin slashing, parrying invisible opponents, whirling… "Ha! Take that, orc! Want some, you Nazgul? Here…"

"Oho…a swordsman," chuckles a velvety bronze voice, and I freeze, feeling my face redden. Muhmis stands, leaning against a palm, hands in pockets of khaki trousers, her long red hair falling over a shoulder. Her white linen top seems startlingly bright under the shade, and I feel warmed by her grin.

"Um…" I dig a toe into the mulch, "sword" behind me.

"Your reflexes are quite good, Patrick. Would you seriously like to learn some patterns with a real sword?" She walks up to me and smooths my hair back from my forehead with a finger. I tremble, not wanting to show how much she affects me. It’s not fair! Hell, all I have to do is be around a girl, or even a couple of the House guys, and then things happen…

"Um…yeah. I mean, yes, Muhmis, that would be boss." My voice squeaks on the last word, and I blush even more.

Another dulcet chuckle. "Good. I’ll be glad to show you some moves. Speaking of… You are becoming quite the little stallion, aren’t you, my boy?" Her hand reaches down and cups me, and I jump, my mouth opening and closing.

Oh, gods, can it be? I mean, Alexa and I have played a lot, and had fun, but her? Oh, jeezie petes… what do I do? I feel my body hardening under her hand, and look up into green eyes, alight with amusement and arousal. "Uh…muhmis? I… that is…I, um…"

Her lips come down on mine, and I feel her leg behind me, tripping us backwards, onto the soft covering of the path. Muhmis’ weight comes down on me, so heavy; her body moving, driving me wild with desire… her tongue probes my mouth, and I respond readily, remembering kissing Alexa…

I stop, suddenly aware I’m making out like a mad mink with my owner’s mother…her mother, for god’s sake…Muhmis looks down at me, a slight frown on her tanned face. "What’s wrong, pretty buck?"

"Um…" Uh-oh, I think. My body has had a reaction all its own. Damn… "Muhmis…sorry…"

She thrusts with her hips, testing, and then throws her head back, laughing. Her voice rings through the palm grove, and thrills my heart, too. Like elven trumpets or something, ringing through Mirkwood. "Ah, poor Patrick. A little too quick, hmm? That’s all right, my pretty buck. There are other ways to please me. I’m sure Alexa wouldn’t mind," she murmurs, tongueing my ear. I shiver with delight. She moves so that she’s standing above me, and steps out of the khaki pants, and her undergarment.

I look up, with wonderment, as she straddles me, knees on either side of my head. Her fingers link behind my head, and I’m brought up to meet her coming down. "Ready to be a sweet pony, Patrick? I think so…ahhh…" She arches above me as I go to work, enveloped by her scent, her arousal, my growing hardon. Oh, gods, she’s stronger than Alexa…can I keep up? : the last coherent thought I have for quite some time.

The shadows are longer by the palms when she lets me rise from her; we’ve been doing the frisky for what seems like hours. I’m exhausted…I really, really hope Michelle in the kitchen doesn’t remember we have a date tonight. I don’t feel up to it. I sit, naked as the day I was born, on the path, watching Muhmis. She grins at me, chucks me affectionately under the chin, and nods toward our clothes. "Dress me, sweet boy."

I scramble to obey, hearing the command in her voice. Some tiny part of me growls at that, and I shush it, like I’ve learned to do. It doesn’t make it go away, though. It’s just hidden. I hope it doesn’t ever just pop out. That could be… icky. I dress Muhmis, and then myself, as she watches, occasionally smiling. Her leaf green eyes seem to be mesmerizing; I could stare into them for days, I think, as I tug my tunic back on.

"Turn around, dear boy…" I do so, and feel her brushing her hands through my hair, down my back. "There…now you won’t carry half the path back with you. Ready for dinner?"

"Oh, am I ever, Muhmis," I laugh and she joins me. Arm in arm, we walk up the path towards the House. The crepe myrtle trees are blossoming, and their perfume seems to float on ahead of us as we go. The sky’s getting darker now, cobalt blue, and the sun’s getting ready to set along the western beaches. We pause, as the sun goes, impossibly fast, below the horizon. The twilight descends, and as she and I walk up the back stairs to the House, I can smell the swordfish, grilling; my mouth waters.

