Imperfect Judgment

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Imperfect Judgment ISBN 9781419914157 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Imperfect Judgment Copyright © 2008 Cricket Starr Edited by Ann Leveille. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication January 2008 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/) This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

IMPERFECT JUDGMENT

Cricket Starr

Dedication To my husband, whose judgment is always perfect.

Judgment The Judgment card, sometimes called “The Last Judgment” or “Day of Judgment”, is often depicted with angels blowing trumpets and the dead rising from their graves. When I first started writing Imperfect Judgment I took the card very seriously and was making the story about a man looking for revenge on behalf of his people. But as the story evolved I realized the deeper meaning of “Judgment” and the plot evolved with it. Judgment is about examining what the “dead”—meaning the past, old ideas and traditions—can do for us when we take the trouble to study them carefully. When the Judgment card comes up in a tarot card reading it usually signifies great change or a hard decision that needs to be made. It can mean healing and renewal, it can mean forgiving someone, or starting a new life. In the case of my story, Imperfect Judgment, these themes of change, of building a new life, of healing and of facing the buried past come up frequently. When I picked the title I did so knowing that whenever there is a change to someone’s life the result is rarely perfect…but better an imperfect change or judgment than the stagnation of no change at all. This is the first time I’ve used tarot cards in building a story and I found it fascinating how using the cards helped me shape the plot. The process was insightful and quite a bit of fun. I hope the reader enjoys the result.

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Chapter One Diam paused outside the small building on the edge of the village and hesitated before knocking. This wasn’t what he wanted to do but it was the only option he had. His sister was seriously ill and he needed direction on finding a cure—he needed a reading from Wynalya. Resolutely he raised his fist and pounded on the doorway’s edge, the frame being the only solid part of the hide and stick structure. Like the rest of the homes in his village, the witch’s hut was made for easy takedown and portability…a necessity in the nomadic life of his tribe. “Come in.” The woman’s voice within was deep with more than a touch of sultriness. Diam’s heart sank. He knew what that tone of hers meant—it meant the witch was in a particular mood and the price she would demand for her help wouldn’t be a freshly killed lamb or well-cured fur. Shaking his head Diam pulled from under his arm the sheepskin he’d brought to pay Wynalya. Food and furs weren’t what was on her mind and he’d better be prepared to fulfill the witch’s wishes and desires and satisfy her sexually instead. Many would say that there were worse fates than having to make love to a beautiful woman. Trouble was that what Wynalya usually wanted wasn’t really lovemaking…nor was she someone he wanted at all. But it had to be done. Resigning himself, Diam dropped the unneeded skin and pushed aside the skin that made up the door, entering the dark interior. “Diam!” Wynalya’s cry of welcome sounded heartfelt. Probably it was, but Diam couldn’t help wondering if she wouldn’t give an equal welcome to any of the young men of the village. The witch’s appetite for sex was well-known and anyone would do to slake her hunger. He didn’t like being “anyone” for a woman. 5

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Her gaze landed on his crotch with sharp interest and he knew that was one reason she might be particularly happy to see him. He was the best-endowed man in the village—as many a young woman could testify to. Unfortunately none of his past liaisons had resulted in a relationship that lasted outside of a bed. Just once he would have liked to have the attention of a woman who was interested in more than the size of his cock. Someone unfamiliar with his most obvious asset, someone he’d have to romance to get close to. There would be no need to romance Wynalya. She laughed, a sweet woman’s laugh from a woman Diam had never seen sweetness in. She was exotically beautiful with her long unbound hair, dark against the paleness of her skin. Unworldly beautiful, but there was always a strange coldness in her as well. Unique, cold and strange but not too strange. She was dressed only in a loose fur robe, the inside of her dwelling warm from the firepot in the corner. Her robe slipped open, revealing the tops her breasts, and without willing it Diam’s cock rose at the sight of them. Her woman’s scent drifted to him in the warmed air and the smell of her made him hard and when she leaned closer to him, her high, heavy bosoms practically touching his chest, his cock wept in response. Wynalya smiled knowingly and nodded at his cock. “Is that why you’ve come to see me?” “No,” he said before he thought twice about it. He’d have sex with her if she insisted but it wasn’t his purpose in coming. “I need your help. That is, my sister needs it.” A look of what might have been disappointment appeared on the witch’s face then she shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Ah. Tamalin, is it? She’s got the cough?” The witch didn’t seem the least bit surprised and Diam knew why. Many of the village had developed an illness marked by a hoarse choking cough in the past few weeks. So far there had been few deaths, only a couple of older people at the end of their lives already, but more and more of the younger people had taken to their beds, 6

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unable to move as the cough stole their breath. Only a few had recovered full strength and then only after a long time of suffering. Now his six-year-old sister had joined the ill and Diam worried that she might be the first youngster to die. She’d never been that strong. He needed to find a cure for her and he hoped the witch could provide it. “I brought the cards.” He held out the well-thumbed divination deck that belonged to his family. Handed down from generation to generation, the ancient cards dated back to before his people had become nomads on this windswept world. Divination cards were used to answer questions about the future and direct the actions of whoever held them. The witch would read them for him and tell him how to find the cure for his sister’s illness—once she’d gotten the payment he knew she’d demand. Payment he knew she’d want first. As he’d predicted, she pointed to the shelf next to the pile of furs she used as a bed. “Put them there. We will deal with them later.” Diam did as she asked, shoving aside his sudden uneasiness. He’d had sex with the witch many times before, but there was something different about her tonight. She seemed wilder somehow. Maybe even a little frightening. There was definitely something feral in the way she eyed his cock when he pulled off his clothes and stood naked in the warm interior of her hut. When she pulled her robe open, revealing her breasts and her lightly haired woman’s mound, he did not hesitate to reach for her. She smiled and for a moment he did feel something like fear. She had something wicked in her smile and not in a good way. Even with his misgivings, she turned him on and that was enough to conquer his strange fear. He touched the heavy breasts and enjoyed their texture and weight. Not soft but hard, but he didn’t even mind that. The dark nipples tightened as he sucked on them and she made sounds of pleasure as he did.

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But then he went to push her onto her back and she stopped him, one hand on his chest, and gazed into his eyes. “Not that way Diam. You will serve me, but in my way.” And she pushed him and he fell onto her bed. She crouched over him and rubbed her folds along the length of his cock. It felt good. Too good, and Diam felt his release starting. Her hand clamped against the root of his cock, stopping his ejaculation and he froze under her. “What are you doing?” he whispered. “You will not come, young man. Not until I’m satisfied and then only at my whim. Do you understand?” He nodded, fear in him rising. But his excitement didn’t abate and he was still hard and ready for her. “Excellent.” She rose and, holding his cock at an angle to her body, slid him again along her wet channel. Each stroke along his cock felt like fire…and ice. He’d never felt anything like it before and he wondered if he’d ever feel anyone like her again. Exhilarating as it was, he wasn’t sure he was sorry about that. She was scary and scary wasn’t the way he liked sex. Tonight it didn’t turn him off though. Fear for his sister was the reason he was here and scary actually seemed warranted. Crouched over him, Wynalya stroked and moved, working her pussy up and down along his shaft until he was ready to explode, but she didn’t allow him that relief. Every time he came close to coming she’d clamp down on the base of his cock and cut him off until he was nearly frantic with the need to climax. The pressure built up and his cock grew even harder as a result. He arched his back and met each of her downward movements in ever increasing jerks. The shock of them meeting made both of them shudder. The witch’s hands clutched his shoulders and he knew he’d carry the mark of her nails for a couple of days.

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Not that he was particularly worried about that at the moment. He just wanted to come now and come hard. Anything to get release. Wynalya herself came several times if the shuddering of her body and wild cries were to be believed. Even so she kept a firm grip on his cock until he thought he’d go mad with frustration. Finally she pulled off him and he was still hard, aching and sore. Again her unpleasant smile was focused on him. “You have pleased me, Diam. I think you deserve a reward.” With her hand and mouth she worked on him, her teeth catching on the edge of his cock. When he finally came it was hard and painful but the relief too great to complain. She didn’t catch his cum in her mouth but let his stream play over his stomach, lacing it with thin rivulets of white. He lay there panting for some time. He’d satisfied her but, as she’d said, in her way not his. That she’d controlled the sex bothered him deeply—as he suspected she knew it would. Wynalya was probably upset at his reluctance to have sex with her and wanted to punish him. As he watched her pull her robe on he wondered if perhaps she’d finally come to accept that he at least didn’t come to her looking to make love and didn’t like being forced into performing. Perhaps next time he needed help she’d even accept a lamb as payment instead. When Diam finally recovered he pulled his clothes on, folding his still aching cock carefully into his pants. “Can we read the cards now?” She gave him an unreadable look then shrugged. “Of course. You’ve earned it.” Wynalya picked up the cards and with practiced efficiency shuffled them before laying them out facedown before her. A five-card spread for the present, the past, next step, future and conclusion. She turned the first card over, the present card. It was the image of a man wearing bright colors juggling the stars and moon. “The Fool. A man of innocence who goes on a 9

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journey. He’s looking for something.” She glanced at him. “You, I think. Answers to curing your sister’s illness. Perhaps answers for other desires as well.” No surprise in that. He was definitely the seeker looking for answers to help his sister. He was surprised Wynalya would think he had other wants that he wished satisfied but she’d always been able to see people better than anyone expected. Truth was he did want more than a cure for his sister, although that was his top priority. For instance for some time he’d wanted to find a woman of his own, someone who, like him, wanted more than the nomadic life his people had always known. Wynalya turned the second card over and Diam was taken aback to see it. It was the image of a tower with small human figures falling from it. She nodded as if she’d expected that card to show up. “The Tower. Disruption and a change to a way of life.” She tapped it. “This card speaks of the Newcomers.” Now Diam was truly astonished. “The ones in the north?” The witch nodded and Diam sat back in wonder. Since their arrival on Gallia over a hundred cycles around the sun before, Diam’s people had lived alone on their lands. But a few months ago strangers had arrived in a large metal flying ship. The ship had flown overhead on its way to a landing place so Diam had seen it himself, a huge vehicle belching fire from behind. Since landing the strangers had remained in the normally unused lands to the north. Diam as well as others expected that they’d come from Earth as well, but no one knew for certain. Split into small roving tribes, the Gallians avoided contact with other people if they could help it. There were no large gatherings and outside of the occasional inter-tribe marriage, people rarely mixed. Curious they might have been, but not enough to flout the rules of isolationism, at least for the most part. Why the rules insisted on the tribes staying separate was unknown. It was just the rule, Diam had always been told when he’d questioned it.

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A few Gallians had gone to see what the Newcomers were up to but very few had made direct contact with them, only a couple of men who’d briefly spoken to them. Those men had spread the word about the new people. Diam’s people were herders and nomads, moving their village and flocks to new territory when the natural grasses no longer supported the animals. They lived in harmony with the land, had done so the past hundred years, but from what had been reported the Newcomers were different. They’d brought machinery that created turmoil in the earth while building their homes. Those who’d watched the longest even said that they dug up the land around their village, putting plants in the ground and tending them. They built homes that weren’t designed to move and grew food that could stay in one place—things strictly forbidden to the Gallians. But Diam was intrigued all the same. He was tired of moving all the time and either gathering food from plants growing wild or slaughtering herd animals. For a long time he’d thought their nomadic ways were too confining. A man couldn’t build a proper house and keep the cold wind out when they had to move their village so often. When he’d heard of how they’d built permanently on the land he’d envied the warmer-sounding homes of the strangers’ village. When he’d heard about the strangers he’d wanted to go visit them and see more. Unfortunately before he could arrange such a trip he’d come home to find Tamalin ill. Since his parents’ death many years ago he’d been responsible for his much younger sibling, only leaving her to a neighbor’s care when he needed to be out with his animals. Usually she ran from their hut to meet his horse when he rode into the village but this time his sister had greeted him from her sleeping mat, coughing steadily and unable to rise to hug him. That’s when he’d decided to come to Wynalya. The witch seemed to read his interest. “These strangers bring strange ways with them. Bad ways.” 11

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Diam didn’t want to believe that. “Strange isn’t always bad. Sometimes new ways can be good.” Wynalya watched him for a long moment. “I know you, Diam. You are second only to me in our village in learning. You speak and read the old language Jabin nearly as well as I do and if you wanted to be leader when Argon gives up the post you could be. But I also know that you aren’t satisfied with our ways. Perhaps you think the strangers have something to teach us but that isn’t true. Strange is bad this time. These new people tear up the land, something strictly forbidden to us.” Her cold gaze fixed on him. “Do you know why that is?” He shook his head. “There are legends…” “Yes, legends. Legends of death in the ground.” Diam stared at her. “Stories told to frighten children from digging holes. Stories to keep us from growing crops so we can stay in one place.” Wynalya shook her head. “Not just stories. These are legends passed down from witch to witch. My grandmother told me, I’ll tell my child…when I have one.” For a moment Wynalya looked sad and Diam wondered if wanting a child was one reason she usually asked for sex for payment. The village witch didn’t need to officially mate to have a child, but as far as he knew she’d never gotten pregnant. What they’d done this time wouldn’t produce a child but normally she wanted a man to climax within her. This time she’d not wanted his seed in her—maybe because she no longer was interested in a child from him. He hoped so, as Wynalya wasn’t a woman he wanted to be mother to his offspring under any circumstances. Wynalya rose and pulled a bundle wrapped in a well-worn hide from beneath her bed. Unwrapping it, she revealed a book…a real book made of paper and bound in stiff hide. Diam’s heart raced as he saw it. It had been years since he’d last seen a book like that, and then in another village. He’d no idea Wynalya possessed such a thing.

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Like the divination cards each family owned, books were from the older time. When he was a child the elders would talk about those days, a time when their people didn’t avoid each other, raise animals for food and move every few months across the land. The elders didn’t remember it that clearly as they’d been children themselves but they talked of wonders like lights not made of fire and homes made permanent in the ground. Those homes had been in the north where the strangers had landed. Wynalya opened the book and he saw writing in Jabin which, as she’d said, he knew more than a little. He could read it but the pictures were even easier to understand. “These…aren’t drawings,” he said, pointing to the images on the page. “Not drawings, photographs,” Wynalya said. “An old method of recording an image, lost to us now.” Lost like so much, Diam thought. He stared at the images of people who looked like his people, but wearing odd clothes. They stood in a group in front of a collection of buildings, not huts but real buildings with walls so solid they seemed to grow from the ground. Diam felt his heart ache at the sight of those strong homes and the prosperous people who lived in them. The witch pointed to the images. “These are our ancestors, Diam. The first ones who came to this world.” Diam stared at her. “Then the old tales are true. Our people had a different life before—a better one.” “There is truth in them,” Wynalya admitted slowly. “But that life wasn’t always better, Diam. There is a reason we live as we do.” She turned the pages and there were more pictures, apparently made inside one of the buildings. Some people lay in beds, others nearby in chairs. The people looked ill, dark shadows under their eyes and their hands over their mouths, backs bent from coughing.

