Chapter 6

**

The stack of notes on my desk isn’t getting any smaller, it seems, no matter how often I check one off and reach for another. I think they’re breeding or something. Sighing, I run my hands through my hair, staring at my desk. Another prompt from my transducer; this time it’s Tom. I decide to answer it. Yes?

Hi, Erin. Um… do you have the ecodiversity report ready for me to go over yet? He sounds a bit wary; I snapped Jennifer’s head off, just about, a few minutes ago. Unlike me, I think. Have to work on that, too.

No. Not yet. It’s almost ready to go, but I haven’t final checked it yet. Give me about an hour, and it’ll be waiting on your transducer’s doorstep. Promise.

Okay, thanks… an hour?

Gahhh… these people are making me meshuggeneh!! Yes, Tom, an hour, dammit!

There’s a moment of silence, in my head, and then he quietly says, Thanks. I’ll be waiting for it.

Yeah, right, I bet you will… I begin to think to myself, and stop. This stress… for the last seven weeks or so, I muse, counting backwards, this has been life. Demands, questions, stomping out little personnel fires, dealing with a teenage son and daughter, a wife who’s mad at me, a Muhmis who’s hornier than hell ‘cause she’s stressed, too… Man. This is too much. Just too much. The Archonal Council meeting here in just about twenty four hours, too. Yeesh.

My back pops as I stand up. With a sudden burst of anger, I sweep everything off my teakwood desk, into the trash bin. My assistants look up, startled. Just then, Yannan comes in, obviously in a hurry.

"Sera Erin?"

"Just Erin, doofus," I sigh, looking down at the floor, where the last of the papers are floating to rest on my loafers. "What now?"

"Well, I can’t find Ser Henry, or Sera Alice… and the local grocer just informed me there’s no more lobster, anywhere in the state… I don’t know what to—"

"Great God Almighty! All this shit, and lobster, too?!" I yell. There’s a stunned silence in the room, and then Yannan, his handsome, tanned face pale now, begins to back away, hands held out before him. His quiet sobs reach me, through my haze of tiredness and pure, white-hot anger, and I feel like a real schmuck. A jerkoid, as Patrick would say. He called me that earlier in the week when I wouldn’t let him go on a weekend skiing jaunt to the Alps with Alexandra, due to his grades…

I walk toward Yannan, and hold my hands out. He continues to back away, shaking. I realize I’ve probably just scared the living hell out of him; I’ve never, ever yelled at him like that before. I mean, this guy gets upset if I make jokes about Gwen, for god’s sake… He continues to back away, his face still pale, tears rolling down. Yannan’s whispering, and it takes me a moment to figure out what he’s saying, since he’s saying it so fast, and in between sobs.

"Please, please, … forgive me, forgive me for intruding… I didn’t know what to do, you always have the answers… please, please, please…"

I feel sort of sick to my stomach; the knot of rage unties to form a pool of shame, and I’m sinking in it, but fast. "Yannan. Yannan, listen to me, stop this. Stop it, right now."

He stiffens, standing still, his head down, hands still palm up in a gesture of supplication. I’ve been in that position before, with Gwen, I realize. It sure as hell doesn’t feel good to see it from the other side. "Yannan, I… I’m sorry. Jeezie petes, I’m sorry. I was a schmuck, a fool. It’s not your fault; you’re not in trouble. Stop, please stop, crying. I’m sorry, okay?"

He nods, but stays in the position. It’s what he’s almost hard-wired to do, I think. Not only culture but biology’s at play here. I sigh, heavily, and turn around. My crew of eight, capable, hard-working, loyal folks, are all on their feet, pale and silent. The room feels like the air before a thunderstorm breaks, and I hate it. I have to get out of this, away from it, or I’m going to go completely cattywonkers, I think to myself. "Guys, hey… we’ve all been working damn hard. I’m sorry. Yelling was unprofessional of me, and I apologize to everyone. Nothing personal, please believe that. Yannan, that means you, too. Please," I say, my voice softening as I go along. "I just… I haven’t had much sleep, I know none of has had much… I just… I need some time to myself, and then we’ll get everything wrapped up and ready for the conference tomorrow. We’re almost there… Give me a few minutes."

I walk past Yannan, almost brusquely, not wanting anyone to see my tear-filled eyes. It’s embarassing enough that I lost my temper in front of everyone. I’ve never done that; it’s as much a shock to me as to them. Once outside, I look around for any Draka, and then break into a sprint. If they saw me running, the natural impulse for them would be to pounce on me, I think, like a cat on a mouse. The years of workouts and the Citizen-level medical care Gwen gives her personal saafn pays off, and I’m down one of the dirt lanes in a flash. I run until I can’t run any more, finally coming to rest by the side of a chuckling creek. I kick off my shoes, and then strip off my sweat-soaked tunic. Tossing it on the grass, I kneel by the waterside and cry, hard and long.