**

The sky’s black now, except for the panoply of stars above…I sigh and lean back in the lounger. Homework’s done, finally, even though Mama had to help me with the last four problems. At least she doesn’t snicker at me like Alexa does sometimes. That’s embarassing. I’ll get this navigation thing down, soon, too. I like the math involved, but I hate having to spend the time doing the stupid homework problems. Oh, well, into each life some homework must fall.

I can’t believe this afternoon happened. I had sort of fantasized about it, but never thought she’d mount me… I figured I was Alexa’s. She wears me out enough as it is; I hope to all the gods above and below that both of them don’t start after me. I grin, slightly, and stretch tired muscles. I wonder what all that talk was tonight, over dinner?

Mama, being one of Muhmis Gwen’s Councilors, does a lot of different things for her. I like following her around sometimes, watching Mama at work. She has some way of getting everybody to work together, like a football team or something. I think she really likes that. But they got into some deep discussion about the Samos, tonight, which is rare. I wonder what Samos are really like? I mean, I’ve seen the educational tapes on them in school now, but I wonder what they’re like in person. Mama was so surprised over some offer that they’ve made, and I think Muhmis Gwen was, too. They ended up using a private link on their transducers; I wince, remembering the twinge of warning pain I got when I tried to break in and listen. Teach me to do that again… or at least I’ll learn how to do it and not get caught. There must be a way…

"Pat?" Ariadne’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I turn my head, looking toward her voice in the night.

"Yeah, squirt?"

"Hey, you’re supposed to call me Missy Ariadne." She comes to stand next to me, fists on hips. I need to remember she’s hitting those uneven teen years, I think, and smile, inwardly—I’m in those damn years, too, y’know.

"Yeah, yeah…in public, squirt. What’d you want, Ariadne?"

"Are you grumpy tonight?"

"No. Why?" I sit up, looking her full in the face. Her eyes glint as the lights from the House hit them.

"I wondered if you’d come play Dungeon Keep with me before bed. Please? Tantie-ma Erin said okay, if you said okay. Say it, Pat!"

"Okay!" I get up off the lounger and take her hand, and we walk up the stairs, into the house. "Got the program set up?"

"Oh, yeah, it’s all ready. I want to be an elf. What are you gonna be?"

"I think…" I pause, thinking. What do I want to be? "I’ll be a human this time… come on, let’s go find some treasure!"

**

"You what?" Alexa laughs, after a six-second lag; they’re closer now, but not within Luna’s orbit. Space travel within the solar system is surprisingly fast, when you can boost at a steady 1G. An hour to Luna, two days to Mars with the planets in their present positions.

"Had your Patrick," I say over the holo. It’s sending from her stateroom on the Archonal space-yacht; she’s lying on the bed while Vicki massages her back. "I hope you don’t mind; it was an impulse."

Her eyes narrow for a moment, instinctively testing if this is a status matter; I let mine shift, ever so slightly, smiling to myself. My little girl is growing up.

"Well… no, but it would be sort of nice if you asked me first," she says. "He’s mine, after all. I’ll be home in the morning. And I had plans for Pat."

"It’s rechargable," I say, winking broadly. "I was just curious; I will ask you first if I ever want to ride him again – word of honor. You might want to put a don’t-touch code on his transducer, though. He’s old enough now, and he’s quite pretty."

"Oh, yeah," Alexa grins. Vicki closes her eyes, smiles, and makes a mmmm-hhhmmm sound, then chuckles. "I’ll do that first thing," Alexa says. "Vicki, too… there, it’s done." She closes her eyes for a second. "There, relaying to EarthNet to put it on Pat’s."

"I take it Stormbringer is shaping well?" I go on. First memet-hulled ship built on Earth/2… built at Moonbase Alpha, actually.

"Like a dream, Mom – utterly boss, I tell you soothly."