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The witch pointed to the pictures. “We arrived like the others did, from Earth. You know that. But what you don’t know is what happened after we got here. Our people set up a village of strong buildings and started crops but shortly afterward they grew ill. It was an illness caused by a virus—a thing so small you can’t even see it. The sickness was rampant among our people, an illness of the lungs leading to shortness of breath until you could not breathe at all.” Horrified Diam stared at her. “That sounds like the illness Tamalin has.” “Yes, her and the others in our village. The coughing sickness killed many of those first ones until only a few were left. Those few abandoned their homes to escape it, calling their former village the City of Death.” Diam shuddered at the name. The houses no longer seemed so attractive, more like traps than homes, and he understood why his ancestors had fled. Wynalya continued her story. “The illness died out when our people moved to the south and left behind the poisoned lands. Lands where the strangers now live.” “Strangers who tear up the land,” Diam said slowly. Wynalya nodded. “Yes, Diam. The virus is in the soil. So long as it stays there it harms no one but once in the air it makes people ill. These Newcomers tear up the land as our people once did, releasing the virus to the wind. The wind has carried to us here and if we don’t do something to stop it we may all die.” Diam sprang to his feet but Wynalya raised her hand. “I’m not done with my divination. We know why this has happened but not what to do about it.” Carefully she put the book away before returning to the spread on the narrow table. She turned the next step card over. It was a woman, blindfolded with two swords. For the first time the witch looked surprised. “Justice…” Her voice trailed off. “That is you?” Diam asked. “You are going to help us achieve justice?”

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“Yes, it is me,” she said, but for the first time she didn’t seem that certain. Quickly she turned over the next card and smiled with relief. “Judgment. There will be perfect judgment for us in the long term.” “What kind of judgment?” Diam asked cautiously. He knew the cards well enough to not like where this reading was going. Wynalya turned over the last card. A skull decorated the front and her smile grew. “Death. The end of this life. That is the result we will have. You will give us the means to save us.” Diam’s heart sank. “How?” She tapped the first card again. “This says you are to journey. You will go the strangers and visit their village. You must learn all you can about them—in particular what their weaknesses are. We’ll use that information to destroy them before they destroy us.” He made an involuntary noise at that. “I’m not a killer, Wynalya, and it isn’t right these people should die. They don’t know what they are doing is wrong.” She gave him a sharp glance then looked away quickly as if thinking of what to say. Finally she nodded reluctantly. “Perhaps their destruction won’t be necessary. All we need is for them to stop tearing up the land. Maybe it would be enough to make them return to where they came from. We’ll survive that way.” Diam didn’t think much of the card’s plan. He couldn’t see himself driving a whole village of people off, nor did he see how he could find out what would make them leave. He would have to enter the strangers’ homes, ingratiate himself and spy on them and he’d never done such a thing before. Even if he were successful it wouldn’t stop the virus already upon them. Eventually his village would have to move to get out of the path of the deadly wind and the illness it bore. But moving would be difficult now, with winter soon to come. It would be hard on everyone, particularly those who were sick. Many wouldn’t survive, including his sister. 15

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“Suppose I just tell them we are falling ill? They may stop what they are doing. Or they could even have a way to stop the virus.” “That is not what I read in the cards, Diam. You must not tell them anything about us. Do you question my reading?” “No. Not exactly.” Wynalya had her faults but he’d never faulted one of her readings. If she said the cards said for him to seek out the strangers and make them leave then he would have to do it. “Are you certain this will save my sister?” “That is what I asked when I shuffled the deck.” Wynalya tapped the cards laid before her. “This is what I’ve read, Diam. This is how we will save your sister and the rest of our people. You will go to the Newcomers and find a way to make them leave…and not tell them why.” Then he had no choice. Whether or not he wanted to he had to go and he must do it quickly. His sister was already sick. Even if she got better she’d only get ill again if the source of the infection wasn’t stopped. Diam bowed his head to the witch. “I will do as you say and I will say nothing to the strangers about us.” Rising, he made his way to the door before pausing to glare at her now-triumphant face. “But next time I need something from you, Wynalya, you will accept a lamb as payment.” For a moment he thought she would get angry at him but then she gave a rueful snort and the expression on her face turned to resignation. “I think it is time that you found yourself a woman you can love, Diam. A wife. So yes, from now on fur or meat will be all I’ll want in payment.”

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Chapter Two “We should get married,” Homer said. Justina Winston winced and was glad she had her back turned. She hoped the station’s second-in-command hadn’t noticed her instinctive reaction to his comment. Not that her reaction would be a surprise. He’d been suggesting the same thing ever since their ship had arrived on planet and the colony had been founded and she’d given the same answer every time. She sometimes wondered why he did it. Sometimes she thought he was just bored and liked to get a rise out of her. Since they’d arrived it was all he’d gotten out of her. “We don’t love each other, Homer.” The lanky man stood up and towered over her. He towered over everyone, being the tallest of the settlers, but Justina being unusually short he stood even higher above her. Another reason she wasn’t fond of the idea of becoming his wife. She didn’t like being smothered in bed. “Love isn’t everything. We’ve a lot in common. Second-in-command and colony medic? Anyone would say it was a good match.” They did say that, Justina admitted to herself. The problem was that she didn’t think that was good enough. He leaned against her desk. “And we’re good together sexually. You have to admit we had fun on the journey here.” She resisted a sigh. The long trip from Earth to this planet had been spent getting to know Homer quite well and sharing a bunk had been fun at first. But that’s all it had been and as time had gone on she’d realized what was wrong.

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They were okay together, sexually at least. But other than physically she never felt anything more with him and that wasn’t enough for her. Justina wanted a man she could laugh with and with whom passion went beyond physical pleasure. She wanted someone to love and unfortunately that someone wasn’t Homer. “You need to meet someone new, Homer.” Turning from her, he gave a grumble of frustration. “And where would that person come from? You and I are the only unpaired people in the colony. Everyone expects us to get together.” “There are the natives…” “Those savages!” “Who are physically compatible with us,” she continued, ignoring his interruption. “They are clearly descendents of an earlier Earth colony. Their language isn’t even so different, so it must be based on one of the old Earth languages. Our translator devices were able to adjust to their words without any problem even with the short exposure they had to it. With a little time they’d be fluent.” Homer shook his head. “They live in tents and tend animals. They have no industry, cities or even agriculture. They’ve gone completely native.” Justina thought about the images she’d seen of the native villages as they’d flown over during the scouting expeditions before choosing a landing spot. The huts had appeared rudimentary and the lack of fields had bothered her a lot. “Something very bad must have happened to make them regress like that and I doubt it is a permanent situation.” Justina shrugged. “Sure they’ve lost a lot of ground but I know with a little help we could bring them back to our standard of living.” “There you go, trying to help out the world again. Suppose they are perfectly happy with the way they live and don’t want changes?”

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She couldn’t believe that. “Why wouldn’t they want modern medicine and better living conditions? As you say, they live in tents and herd animals. They don’t grow food other than meat and milk.” “And seem to be quite content to do so. They’ve shown no interest in meeting us, outside of a couple of men, and those didn’t even come into the village or stay long enough to eat a meal. They obviously want nothing to do with us.” Again Homer was right but she didn’t think it was for the reason he stated. “They might just be unwilling to intrude on us. Or maybe they are afraid that we might hurt them. Perhaps we should make a stronger effort. We could invite them here and show them what they are missing.” She indicated the well-equipped infirmary around her. “They are from Earth just like us. We can help them if we can get the chance to demonstrate how effective our medicine is.” The comm-unit at Homer’s waist went off and he lifted it to his ear. Justina stared at the surprise on his face. “Okay, she’s with me. Keep him still and we’ll be there as soon as possible.” Homer shook his head at her and grinned. “Talk about well-timed—you’re about to get an opportunity to demonstrate just how good our medicine is. One of the natives just walked into the sensor net around the edge of the field and hurt his leg. Time to see how one of them reacts to modern medicine.”

***** Diam tried again to free his leg from the slender vinelike tendril wrapped tightly around it, only to have his ankle complain with sudden pain. He smothered a groan, not wanting the Newcomers standing around him to know how badly he’d injured himself. Bad enough that he’d gotten caught in the netlike cord as soon as he’d stepped out of the concealing forest.

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He’d planned on catching their attention but not this way, by clumsily stumbling over their strange equipment upon arrival. On the other hand, as he lay entangled on the ground with the strangers standing around and, he suspected, laughing at him, he had to admit it did serve his purpose of keeping them from suspecting him of ill intentions. At this point there was no way they’d consider him a threat. Of course if his ankle was as damaged as he was afraid it was he would be hardpressed to be a threat to them anyway. Not only would he seem harmless but he would be harmless as well. In fact, his plan for heading back to his village with the information Wynalya wanted him to get wouldn’t be possible unless he could drag himself back to the meadow where he’d hidden his horse. That was too far away to be feasible. Lying back on the ground, he tried to relax. No point in struggling and he’d be better off saving his strength for later. He sensed no menace from the men and women gathered around him, just amusement at his clumsiness. From one side came a sharp woman’s voice and the others turned to call back. For some reason the voice caught Diam’s attention and he strained to see her but he couldn’t until she pushed through the taller bodies to stand beside him. Then he caught his breath, the pain in his ankle forgotten for the moment. The woman was beautiful—not in the way of his people but lovely nonetheless. Smaller than the others, she had short hair the red of late autumn grass that fluffed around her head like a flower. She smelled like a flower too, he realized when she got close enough. In spite of the situation, trapped on the ground, surrounded by Newcomers and ankle throbbing, Diam felt another part of his anatomy begin to throb as well. To his chagrin, Diam’s cock rose to attention and demanded to know more about this red-haired Newcomer. A great deal more. Diam was grateful that his long tunic hid him well enough that no one should be able to notice his reaction.

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She stopped in front of him and for a moment he thought he saw an expression of astonished interest on her face. Could it be she felt the same strange attraction he did? Diam couldn’t deny the pleasure that thought brought him. The look lasted just a moment then she was all business, turning her attention to the white strip holding his leg down. Gesturing to the man who’d followed her, she took a thin-bladed knife from him and with a single slice cut through the strip. He tried to sit up but she put a hand on his chest to hold him in place. She said something which he didn’t understand then shook her head and spoke a few words to the man she’d borrowed the knife from. He spoke back, looked at Diam then her and shrugged. He handed her a small box on a thin rope that she hung around her neck like a necklace. She spoke into it and while he still didn’t understand her words what came out of the box was “Hold still. You hurt,” in Gallian. Diam’s interest soared. He’d known the Newcomers spoke some language other than his own and that had worried him. How was he to find out their weaknesses if he couldn’t speak to them? But apparently they had something that would let them communicate, at least with them speaking to him. Now if it only worked the other way… He tried responding by leaning as close as he could get to the box and speaking into it. “Ankle hurt.” He pointed to his lower leg and the now-swelling lump on one side. The box made sounds similar to the ones the Newcomers had made and they all looked with surprise at him. The woman glanced back at the man who’d given her the box and gave him a quick triumphant grin. Diam thought it must have meant something like, “I told you so”. Clearly the man hadn’t thought Diam would be able to understand the purpose of the translator and the woman had thought differently and was pleased to be proven right. She smiled at Diam and for a moment he forgot all about everything but how lovely her smile was.

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Dazzled as he was, he couldn’t help the sinking sense of irony in the situation. He’d been looking for a special woman for a long time and wouldn’t you know it, the one he found was more than a stranger to his people. Much worse if Wynalya was to be believed. This woman was someone he needed to force away. He looked into her lovely face and couldn’t think of her as an enemy. She didn’t act like an enemy either, not the way her fingers gently pressed against the swelling of his ankle. Between her sure movements and the way the others looked to her for judgment, Diam realized she must be the village healer. After a brief examination she picked up the box and spoke to him. “Might be broken. Can fix, but need hut.” At least that’s what he thought she said. She didn’t seem happy about the word “hut” so that was probably wrong. Still, he understood what she wanted. “I go with you.” He pointed to the Newcomer’s village in the distance. “Hut there, in village?” He had no idea how she intended to fix something that would ultimately heal itself but perhaps she could help him brace his injury so he could at least limp back to his horse. Again there was that sunny smile of hers when she heard the translation. “Yes,” she said, nodding, so he remembered the word. “Hut there. Fix there.” The woman said something to two of the men standing around and they came over to help him to his feet. He was glad to see that once he was standing they weren’t more than a few inches taller than him and that the woman was even shorter. He’d always hated it that Wynalya was taller than he was. This woman would fit against him so nicely in bed… Dian reined in his wayward thoughts. He in no way should be thinking about sex with her. These people were not his friends, not even the little woman standing next to him. However, in spite of his injury, having sex with her was all he could think about.

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Slowly two of the men helped him limp along a path at the edge the field to the Newcomer village, the little woman following close behind. They moved between what could have been huts in his village if the huts had been made of solid materials and separated by walkways of gravel rather than dirt. He thought the walls of the buildings might even be metal, although where the Newcomers had gotten that much metal he couldn’t understand. Metals were scarce on Gallia so where had it come from? Maybe they’d brought it with them. Everything was constructed as if made to stay in place for several generations rather than a season and Diam appreciated the differences. The inside of the Newcomer healer’s hut was stranger than anything Diam had seen before. He would have thought it a storage room but for a narrow cot that stood in the middle of the floor, a metal stool standing next to it. The rest of the furniture seemed to be chests of one size or another, some serving as tables and desks and others hanging on the wall. The walls were bare and windowless and covered in a stiff substance that looked shiny. Like metal but not cold when he laid his hand on it, overcome by curiosity as to how it felt. Once the door was shut all sensation from the outside was cut off, including the constant wind that swept Gallia. For a moment Diam simply appreciated the lack of wind and the resulting relief from the cold. The inside of the hut was warm and once the men supporting him had sat him on the narrow cot he even shrugged off his heavy cloak. He looked about for the source of the heat but there wasn’t any sign of a fire or a heating pot such as his people used. The men who’d supported him spoke briefly to the healer before she gestured to them and they left. The third man, who’d provided the translation device, argued with her but his voice was too soft to be picked up by the box. Diam got the impression the other man didn’t want to leave him alone with her.