The tears seem to come to an end, leaving me feeling buzzed from the run but incredibly tired. Still angry, too. Our teams have worked together so well; the Project and everything, I think; what’s changed, besides us getting older, and Peter not being here? He would have cut me off at the pass, that’s for sure, giving me some queeny put down to remind me gently that I was becoming such an ogre. Such a bitch, making Yannan cry like that… jeeze, what’s wrong with you, girl?

The fight Alice and I had last night wasn’t so great, either. Like any couple, we’ve had ups and downs, but we’ve always been able to work things out, talk them out. We’ve both been working so damn hard, and Gwen’s been kinda demanding on me, more so than on Ally… maybe some jealousy there. I don’t know. All I know is that I left work early yesterday, went home and whipped up a home cooked meal, put flowers and candles out, and was greated by a very angry Australian. She burst in the door, cussing, wanting to know why I’d shunted calls from my transducer all afternoon… I hadn’t, only while I was cooking. Then she said some things, and I said a few things myself, and I ended up storming out, leaving her amidst the shattered remains of a romantic evening. I slept in my chair in the office last night, and my back feels like it. Shit. And I wanted us to have a teeny bit of time to relax last night, just the two of us. She thought I was avoiding her, because of some reports she hadn’t finished. Man…

Patrick’s had a pickle up his butt for the last week, because of the no-go on the skiing trip. He varies between being fun and easy to talk to and being a real asshole. It makes me so confused… and May’s following right along. She and Ariadne have been either lovebirds or birds of war, and it’s a revolving stage. You never know which mood they’re in, until you say something. You get either "Ma!" or "Hmph!". Not a lot to talk about, either way. Was I that bad? It must be frustrating in the House to be unable to slam a door—they are all very politely constructed, un-slammable. They just shush shut. I’ve slammed my share of doors, that’s for sure, until Papaw made me take my door off and rehang it all by myself. That cured that

I pick up a handful of rocks and begin throwing them, with a grun of effort after each one, as far and as hard as I can, down the creek. Their splashes aren’t very soul satisfying, and I feel the strain in my back as I hurl the last one, following it with a curse Chief Gray, back on the Nimitz, taught me… a horse’s snuffle answers, and a low chuckle.

I jump and turn around, seeing Gwen, clad in riding pants and a silk shirt, astride her favorite horse, a gelding named Windfire. She’s leaning on her hands, the English saddle beneath her legs wet with sweat. Her shirt’s plastered to her, and my eyes drink in her lines. The horse walks down to the water and after a perfuntory sniff at me, looking for a cube of sugar, he dips his head to the creek and drinks, long and loud. Gwen swings off his back and lands, cat-agile, next to me, her legs flexing slightly to take the weight. "Pretty good arm you’ve got, younglin’…"

She picks up a couple of rocks and with a flick of her wrist, sends them about four times further down the creekbed than my hardest effort. The rocks skim off the water and finally plash to a landing. The horse looks up for a moment, and then continues drinking. The birds pick back up where they left off singing, and the little glade is peaceful for a moment. I’m conscious of my sweat, and Gwen’s, a sharper, different smell than mine. She smells like she does after a major workout, and a little horsey. It’s not bad, though, I think, smiling slightly. She grins back at me, sweeping stray strands of mahogany red hair from her face.

"Why so angry? I could smell that, even before I heard you, and that interesting little saying you hurled, after that last rock…" Muhmis says, one hand on her hip, the other stroking the neck of Windfire. Her leaf green eyes stare into mine, and she waits for an answer.

"Wellll…" I pause, looking for words to explain. "I just threw a hissy fit; I made Yannan cry; I shocked the hell out of my assistants; Ally and I haven’t spoken since last night, when we had the worst fight of our lives together; Patrick and May are mutating into creatures from beyond, and hate me…" I try to laugh, but it comes out as a sniff.

Gwen comes closer, and takes my hand in hers. "Stress. I know. The meeting, the thing we’re all worried about, is tomorrow. Then, afterwards…"

"What?" Her voice is cool, serious, and I look up to see her staring off, across the creek and across centuries, universes. "What then, Muhmis?"

The red hair shakes as she laughs, a long, low chuckle. "If you’d had one of your dreams, we’d both know, darlin’… No, seriously… I’m not sure. A lot depends on how things work out. But one thing for damn certain. When the meeting’s done, and all the Planetary Archons are gone, and Alexis is, too, then you and I need some time to talk, and think."