I hide another chuckle. Picking up the local teenage slang. Well, she is a local teenager – sometimes I’m a little startled at how different the younger generation here are from their counterparts on the Prime Line. Very Draka, but with a different… accent. Well, we may not be as variable as humans, but our upbringing does affect us.

"How’s things been going Archon-wise?" she says.

"I’ve had some rather intriguing news from Alexis," I say. "The negotiations with the Samothracians have taken a new turn; either they’re going to break down completely, or we may have a genuine long-term agreement. It all depends on how we react, and he wants a conference of the Archons to go over it."

"Wish we could just conquer them," she says, scowling.

"Hey," Vicki cuts in, with a slap between her shoulder-blades. "Cut it with the tension! I might as well be rubbing coconut oil into Mount Rushmore."

"Sorry, sweetie," Alexa says, relaxing.

"I wish we could too," I say. "But it’s no go. With the moleholes, we’ve got plasma-guns to each other’s heads." Not so much invasions by fleets, but throwing through asteroids punched up to relativistic velocities. One wouldn’t be a problem, but a shower could be very nasty. "I’ll give you a briefing on it when you get back, if you’re interested in anything but wearing Pat to a nub."

"After that," she says. "Got to have a sense of priorities."

"Service, Alexa."

"Glory, Mom."

She pulls Vicki down beside her and cuts the transmission; I sigh and shake my head. And that reminds me.

Ariadne?

Hi, mom! Just got killed out of the game, dammit. Bunch of orcs jumped me.

Then come on down.

I pour myself another VSOP Cognac and then a second glass. My younger daughter – well, Kleo is six days younger, but she’s being raised by Tamar and she’s taking the Rohm name – comes in; her scent still has a gingery-salt tang from the excitement of the game, almost like fight-aggression but without the same hard dangerous edge, and her copper-blond hair is bristling. Ariadne looks startled when I hand her the brandy, then smiles as she realizes she’s being treated like an adult. Which she isn’t, not yet, but she’s not quite a child any more.

"Take a seat, my heart," I say. "We’re going to have a little talk."

"Uh… sure, Mom." She sits across from me; the study has French doors like most of the personal suite on the third floor of the Andros house, but they’re broken up by blocks of bookcases and paintings.

"I’ve been thinking about yesterday," I say. "That pheromone surge."

"Um, like, I’m sorry," she flushes, looking surly and abashed at the same time. "I’ve been keeping it under control, really. Mostly."

I smile and nod; she’s been trying hard… although a minor snit last week had her panicking a whole street in Nassau with a blast of aggression-terror.

"You’re not here to get a dressing-down, Ari," I say gently. "I’ve just realized that you’re maturing fast and there are a few things we have to get straight. You’re starting to get interested in sex, aren’t you?"

She flushes bright red, turning her tan a bronze color, and looks aside. "Ummm… yeah. Sort of. Just thinking about it, mostly. A lot more often in the last month or two."

"Perfectly natural," I soothe. "I take it you haven’t mounted May yet?"

"No!" She takes a deep breath and forces relaxation on her body; I nod approvingly at her control. "Well, I… I sort of kissed her the other day. She liked it," she adds defensively. "I was the one who stopped."

"At a guess, because she’d have been happy just to liplock half the night, and you were thinking about riding the pony," I say.

"Yeah… well, I felt sort of mixed up about it. I like May, more than anyone – anyone my age – but all of a sudden it was like I wanted to… to, I don’t know, grab her, squeeze her…"

"Ari, that’s all right," I say. "You own her, you have a perfect right to take her for pleasure. You’re very close, so I’d be surprised if you didn’t start with her. There are certain things you should remember, though."

"Well, Mom, I did take the usual courses," she says, rolling her eyes slightly. "You know, downloads, lectures, holos, the whole nine yards."

"That’s theory," I say, and hold her eyes. "This is you."

She nods. "Yup," she admits. "It all seemed so… theoretical. ‘Till now. OK, enlighten poor little me." I wag a finger, and she grins and spreads her hands. "No, just kidding – I really am listening. I want to… to do the right thing."