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She gave Diam a short glance and shook her head at her would-be protector. “It be fine,” he heard come out of the translator. The man gave Diam a steady glare that he needed no translation box to understand. If he wanted to get healthy and not suffer any further hurt he’d better not attack the healer. Not that attacking the healer was on his list of things to do. Kissing her maybe, but that couldn’t be considered a real attack. But it was possible the little woman belonged to the man, and if so that would certainly complicate Diam’s desire for her. A closed door led to another part of the hut and after a few more words the other man disappeared through it. Diam’s heart sank. Diam leaned closer to the translator on her chest and pointed to the door the man had gone through. “Your mate?” He asked the question hoping he was wrong about the meaning of the possessive man’s destination. She understood him, he knew, because she suddenly flushed pink. To his relief she shook her head. “Homer? No. Friend…not mate.” Diam relaxed then and watched as she tugged on a round ball hanging on a cord from the hut’s ceiling and pulled it down over the cot he sat on. The she waved her hand at it and it suddenly glowed with a bright light that left him astonished. He reached his hand toward the ball, wondering if there was a fire inside but even when he touched the surface it was cool against his fingers. Heat without fire and light without heat? Diam was reminded of what the elders had said about the technology his people had once possessed and he envied the Newcomers still having it. Maybe if he could find out how it was done… But now he needed to let the healer work on his ankle. Pulling off his soft skin boot, he could tell how damaged it was from the swelling. It was more than just a pulled ligament. A sprain didn’t swell the joint the way his was. Inwardly Diam cursed. Maybe it really was broken and with a broken ankle he’d be hard-pressed to get back to his village anytime soon. 24

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The Newcomer healer blanched as she lifted his leg and closely examined the injury, murmuring in her language. As she spoke he heard the small box sitting next to him say, “This must hurt.” He wanted to tell her he’d had worse injuries in the past but he wasn’t sure his words would reach the translator. Instead Diam tried repeating the word she’d used earlier for yes. She stared at him, startled that he’d used her language to answer. She spoke slowly into the box. “You are in pain?” He repeated the word and nodded so she would be sure he understood its meaning. The healer smiled broadly. “You learn quickly.” Diam returned her smile and once more repeated the word, “Yes.” He pointed to the small box that translated his and her words into the other’s language and leaned close enough to speak into it. “Listen and learn.” “You can learn Standard from the translator? That’s even smarter than I expected you’d be.” Still looking amazed, she reached into a cabinet hanging on the wall, pulled out a box and shook something into her hand. She handed it to him. Diam examined it closely—it appeared to be a small white rock made of some chalky substance. “Put under tongue,” she said through the translator, and when he looked at her skeptically she added, “it for pain.” Still hesitant, he slipped the rock under his tongue and was amazed when it almost instantly melted in his mouth. His amazement turned to wonder as the pain in his ankle faded away. Had she healed him already? Diam glanced down and was surprised to see the injured spot still as swollen as before, now showing the early signs of serious bruising.

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What she’d given him had indeed gotten rid of the pain but nothing else, and disappointment filled him. The healer smiled at him reassuringly. “Next is to fix that,” she told him through her translator. Bustling about, she pulled from one of the storage boxes a long strip of what looked like fabric with a small device attached. She wrapped the cloth around his ankle, resting the box over the injury. When it was positioned she pressed the side of the box and the fabric seemed to inflate around his ankle. At first all he felt was pressure then there was a sharp push against his ankle that he felt deep in the bones. He gasped at the sudden pain but it disappeared before he could even focus on it. The healer glanced at him and pantomimed taking the pill. “It help more when more pain.” He puzzled over that but then realized what she was saying. Somehow the pill would help him more when the pain increased. Now the woman focused intently on the device covering his ankle, moving one of the small round things on it, watching what looked to be a shiny dark place in the middle. He managed to angle his body around to see it better and saw what looked like the outline of bones. The device could see the bones inside his skin? Serious magic this was. But his marveling was tempered by what he saw. One of the bones had a small crack in it. She glanced at him and pointed at the crack. “Broken bone.” Diam couldn’t help his groan. That would take weeks to heal. He would be stuck here while his village had to move and his sister could even die before he returned. Some help he’d turned out to be to his village and to Tamalin. He hadn’t seen the man-made vines that edged the Newcomers’ land where they grew plants and they had tightened around his ankle before he’d taken a single step, making him trip to the ground. The healer patted his hand. “It be all right. Mender will fix.” 26

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Fix the bone? Diam stared at her in amazement. Could these Newcomers really do something like that? Then he glanced up at the glowing ball over his head. Yes, they probably could. With another reassuring smile, she returned her attention to the device and adjusted it again. A surge of energy swept through his leg, centering on his ankle and it grew warm, warmer than he’d have expected even from the cloth covering it. The pressure around his leg grew again into discomfort before whatever she’d given him for pain kicked in again. Diam grew lightheaded and the room seemed to spin around him. A steadying hand fell on his shoulder and the healer helped him lie back on the narrow cot. She spoke into the box. “Take time to heal. Must rest. Medicine will make sleep when pain too much.” A shudder went through him at the idea of lying helpless but there was nothing he could do but lie quietly. Besides, he didn’t feel endangered by the little woman helping him—anything but. In fact, she seemed intent on providing him comfort. She got him a pillow and covered him with a thin blanket that was warmer than its weight would have given him to expect. She was so sweet that he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her. He wanted to taste her and find out if the sweetness extended to her lips but he was suddenly too dizzy to raise his head off the pillow. At least he could learn her name and not keep thinking of her as the little healer. He pointed to himself and spoke to the box. “Diam. I am Diam.” She tilted her head as she listened and then smiled at him. “I am Justina,” she said just as he slipped into sleep.

***** For a few moments Justina sat back and watched as the native man slid quietly into sleep. Resting, he appeared younger than when she’d first seen him in the field. There

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he’d been big and imposing in spite of being caught up in the sensor net. Not that she’d been afraid of him. Diam was strong and well-made but there was a calculated intelligence in his light brown eyes that had given her courage in those first moments. A smart man wouldn’t attack people who were trying to help him. When he’d proven he’d appreciated the purpose of the translator and even used it to make himself understood, her suspicions about his intellect were confirmed—and then some. More than just clever, Diam was probably as bright as any of her people, including herself. Perhaps he was unusual for his people but she didn’t think so. Which made the question of how his people had fallen from the Earth colony settlers they’d started out as into nomadic herders in a few generations all the more puzzling. There were rumors of the remains of a previous settlement not far from the colony. Justina had planned to go and explore the ruins earlier but with the work of setting up the colony and maintaining the health of its occupants she hadn’t yet found the time. Most likely that’s where Diam’s ancestors had come from and there could be answers there. Now she resolved to go as soon as she could. Even having just met him, Justina felt compelled to have answers. She hadn’t been this intrigued by a man since… Well, since never. Never had she met anyone like Diam before. She ran a hand along the fine dark beard that covered his cheeks and chin, a shade darker than the shoulder-length hair on his head. So different from the men like Homer, none of whom had gone a day without using a beard suppressor. The hair tickled the back of her hand but she decided she liked that. For a moment she wondered if the hair would tickle if he kissed her lips…or kissed her elsewhere more intimate. Justina gave a little shudder at the thought of this strong, obviously virile man with his head between her knees, his supple lips and tongue caressing her clit and pussy. She imagined he’d be good at that.

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It didn’t seem like his people had any prohibitions about mating with outsiders—or if they did Diam wasn’t worried about them. The looks he’d given her had been frankly sensual in nature and she was certain that if he hadn’t broken his ankle it would have taken very little effort for her to coax him into her bed. Too bad they’d have to wait. With a sigh, she turned to observe the work of the bone mender she’d attached to his leg. The anklebone had been cracked through but it was a clean break and easily mended. He should be feeling better by tomorrow evening and then she’d see if he really did desire her the way she did him. In the meantime there was her vibrator and enhancing cream. Since deciding against joining with Homer she’d made good use of both on a regular basis. One more night of self-gratification wouldn’t hurt her, especially now that she had him to dream about. She gave her patient one more lingering stroke and then left him to resume her afternoon activities. The pain suppressor she’d given him would continue to give him relief from the pain for several hours, adjusting itself to his metabolism. It really was a good thing his people were human so that she could use her tools without worrying about side effects. Still, she’d check on him after dinner and make sure he was okay. Maybe bring him some food and they could sit and talk… Justina smiled at herself. She wasn’t thinking of him as a patient or a specimen. Even after these few minutes alone with him she wanted to spend more time getting to know him better. She had been looking for someone different from the people she’d come to this planet with and perhaps now she’d found him…dressed like a barbarian in fur and leather. Her barbarian. She might as well be a character in a video tale where the fair heroine meets a rough but attractive man and by the end of the story they live happily ever after. She’d always thought those stories a little silly but she couldn’t deny her attraction for him now. Maybe it was true that opposites attracted.

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After one last look at him she tapped the overhead glow bulb a couple times until the light dimmed to a faint glow. It was unlikely Diam would be afraid of the dark but she didn’t want to take any chances.

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Chapter Three On waking, Diam’s first thoughts were of the gentle healer who’d worked on his ankle, with her red-flower hair and smiling pale green eyes. She’d said her name was Justina? How odd. The image of the Justice goddess on the card the witch had dealt slid into his mind. Wynalya had said it represented herself but she hadn’t sounded that certain and in truth the witch could be described many ways but “just” wasn’t normally one of them. Justina on the other hand… Diam couldn’t help a small smile. She had been more than just in her treatment of him. A kinder and more compassionate healer he’d never known. Maybe it was Justina the card referred to and not the village witch—that would mean it was Justina who controlled the fate of his sister, a situation that sounded much better to Diam. He knew his sister would be in good hands with the healer—if he could get them together. Unfortunately the cards had sent him to remove the Newcomers from their planet. That’s what Wynalya had said and Wynalya had never been wrong reading the cards that Diam knew of. But now that he’d met Justina he wondered if the witch might be wrong perhaps just this once. Sending the gentle healer away wasn’t something he wanted right now. He wished he hadn’t promised not to tell anyone why he was here or the situation his people were in. He knew Justina would be sympathetic and want to help. He was lying on the narrow padded table in the same position he’d been in when he’d fallen asleep. Stretching out, he found that his injured leg didn’t seem to want to move, and lifting his head he realized that the device she’d attached to it was still in place. When he tried to shift his foot pressure built up and his leg deadened so he couldn’t budge it. 31

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For a moment he panicked before realizing that the paralysis was probably only temporary and as soon as he stopped trying to move the leg returned to normal. Deadening his leg was probably just a way to keep him from moving it around since it wasn’t healed yet. He looked around and noticed that the glowing ball overhead was much dimmer than it had been. He wondered how long he’d slept. Some time, he could tell. It had certainly been some time since he’d relieved himself and he was beginning to need to go badly. However it was difficult to imagine how he was going to make his way to a latrine in his condition, and even if there was a night-pot in the room he couldn’t reach it at the moment. It would be dangerous to try to move around with only one leg to stand on. Just as he was wondering if he shouldn’t try to climb off the narrow bed he was on and risk hurting his leg further, the door to the room slid open. Justina poked her head in and, when she saw he was awake, came to him. Her sunny smile made him feel better in spite of his predicament. She fumbled with the translator around her neck. “How are you?” she said through it. For a moment he thought about not telling her his need, but she was bound to have dealt with a patient in this situation before. He tried to imagine pantomiming what he wanted to do but gave up the idea. Better to just be direct. Diam reached for the box and spoke into it. “I need to piss.” Whatever the box said in her language must have gotten the point across. Justina laughed and shook her head ruefully. “Of course you do. Silly of me not to think of it.” She gave a quick glance at the device on his leg. “Not ready to stand yet. You’ll have to use a urinal.” He didn’t understand the last word. Apparently whatever a urinal was didn’t translate into his language, but he didn’t care so long as he got some kind of pot to piss in. 32

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Reaching over, she did something to the device around his ankle and his leg suddenly felt lighter and it no longer went dead when he tried to move it. She helped him to sit up and found a container for him. Like a long thin pot, it was made of some clear substance and was probably the urinal. Diam made a note of the word for future use. He gestured for her to turn away and she did, although she looked amused at his bid for privacy. Mostly he didn’t want her seeing his cock in any state but ready for her but he didn’t want to tell her that. Besides he had half an erection already and he didn’t want her to know how interested his cock was at her presence. When he was done she took the pot from him and opened a narrow door set in one wall of the room. On the other side was a tiny enclosure that he could see had a basin and seat. After she dumped the contents into the seat area he realized that it was the latrine he’d been wanting. An indoor latrine…very convenient. If he’d been able to get off the table he could have gone himself. When she returned he pointed to his leg. “Better? Yes?” he asked her, using the word he knew. She nodded. “Better. Needs more healing.” Diam gave in to a frustrated groan. It would take forever before he could stand again. Justina came over and patted his shoulder. “Better soon. Hungry?” His stomach took that moment to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since far earlier in the day. Its growling made Justina laugh and she left the room, returning in a few moments with a tray full of small dishes. After she put it across his lap he examined the contents of each bowl carefully. It didn’t look like any food he’d seen before. Justina spoke slowly into the box. “Didn’t know what you want. Brought some of everything.” She held out what looked to be a fork with a deep bowl. Frowning, Diam used it to take a bite from one of the dishes. Not meat or cheese. Not egg. It was chewy, with long fibers and seemed to be made from some part of a

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plant. Trying another dish he discovered the same thing. He tried another and another before realizing there didn’t seem to be anything of animal origin on the tray at all. Interesting. His people ate nothing but animals or edible plants naturally growing, and the latter were rare enough to make what was on the tray a treat. Even so he wondered if he should. Would the virus that made people ill be in the plants? But no. The rules handed down hadn’t said don’t eat plants, only that they shouldn’t be planted so as to not disturb the dirt. The plants the Newcomers grew should be safe enough to eat. But that didn’t explain why they had no meat at all. Perhaps the Newcomers didn’t have animals to use for food. He hadn’t seen any in the fields beyond their village, not that he’d had a lot of time to examine them before being caught. But there should have been some traces…unless they hadn’t brought any with them. That led to another thought. Perhaps trade could be set up with the Newcomers, his people’s animals and their products for the Newcomers’ plants. Or perhaps even some of their technology. He was still wondering how they made their homes warm without fire and what made their light globes so bright. That excited Diam for a moment but then he remembered his mission—that he was supposed to get the Newcomers to leave—and his heart sank. There would be no trading of food or anything else. Anything, including the woman he’d become so attached to. There would be no gentle healer in his future, not if the Newcomers were gone. Trying hard not to show his discouragement he returned to the meal in front of him. Picking up the first bowl, he took another bite. It wasn’t what he was used to but the taste wasn’t bad so he ate all of it before picking up the next. One by one he emptied each dish on the entire tray. Justina looked impressed when he was finished. “Appetite good.” He pointed to the tray. “Food good.”