"I’m scared. Scared, tired… sore," I reply, rubbing my lower back with my free hand. She pulls me to her, and I inhale her scent, the warmth of her body somehow reassuring in the shade of the buckeye trees. She runs her hands down my back, expertly caressing, tugging. I feel tension flowing out of me, and there’s a loud pop as something shifts along my spine.

"All right? Was that painful?"

"No, not painful… the relief feels great, Muhmis… thanks," I grin up at her. Gwen reaches down and strokes the tear tracks on my face, her long thumbs leaving trails of heat behind them. Her lips touch my forehead, then my nose, finally landing on my lips for an intense, yet tender, kiss. We stand like that for what seems like aeons; my hands stroke down her flanks of their own accord, and I feel the long rippling muscles move beneath my fingers. One of Muhmis’ legs slides between mine, and she lifts me slightly. I gasp as she begins to rock me, my weight increasing the delicious friction…

**

The horse has wandered over to some grass, and is munching contentedly, yanking bits up and chewing them slowly. The sweat’s dried on his back and flanks, leaving dark patches and light. His black coat looks shimmery, I think, as I sit up from Gwen’s arms, shading my eyes. Our clothes lie strewn about the little opening by the creek. Any little critters around here must have gotten an eyeful, I smile to myself. I think I surprised Gwen with my strength, my passion. I’m usually not so… assertive. Remembering, I blush, and she slides a fingertip down my spine, tickling.

"Feel better now, my precious one?" Her voice is a mellow purr; I know I satisfied her as well as I have ever managed to do, and the knowledge makes me feel warm and gentle toward her. I nod, unable to speak quite coherently at the moment, and lie back down next to her in the grass and leafy shade. She draws a leaf stem along my breasts and we both watch my nipples harden… her head bends to me, and I groan softly, deeply. My hands run through her unbound hair, letting skeins of deep red, thick tresses web through my hands. The late afternoon sun shines through them, and for a moment, there’s just the two of us in the world, lit by gentle twilight, the sounds of birds and tinkling water weaving around us. No politics, no boundaries, no fear… just two women, two people, pleasuring and being pleasured. The time seems to drift, and I wish it could last…

I sigh, finally, and Gwen sits up between my legs. She grins, and nods her head toward the setting sun. Its fiery rays light up a bank of cumulus clouds like the pictures I’ve seen of Southwestern sunsets, lurid and delicate at the same time. The birds are quieter now, having found their perches for the evening. Windfire ambles over and nudges Gwen’s head, and she laughs delightedly, stroking his chin with a strong, tanned hand. She stands, and then easily picks me up, putting me on my feet and kissing me, long and hard.

"Time to get back to it, sweetlin’…thank you for this, these moments, Erin. I needed you," her husky whisper tickles in my ear, and shivers of delight cascade down my back. I kiss her shyly on the cheek, and she chucks me under the chin. I pick up her clothes, and dress her; she takes her riding boots and puts them in the small saddlebag on the back of Windfire. Barefoot, she vaults into the saddle, and the horse whickers happily. I dress quickly and start to walk up the path toward the road; my feet aren’t very happy in the leather loafers, and I take them off, feeling the dry dust fluff between my toes. It’s a comfort feeling, one that takes me back to innumerable walks with my childhood friend Luann, and then all the way forward in time to a walk Ruthann and I took, a few months before she and Peter were killed by the terrorists. The memory makes me stop and smile, and their faces seem to float before me.

Windfire comes up next to me, and Gwen strokes the curly hair on the top of my head. "Come on up here, Erin. Ride back with me; it’d be quite a long walk for you in the dark." The twilight deepens as she speaks and I hear the calling of whippoorwills. A few late-coming blackbirds wing over us, chittering rapidly and I watch them disappear in the purpling sky.

"Um… I’m okay… that’s a mighty big horse, Gwen…" I grin nervously up at my Muhmis, who laughs down at me. Her hand extends, commanding, and I bow my head, obeying.

"Put your foot in the stirrup, and then hold onto my hand, my pretty-girl," she says, and I do so, hoisting myself somewhat awkwardly onto the back of Windfire. He prances a bit as I settle down behind Gwen, wrapping my arms tightly around her slender waist. Her shirt smells of her, and grass, and I lean against her, relishing the heat between us. I feel her thighs move slightly and the horse begins to trot up the hillside, following the path.