"First, you have to remember that humans develop a bit differently. You’re getting the first trickle of libido now; it’s going to hit you like a ton of cement over the next couple of months. It never goes away, but you learn to deal with it; that takes time, though. Humans – particularly females – develop more… gradually, especially right after menarche. You can compel desire with the pheromones, her receptors will be open now, but it wouldn’t be good for May if you tried to make her take the full brunt of satisfying you. An adult couldn’t, and for her it would be far too… stressful."

"Ummm… yeah, I see your point," she says. "I wouldn’t want to hurt May; we’re buddies. Besides, she’s Tantie-ma’s daughter."

I nod; that was one reason I wanted them raised together, for her to develop empathy with her saafn. And she loves Alice and Erin both.

"Be very gentle with May," I say. "Firm – it’s her duty to serve you -- but gentle. Court her a little; take things slowly, make sure she’s comfortable with what you’re asking of her. That’ll be important to your long-term relationship with her; you’re not children any more, but there’s no reason you can’t stay close. Even closer, come to that, and there’s no greater fun in bed and out than a saafn who’s really devoted to you. But that means you have to think about them, too."

Ariadne nods slowly. I go on: "Being considerate is a lot easier when you’re not screaming with lust, of course, so you’re going to need other outlets. You’ll have the run of the Household and estate saaafn, whenever the impulse takes you, that goes without saying."

In theory, anyone who doesn’t have a hands-off marker on their transducer… and Alice and Erin, of course, that would be too much like incest.

"And unclaimed humans, come to that. But you should have a few more of your own. Your birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks; think about it. I’ll be giving you two; Christina Bengitsson, and Hans Singh, but there are others if you’ve got any objections."

Christina is my herd-manager’s daughter on the estate in Kentucky, and Hans is the grandson of my tame physicist from before the Arrival. Both intelligent and sensible, and they’ve been around Ariadne since her birth, if not as closely as May. A good career move for them both, too.

"Hmmm… Christina’s fifteen," Ariadne points out.

"Yes, she is; and Hans will be in six months," I say. "You’ve got to learn to dominate adult humans, you know – ones you weren’t hand-raised with. Breaking them in will be good practice; and being a little older will be a positive advantage when it comes to using them for pleasure. Train them to suit you. They’ll be useful for other things as well; they’re bright and well-educated."

Ari’s eyes light slightly; she’s a sweet-natured girl, but Draka to the core. A challenge is irresistible. In a year or two she’ll probably have a lover at school, as well; but that I can leave to her own good judgement and her peer-group. Aquick hug, and she’s gone…

I sigh and finish my brandy, and call to the kitchens for a snack. Erin comes in and joins me as the houseboy leaves.

"Well, how’d it go?" she says, nibbling at some antipasto and taking a glass of the white wine. It’s from Gwendolyn Hall; the vineyard there is turning out quite drinkable stuff now. Gods know, it was a struggle.

"Well enough," I say, taking a roll of smoked ham and melon. "She’s a good-hearted youngster, even if she’s getting a bit moody – only to be expected— and she really cares for May. Now you have to have your little chat with May. Don’t delay or it’ll be ex-post-facto. Tomorrow morning would be a good idea."

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Part of being a parent, I guess. Alice and I’ll gang up on her." A slight wince. "We did for Ruthann, a long time ago…" She shakes off the memory and changes the subject: "Have you been thinking about the treaty proposals?"

"Trying not to, with this family stuff on my platter," I say, crunching an olive. Erin always winces a little when I do that. "The conference is in a month; I’m going to take a few days to let my subconscious mull it over, then start consulting with my Councilors – you , Tom, Dianne, Jennifer— and some selected Directors… Tamar, Gunnar, a few others."

She nods. "It certainly needs careful consideration," she says. "I’m still a little shaken by the implications."

**

I brush the dark blonde bang from my eyes, and look over at Gwen, sitting in her tall-backed leather chair. The fire glowing in front of us feels good; the night air on Andros can get downright chilly at times. "I’m still not sure what to think, Muhmis…"

"It is surprising, isn’t it? The Samothracians wanting to open emigration to Samothrace, for select humans here on Earth/2, and some from Earth/3… I was even more surprised that Alexis didn’t reject that at the start. That in itself is surprising. But the détente is important to maintain, especially now, Erin. You know that…" Her leaf green eyes stare into the embers, and I see the flames reflected in her gaze.