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She beamed at him. “Thank you. I made myself.” Diam was glad he hadn’t made any comment about the food not being what he was used to. She could cook as well as she could heal. Diam couldn’t help but wonder at what else Justina was good at doing. Kissing, he bet. She had lips that looked like they liked kissing. If only his ankle weren’t broken and he could stand on his own two feet. He’d love to take her into his arms and find out how she kissed. He licked his lips and realized that Justina watched him do it and for a moment he wondered if she had the same thoughts he did. But what would a Newcomer woman want with someone like him? Their gazes met and like a flame something passed between them. Suddenly Diam knew that in spite of their differences she had more than a little interest in him as a man. Justina’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Then she licked her lips in unconscious…or maybe conscious imitation of him. Diam’s breath caught just as hers had and he knew if he could see his face his eyes would be as wide as hers. He sat up straighter and again wished his ankle was healed so he could rise and close the distance between them. Justina seemed to want him and he knew he wanted her. Under the blanket across his lap, his cock rose hard and heavy. As it turned out he didn’t need to move. Justina came to him. She sidled close to the bed and hovered over him. For a moment she stared into his face as if reading it. Then she took off the translation box she still had hung around her neck and put it on a nearby table before leaning in. Her face was just a finger’s length from his and her breath hot and sweet against his face. She touched his beard with one finger, sliding her fingers along the strands. In the summer he had shaved it clean but it was fall and he let it fill in to keep his face warm during the winter to come. The men with her didn’t have beards and Diam wondered if she’d not seen a man with hair on his face before. Perhaps that was why she touched him? 35

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But no, he didn’t think so. The speed of her breath closely matched his, her face flushed, eyes bright and cheeks pink. She held herself erect, breasts jutting proudly under the loose top she wore. Through the thin fabric of her blouse he saw her hardened nipples—Justina looked like a woman aroused. Her bright, grass-colored eyes watched him, fascinated and just a little wary. It looked like she wanted to kiss him but didn’t quite dare. He dared. Diam leaned in to her and let his lips touch hers, not hard, just barely, as if he might possibly have done it by accident. It wasn’t an accident though and he and she both knew it when he leaned back. Justina smiled at him. She moved this time and there was no accident at all when their lips met. It was a kiss, a serious kiss that got more serious with every moment. She sighed into his mouth, opening hers, and he let his tongue plunge briefly inside to sample her. Justina tasted as sweet as he’d known she would, her taste like berries in the fall, ripe and rich. She smelled like berries too—and like a woman who wanted a man. When she pulled back he saw the slight smile that tweaked her mouth and the light in her eyes and he knew positively that what he wanted, she wished for too. It didn’t matter Justina was a Newcomer and he wasn’t. She was a woman who wanted a man and that man was him. Diam couldn’t have been more delighted to give her what she wanted. Even so, it was with tenuous arms he pulled her up next to him, still not quite believing she was as willing as she seemed. It heartened him that she made no protest, nor did she try and pull from his hands. Instead she allowed herself to be pulled onto the narrow bed next to him to sit on the edge. The fabric of her shirt was silky but he doubted it was any softer than the skin underneath it. Pulling on the shirt he found that it lifted easily away from her pants, revealing the smooth skin of her waist. Diam slid his hands onto that bared area and felt her warm skin for the first time. 36

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Yes she was soft, like the skin of the youngest lamb. He lifted her shirt higher and slid his hands underneath, seeking more of that softness, seeking the warm smoothness of her skin, stroking her as she slid onto the bed next to him. Diam caught her expression, a little wonder mixed with a knowing smile. Wonder that he’d dared to touch her, perhaps, but knowing that he could no more resist it than she could resist touching him. Her hands fell upon his shoulders and she seemed to measure their width. Her smile widened and he knew she liked what she felt. Diam wished he had the words needed to speak with her. For once he was with someone he wanted to talk to in bed and he couldn’t speak enough of her language to do so. He bit back his frustration and let his hands speak for him, caressing her smooth torso until he found the bottom of her unbound breasts. He stopped for a moment, waiting to see if she’d object to his touch, proceeding only when her smile broadened at him. Then he slid his hands upward across the soft mounds. Justina’s eyelids lowered and she gave a small gasp as his fingers slid over her nipples. He stroked them again and her breathing picked up and she gasped as he leaned in to capture her mouth with his. This kiss went on longer than the ones before, her lips moving with his. Diam felt her surrender in a battle they weren’t really fighting. There was nothing hesitant about him now as he pulled her shirt off over her head to bare the breasts he’d felt but not seen. First he feasted his eyes and then his mouth, latching onto first one nipple and then the other, licking and drawing them into his mouth. His hands caressed her breasts, lifting them and weighing each. She was finely made, as fine as any woman he’d ever known. Smaller than Wynalya, but he didn’t mind that. There was nothing about what he felt for Justina that had anything to do with the witch and all comparisons faded in the reality of this beautiful, sensual woman. Justina’s nipples tasted like fresh rain after a long drought. He suckled each one, drawing them deep into his mouth, and she moaned her appreciation. 37

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He was so intent on pleasuring her that he missed it when she turned the tables on him, her clever fingers finding the laces along the edge of his tunic and undoing them. Now he felt her fingers skidding across his chest, playing with the hair there. She pulled aside his shirt and stared at his chest and again he wondered if she saw some novelty there. Didn’t the men of her people have any body hair at all? Diam glanced at her juncture of her legs, wondering what he’d find when he got there…assuming he’d reach that point. At this point is seemed a fair bet. She seemed fascinated by the thick growth of hair across his chest and especially by the thin stripe that led down his abdomen to his pants. Her finger followed the course of it down his belly, stopping just short of the top of his pants. There it hesitated until Diam was nearly breathless with anticipation. Would she go past this point and seek what lay beneath his already too-tight laces? She glanced at him and he met her gaze, spotting her amusement. So, she wanted to play with him… That’s fine, he loved a little fun with his fucking. Moving slowly to not startle her, he took her hand and placed it on where his cock bulged the front of his pants. “Yes,” he said in her language. His size clearly intrigued her. Justina’s eyes widened and she slid her hands around the swelling in his pants, obviously curious about what the fabric hid. He let her explore for just a moment longer before moving her hand again, this time to the top of the leather laces holding his pants closed. It was an invitation to undo the knot and uncover him. She didn’t hesitate for more than a moment. Carefully she untied the knot and loosened the leather thong. His pants gaped open and Diam let out a hiss of relief as his cock popped out through the opening. Shyness apparently forgotten, Justina took a long moment to smile admiringly at the long, hard member before gently taking hold of it. Diam no longer had any fear she was uncertain around men. The way she caressed him showed she had more than enough experience

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to know what she was doing. That meant she knew where this would lead and wasn’t at all against the idea. It meant she knew what she was doing to him. And oh, bless the Gods, she was very good at what she was doing to him. She stroked his shaft with one hand and, reaching beneath, teased his balls with the other until he was breathless with desire. It surprised him that her fingers pleasured his cock with such expert skill. Justina pulled once on the waistband of her pants and after they slid to the floor she climbed across his body to straddle him. Diam stared at her woman’s parts. The bared mound Justina presented to him confirmed his suspicion of the Newcomers’ lack of body hair. Diam stroked the bared skin, wondering at the smoothness of it. It didn’t feel at all like she’d shaved—no stubble, at least. No hair at all covered her nether lips and he easily found her swollen clitoris peeking out between them from under its hood. He used his fingers to greet it and Justina gave a small moan as he petted her. So sensitive. She moaned aloud with each caress he gave her, the laughter gone from her face now, her eyes glazing with passion. Diam sought to bring Justina to the same point he was, near frantic with desire. Finally she pulled his hands away, no longer content with a finger within her. She rose, positioned his cock at her opening and lowered herself, taking him within herself. Diam groaned as he entered her hot, slick channel, her sweet pussy grabbing his cock and pulling it deeper inside. Almost immediately he came close to orgasm but he stamped down the urge. She felt so good—there was no way he was going to let this end any earlier than it needed to. No way he’d finish before her, either, not their first time together. He wanted to please her so much, even hampered as he was by being forced to stay on his back. He wanted their first time to be the beginning of many times to come. From the look on her face as she paused above him, bright with passion and wonder, things were off to a good start. 39

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But then she didn’t move for so long he wondered if she ever would, or if they’d lie joined together for the rest of eternity. Not that he’d mind too much. But he wanted to see how she moved. Diam placed his hands on her hips and urged Justina upward. With a smile she rose, letting him slide out of her but not all the way, then she slid down to cover him. Diam groaned aloud at the sensation of her tight pussy gripping his cock on its return. When she repeated the motion he lifted his hips to meet her. Then they were moving together in unison, or slightly ahead or behind. Whatever felt best as they found a rhythm they both liked. Poised above him, Justina looked like a goddess with her pale smooth skin and flame-colored hair like a halo around her head but more, she looked like an erotic dream come true. Diam forgot that the woman who fucked so gracefully was a Newcomer and alien to his world. He forgot her people’s actions were responsible for the illness that plagued his people. He forgot everything but the one thing that grew more apparent with each stroke, each rise and fall of her heavenly body. She was the one he’d always dreamed of, the woman he felt destined to make his mate. Justina was his, not just for this one mating but for all time. He sped up, wanting to show this to her, to make her feel the same thing, that this was more than a random meeting. He wanted to catch her close and turn her under him. He wanted to drive into her even further, to take control. But not now. Not this time with his ankle still bound by the Newcomers’ healing device. Next time, he vowed. Next time… But this time was close to ending. He felt the onset of an orgasm so intense he knew already it would outpace anything he’d experienced before. Justina’s face grew flush as if she too was on the edge. A low moan that rose in pitch with each new stroke made it clear she was close to climax. Diam held his breath. If he could only hold out…

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Justina stiffened and sped up and then she seemed to come undone. Her hands grasped his shoulders tight as a long, undulating cry erupted from her. Her pussy clenched tight around him, squeezing him tighter than the most virgin sheath he’d experienced and milking him so he could no longer hold out. One more stroke and then his climax roared through him and he roared with it in triumph and agonized pleasure. Triumph because she’d come first. Agony that it was over and he’d not know that kind of pleasure again. Until the next time. In the fuzzy aftermath, Diam lay on the bed in sated repose, Justina collapsed on top of him. She lifted her head and smiled dreamily in his face. “That was wonderful.” He was so content that it took him a full minute to realize that he’d understood every word that she’d said. Justina had used words from the old language.

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Chapter Four Justina noticed Diam stiffen and raised her head. “Something wrong?” He stared quizzically at her. “No. Not wrong. Wonderful.” Justina felt her mouth drop open. “You speak…” “The old language,” he finished for her. “And so do you—but how is that possible?” Stunned, Justina sat up. The “old language”, as Diam had called it, was Jabin, her native tongue, what she’d spoken as a child before learning Standard. She was always reverting to it in moments of intense passion—or in those brief moments of sweet serenity like the one she’d been in after making love to Diam. Reverting to her native tongue had been a point of constant disapproval with Homer, who made his opinions on the need for a single common language known at every opportunity. That had been one of the many reasons she’d felt justified in not wanting to link permanently with the man. Justina had sometimes wondered if Homer was too lazy to learn or simply didn’t have it in him to remember more than one language. And yet here was Diam, a “primitive native” who spoke Gallia and was rapidly learning Standard just by listening to the translating device. And now it turned out he also knew one of the more ancient Earth languages as well. If she’d had any doubts as to Diam’s intelligence they were gone now. The man holding her to his chest, who’d just given her the best sexual experience of her life, was clearly as smart as any man in the colony. He was also still looking at her with questions in his eyes, about her and why she spoke the same language his people once used.

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“I learned it as a child. On Earth.” “You did come from Earth!” Justina saw excitement fill Diam’s face. “As did your people, I’m sure. A long time ago.” Something flashed in Diam’s face and for an instant Justina thought she saw pain in his eyes. Immediately she thought of his ankle and how it wasn’t quite healed. “I must be getting heavy.” She tried to move but Diam stopped her from sliding off him. Clutching her close, he touched her face gently. “You are no burden for me.” “Possibly. But I’m not helping your ankle either.” Pushing against his chest, Justina insisted on getting up and he let her go reluctantly. He continued to watch her as she slid off the examining table and collected her clothes from the floor. Diam said nothing but she could tell he wasn’t happy with her behavior. Probably he’d hoped to hold her longer, maybe even talk now that they knew that was possible. She hadn’t known that many men interested in cuddling after sex— another failing of Homer’s—but it appeared Diam was one of them. As Justina thought about it she didn’t know anything about the culture he came from, what the role of women in their society was. She’d jumped into bed—well, on top of an examining table with him—based only on her physical interest in him. An interest that she still felt and apparently he shared. Even after having sex, when he should have been lying satisfied and content, he watched her with the intensity of a man who’d not had a decent meal in ages—and she was a multi-course banquet. He acted as if what they’d done had been more an appetizer than the best sex she’d ever known. The man clearly had higher expectations of what made a satisfying sexual encounter than she did—something that made her wonder just how much better it could get.

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Still feeling his intense scrutiny, Justina re-dressed quickly then turned to look at the healing accelerator attached to his ankle. The viewer showed the slender break in the bone still visible but greatly reduced in size. In a day or even less the break would be gone and the bone mended. Even the tissue and nerve damage she’d noted earlier was barely evident anymore. Diam healed quicker than she would have expected. Possibly because of his simple lifestyle, but she thought it likely was another clue to his genetic inheritance. Whatever the reason his people had for their nomadic existence, it wasn’t because that’s all they were capable of. For a moment she wondered if she should just ask him, but she didn’t know how to say it without making it sound as if she disapproved of their lifestyle. How did you ask your new lover why he herded goats and lived in a tent rather than a well-built house—like the ones in the settlement Homer said was just southeast of here? It wasn’t likely he’d simply give her the answer and he would likely be offended. Maybe the answers lay in the abandoned settlement. If so, she should go and see. If she could find out for herself she wouldn’t have to ask any embarrassing questions. Diam was still watching her as she turned to face him. “Your bone still needs healing. Tomorrow, maybe.” “Tomorrow maybe what?” “Maybe tomorrow you can get to your feet. In the meantime…” She eyed the narrow padded table he lay upon. While he’d napped on the examining table earlier, it couldn’t be that comfortable to sleep on and besides… Besides, she’d rather have him sleep in her bed tonight. She’d looked into guest quarters for him, but they were in another building. With Diam’s injury no one would question her keeping him here tonight. If they did, she could always tell the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of her interest in Diam, in spite of him being a native. 44

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All she had to do was move him from here but he was too heavy to shift herself. Then she had an idea. “Wait here.” Diam watched Justina disappear through the door again, wondering how she thought he was going to go anywhere with his leg still trapped in her device. Moments later she reappeared with what looked like a chair, except that it rolled like it had tiny wheels on its legs. Triumphantly she pushed it to him. “Now I can take you to bed.” Diam couldn’t help a little smile. “I thought we already went there,” he teased, hoping for a response. She’d seemed so happy when they’d finished making love and now she was so distant. He didn’t want to think she regretted getting intimate with him or that she didn’t think anything of making love to a complete stranger. He hoped she’d say something to indicate their actions had meant more than the simple act of sex to her. He was rewarded by a hot pink infusing her cheeks. “I meant a real bed. To sleep in. It is getting late and the rest of the colony is probably asleep or doing something…” Justina trailed off. Reaching out his hand, Diam stroked her crimson cheek. “A bed to sleep in… Will you be there as well?” Justina met his gaze and nodded slowly. “If you like.” “I like. I like very much.” “Good,” she said. Justina did something with the device on his leg then indicated he could move. Diam sat up and with some effort swung his legs off the bench. She’d apparently adjusted the healer so that it no longer numbed his leg whenever he moved it but he felt the weight of the device and still could only move slowly. Even so, with her help he managed to shift into the waiting chair. When he was safely situated in the seat he leaned back to smile at Justina. “Please take me to this bed where you intend us to sleep…or do something,” he finished, giving her the most lascivious grin he could manage.

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As he’d hoped, Justina shook her head and laughed as she pushed the chair through the door, and that made his heart sing. She did desire him as he did her and he knew that with a little time and a lot of persuasion he should be able to talk her into returning with him to his home—as his mate.