Then we’re on the dirt road, and she urges Windfire into a flowing gallop that takes my breath away. Clinging to her, I shut my eyes as the trees on either side, tall black shadows now, flick by. I hear her snarl of joy, and she raises her voice to a shout of pleasure as the horse reaches its full stride, carrying us over the ground as if he was winged instead of hooved. Like riding behind Gandalf, I think, grinning. The stars are coming out overhead, and the moon’s peeking up over the horizon, orange red and almost full. I look up into the night, wondering where we’re all going, now…

**

"Where have you two been…" Alice begins, running down the stairs of the front entrance, her white dress billowing out behind her in the night breeze. I’m too breathless to answer, merely grinning down at her from behind Muhmis, who knees the horse to a canter and then to a stop before the steps.

"Riding, in one way or another, Alice my girl," Gwen jokes, one hand stroking down my thigh. I giggle, hiding my face against her back. I’m still a shy ole country girl when it gets down to it; never been comfortable doing it right in the middle of everyone’s range of sight, like the Draka and the servus seem to enjoy sometimes. Alice smiles up at us, and I notice dark smudges under her eyes. So she didn’t sleep so well either, last night, I think.

Two houseboys run up and take the head of Windfire between them; one slips a carrot to the gelding, who happily snarfs it down. Gwen brings one leg over the saddle and then springs lithely to the drive. She turns to me, as I hang on to the back of the saddle and the saddle bag, nervous, and Muhmis holds out her hands. "Come to me, my sweetlin’, ma douce," she says, and I lean toward her, trusting her to catch me before I do a faceplant on the gravel driveway.

Feeling the strength, the easy way she catches me and sets me down on the terra firma so slowly, makes me remember this afternoon, and her touch, her moving me… a blush creeps up my face, and I hear Alice chuckle at my side. "Had fun, cobber-mine?"

"Um, well, yes. At least this afternoon was fun. I wonder if any of my assistants still want to work for me, if Yannan can bring himself to be near me, and if my wife will forgive me for being a goofball…"

Alice’s crushing hug is the answer, I realize, and we stand together for long moments. Gwen strokes our heads, blonde and dark blonde together, with her hands, and then walks in the House, leaving us to some privacy. The houseboys lead Windfire away to the stables, and it’s just the two of us in the cool evening, surrounded by blooming rhodedendrons and some early lightning bugs. I nestle into Alice’s shoulder and whisper to her; her soft answers thrill my heart like nothing else in the world. We kiss deeply, and walk hand in hand up the marble steps, to our waiting dinner.

**

Ari’s eyes narrow slightly.

"Telegraphing!" I sing out, as she launches herself.

I pivot. My left hand comes up under her leg, my right sweeps across her torso, and the heartbreaking youthful grace of her motion turns into an undignified squawk-and-thump as her back hits the mat. My heel flashes down, ending with a focus-scream and the hard skin just barely touching the hollow of my daughter’s throat.

"Damn!" she spits, then grins.

I pull her up from the mats by one hand. "You’ve got to stop relying on your instincts," I say. They’re perfectly good instincts, but the problem is that we all have them. "Go work with Alexa on your forms."

She groans a little at that, but obeys. Mom, do I have to? Alexa asks, but she’s got the manners to say it privately.

Yes, you do, I reply on the same link. Teaching helps you learn.

My elder child sighs, nods, and backflips across the big room, heading for the set of reed mats by the far wall. Ariadne follows, cartwheeling. I smile to watch their flamboyance, their joy in their awakening capabilities.

Over on the next mat, Tamarindus has Schalk de Lange in a neck-breaking hold in a grapple; their bare limbs move in a final flurry, and then his palm strikes the ground in concession. They roll backward and flex-jump to their feet. Neither is marked, much – a few grazes and streaks of blood here and there. They turn their eyes on me and I nod subliminally.

Tamar comes in from the left, bouncing and then striking high towards my head. De Lange dives forward on his hands and swings his body like a scythe, coming at me low from the right. I flip backward, rolling…

Ten minutes later we’re all standing, laughing companionably; de Lange straightens a broken finger while I pop Tamar’s shoulder back into place. Marie-Claire comes forward at his nod and strips a set-film out of a dispenser to hold it more securely. She’s a little wide-eyed; a useful meditech now that Shawonda has moved up to full-fledged physician for the Household.

"I needed that," I say to my companions.

The big airy room is warm, despite the wall open to the courtyard garden. It’s classic in its simplicity, stone walls, wooden floors, exposed beams in the ceiling overhead. Racks along the walls hold weapons, and a niche has an arrangement of willow buds and iris. The air is heavy with summer scents, flowers, cut grass, sweat, the crackly scent of drakensis excitement – not quite killrage, but close enough to make my eyes sparkle and hair bristle. Along their wall my daughters are moving in perfect coordination, facing each other like images in a mirror that produces slight changes, moving blurring-fast. Good reflexes, both of them, I think.