"Yes… I know. With the Space Force getting ready to expand beyond Mars and the Moon here… and maybe to Mars on Earth/3, we can’t afford an all-out war, or even the occasional incident. That would be painful. But… I don’t know. Even their insistence on being able to pick and choose among the applicants. That’s sort of distasteful to me. But then again, so are the Samos… " I shake my head. "Is it really ‘freedom’ they’re offering?"

"No, I don’t think so. Not according to your cultural definitions. Their militants were probably sure we’d reject the offer, giving them ammunition… and politically speaking, they have everything to gain and nothing to lose by offering. They’re certainly going to exert control over who is accepted, though. Their culture has evolved into a very, hmmm…how would you say it? A very ‘white bread’ culture… they don’t want a lot of variety, that’s for sure. And they want to make damn sure we’re not sending agents, moles, sleepers…"

I look over at her, considering. "But with the technology both groups have, wouldn’t picking them out be easy? I guess they don’t want a lot of minorities to apply, just like it was in the Prime Line, when they left before…I guess nonconformists and such wouldn’t fit in to their idea of a happy little country."

"Correct."

"Is the Council going to authorize it? The emigration, that is?"

Gwen stands, stretching. "As far as I can determine, having polled a few people I know, it seems likely. Another task for us to set up, Erin. But we have time; time to think, time to plan. And speaking of time, are you ready for bed?"

I grin, feeling the blush creep up my throat. "Yes, Muhmis…" Hand in hand we walk from the library, up the stairs, to her bedroom.

**

"Remember that first time, when I carried you in?" I say, sweeping her up in my arms at the entrance to the suite.

"Oh, yes," she replies, nibbling at my neck.

A cat flees, cursing "bad… bad…" as I toss Erin down on the bed; a descendant of those Persians Alexis gave Ariadne… gods, it’s almost twelve years ago now.

"Time flies," I say; I shuck out of my robe and leap onto the bed over her, sink down, crush her lips under mine, let my weight press her into the softness of the mattress. She squirms beneath me, gasping to catch her breath, quivering, arching up against me.

I run my fingers into her shirt while I kiss her, then tense them and rip. Buttons pop and fabric shreds like paper. Two swift jerks and she’s naked to the waist.

"You’re in an emphatic mood tonight, aren’t you?" she says, breathless.

I nod, and move my fingers inside the waistband of her khaki shorts, waiting a moment with our eyes locked. Then I begin to pull, steadily increasing the power as my forearms tense and her hips come up off the bed. The tough cotton twill rips suddenly; Erin squeaks as she falls back and I sweep the torn cloth up each leg and away.

"I am," I say, wolf-grinning down at her. "I’m feeling… energized. And how are you feeling, my sweet pony, my lovely mount?"

My hands grip her and squeeze; hers caress mine as I knead her. She looks good enough to devour; tanned and fit, and her scent mingles excitement and just a slight tang of apprehension. Goosebumps ripple the skin under my hands; she arches and mews as they move and probe. She knows my moods very well by now.

"Umm, how do I feel? Umm… horny… completely helpless… like I’m about to get my brains fucked out…" she says, panting a little through her answering smile.

"That for starters," I say, and my lips curl back in a growl of anticipation; I feel like a furnace is burning in my loins and belly, making me glow like a statue of red-hot bronze fresh from the casting. "Buck for muhmis, pony. You’ve got a long hard night’s work ahead of you. First, let’s hear you whinny." My hands move with ruthless precision

"nnnnnhh -- !"

**

Jennifer looks over to me, over the rim of her coffee cup. "This scheme of yours has actually been working quite well, old girl."

"Yeah, well, I’ve always had a talent for organization…" I smile back, through a yawn, and look over the chain of command schematic with my transducer. The forms seem to hang in the air just in front of me, as if I could reach out and touch them. It takes some getting used to, but with all the work I’ve been doing for Gwen over the last decade or so, I’ve grown accustomed to it.