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Chapter Five When Diam woke it was morning. He knew because unlike the treatment room he’d been in earlier Justina’s bedroom actually had a window in the wall, a rectangle made of some clear material, and through the thin covering he saw sunlight. Quickly he looked for the warm sweet body that had lain next to him all night but Justina must have woken earlier. He had dim memories of her kissing him when he’d roused at first light and telling him to go back to sleep. That he’d done so was a testament to how injured he was. He rarely slept past sunrise and never as late as it must be. Again he had to relieve himself but fortunately he found that Justina had left the urinal on the floor by the bed. Sitting up, he managed to accomplish the task without any trouble. Pulling his leg up, he found he was able to see the square on the healer where Justina had shown him his broken bone the day before. He could see the bone but there was no sign of a fracture. He tapped on the screen but it didn’t change and flexing his foot didn’t cause any pain. Diam studied how the device was attached to his leg and found a strap that when pulled made a small ripping noise. He pulled harder and the healer loosened and fell off his leg. Where it had been around his ankle were faint traces of bruising and some minor swelling but otherwise it looked completely normal. Shaking his head in wonder, he stared at the small healing device. The last time someone in his village had broken a leg bone it had been three weeks before they were able to use the limb properly. Justina had healed him in less than a day. For a moment he wondered if he could take the healing device with him, but he didn’t know how it worked. He’d need the healer herself to make it perform its magic. That brought up something else. In addition to everything he felt about her, the little healer had skills he knew his people needed. Besides, he wasn’t here to steal from 47

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the Newcomers, just drive them away. Not that at this point he had any intention of driving Justina anywhere but into his village, into his hut and into his bed. He’d come hoping to find a way to make the Newcomers leave but after seeing their village and their equipment he doubted that was going to be possible. They seemed to have no weaknesses and if their weapons were as potent as their medical devices his people didn’t have a chance of forcing them. Perhaps it would be better if he could get their help. If he could convince Justina to come with him she could heal the sick in his village. That would help his sister even better than stopping the dust from going into the wind. Of course he’d still need to persuade Justina to go with him and because of his promise he couldn’t tell her the truth as to why. While he was in the Newcomers’ village he could say nothing of the problems his people had. The problem was how to get her to go with him, since he couldn’t tell her the truth. At the moment though, his biggest problem was that he was hungry. Tentatively, he tried to stand up, only to find that while his ankle felt healed it was still tender to walk on. Looking around he found his clothes lying neatly folded in a pile on the rolling chair Justine had used to transport him to the bed last night. Next to it stood a long pole topped with a cross section, which he decided must be meant as a crutch. Justina must have known he’d wake up and try to walk before she could return and anticipated his need for assistance. Diam smiled at her thoughtfulness. He picked up the shirt and noticed it was clean and smelled fresh, and when he looked he found his pants and even his shoes in the same condition. How someone had washed his clothes and dried the leather in just the length of time he’d slept was a mystery but he knew he couldn’t solve it now. Instead he dressed, then picked up the crutch and limped to the door in search of Justina. He found her in the room where she’d treated him for his ankle, intently counting some small pills into a bottle. They looked like the ones she’d given him only they were yellow rather than white. Another of the Newcomers was with her, a slender woman 48

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who stared in open curiosity as he came through the door. Her stare made him feel uncomfortable. Justina stopped what she was doing and smiled at him, putting him at ease. “Diam, this is Lana, our leader.” She turned to the young woman. “Diam is visiting us for a while.” Diam stared at the woman in open amazement. These people had a female leader as well? She’d spoken the old language so he understood her and the other woman looked surprised. “You know you should be using Standard,” she said, using Jabin as well. “I know. But Diam doesn’t know Standard—yet.” The amused smile she gave him spoke volumes. “I’m sure he’ll learn it quick enough.” “But he knows Jabin?” “Apparently his people spoke it when they landed here. He calls it the ‘old language’.” Lana spoke rapidly to Justina in what Diam guessed was Standard. The healer’s smile faded a little but she shook her head. “What I do is my business,” she told Lana again in the old language. Then she continued in Standard and Diam didn’t understand it all but he picked out a few words, in particular a name—Homer. It made him wonder. That was the man he’d mistaken for Justina’s mate. She didn’t seem to think of him that way but possibly Homer had other ideas, which the rest of the Newcomers shared. Diam clutched his crutch tighter and vowed that if Homer wanted to fight for Justina he’d be more than ready to meet the man in battle. Not now, though. It would be helpful to have his leg healed before fighting anyone.

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Justina handed Lana the small bottle of pills and rattled off what sounded like instructions—or maybe a lecture. Even with his short time with her he thought he understood her moods and she was too serious during her speech. Lana looked bored as if she’d heard the words far too many times before and took the bottle with decided reluctance before nodding. “Yes, Justina,” she said, using one of the few words in Standard he knew. She went to the door but turned back to look Diam over before leaving. Her gaze was frankly assessing and the look in her eyes said she liked what she saw but that didn’t make Diam happy. Lana looked at him like the village women sometimes did, like a stallion made for breeding. “You know, Justina, he doesn’t seem sick,” she said in Jabin. “You might find out how his people stay healthy without pills on this misbegotten planet.” She leaned closer to him. “If I wasn’t married, I might see how healthy you are. Do yourself a favor though. Don’t play strip poker with our healer unless you want to lose your shirt.” Justina blushed and shook her head and Lana left, laughing as if she’d made the greatest joke ever. Diam looked at Justina after she was gone. “What is strip poker?” “Oh, never mind.” Justina laughed self-consciously for a moment then sobered. She muttered quietly to herself then turned to Diam. “Lana is our leader but she’s like everyone else. She is forever forgetting to take her medicine and so I have to give her extra doses to make up for it.” Going to the cupboard, she pulled out a small box and took from it a single yellow pill, holding it up to show him. “See this? Now watch.” She swallowed the pill and held out her empty hands. “That’s all that is necessary to keep us healthy but no, everyone has to complain about it.” Diam leaned against the wall. “Why do you need to take pills?”

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“Our people weren’t born here, Diam. We don’t have natural immunity to this planet. There are microbes here that can make us ill, maybe even kill us if we don’t take the pills. They allow us to live here.” Diam’s heart pounded harder. Could it be there was a weakness these people had, that they too were susceptible to the virus? Maybe this was a way to make them leave, if they didn’t have the medicine to fight it off. Diam’s plan suddenly seemed viable but he needed to be careful and not reveal what he knew. As nonchalantly as he could manage he asked, “You will be here many years. You have a lot of this medicine?” Justina laughed. “Oh yes. Enough.” She opened up one of the large cabinets that made up the furniture and pulled out a jar filled to the top with tiny yellow pills. “This will last us quite a while.” She held it up to show him—there must have been hundreds of hundreds of pills inside. Diam’s mind spun at the thought of how many days for the few numbers of Newcomers the pills represented. It would be years before they ran out. She put the jar away and then took his arm. “I bet you are hungry. Why don’t I make you something?” Diam allowed her to lead him away. “I am hungry,” he told her, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about. What he was thinking was that in spite of his misgivings he’d found a way to make the Newcomers leave the planet. All he would have to do is to take their medicine and they would have to go or risk dying. Unfortunately he no longer wanted the Newcomers to leave. Or at least there was one he didn’t wish gone. Helping him through the doorway, Justina smiled up at him and he forced himself to smile in return. Now that he knew he could fulfill the task the cards had set him all he wanted was to find a way to avoid doing it. The rest of the day Diam followed Justina around, helping her with whatever task occupied her. Since most people spoke to her in Standard, he borrowed the translator 51

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from her and listened closely to the words, repeating some of them when necessary, so that he accumulated more and more of a vocabulary. He learned what they called their village—the Colony—and the names of places within it. Quarters were where someone kept their belongings and slept, the lavatory was where they relieved themselves. In the galley they cooked and the place where Justina had healed him was the infirmary. As he used the translator he noticed that when it translated from Standard into his language the words flowed more smoothly each time he used it. When he asked Justina, she explained it learned from listening to him speak. “A clever tool,” he’d said. “It learns improve its speech.” “Clever like you are,” she laughed. “You do the same thing,” she said and Diam was proud that she thought him as smart as one of her machines. He met many of the other Newcomers, or colonists as he learned they called themselves. Men and women and even a few children. Justina told him there weren’t many children yet because they’d traveled from Earth for a long time and welcome as new babies usually were the Newcomers hadn’t had the supplies to support many of them until they’d reached Gallia. Now he could see that several of the women were pregnant, some barely showing while others were close to delivery. By this time next year there would be double the number of children here. Assuming they were in the village and not someplace far away. He saw no sign of the ship they’d made their journey from Earth in, the flying vehicle that had made fire in the sky. For a moment he wondered if he should ask about it but he didn’t want Justina questioning his intentions. Every once in a while he spotted Homer standing around in the background. The tall man said nothing but he glowered at Diam in a way that left no doubt as to the man’s opinion. Diam didn’t challenge him but let his own steady stare be his answer. He wasn’t going to let Homer intimidate him. Keeping the crutch under his arm or close

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by when he sat down, he made himself as innocuous as possible so no one would think of him as a threat. By late afternoon the crutch was hardly needed but he kept it anyway. He didn’t like the looks Homer was giving him and if necessary a crutch could be an effective weapon. Justina went to weed in the fields and the loose soil was too uneven for Diam to risk walking on. He sat on a bench by the edge, watching the plants waving in the steady breeze. As he watched he noticed how the dusty soil in the field occasionally got picked up by the wind and headed to the south. It made him remember his purpose here. The harmless-looking dust was poisoned soil that would make his people sick. At least now he knew that the Newcomers were susceptible to illness as well. But they had pills to make them better. The soil that killed his people wouldn’t hurt them. When he realized he wasn’t alone on the bench it was too late to move. Homer sat next to him, leaving Diam the choice of either standing and hobbling off, making it clear he was avoiding the man, or staying and finding out what the big man wanted. After a moments’ decision Diam clutched his crutch closer, but Homer didn’t make any moves against him. He didn’t even say anything at first, just watched Justina in the field a hundred meters or so away. Then he turned to Diam and pointed to the translator. “You can understand me?” Diam knew what he was asking before the translator did its job but he waited for the machine to finish translating before nodding. He wasn’t sure he wanted Homer to know just how much of their language he comprehended. Homer contemplated him for a while. “She does not really care for you. You can sleep with her and she will share her body. But not her heart.” Again Diam pretended to wait for the translation but inside he bristled. How would this man who was not his woman’s mate know how she felt? “You are wrong,” he said. “You don’t know what is between us.” 53

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The big man grimaced. “I know her. I was her lover before you. She cares about healing and medicine. She cares about her duty. No man could mean more to her than her job.” “You say that because she does not care for you,” Diam countered. “I say that because it is true. She is interested in you because you are native here. She is curious about your people. You aren’t a man to her, just an experimental animal.” Diam jumped to his feet. His ankle still felt sore so he leaned on the crutch but he stood as tall as he could and glared at the man. “That not true. I am not an animal. I am a man—more man than you to her.” Turning, he started back to the infirmary. He noticed Homer’s shock as he left but it didn’t occur to him what had happened for some time. Homer had been surprised because he hadn’t waited for the translator, and the last words he’d spoken had been Standard.

That night he again joined Justina in her bed but this time he rolled her naked body under him. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he stared into her beautiful grassgreen eyes and again thanked the stars that she’d come into his life. As tentatively as the first time they’d kissed he let his lips touch hers, no pressure, just the lightest caress of his mouth over hers. Justina responded in kind but then put her hands on each side of his head, holding it close. “Kiss me, Diam, like you mean it.” He did kiss her then, with all the power he had, closing his mouth over hers and using his tongue force her lips apart. His tongue swept inside and for a moment she surrendered to his sensual assault before her tongue engaged his in open combat. They played that way for a while, Diam enjoying the mock battle as much as the taste and texture of her. She made his blood sing and his cock harden to the point of pain but still he didn’t hurry the kiss. He was having too much fun.

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Finally it was Justina who pulled away, the sweetest smile on her face. “Love me, Diam. Love me now.” Even then he didn’t hurry to satisfy her request. Instead he took his time, moving down her body, licking and nibbling all the places he’d seen the night before but had been unable to reach while confined to lying on his back. Now he explored Justina with intent. He wanted to know every inch of her, the scent of her breasts and the smoothness of her taut belly. He wanted to dip his tongue into her strange but erotically naked pussy and find the taste of her female cream and, when he’d experienced that, he’d make her climax so he could taste her cum. He wanted to know her with every sense he possessed, her sights, her sounds, tastes, scents and feel. Then she would be his. Justina may not have understood his plan but she wasn’t complaining as he began its implementation. Instead she made a quiet sigh when he nuzzled the cleft between her breasts, and small sharp cries as he tweaked and twisted her nipples with gentle fingers. When he closed his mouth over one nipple she moaned aloud and her hips jerked beneath him. He drew the tender nub deeper into his mouth, relishing the taste and texture on his tongue. She was all sweetness in his mouth and he loved how she reacted to his attentions. Justina arched her back, giving him better access, and he spent as much time as he dared suckling and nibbling each of her breasts. But he needed to move on. His cock was growing impatient and he still wanted to taste her pussy. He continued down her body, spending a few moments distracted by her soft belly and navel, particularly when he found she giggled whenever he kissed her there. But he was a man on a mission and so eventually he found himself lying at the apex of her legs. With gentle but firm hands he pulled her thighs further apart so he could better reach where she was the most sensitive. Unaccountably, Justina seemed shy at this, as if she weren’t used to a man making love to her with his mouth.

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That was one thing he’d change when she was his mate. He loved oral sex and was held to be pretty good at it. If she weren’t comfortable with having a man’s mouth on her private places, she would just have to get used to it. He’d start by making sure this was as much fun for her as it was for him. With that in mind he lowered his head to the cleft in her woman’s mound. He admired again how smooth it was, without any hint of scratchy stubble. Being bare made it more sensitive. In fact, just the heat of his breath caused her hips to twitch beneath him. “Oh I love it when you do that,” she moaned. “Do what?” he teased. “This?” He breathed harder against her and she squirmed. “Yes, that.” He chuckled. “Then you are going to really love this.” He closed his mouth over her clit and she let out a yelp that made him glad they were in a room and not a hidecovered hut surrounded by similar huts. By necessity making love was quieter among his people. Another nice thing about having solid walls around them. Diam loved how Justina cried her pleasure so freely. He sucked her sweet little nub as she shrieked and wiggled her hips, her thighs shaking under his hands. Her body tightened he felt the passion build within her. “Come for me,” he whispered. “Show me your pleasure.” Then he bent his head again and after one long pull of his mouth on her clit she let go and cried out, her whole body quivering. She was still quivering when he rose up over her and put his hard cock where his mouth had just been. He stroked along the outside of her channel once, then twice, and then he drove home. He watched her eyes as he entered her, watched as they grew wide with astonishment, first at his size then with pleasure. Pleasure at how his cock’s length and breadth filled her pussy to capacity and then some. He watched as one possessed, knowing this was a mating he would remember all his life.