They end with a sissssa! And a mutual strike that would cave in larynxes if it was continued, waiting like statues in the final stance, sweat sheening on bodies naked save for the memfabric shorts we’re all wearing.

"I did too," Tamar says. "This conference – " She bares her teeth in a snarl, miming frustration now rather than expressing it.

"Tell me," de Lange says feelingly; my Household security chief has been picking up local expressions. "Coordinating with everyone’s house-troops is murder. You’d think this was a war zone; the Epsilon II Archon’s people wanted to hang a bloody great warship overhead the whole time."

All five Draka walk over to the archway that leads into the tile and marble and steam of the baths; our saafn are waiting. Pat’s studying with his mother, but Alice is there to wipe me down, and May and Vicki for my daughters. We shower, swim, then relax in the hot room on the massage tables.

"Paranoia is an occupational hazard with you security types," I tease Schalk gently.

"They’re paranoid, I’m sensibly cautious," he grins back at me, as Billy-Bob kneads his shoulders.

"If you think you’re got problems, you should hear my steward," I say. "We’ll get through it."

Manfrit Gorewind, the Archon of Epsilon II, doesn’t worry me. The settlement there was always rather small – planetary ecology was harsher than anticipated – and he’ll probably go with the consensus. Felice Vashon… I think I’m confident of our agreement. Alexis… well, will be Alexis. The other three out-system Archons are the unknown factors, and my communications with them – except by courier and personal visit – have had to go through the Prime Line net.

The youngsters have tuned us out, mostly; I can hear them giggling among themselves. Carefree, I think.

**

Mom and the others get up and go out, towels over their shoulders, still talking politics as they split up. "Glad I don’t have to get that serious yet," I say.

"Harder, Vicki," Alexa says, then: "You’ve got that right, sprout. See ya at dinner." To Vicki: "Let’s go see if we can spring Pat from Chief Warden Tantie-Ma."

"You know," I say to May, "I wish she didn’t still treat me like a kid."

"Well, hell, Ari," May says. "I wish Pat didn’t treat me like a kid. Or my moms. Or… well, actually, I’m sort of glad your mother still treats me like a kid."

We laugh over that – I found out how Mom got Alexa to remember to put the no-touch on Pat’s transducer -- and head up to the second floor ourselves. I nod to some of the house-servants, but everyone’s really busy; the first of the Archons is arriving tomorrow. There’s plenty of space, the manor was built for this sort of thing, but everyone’s working really hard.

**

The night’s cool breezes feel good against my skin. I lean back against Alice, nestling my head between her ample breasts, relishing the touch. We’ve finished dinner; Gwen let us have it sent up to our rooms, and she ate with Jennifer and Tom. Yannan and Rosta served us, and I had a heart-to-heart with Yannan in our kitchen. He understands, I think, that it was a highly unusual thing, and that it wasn’t personally directed at him when I snapped out. Like a dang alligator snapping turtle, I think; I lunged out and bit the shit out of him. Hugs and kisses, and now I think we’re okay. I hope so.

The lovemaking after dinner had been exquisite; Alice at her best, and me not far behind, despite my afternoon with Muhmis. The time was well-spent; we’re both relaxed and happy now. Discussion afterwards revealed our misunderstandings and misconceptions. Laughs and sniffles followed each explanation and then more touching… I sigh, feeling all tingly, and Alice chuckles softly in the darkness. We’re stretched out on a lounger on our patio, naked to the stars above. I’m not too hip on being nude in nature; too many opporunities for scratches or other injuries to sensitive places… this afternoon was a change in that routine, though, I think, fingering some scratches along the back of my left thigh. Alice wraps her arms around me, squeezing.

"Oh, gods, Erin… this is lovely, simply bonzer lovely…" she whispers. I laugh softly, hearing her accent become heavier and enjoying her use of the current teen lingo. We were like a couple of teens, I muse, making out like mad mink.

"Yeah, love… it is," I agree, tilting my head up to see her face. "Thanks for being so, well, um, understanding, and letting us work things out. I’m sorry I was such an ogre…"

"You and me, both, lover. Sorry, too… glad we can talk things out. I was scared, last night, after you left. Didn’t sleep worth a damn, either."