Colored lines pulse in the air, connecting the different units. The Space Force Executive Council, composed of ex-military and civilian, half and half, overseen by a Draka Legate, is the top box, or unit. Under it are the various subgroupings we’ve found, over trial and error, that work the best. Decentralized, yet with a clear command line, the Force has become quite useful.

Holopics of the unit commanders float next to their commands. I modeled the higher commands on the old plan of administration (g-1), security (g-2), training (g-3) and supply and logistics (g-4) groupings of the American military. Each commander here is in charge of what almost amounts to a fleet admiralty command, I think. I hope they can all handle it. In addition to the staffers, there are the terraforming and strike force commands. They’re much more closely supervized by the Draka Legate; she’s attached merarchs to oversee each of the two more active commands. Their images float behind the units, reminding me visually of their constant supervision.

"Kleinberg and Holst seem to be working out well as the commanders," Jennifer points out, munching a bagel. This is a working breakfast, I remember, and butter a biscuit that’s almost too hot to hold. Juggling it back and forth between my hands, inhaling the fresh baked scent, and the coffee aroma, I nod. Jenny’s pointing, in our minds, at the two pictures next to Terraforming Command and Strike Force Command. Serious faces, a woman and a man, look out at us, eyes level and almost challenging.

"Yeah, I’m glad. I figured Holst would, since she’s a former U. S. Army brigadier general, but Kleinberg was more of a guess. A hope—he’s an ex-Israeli paratrooper general, and more of a wild card than Holst is. But he’s taken to it like a duck to water, that’s for sure. The nucleus of his training groups helps, too—they’re all either U. S. Special Forces or British SAS types. Formerly, that is. I did have to crack down on him that once, with the bad publicity about the training deaths…"

Diane joins us. "Oh, Kleinberg? We settled him down, didn’t we, Erin?" She’s loading her plate with grits, scrambled eggs, toast…

"Yep. Once he figured out we weren’t just ‘bleeding heart’ types…" I grin. Popping the last of the biscuit into my mouth, I reach for the plate of fruit.

"Mmmm-mmmh… look at that bite mark, will ya?" Jenny laughs, pointing to my collarbone. I try to close my shirt over, covering the slight bow-shaped bruise, redder than my tan, and Diane plucks the shirt from my fingers, peering inside.

"Not the only one, either…you had an exciting night, now didn’t you, missy?" Her flashing eyes look down on me, and her grin spreads to my face. I turn crimson, but join her and Jenny in peals of laughter just as Muhmis walks in with Ariadne and May in tow.

"Morning, all," Gwen gets out, before we all crack up completely, much to her surprise. The girls look at us in wonderment—will grownups ever stop being so weird?—and Gwen comes to stand behind me. Her hands stroke my shoulders, and then she notices the bite marks, too. "Oho, I see, now… sorry ‘bout that, sweet. Got a little carried away last night, didn’t we, pretty pony?"

"Mama," chorus two voices as eyes roll heavenward. "Eeeuuwww…"

This time, all adults, Draka and human alike, laugh out loud, into the bright sunny morning of Andros Island.

**

Stormbringer is set to a truncated, round-bottomed cone as Earth Control clears us for reentry. I’m in the pilot’s couch, my eyes closed.

But how much more I can see! My transducer feeds me input from the ship, and I see/feel as the tenuous whisps of atmosphere buffet at us; I am the ship as I key in thrust to compensate. Below me Earth turns like a giant shield of blue and white, edged with fire where air is beginning to turn incandescent as it resists our passage. Weight grows on me as I vector in more thrust, building to 1.2 G – I could take far more, but there are humans and servus aboard…

Exultant, I give a long shout as we streak in a curving arc across Eurasia and out over the Atlantic. Lower now, and the black translucence of space is fading, stars dropping out around the growing circle of the horizon and then overhead as blue grows. Across the terminator, and into bright sunlight.

Airspeed approaching subsonic, the ship prompts. Fifty thousand feet below me the ocean is a mirror of hammered metal.