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No other woman made him feel this way, so masterful. So much a man. Only her. Only his woman could make him feel this way. Only Justina. When he filled her completely he forced himself to rest to give her a chance to adjust to his possession. Her pussy pulsed around him, welcoming and enticing, inviting him to move. He moved, pulling out until he was nearly unseated from her before surging back with all speed, filling her completely. Justina moaned aloud and he couldn’t help joining her with an answering groan. She was too tight, too perfect. She fit around him like a glove and he couldn’t help but think but how they’d been made for each other. But each time he slid inside and then out it got harder to think, harder to focus on anything but what they were doing. Having sex. Making love. Making love. That’s what he was doing with her, he was making love to his woman and it was like it was the first time he’d ever been with a woman. It was new, fresh. Then it was more than that, it was frantic as well. Diam sped up, no time to think of anything but what Justina was doing, her hands on his backside, grabbing him and driving him deeper into her. Diam drove his cock in and out of her, a pounding rhythm that seemed endless. He worked himself hard, harder than ever before because this was his woman, Justina, he was with. He needed this sex to be more than extraordinary for her. It already was for him. Being inside her, having her pussy around him, pulsing tight, drove him past any kind of reason. A small drop of something fell onto her chest and he realized he was sweating, but then so was she, her forehead glistening with perspiration. The moved together, on and on, in and out. Maybe it was minutes, maybe much longer than that. He changed position, sitting up and pulling her into his lap with her

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legs wrapped around his waist. This slowed their lovemaking but that left him time to savor what it was to be with her. Diam ran his hands along her back, her skin slick and heated from their efforts. Licking her shoulder he tasted her, tart and tangy. He smelled her woman’s cream, slick around his cock, sweet in his nostrils. All her tastes and scents. That’s what he’d wanted to know and now he did. The tastes and scents, the feel of his woman. She gave a small moan then a sharp cry. He wanted to know those too, although he wondered if a man ever could know all the sounds his woman could make. Justina leaned back and he followed and now he was atop her again. They sped up their movements, adjusting for the new position. Diam braced his arms and rose above her and started a series of thrusts that left him breathless and Justina gasping between cries of pleasure. A hard ride for both of them but oh-so worthwhile. Amazingly worthwhile because he could feel in her the advent of an oncoming climax. He moved faster and Justina’s hands grasped his buttocks, urging him on, her fingers digging into the flesh. She tensed and shuddered, once, then twice, then a third time, opening her mouth in a long continuous wail of completion. He drove into her one last time and her pussy clutched him and almost forced him still as she trembled hard beneath him. The rhythm of the pulsing around his cock sped up and it milked him to the brink of an orgasm beyond everything. A deep shudder sped through him and he could withhold coming no longer. He threw his head back and shouted his pleasure aloud. His shout seemed to echo in the room around them then there was only the sound of their commingled hard breathing. Collapsing, he was still careful to keep his weight off her, mindful of how much smaller she was. Justina smiled up at him and there was such intense emotion in it that it was obvious she felt the same as he did. They were meant to be together. It was destined. 58

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He could no longer stop from asking the question most on his mind. “Justina?” he blurted out, then stopped, suddenly wary of her answer. Her smile turned quizzical. “Yes, Diam?” There was still so much caring in her eyes and it made him bold. Diam searched for and found his courage. “You… Will you come with me? Back to my village, and become my mate?” The smile on her face disappeared to be replaced by surprise, shock and just a touch of horror—and Diam’s heart sank into his toes.

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Chapter Six She was going to say no. Diam knew it. The look on her face could only mean she didn’t care for him the way he’d thought she did—or at least not as much as he’d hoped. He tried not to let her see the pain that caused him. At first she seemed too surprised to speak, then she seemed to recover. “Diam,” Justina said. “What has gotten into you? We barely know each other and you are asking me to marry you? Even if I wanted to make a commitment like that, I can’t leave my people. I’m their doctor.” Perhaps it was true they barely knew each other. But he knew her—knew her to be the woman he wanted for the rest of his life. But what Homer had told him was true. Not the part about him being an animal. He didn’t believe Justina thought that about him. But he did believe the man was right about Justina being devoted to her profession. He wouldn’t be able to get her to leave now. He forced a smile on his face. “I’m sorry I blurted that out. You are right. I am…” He let his voice trail off, unsure how to finish. Justina laughed and the sound wasn’t at all forced. “You are enthusiastic. I like that about you.” She liked him. It was something but not enough. Not nearly enough. Diam lay with Justina in her bed as she slowly drifted off to sleep. He held her, smiled at her and said nothing but his mind was aflame with thoughts. Without Justina coming with him he had no hope of convincing her of the problem her people caused by disturbing the land. He’d promised not to say anything while he was here—he couldn’t break that promise. If he had more time perhaps he could find a

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way to convince them what they were doing was a problem but he didn’t have that time. He had to return to his people before they moved from the wind’s path. They needed him, his sick sister needed him. Even more, he had a mission to accomplish. Diam’s throat tightened but he knew what needed to be done. The cards were right. The colonists had to go. He liked the people here and part of him wanted to stay with them and learn as much as he could about their technology. He even wanted to learn to grow crops. But he couldn’t do that. He had to return to his village and he was going to have to try to force the colonists to leave, regardless of how he felt about Justina. Diam waited until after he knew Justina was sound asleep before slipping from her bed, grabbing his clothes and silently sliding from the room. At the door he allowed himself one last look at the woman he knew he loved before leaving her forever. The thin blanket covering her didn’t hide her breasts or the sweet curve of her hips. He still longed for her but she was lost to him. He would steal their pills and in a few days she and her people would have to leave the planet. He wished them all the luck in the world. Just not his world. The door slid shut behind him. Two hours later he’d reclaimed his horse, who at least seemed happy to see him, and was headed south to his village. As he rode the wind picked up and blew dust along the trail in ever-increasing volume. Diam watched the rising wind and his heart sank. It was the first signs of one of the powerful windstorms that swept Gallia on a regular basis. A storm that could last days and make it difficult to travel anywhere. At the same time Diam’s chest grew tight and he coughed, a harsh cough that left him momentarily breathless. Another unwelcome problem. Living with the colonists and so close to their fields had left him susceptible to the illness that plagued the rest of

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his people. Diam knew he’d soon be sick, too sick to stay on his horse for the two-day ride to his village. The bulk of the jar of pills he’d stolen weighed against his back and he knew he had to make a decision. Between the storm and his increasing illness he’d never make it to his village. If he stopped in the open the colonists would find him and retrieve their precious medicine. Even if he made it to the village they might track him there and get the jar back. He needed a place to hide, wait out the storm and possibly his illness. Someplace no one would find him…or the pills. The ruins of his people’s first village, the place Wynalya had called the City of the Dead, was a few hours ride to the east. If he hurried he’d probably make it there before the storm’s full fury hit. Turning his horse, Diam headed that way.

***** Justina sat at the small desk in the infirmary with her usual morning cup of tea but the hearty brew didn’t interest her the way it usually did. In fact, the cup sat cooling in front of her as she stared unseeing into the distance. Homer’s entry, which let a lot of dust in through the open door, roused her a little and she greeted him with a dark stare. “You were talking to Diam yesterday.” He stared at her clearly taken aback by her uncharacteristic, unfriendly greeting. “So? A lot of people talked to him.” Standing, she walked over and poked her finger into his stomach, hard enough to elicit a grunt from him. “What did you say to him?” “I said nothing. Well, nothing much.” He eyed her suspiciously. “What did he tell you I said?” “He told me nothing.” Justina couldn’t help but see the look of relief on Homer’s face and vowed to find out what the men had been discussing. Diam’s absence when 62

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she woke that morning had upset her more than she’d expected. She’d known she liked him but hadn’t known how much until he was gone. She wondered if he’d left because she’d refused to go with him to his village—or had there been a darker reason? When she’d remembered seeing Homer speaking to him and Diam leaving immediately afterward, she’d allowed herself the hope that it hadn’t been her actions that had driven him away. Homer glanced around the room. “So where is your pet native anyway?” “Don’t call him that! And for your information, he’s gone.” “Gone?” “He left before I woke up this morning.” Homer shook his head. “You sure he isn’t just holed up in one of the other buildings?” “No, I checked everywhere. He’s out there in the storm.” Homer didn’t seem to take the fact that Diam was out there as seriously as she did. “He’s lived with those storms all his life, I’m sure he knows how to survive them.” “Yes, I know. But…” Now that her anger with Homer had died the depression she’d felt once she’d realized Diam was really gone came back full force. “I just didn’t think he’d leave like this.” “He told you he was leaving?” “He implied it. He asked me to go to his village with him, as-as his mate.” Homer laughed. “You said no, right?” “I said no. But now I wish I hadn’t.” Pulling up a stool, Homer sat, the laughter in him vanished. “Justina…you care for him that much?” “I-I guess I do.” She laughed but the sound was bitter. “Serves me right, falling for someone just to have them run off on me.”

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He sat quietly for a while then shook his head. “Well, then, maybe we should go find him.” “No. Not now, with the storm out there. I’m sure you’re right and he’ll be fine.” Justina took a sip of her tea, winced at the bitter taste and pushed the cooled brew away. “So what did you come seek me out about?” He still looked at her, concerned, but then handed her a pill container. “I’m out of Waracin.” Shaking off her doldrums, Justina rose and went to the storage bin on the wall and pulled out the small box where she kept a convenient supply of the drug they used to stave off infection. The box felt light, so she opened it and stared inside. “That’s funny. It was half full yesterday and there’s none left. I’ll have to refill it.” It wasn’t until she opened the cabinet and found missing the jar that held the rest of their supply of Waracin that she finally understood what had happened. She looked up into Homer’s rapidly darkening face as she closed the cabinet door. “I guess we better go find Diam after all.”

***** He made it to the city, the buildings barely visible through the thickening dust. His coughing had increased and twice he’d nearly fallen off his horse in the middle of a fit. The animal was as happy as he was to get into the shelter of the buildings but he didn’t stop until he found a building where a door had fallen off its hinges, leaving a gap he could ride through. It must have been some kind of storage area for vehicles like the ones the colonists used. The remains of one still sat in a corner, abandoned, perhaps because it had gone beyond repair. Pieces of it littered the area around it. The dust was noticeably less there so he led his horse over and left her tied to the vehicle. He didn’t think the mare would try to leave in the storm but he wanted to be sure. He pulled off her bridle and

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unpacked a small collapsible bucket, filling it with some of his small supply of water. The animal drank thirstily and Diam’s own dry throat ached in sympathy. A door led further into the building. He tried the handle. It turned easily but the door stuck and he had to push hard to budge it. It opened a crack and he could see the thick layer of yellow dust coating the floor inside. He shoved harder and the door slowly crept open, the dust building up on the other side. Finally it was wide enough and he made his way into a passageway that stretched off in either direction. Not knowing which way to go, he randomly picked a direction and headed that way. The air inside the building was cool and eerily still after the fury of the windstorm outside. Fine yellow dust covered the floor, drifting in a few places to a depth the length of one of his fingers. Over the years since the building had been abandoned it had probably seeped through tiny cracks in doorways or windows. There wasn’t enough of it to represent a real failure of the walls. The superfine particles were stirred by his passing and rose into a small cloud around his feet. He looked back down the hall to see his path marked in the settling dust. Good thing no one was going to be looking for him here because it would sure be easy to figure out which way he went. Overhead were small lights set in the ceiling, glowing softly even after all these years. Lights like the ones in Justina’s village which she had explained worked off electrical power. Diam noted and realized with amazement that whatever source of power his ancestors had used must still be active. The hallway led to another hallway and then to another. Along the way there were doors, open for the most part, the rooms empty when he looked inside. Whatever furnishings they’d had must have been taken when the people left. Only large and heavy pieces were left, a table here, a cabinet there, all of them blanketed by the same yellow dust.

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Diam took tentative sips of his waterskin. It had been full when he’d left this morning but the wind, dust and his now-regular coughing had caused him to drain it. He’d given half of what had been left to his horse, knowing the animal was as thirsty as he was. He needed to find a water source soon. Hopefully there would be some in the building. Justina had explained that the colonists relied on an underground spring for their water using something called an electrical pump to move it into their buildings. Probably his people had built where a similar spring existed. If there was power there might still be water. He could only hope access to it was still possible or he’d be dead soon. The place was eerily silent, even his footfalls muffled by the dust covering the floor, so when he heard a sound it seemed to echo loudly. He followed the noise and it led him down a short corridor to another open doorway, but this time the space revealed wasn’t empty the way the others had been. A large room, it was set up with many bedframes without mattresses in a row down one long side and then partway back on the other. Small tables and chairs stood between each bed. It was all covered by the same yellow dust but even with that Diam had a shock of recognition. This was the room that had been pictured in the book Wynalya had showed him with the sick people on the beds and chairs. Wearily he leaned against a table and laid his bundle next to him. This had been his ancestor’s infirmary and was where the illness had killed so many—and why this place was called the City of Death. For a moment he was too shocked to move but then the sound that had attracted him to the room again impinged itself on him. He followed it until he found a small room off to one side, which he recognized as a lavatory like that of the Newcomers’. To his relief the sound turned out to be what he’d hoped, the sound of water slowly dripping into a basin from what Justina had called a faucet. Carefully Diam turned the handle and was rewarded with a small surge of water. It ran into the basin strangely

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colored for a moment then cleared. He took a tentative drink from the flow and, while the water tasted odd, it quenched his thirst. Later he’d take some back to his animal but now he was simply too weary—and, he realized, too ill—to make the journey back down the hall. He’d have to rest a little and catch his breath. Diam collapsed on one of the small chairs back in the main room, stirring up the dust but unable to care that it swirled into the air. For long moments he focused on taking one deep breath after another. A small outline under the bed caught his attention. Something resting on the floor under the blanket of dust. He stared at it for a moment before reaching for it and pulling it out from under the bed. Diam’s jaw dropped as he recognized what it was…a book. He shook it and the dust fell away to reveal a brightly colored picture of what looked like a flying ship against a starry sky. Carefully wiping away the remaining dust he saw the whole front of the book, the ship against the starry sky with large letters in the old language at the top and bottom. The bottom letters seemed to spell out someone’s name, but the top said clearly “How We Came to Gallia”. When he opened the cover and leafed through it he saw more images and large letters, a few words on each page. For a moment that confused him. Why so few words, why so many pictures? But then he realized it wasn’t a book for adults but made for children. That explained the simple wording and the few words, the reliance on images. He clutched the book tighter. What a precious thing to have found, and something he could take with him. Tamalin would love to see it. Even now Diam could imagine the joy in his sister’s face. His mood dimmed. For him to get the book back to Tamalin he’d have to get well enough to travel. He suspected he had the same illness she did but in adults it sometimes went into remission for days on end. That, plus the storm’s succession, should give him time to return to her. 67

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In the meantime he had nothing else to do so he might as well enjoy the book himself. He opened the cover and began reading. He quickly realized it was intended to be an explanation for children of how and why the colony on Gallia had come to be. Each set of pages showed a step in the process, from the group of people leaving Earth to the trip itself and the landing on the planet. As he’d expected it mentioned looking for a place with a gushing underground spring, so the complex he sat in must have plenty of water. The book also told how the early settlers had built their homes, taking apart their ship in the process. The power supply for the engines that had driven them through the stars to Gallia had been removed to provide power for the city. The buildings were created from the ship itself, each section of the ship separated to form one or more structures. The book explained how that was the most efficient way to create a colony. The ship had been a city in space and now it was a city on the ground. It was an efficient use of materials, and after all, no one would ever need the ship again. Diam closed the book and stared at the walls around him. Bare walls without windows—he noticed that now. No windows were needed during the long voyage in space as there was nothing to see there. This building had been a part of the ship his ancestors had come in. All the buildings here had been originally part of the ship. They’d taken it apart just like it said in the book and that’s why they couldn’t leave when the illness first struck. They’d had no ship left to travel in. He tried not to think about the windowless walls of Justina’s infirmary, so like those here. The room she slept in had a window but that might have been added later, or maybe her ship had been different and had actually had viewpoints to the outside. Diam tried not to think but it didn’t really matter. He knew the truth. He’d stolen their medicine hoping to make them leave the planet in the ship they’d come in. He’d wanted to save his people. But the truth was that ship had met the same fate his ancestors’ ship had met, having been turned into the homes they lived in. 68

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There was no ship for them to leave in. Instead of forcing them to go he’d condemned them to the same fate his ancestors had met. They would get sick and die. The men and women, the children present now and those who would soon be born. His heart stopped. Justina. Justina would die because of him, coughing her breath away, unable to breathe like his sister, like he was now. She would die if he didn’t take their medicine back right away. He stood up, ready to do just that but the room spun around him and he had to grab the back of the chair to keep from falling. The horror at what he’d done grew. He was too sick right now to find his way back to the colony and they might not have days to wait for him to improve. Diam eyed the large jar of pills still sitting on the table where he’d left it. One pill a day kept you from getting sick. Two might cure a minor illness…but he was so sick. He’d probably need more. Struggling to his feet, he made his way over to the jar. How many more? Now he wished he’d asked more questions about the pills. Maybe it didn’t matter, the more you took the faster you got well. Opening the top, he grabbed a small handful of the yellow pills and before he could change his mind he stuffed them into his mouth. The dose might be too much, or perhaps not enough, but they should help him get back on his feet long enough to get to his horse and return the medicine to Justina and her people. Taking several gulps of water he managed to get them down. Then he leaned back against the table to wait and see.