"At least you had a bed. My hair may be a great office fixture, but a bed it ain’t…" I grin, stroking my hands across her arms, feeling the silky, down-soft hairs under my fingers. Her blonde hair has tumbled down over us, shimmering gold and silver in the moonlight. The scents of woodsmoke and fresh-cut grass compete for attention. The House has been all spruced up for the meeting tomorrow… today, now, I think, as I check the time with my transducer. It’s past midnight. Shooting stars sparkle the night sky, and we both gasp at the same time. "Make a wish, quick, Ally…"

"I know what I’m wishing for, lover mine…" Alice whispers to me. She kisses the top of my head and I giggle, wriggling in her arms as she explores me anew. I hear a small noise at the door and look up to see Rosta, nude in the moonlight, and Yannan, behind her. He’s caressing her, and she’s watching us avidly. She sees me looking at her, and delicately licks her lips; her hands rise up and cup her breasts, pale and full in the half-light. Her nipples are ridged, hard, and my heart lurches in my chest. Alice laughs as she discovers how excited I am… the two servus come to us, kneeling on either side of the lounger. Oh, my gawd… Hands and tongues grow busy, and the night spins into dawn.

**

Erin? Awake? Muhmis’ voice echoes in my head. I jolt awake, bumping into Yannan, who’s sprawled across me. He jostles Rosta, and the chain reaction ends with Alice yawning and wondering aloud who has ahold of her hand…

Y-y-yes, Muhmis, I think so… now. I’m awake now. I bat Yannan’s hands away from what he wants to do, grinning. He merely substitutes lips for fingers and I gasp, arching upwards. Um, I am a teensy bit… um… ahhhh… busy, Muhmis….

Oho, yes you are, my little scamp. But finish up soon, so we can eat breakfast together, all of my staff, Gwen says, her voice warm and amused. She sends me a visual; Tom is making Jennifer extremely happy, and Gwen’s enjoying them both. I blush even more deeply than I already am, and hear Alice and Rosta chuckling, echoing Gwen’s in my head.

Yes, Muhmis… give me… uhh…

Fifteen minutes for fun, then ten to get presentable. Wear your House tunic and skirt today, sweetlin’. Alice, too. Muhmis signs off and I’m left to the creative embraces of my wife and our two servants…

Twenty five minutes later, I’m sitting down at the informal dining room table, which is laden with breakfast. The smell of fresh bread makes me feel absolutely ravenous, and I break apart some rolls so hot I can’t hold them for long. The butter melts instantly, and I load my plate with some home-cured bacon, and some grapefruit as well. The orange juice is fresh-squeezed, and I snarf down a couple of glasses before staring on my food and my morning coffee. Its fragrance is heavy, and I inhale it with delight. Best coffee I’ve ever had, I think… this is PrimeLine Kenya, I do believe. Hmm… we usually just have our own version, which is almost as tasty. This is a special day, though. I’ll be damn glad when it’s over…

"Me, too, my pretty-girl," murmurs Gwen, leaning down to kiss me firmly. "Did you have enough time, darlin’, for everything?"

"Mmmh-hmm." I kiss her back, and she purrs, deep in her chest. She’s got her hair tied back tightly today; the angular planes of her face show clearly in the morning light, and her eyes sparkle, light green, with flecks of deeper color within them. Wearing her formal blacks, too, I notice. The gold piping along her collar, and the ruby dragons, are set off well by the deep ebony color of the fabric. Her boots shine; someone’s spent some time polishing those.

Jennifer sits down next to me, giving me a companionable peck on the cheek; Tom sits across from us, with a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. We’re all wearing our formal Ingolfsson saafn House tunics, with gold and blue piping down collars and sleeves, around the cuffs. It’s understated, for Draka tastes, but then again, so’s Gwen, for a drakensis. Tom winks at Alice, who caresses me as she sits down; she hands us a bowl of fruit. I select an orange, and a couple of kiwi, and snarf them down, too. I’ve already cleared my plate once. The coffee service comes around again, and I enjoy my second cup of the day.

"Well, now that we’re all here," Gwen begins, eyeing Diane, who scoots in hurriedly, buttoning her tunic up as she sits down with us, "let’s go over what’s going to be on the agenda today. This is important, I don’t think I can emphasize that enough, and I expect everything to go well. It would not please me if something didn’t…"

We all pale slightly at her expression. I find my orange peel very interesting all of a sudden. God, I hope everything goes well, after all the work we’ve done, getting ready for this day. If it doesn’t… I shiver. Gwen goes on, smoothing her linen napkin along one thigh:

"In a few minutes, twenty three to be exact, the Planetary Archons from the Prime Line, and Earth/3, will be arriving, as well as the Archon, himself. Planetary governors from Mars and the Moon will be here, too. We’ll be using the main conference room; Erin, you’ll attend the meeting. The rest of you will be on hand, in case I need more information or clarification. Understood?" We all nod.