Initiate, I command.

I feel the change, as if my body were flowing and changing itself. The cone becomes a wedge, flipping smoothly over into aerodynamic shape.

Nose transparent, I command. Manual.

I open my eyes, squinting a little in the brightness. Everything but the deck beneath me and the bulkhead behind has vanished, only the lack of air-movement to show that there’s an inch of indestructible memet between me and the rush of thin cold air. Captain Harkness beside me is keeping his eyes closed, still in link and checking on me. I don’t mind, much. It’s his job.

"Eastern North America Control," I say. "Stormbringer here. Clearance for approach to Andros Island; course follows."

I transmit the flight path, and the Atmospheric Control receives it. "You are cleared and have priority, Stormbringer. Over."

"Thank you, ENAAC," I say. "Have a nice day."

Mother insists on politness to saafn, and I haven’t made their day any easier. I laugh to myself as I imagine passenger craft and cargo floaters scuttling out of my way… a bit tempting to bring her in on a screaming maximum-speed trajectory, like a weapons platform in the old days. But mother would nail my hide to a barn door. I love mother, but she scares me, bonzer struth.

Instead I bank the great craft in a long slow turn over Andros; there’s only the sound of cloven air in a fusion-powered momentum-transfer ship, but three thousand tons cleaves a lot of air. Then I turn and make my approach from the east, passing to the open space where the yacht can land; I reconfigure it to an oblong brick and bring her down. There’s a last crunch as the surface beneath transfers weight to the coral rock, and we’re home.

"Home!" I say. "Home and beauty, everyone!"

Harkness smiles and nods. "Interesting… training flight, uhmis Ingolfsson," he says politely.

"You mean, interesting flying with a cloned teenage Draka lunatic, Captain Harkness," I say.

He’s a fortysomething human – that’s well short of middle age these days – trim and efficient, always respectful but firm; I think he was in one of the human militaries before the Arrival, but he doesn’t talk about it. Or much of anything, outside work, altough he relaxed a bit with Tantie-Ma Alice, I think. Mother made it clear who was in charge, and he held the line, even when I pushed a little. Harkness smiles and waves towards the rear of the control cabin.

"Very well put, uhmis Ingolfsson," he says dryly. "If you’d like to disembark, I’m supposed to take this crate to Moonbase and have her checked out."

"Sure, Cap’n," I say. "Tell them from me they did a terrific job."

He nods and gives me a salute. I return it as the restraints retract and I stand up. In this configuration there’s a sloping corridor down from the control chamber to a lounge, and then another one down to the exit ramp. Alice is already there, with Rosta and Yannan pulling a floater piled high with the loot.

I love Alice, hell, I can remember nursing at her breast. And she’s damned smart, anyone who forgets that is going to get a bit of a shock… but you’d think after fifteen years of being at the top of the human status-tree, she’d have lost some of her enthusiasm for piling up stuff. Then again, we Draka like piling up status-points, too; we just do it a little differently. Vicki’s got my bag; we didn’t get much, and had what we did buy shipped.

We troop on up to the house. Everyone’s having breakfast, and it smells damned good. So do the people; I stop and give Mom a big hug, and Tanti-Ma Erin. I love her too, even if she is a bit of a worrywart. Ariadne I thump on the top of the head and grin at; she’s starting to smell a lot more like an adult, though; so’s May, human-style. There’s a noticeable difference even since I went on this trip.

"Hey, good," I say, snaffling a few of the sausages, a roll, some bacon and a piece of ham. All I had on Stormbringer this morning was a couple of high-energy ration bars; I didn’t want to miss any of the reentry.

I lick my lips and look at Pat. It’s a bit strange, still, seeing him this way. We were together all through childhood, and then one day… whuff, whuff, I remember. One day he started looking edible. It’s still a bit weird to think of Mom mounting him like that… possibly she was reminding me about the codes. That would be just like her – show you the consequences of being negligent. I supress a growl at the thought of some strange Draka taking Pat uninvited; he’s mine. Now the access codes on his transducer blink leave him alone as soon as I push for his identity. That shows through the code, of course; his name, his number, who owns him – me – and who I am.