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Chapter Seven “This was not the brightest idea I ever had,” Homer grumbled as another gust of wind shook the small runabout. Dust and small leaves rained on the clear plastisteel roof of the vehicle as it jerked about. Justina grabbed the handlebar and held on as the hovercraft slid a full meter away from the path they were following, her eyes never leaving the tracer screen. “What idea would that be? It wasn’t your idea to follow Diam through a storm, it was mine.” “It was my idea to come with you. And now I’m thinking it wasn’t such a good one.” Justina rolled her eyes. “So why did you come?” There was a wealth of exasperation in his face. “You were determined to go after that barbarian. I couldn’t very well let you go alone.” “Diam’s not a barbarian…” “No, just a thief who stole our medicine.” Over the past two hours this argument had gotten old but Justina swallowed her exasperation. “I’m sure he had a good reason. Most likely he needed them for his people.” “In which case why not ask for some? Why take them all? That did bother her but she wouldn’t give Homer the satisfaction of saying it out loud. Why hadn’t Diam asked and gotten instructions on how to use the medicine? She’d told Diam that the pills kept them from getting ill and the implication of his taking them was that he wanted them to get sick. She recognized that he might have been angry with her for not accepting his proposal last night but she had trouble believing Diam would condemn her and her

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people to possible death. He cared for her, she knew that. She could hardly believe that he’d stolen their medicine knowing that it would hurt them. Unfortunately so far no better explanation had emerged and she was hard-pressed to explain why Diam had done this. It was something she was going to have to talk to him about as soon as they found him. The tracer screen beeped, dragging Justina out of her thoughts. Set to follow human body signs, she and Homer were using it to track Diam through the blowing dust and sand. It showed he was a few kilometers off to the east of where they were. “That’s odd, I thought he’d be heading south to where his people are.” Homer stole a glance over at the screen. “That’s about where we found that old settlement.” He jerked the controls and pushed forward on the accelerator. “He’s probably sheltering in the ruins, which is smart under the circumstances.” “Diam is smart,” she felt compelled to say. Homer shot her a hard glance but said nothing. They had to slow down as they entered the ruins, moving past the vague outlines of structures on either side obscured by the driving, dust-laden wind. Justina was struck by how similar they were to the buildings in their own settlement. Following the nowsteady beeping they found a building with a partially open door. It was too narrow for them to bring the runabout through so they had to leave it outside. She grabbed her medical bag and watched with misgivings as Homer tightened his weapons belt around his waist. Hopefully nothing there would be needed. When they first entered the doorway, a soft rumbling noise greeted them and Justina turned in surprise to see a large brown animal staring at her from behind the remains of a runabout not unlike their hovercraft outside. Homer started and drew his weapon before he noticed the animal was tied up. He peered at it closely. “Is that a horse?” “I guess. It’s wearing something on its back. A saddle, I think. I guess it must belong to Diam. That explains how he was moving so fast.” 71

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Homer stared at the animal, fascinated. “Did he say he had a horse?” “No. He must have left it someplace so we wouldn’t see it. But why hide it from us?” Homer’s answer was a short grunt. “I’m guessing there are a lot of things he didn’t tell you.” Justina was guessing the same thing but didn’t say so. “Well, the animal is still here so he must be as well.” She turned and headed for the door that must lead deeper into the building. The door pushed open with difficulty but the disturbed dust in the floor inside made it easy to follow in Diam’s footsteps. The retching noise coming from down the long hallway made it even easier. Justina’s heart sank. That’s what she’d been afraid of, that Diam would try the pills himself and take too many. A Waracin overdose could be deadly. She raced down the corridor ahead of Homer, leaving him bellowing futilely in her wake. She found Diam inside an old lavatory, crouched next to one of the toilets, his face pale and eyes glazed, breathing heavily. Even so his eyes lit up when he saw her. Something in her lightened at that. Whatever was wrong he was still happy to see her. “Justina…didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said in Jabin, the language they shared. He glanced at the toilet then wiped his mouth and shook his head ruefully. “Always seem…to need help when you appear.” She came to him and touched his head. He was burning with fever and his breathing was labored. Even his voice sounded harsh, like wind over sandpaper. “What happened, Diam?” “Got sick…took pills.” “Pills? The Waracin? How many pills? How long ago?” He shook his head. “Not sure. An hour ago?” he held out his hand and cupped it. “Maybe this many.”

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Too many for certain. Fortunately he’d probably thrown up most of them but she would need to get a stimulant into him, then perhaps the few remaining wouldn’t hurt him. Homer showed up over her shoulder and he had the jar Diam had taken in his hands. “We’ve got them, Justina. We can leave now.” Beyond irritated, she turned and snarled at him. “That’s not why I came, Homer, and you know it.” She turned back to the man still sprawled on the floor. “Help me get him back into the room.” With an ill-tempered grunt, Homer put the jar down and lifted Diam by shoving his shoulder under the smaller man’s arm. With Justina on the other side they dragged him to one of the beds. While Homer held him, Justina pulled a blanket out of her pack and threw it onto the empty bedframe before they laid Diam on it. Justina shook her finger in his face. “Listen to me, Diam. One pill is good, two pills okay, three not so good. Many pills is very, very bad.” Diam was sicker than anyone she’d ever seen before, face pale and eyes glazed and still he almost laughed. “Figured that out…for myself. But was sick…sick in chest.” He demonstrated that with a fit of coughing that left him shaking and breathless. He leaned forward, sucking in deep breaths of air before continuing. “I took your medicine from you and needed to return it…return it to you.” He reached out to touch her face. “Needed to…don’t want you to die.” The gesture made her want to forgive him everything. If only she knew why he’d taken the pills and left in the first place. Justina turned from him and busied herself with preparing a hypospray, measuring out a stimulant as antidote to the overdose of Waracin, not wanting to ask him further questions while he was so obviously ill. Homer didn’t share her sensibilities. “Why did you steal our medicine?” he said. He got closer to the bed, obviously trying to intimidate Diam. Justina wanted to tell him to wait until she’d had a chance to treat her almost-lover but wasn’t so sure she should interfere. After all, she wanted the answer to that question as well. 73

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A flash of boldness slipped across Diam’s face and she was glad to see he still had some fight left in him. “Thought you’d leave,” he said in Standard. “Leave Gallia.” “Leave? How?” “In your ship.” “Ship?” Justina could barely believe it. All of her worse suspicions were true— Diam had only been toying with her to find a way to get them to leave. “There is no ship anymore.” “Know now. Didn’t know you’d taken it apart.” Diam pointed to a book on the floor. “The way my people did.” Homer picked the book and began leafing through it as Justina administered the hypospray to Diam’s bared arm. She watched with relief as the color returned to his face. She took another rolled-up blanket from her bag and put it under his head as a pillow but when he smiled at the comforting gesture she wanted to use it to smother him. Diam must have noted her expression and the smile died. Homer picked up the book and for the first time since that morning his face broke into a smile. “A kid’s book?” “One that tells a story he hadn’t heard, Homer.” She turned to Diam. “So why did you want us to leave?” Diam leaned back into his blanket. “That long story,” he said in Standard before switching to Jabin. “You will tell him what I say?” he asked her, indicating Homer. She nodded and listened as he told her of how his people had left their first settlement because of illness from the dirt they’d disturbed, how they’d survived all this time by living on what they could gather from uncultivated plants and the animals they’d raised. He told of how they’d become nomads, moving frequently to avoid the winds that carried illness and death. As she listened some of her anger and hurt faded. His people had been in dire straits and had gone to extreme measures to survive. When he told her how the dust

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from their settlement and fields were making his people sick in their village far to the south and that his sister was one of those ill the rest of her anger disappeared, replaced by concern. No one in their village had thought that the illnesses they’d first encountered on landing and subsequently took Waracin to avoid had come from the dirt they disturbed. Neither had they thought the dust from their excavations and plantings would travel across the planet to harm anyone else. They hadn’t thought to look at the original settlers and find out what had happened to them, even though they knew this place existed. She was still hurt, though. All the while she faithfully translated to Homer what Diam told her, she questioned in her mind how much of what Diam had said to her in the colony had been true and how much was a matter of gaining her trust so he could force them to leave. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why didn’t you tell us all this in the first place, Diam? We would have helped your people!” After the loving moments she shared with him she felt betrayed that he hadn’t trusted her to do the right thing. The anxious look in his eyes got worse. “I wanted to. Honestly, I did, but I couldn’t.” Diam shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t. Wynalya read the cards and said not to tell you. Said we needed perfect judgment for your people’s part in making our people sick and that you had to be driven away from Gallia. The cards are never wrong…” His voice trailed off and when he spoke again he sounded puzzled. “But the cards must have known you couldn’t leave Gallia.” “If you promised you wouldn’t tell us, why tell us now?” Homer said. A small hint of humor snuck into Diam’s eyes and he smiled wryly. “I said I wouldn’t say anything about my people while in your village. We aren’t in your village any longer.” He reached out and gently seized her hand. “If I could have told you, I would have. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I swear I meant everything I said.” 75

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He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it and the rest of her hurt faded away. She took a deep breath as he pressed her hand to his cheek. He always managed to confuse her. For example what he’d said about the cards telling him what to do… “Who is Wynalya and what cards are you talking about?” “Wynalya is our village witch. We have a leader, Argon, who is supposed to be in charge but he usually listens to her. As for the cards—” Diam had them bring over his bag and he rummaged through it before bringing out a leather bundle, which he unwrapped to reveal set of what looked like oversized playing cards. Diam showed them to her as if they were some kind of rare treasure and Justina understood how precious they must be to him. “These are my family’s divination cards. They are very old, brought to Gallia by my ancestors and handed down from the old time. We use them to guide us. I can read them a little but I’m not that good at it. I brought them with me hoping they’d help me with my goal but now I wonder if they haven’t led me astray. I should never have taken your medicine. If you hadn’t found me and gotten your medicine back you could have died.” He placed the deck into her hands and switched to Standard, looking at both Homer and Justina. “Please take them to my village if I die and give them to Tamalin. Promise me that.” “You aren’t going to die,” she told him impatiently. “I’ve got you stabilized and you should be better in a few hours. No one is going to die—or was going to die for that matter. We have equipment to synthesize Waracin and I made another jar before I left.” Diam looked honestly confused. “Then why follow me? Through a storm?” “Yeah, why follow him, Justina?” Homer broke in, a self-satisfied grin on his face. She glared at him before returning her attention to Diam. “I thought you took the jar because you needed it and I wanted to be sure the medicine wasn’t misused. As you misused it.”

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Diam groaned and pantomimed taking a handful of pills. “I know. One pill good, two pills okay—handful very bad.” Justina snickered. “There’s a little more to it than that.” He laughed with her before lapsing into a thoughtful silence. When he broke it he spoke Jabin again. “Do you think this…Waracin, is it?” At her nod he continued, “Do you think Waracin will help keep my people from getting ill if we return to farming?” “It should. We aren’t different genetically.” She took his hand again. “It would mean you could return to living in one place, growing crops and building real homes.” “It would mean returning to old ways.” Diam said, initially sounding happy but then he shook his head and sighed. “Unfortunately there are those who would not like that, our witch being one of them. Wynalya believes the old ways are bad and would fight to keep things as they are. Most of my people would listen to her.” Homer looked at them both. “Will one of you remember I don’t speak Jabin? What are you talking about?” Quickly Justina explained the situation to him and Homer finally nodded. “So we need to convince this old witch that taking a pill a day is preferable to living in a hidecovered tent and pulling up stakes every few months? Shouldn’t be that hard to do.” Diam shook his head. “Not hard. Impossible,” he said in Standard. “Just let me at her,” Homer said smugly. “I’m great with old ladies.” Justina thought she saw a spark of mischief in Diam’s face but he made his expression bland. “That be—interesting to see.” She wondered just what Diam wasn’t saying about their village witch. Obviously something that amused him, but that wasn’t what was foremost on her mind. The important thing was that they had to find a way to convince his people to listen to them and accept a solution offered by strangers. That would be difficult under the best circumstances, which these hardly were. After all Diam’s people were suffering illness as a result of her people’s actions—innocent as those actions had been.

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In the Gallians’ minds, she and the other colonists had “broken the rules” the Gallians lived by. That they hadn’t known the rules or the reason for them would be irrelevant in their eyes. Rule breakers must be punished. Diam had actually been sent to try and drive them away from the planet as a result. Obviously the witch and those who would side with her felt the colonists to be enemies and any solution they offered would be suspect. She also knew that Diam had a point about his people not wanting to change the way they were living. Even her own people balked at taking a daily pill. Still there had to be some way she could get through to them, some way to convince them that she and the other colonists meant them no harm and only wanted to help. Some way to show that they weren’t that different from each other. Something both groups had in common. Justina looked at the cards Diam had given her. Tarot cards, unless she missed her guess, used to divine the future. Her great-grandmother Mamma Min had had a set of them and when she’d been alive had occasionally told Justina’s fortune. Justina remembered the old lady, dressed all in black and looking severe, ancient and smelling of lavender. The cards would be arranged in rows on the small round table of her kitchen with their mystical images and symbols. Once the old woman had told Justina that she’d take a long journey and meet a man who would truly love her on the other side. At the time she’d been eight and she’d thought Mamma Min’s reading was romantic but dubious. After all, it had been her Uncle Martin who’d given her the most useful lessons in working with cards. Justina smiled to herself, thinking of the sweet old man with his innocent demeanor and sly eyes, shuffling cards with those long fingers of his, still nimble after all of his years. After all the tricks he’d taught her, Mamma Min’s funny-looking cards and her predictions hadn’t seemed significant. But now Justina looked at Diam and wondered if there hadn’t been more truth in her great-grandmother’s prediction. She’d left Earth and made the long journey. She’d 78

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found Diam, a man she knew cared about her—but did he truly love her? She thought perhaps he did. She certainly hoped so. Like her great-grandmother, Diam’s people believed in these cards and what they spoke about the future. Apparently Wynalya had read them and seen her people gone from Gallia. But reading the cards was always subject to interpretation. If Diam’s people really believed in what the cards predicted, maybe here was an answer to finding a commonality between their people. A way to get through to them. She leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder. “Diam, I want you to tell me everything you can about these cards.” He stared at her quizzically. “What do you want to know?” “Well, to start with I want to know which ones Wynalya read and exactly what she said about them.”