Sipping her steaming coffee, she smiles. "You’ve all done a wonderful job setting things up; I went over the reports last night, and everything seems to be in order. Basically, your work is done. For lunch, I’ll expect all of you to attend to the guests; after lunch, and any, ah, entertainment, we’ll be reconvening and finishing the conference. Some of them may stay the night; I know Tamarindus will be, and Gunnar Glynsson… not sure about the other’s plans."

Diane is blushing furiously; she and uhmas Gunnar have been known to tear it up on occasion. I shiver, thinking of Alexis’ eyes on me the last time I met him. Oh, gods, I hope he doesn’t request me… maybe I’ll be too busy doing something for Gwen, or something… Gwen looks from Diane to me, her smile growing as she enjoys our obvious reactions.

"This conference will set the pace for development here; it will also either make me very powerful, more powerful than the Archon on PrimeLine, or… not. I think I know how it will go, but chance is always there. We’ve all been a bit tense the last few days, haven’t we?"

There’s a general chuckle of agreement around the table, and Jennifer toes me gently. I hang my head, blushing, and the chuckle grows into good-natured laughter. "I think we’re all more relaxed now, Muhmis, dear," Jenny says, eyeing me cattily.

"I certainly hope so," Gwen returns, her eyes running over me. The others laugh more, enjoying it. I know it’s partly to enjoy my discomfort, but if that’s the extent of their revenge, that’s fine with me. I hold up my hands, surrendering.

"Yeah, yeah… I was an ogre, and I’m sorry. I’ve apologized; now can everyone forgive and forget?"

"Forgive, certainly… forget? Hmmm… I might take some more convincing," Jennifer says and Tom chimes in:

"Me, too…"

I roll my eyes, and my friends laugh; Gwen is devouring her breakfast with her usual gusto. Cinnamon buns are passed around; I notice Mavis started them at my place, and look up into her inscrutible gaze. To my surprise, she winks, once, so fast I wonder if I saw it at all. Her hand brushes against my shoulders, and I pluck two of the steaming buns from the plate. She knows they’re my favorite morning treat, too. If they had started down by Gwen, we probably would have gotten some cinnamon-flavored crumbs, though; Muhmis likes them more than I do. I grin, enjoying the buns, and the warmth that Mavis’ kind thought leaves behind.

The breakfast is over far too soon, as the first aircars whip by overhead. Gwen rises, tossing her napkin down on the table, and gestures for me to follow her. We walk together, me a step and half behind her, to the right, down the marble-flagged walkway to the landing pad. It’s starred with tiny red and white flowers, a tough organic mat, and the smell of peppermint is strong as the first craft lands gently. The honor guard, the ghouloons all brushed out neatly, stands ready; the Space Force major looks nervous in her dress blues, but she snaps out the commands clearly.

Felice Vashon walks from the aircar, eyes roving over the grounds. They meet Gwen’s, and there’s an electric moment of silence between the two Draka. I kneel by Gwen’s side, bowing; hands in front of my face. I wait for my Muhmis to command me to rise, and study the flowers at my feet. Their tiny florets are multicolored, I realize, but the red and white seem to be the main hues. The breeze carries sounds from the farms beyond, and the ghosts of children laughing on their way to school. I hear a hawk cry, far overhead. The two drakensis stand facing each other, and the tension that’s there frightens me.

"Service to the State, Planetary Archon Ingolfsson."

"Glory to the Race, Planetary Archon Vashon," Gwen replies, her voice carrying overtones I can’t interpret. The two move together suddenly, and for a moment I’m afraid they’re going to fight or something. I catch my breath sharply, and then realize they’re exchanging wrist clasps. "Welcome to Gwendolyn Hall, Felice. I’m glad you could make it."

"Lovely place, truly, Gwen. Big, too…" Felice looks around, eyes taking in the beauty of Gwen’s Landholding. "Pretty flight over, this morning, from the Arrival Point."

"Yes, I thought this area was nice. Good horse country, and you know how I enjoy them. I’ll have to show you my herd, after the meeting, perhaps, or after lunch… rise, Erin d’Ingolfsson." Gwen pats me gently on the head with her hand, and I stand, smoothly, at her side. My eyes stay cast down, though, as she’s taught me. Protocol means so much to these people; I don’t want to mess up, I think silently to myself. Tom’s better at this stuff than I am

"Pretty, indeed. One of your favorites, I’m sure," murmurs Felice. Her steel-hard hand reaches out and jerks my chin up, so that I’m looking directly at her. Cool grey eyes look into mine, and the sense of being sized up like one of Gwen’s stud horses or mares comes to my mind. "Archaics tend to be so variable in looks, but this one’s certainly a pretty-girl."