Vicki goes over to him, mimes fainting with a wrist to her forehead, and slumps against his shoulder. "Oh, save me, Dauntless Hero! Two days on a spaceship, locked up with a horny Draka! Aiiiieeee! I perish, I fade away!"

"Fear not, maiden!" he replies, trying for a baritone and breaking into a squeak. "I shall fend her off with my…ah… sword."

Everyone laughs, me included; she clutches at him and they tussle for a moment before she takes a chair of her own. For a human, Vicki’s a complete mink; it’s one of the many things I like about her. She keeps me grounded, too. Pat and I both tend to brood sometimes, but she’s too sensible. Even at fourteen, as tantie-ma Erin says.

"Tell us about Mars," Ariadne says, and I do.

Pat and May and she all listen, and Vicki chimes in – some of it’s funny, and some of it’s awesome. Mom’s quiet, sipping her coffee and smiling at us; it’s irritating sometimes, that she doesn’t take us seriously. On the other hand, it’s still comforting. I feel adult a lot of the time, but I have to admit I’m not, really. Not ready to stand up to other Draka, certainly. Some of them, the older ones, scare the shit out of me. Particularly now, over the last couple of years, since puberty. Everything was fine while I was a kid, we Draka all love kids. But now that I scent more like a grownup, there’s an edge to them, except for some family friends like my comother Tamar. It’s great to know that Mom and she are there to back me up, and Unk Gunnar and de Lange and the others. Another seven years, and I’ll be open to challenges… gotta keep up on the unarmed combat stuff. Mom’s death on two feet at it, and she never grudges me and Ari the time to practice.

My tantie-ma’s are having a reunion, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. It’s always been great, how much they love each other and us. Jenny joshes them out of it after a while.

I’m finishing up with a description of the program I got at Marsdome, on the Europa Project. "Going to blow up the whole damned moon," I say. "And hell, it’s bigger than Luna! Then they’ll set up a big mass-driver, and send lumps of it off in an endless stream towards Mars. Sized so they’ll burn up in the atmosphere; it’s mostly water-ice."

Pat whistles. "They’ll have to use antimatter for that," he says.

"Not just a pretty face," I say, and leer a bit at him. He goes on: "Didn’t they do something like that on the Prime Line, muhmis?"

Mom nods. "Bit by bit, and much more slowly," she says. "We didn’t have the drives and powerplants Space Force here is getting until well after the Mars terraforming project there. It should go much faster here – no more than a century until there’s breathable air there, and oceans."

I nod; it was exciting, watching the big mirrors under construction in Mars orbit. Those will heat the planet up, melting the C02 and the water, cooking gasses out of the rocks. Titian will furnish the nitrogen and stuff.

"Anyway," I end, "It’s certainly big."

"Yeah," Pat says, looking dreamy.

"And we can talk about it more at dinner," Mom says. "Why don’t you youngsters run along until then? You’re on holiday, but we’re not. I’ve got a meeting with my Councilors after lunch, and a few things to take care of before then."

"OK," I say. "See y’all later."

Some of the older Draka – the Prime Line ones – think Mom’s strange, for relying on humans for so much advice. That is bonzer dumb, I think. Humans aren’t quite as smart as we are – IQ smart – but they’ve got great imaginations, some of them. I remember all the weird stuff Pat and Vicki came up with for us to play at while we were kids, whole worlds. I enjoyed the hell out of that, but there’s no way I could have done it by myself. Other Draka born here tell me the same thing, most of them. They think up new ways to come at things better than we do; that’s just a factoid you can’t erase.

Ari and May head off for the pool. I put an arm around Pat’s waist, hugging him close, and around Vicki’s shoulders on the other side.

"Good to be home, Pat," I say. "Missed you."

"Hey, missed you too," he says, grinning at me. I kiss him long and slow, and then Vicki does.

"Well, let’s go get reaquainted," I say, and we walk towards my rooms.

"Hell, I thought we’d fornicate like mad mink," he whispers in my ear.

"That too."

**