"Pretty-girl with a good brain," Gwen says, a smile on her face but a slight warning tone to her voice. "And yes, she happens to be my favorite human saafn. Very important to the success of the Project, actually, and to the peaceful Arrival here."

"Hmm. Death-duel on her, too. You must be serious, then. You Ingolfssons always tend to be so sentimental about saafn, though." Felice smiles back, a bareing of the teeth. Her eyes don’t smile and I shiver, in her grip. She looks back at me, and drops my chin. Giving me a last look up and down, she turns to her serfs, waving them up and forward. "This one’s one of my favorites; Hela. He’s been part of my staff for over twenty years. The others are merely playthings; I prefer servus to archaic, unless I’m in the mood to ride a wild pony."

Hela bows; auburn hair, short on top, long on the sides, imitating the popular style amongst Draka, bobs in the sunlight. Gwen smiles at him, looking him over cooly. His skin’s milk-white; eyes black as night. He makes me think of a vampire, I realize, and I’m damn careful not to subvocalize that thought. He looks at me, or rather, through me, and his smile is as cold as his owner’s. Hmmm. This will be an interesting day, for sure, I think to myself.

Gwen’s voice in my mind: Don’t mind him; he’s merely doing to you what Felice was trying to do with me, intimidate. Ignore it, my sweet. But don’t, for love of Race Spirit, insult him or any of the others. Understand?

Yes, Muhmis, perfectly. No insults, believe me. Can she hear us?

No. This is private. Just be damned careful around her and hers. All right?

Yes. I look up as two other aircars come in for landing. One bears the gold fist of the Archon on it; the other’s a plain one like the one Vashon arrived in. I feel some sweat beginning to trickle down my sides. I’m really afraid of Alexis Renston. The aircars smoothly settle to the pad and hatchways dial open. As the personal drakensis bodyguards of the Archon descend, the ghouloons and the Space Force major, as well as myself, sink to our knees, our faces to the ground. The servus saafn of Vashon go more smoothly to the position of submission, I notice. My stomach commences tieing itself into a knot; I wish I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

The Archon approaches, and I hear Gwen, then Felice, exchange greetings with him. His flanking Draka greet the Planetary Archons, and one looks down at me; I feel their eyes on me as I stay on my hands and knees. A drop of sweat slips down my nose, and I wish I could bat it away, but don’t dare to move. It eventually drops into the flowers, making a tiny lake in the center of one fragrant blossom. Gwen’s hand on my head signals me, and I stand, shivering a bit. I hear a soft laugh and then a hand reaches out, stroking down the side of my face.

"Ahhh, yes, I remember this one, Grandmother. Such a nice little wench. Still have that buck you mated with her? The one with the beautiful… oh. That’s right; I’m sorry, he’s the one those wretched humans killed. Too bad, truly; he was delightful-looking." The hand pulls my head up, and I look into the eyes of the Draka who terrifies me the most. He smiles cruelly, enjoying my speeding heart, the scent of fear I know he can pick up. "How’d the breeding go, by the way? Buck or wench?"

"Buck. Named Patrick; he’s owned by my daughter, Alexandra. He got the best of both sire and dam; fine looking pretty-buck, with a mind as sharp as his mother’s, when he’s not in rut. Adolescent, now. Of course, we all know how they are…" Gwen laughs, and the other Draka join her. It sounds like a wolf pack; their short yipping merriment makes shivers go down my spine.

"Hmmm… I’d like to look him over, then… if your daughter won’t mind…"

Oh, my gawd, no… I can’t bear to think of Patrick with him; I’d rather be the poor person under him myself. I feel the fear creating a pool of ice in my stomach; Mavis’s cinnamon buns have disappeared. My eyes reach over to Gwen, pleading silently, hopelessly.

"Well, perhaps. But she’s pretty protective of him, and she’s not quite, well, eager, to share him. I’ll ask her about it, Alexis. Meanwhile, let me show you some of the other pretties for lunch. I’ve quite a good selection of them available for entertainment. Sound like a plan?"

"Oh, yes. You have such good taste in bucks, Grandmother. Always have," Alexis laughs, and then strokes a long finger down my face, pausing at my lips. He traces them delicately, erotically. "Good taste in wenches, too. I know you must enjoy this one…"

"I do, indeed. Felice and I were just discussing that. Shall we walk to the House, now? Refreshments await, and the others will be here momentarily." Gwen waves a regal hand toward the mansion, and there’s a chorus of agreement. The Draka lead off, and then Hela cuts in front of me when I turn to follow them. I let him, looking him up and down first, but remembering my Muhmis’ warning. Go on, foolish, I think silently to myself. The further I am from Alexis Renston, the happier…

**