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Chapter Eight It was much later in the old infirmary when Justina jerked awake. She lifted her head from where it had been cradled by her arms and sat back in her chair. Arranged on the table in front of her were the tarot cards, in a colorful heap. She’d fallen asleep while studying them, learning by heart each of their meanings. If she were going to pull this off she needed to know as much as she could. She looked around to find Diam watching her silently from the bed. He was sitting up, obviously much improved from before. His color was good and when he breathed it seemed almost normal. She smiled at him. “You are better,” she said in Jabin. He continued to watch her with that quiet stare. “Yes. Thanks to you.” Looking around, Justina noticed they were alone. “Where is Homer?” Diam’s mouth turned up into a quizzical smile. “He’s…visiting my horse. She seems to fascinate him.” “Your horse is a she?” “Yes. A mare. Her name is Milly. Most of the time she’s well-tempered so she won’t bite him.” “I’m not worried about Homer. He can take care of himself around most females.” Diam’s smile turned into a grin. “Yes. Like he will with Wynalya.” Suspicious, Justina let Diam feel her stare. “Just what aren’t you telling us about her?” “She is most formidable. And…she isn’t old.” “Oh.” Justina let that roll around in her mind a little and then decided she didn’t need to know more. Unless… “Is she someone you care about, Diam?” 80

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“Wynalya? No. Not the way you think.” He hesitated. “Not the way I care for you.” “Is that the reason you wanted me to come with you or were you just looking for help for your people?” There was no trace of a smile on his face now. “Is that what you think? I asked you to be my mate—You think I only wanted you because my people need a healer?” “I don’t know what to think.” “Then I haven’t been very good at making my feelings clear. I love you.” He said the words quietly but their impact hit her like a blow to the stomach and for a moment she forgot to breathe. I love you. Three words that meant she was more than a convenience, more than simply available, more than just useful to someone in the world. To Diam she was important because he loved her. And he was important to her not because he was convenient, because it was not convenient to fall in love with someone whose life and background was so different from hers. He was big and strong and a wonderful lover but that wasn’t what drew her to him, nor was it that he smiled at the right time or stood his ground with quiet dignity or tried to help his people the only way he knew how. Justina realized what had made her go after him. She’d followed him into a windstorm because she couldn’t let him go, because he was too important to her. She’d followed him because just as he loved her, she certainly loved him. Time to tell him so. “I love you too.” His eyes lit up and he patted the bed next to him. “Want to prove it?” Did she? Well, since Homer was busy sweet-talking the horse… Justina slid on to the hard platform next to him. “You did such a great job making love to me the other night but I never got a chance to demonstrate what I know about oral sex.” “Oh?” He looked at her skeptically but she could see the twinkle in his eye. “Are you certain you know what to do?”

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“Well if I don’t you could always give me instructions,” she offered, letting her voice drop into a deep purr. The twinkle spread to the rest of his face. “Very well.” Like the first time they’d made love, she could feel him watching as she undid the lacing on the front of his pants and eased his engorged cock from confinement. It looked as beautiful as it had the first time with its purple head and thick veins straining across the surface. She felt again the thrill of having all that male flesh available for her pleasure. But this time it was his pleasure she was aiming for. She took him in hand and carefully squeezed his cock from the top to the bottom, not spending too much time on any one place, rubbing just hard enough to make him begin breathing deep. The tip of his cock oozed pre-cum, which she used to help lubricate her hands. When her hands slid near the base of his cock to where his balls were tight in their sac, she felt the hair that covered his scrotum in tight coarse curls. So different from the men in her past, who’d routinely removed every bit of their body hair. She supposed she should have thought of him as unclean but that wasn’t what she felt. He felt natural, like a man should. Diam leaned back, obviously enjoying her touch. His eyes closed and his face had that intense look it held when all his attention was focused. “That’s the way. I like it when you touch me.” “Is that all you want?” His eyes opened a crack. “No. I want you to use your mouth on me.” “As you like.” She leaned forward and delicately licked the top of his cock, now wet with pre-cum and hard with the actions of her hand. He tasted earthy and sweet and his smell was intoxicating, wild and free and oh-so masculine. All man and all for her. And when she sucked all that male flesh into her mouth she felt stronger and more feminine than she’d felt before. This was her man to pleasure, he

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gave himself up to her completely. Unlike anyone else, she felt he truly belonged with her. Belonged with her, to her—and she belonged to him. She couldn’t tell him that, not in words. After what she’d said when he’d asked her to be his mate before she didn’t know if he’d believe her. So she put it into her actions, how she pulled him deeper and deeper into her mouth, to the back of her throat, taking as much of him inside as she could. Still lying on his back, Diam stiffened and tensed all over, the stomach she had a hand on tight as a board. He gasped out, “Stop. I’m close.” Justina pulled off his cock and smiled at him. “Do you really want me to stop?” Diam stared. “Don’t you want more than this? Don’t you want it all?” Did she want it all? Oh, yes, she most certainly did. “What did you have in mind?” “In there,” Diam indicated the lavatory. “I saw a place for cleansing.” “A shower.” She’d seen the same thing. Diam’s ancestors had believed in modern bathing facilities. “Yes. A shower. I was wondering if you might want to see if it still works.” That certainly had possibilities. “If you like.” He liked. Justina knew because Diam immediately got to his feet and effortlessly lifted her up into his arms. If he’d been ill earlier he seemed completely well now. The joys of a healthy constitution and good medicine. He carried her as if she weighed nothing and in moments they were in the lavatory. Diam closed the door behind them, ensuring some measure of privacy. If Homer got tired of Diam’s horse he’d at least find a closed door between him and whatever activity they got themselves into.

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A sexual activity, Justina hoped, and from the look in Diam’s eyes, one likely to take place soon. She loved a man who knew what he wanted and knew what to do to get it. They headed into the waterproofed area at the end of the room where two showerheads jutted from the wall over a drain in the floor. Justina had to show him how to turn on the water and adjust it for the right temperature, the controls being little different from the lavatory in her home. As always, Diam caught on quickly and in moments they were both divested of clothing and he was standing next to her under the steaming-hot spray. Once again she appreciated how matched they were, in height and inclination. He didn’t dwarf her like so many men did nor did he force her into kisses or anything else. When he bent his head to hers she met him willingly, eagerly even, their lips meeting with mutual consent. It felt good to be with him…it felt right. It felt like it had when they’d first touched back in her infirmary and she recognized what that had been. Not an anonymous coupling with a stranger, even though they hadn’t known each other. It had been recognition of someone she’d been looking for all her life. There wasn’t any soap so they made do rubbing the dust and sweat off each other, letting the water carry it away. Then Diam slid his hands between her legs, rubbing for more than the purposes of cleansing, and Justina grew warm and wanted more than his fingers inside her. Leaning against the wall, she opened for him, giving him better access. Diam growled quietly in her ear, “You want me, woman?” “Yes,” she gasped out. “Good.” He lifted her and poised his cock right at the opening of her pussy. He shoved the head inside, giving her a taste but not what she really wanted from him. She wanted him inside, all of him, as much as he could push inside her. She wanted it now, no hesitation or gentleness. The heat of the water hitting them wasn’t half as hot as their bodies together. She was surprised steam didn’t come off 84

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their skin. Justina raised one leg and put it behind his ass, giving it a push. “Don’t mess around.” “Oh. Impatient?” He gave a short laugh but moved and sank into her. His cock felt hard as iron as it plunged deep into her pussy until it hit home and could go no further. She felt full, fuller even than before, the angle being different. He tucked her other leg around his waist, his hands under her ass, molding to her butt cheeks and supporting her effortlessly in place against the wall. He pulled back and thrust forward, pinning her against the wall. Then his hips took up a driving motion that sent his cock in and out of her with all the force of the windstorm outside. Justina blew away in his arms. It was hard to believe he could last long at the pace he set. Justina threw her arms around his neck and held on, her back against the solid wall behind her. Solid behind, solid man in front and between her legs the most solid thing of all, his cock plunging deep within her. One orgasm hit fast, followed by the next, and then she couldn’t follow what was going on but that she liked it and wanted it for as long as it lasted. Diam growled something then pulled out of her. Turning her to the wall, he placed her hands on the cool surface, bending her forward. “Brace yourself,” he whispered into her ear. Justina obeyed, breathless with anticipation. What did her barbarian lover want to do now? The hot spray from the shower hit her back as he positioned himself behind her, the water sending tingles down her spine. Then he lifted her by the waist and entered her pussy from behind, his cock a welcome invader. In this position he seemed so much bigger and his cock hit the front edge in her vagina where she knew a most sensitive bundle of nerves was located. At least that’s what the doctor in her diagnosed. The woman she was, naked and in the arms of her lover only knew that with each thrust the tip of his cock was hitting something that was sending shock waves through her body. In moments, wave after wave of orgasm sped through her and she cried out over and over, her voice echoing against the smooth walls. 85

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Then Diam stiffened and groaned out something that sounded like her name, only far away and underwater and she realized it was the sound of the shower that made it so hard to hear him clearly. She felt him pulse deep inside her and then there was one long deep thrust that seemed to take forever to finish and that’s when he shouted her name clearly. Inside her he pulsed again and heat from his cum flooded her pussy, pushing her into one more climax that turned her world inside out. He collapsed against the wall holding her upright and breathed deeply into her neck. After a moment Justina slipped from his hands and slid down the wall to land on her feet. She turned and clung to him, her legs shaky after the multiple orgasms she’d experienced. When Justina could think again, she looked up to see Diam’s eyes wide and dark, peering at her as if he wanted to see deep into her soul. “I know I’m not one of your people,” he said. Justina shook her head and pulled him closer. “I’m not one of yours, either. But perhaps we can be our own people.” His lips turned upward into the beginnings of a smile. “Our own people?” “A private colony of people from different worlds who want to be together. We can live with my people if yours won’t accept me. The colonists would welcome you and your sister too, to help us learn more about this new world of yours.” “Homer would welcome me? He’s here to protect you.” “That’s what he thinks he’s doing. But if he was that worried about protecting me from you he’d never have left us alone in the first place.” Diam’s smile turned into a grin. “Besides, he likes my horse.” Justina laughed. “That he does. But I think he’s beginning to like you as well.” A rap on the door caught their attention and from beyond came Homer’s voice. “Are you two done in there?”

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Justina exchanged a quick sheepish glance with Diam. “Yes. We’ll be right out. Did you need to use the facilities?” Homer sounded excited. “No, but I found something that I think you should see.”

***** Minutes later they were dressed and following him down another of the long dusty passages in the building. “I was looking for a galley or kitchen,” Homer explained. “Since this was the infirmary I figured there must have been one nearby to feed the patients.” “You thought there might be food left behind?” Justina said, not without humor. “Not likely to be anything left I could eat but I hoped to find some kind of cooking facility so I could heat up what we brought with us. I’m not that fond of a cold supper. Anyway, what I found was this.” He slid open a door and revealed a room that unlike the rest of the building had not been stripped of furnishings. In fact it was well furnished with a bed, desk and many bookshelves loaded with books. Everything was covered with dust but it was clearly a room that had once been lived in. Diam glanced around the room, orderly in spite of the dust. On the desk sat a few books and loose papers and similar books were piled on a small table sitting next to the bed. He started for the desk but Homer put his hand on his arm. “That’s not what I brought you here to see. Over here, Diam.” He pulled him to the bed, which was heaped high with blankets. And an occupant. Diam drew back as he realized what it was. The room had indeed once been lived in—by the mummified corpse tucked under the covers, head sunk deep into the pillowcase. The features were composed, tufts of white hair still clinging to the forehead, similar tufts on the shrunken jowls. A man

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then—an old man who had died in his sleep, left behind when the rest of his people had fled the city. Homer didn’t seem bothered by the long-dead remains. “One of your ancestors I suppose. I poked about once I found him and discovered a small kitchen through there.” He pointed to another door out of the room. “I think he may have lived here alone. There’s evidence of food being cooked and tableware for one. I think he ate a good supper and simply died of old age. This might tell us more.” From the bedside table he lifted a book that from the lack of dust on the cover he’d clearly checked out earlier. Opening it, he pointed to the first page, which was handwritten script. “I think it might be a personal journal. I don’t read Jabin so I don’t know for certain but there are what look like dates and scribbling on each page.” Justina smiled. “You can read dates in Jabin?” Homer flushed. “It isn’t that hard to do. Jabin uses the same calendar and date format that Standard does. If I’m right the dates end about a hundred years ago.” He indicated the body in the bed. “About the time this man died.” Diam took the book and read the first page. “It is a journal. Of Doctor Jordan Horton.” The name seemed familiar and it took him a moment to realize why. “Horton was my great-grandmother’s name. This might be someone related to her.” “And to you,” Justina said quietly. She took the journal from him and turned the page. “He talks about the plague and how many had died,” she said. “He was chief medic. He talks about how guilty he felt over not being able to find a cure. When the others fled to safety he stayed behind, hoping to find some way to combat the virus.” She turned to the final pages and read quietly. After a moment she frowned then her eyes widened. Finally she looked up at Diam with wonder lighting her face. Diam wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look so beautiful. Justina smiled. “This man, Diam. He found it. We have to find his lab. It must be somewhere nearby and there may be samples. Or instructions. Notes, something we can use.” 88

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Caught up in her excitement, Diam grabbed onto her and tugged her into his arms. “What are you talking about? What did he find?” “The solution, Diam. A vaccine. He tested it in the lab and it looked like it would work. If that is true then we’ll have a way to keep everyone from getting sick without taking Waracin every day.” “The dirt wouldn’t make us sick anymore? That’s wonderful!” Diam lifted her into the air. She laughed and pushed on his arms. “Put me down.” He did but didn’t let go of her. It felt too good to have her close. Justina seemed to think the same thing as she stayed within his grasp. She pointed to the journal in her hand. “It will take time to accomplish but we can use Waracin to buy us that time.” That reminded Diam of his sister and how ill she was. “As soon as possible we need to get back to my village. Maybe if you can tell them that part of the cure is from our own people they will accept it better.” Homer cleared his throat. “Someone want to explain the celebration to me?” he said in Standard. Justina did and Diam was pleased that he understood most of what she said. When she was done Homer looked as happy as they were. “It will be good to not have to take a pill every day. And that’s the other thing I was going to tell you. I checked outside while I was visiting your animal and the storm looks just about finished. We should be able to leave in the morning.”

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Chapter Nine Early the next day they left. Diam rode his horse at a fast trot, Justina and Homer following at a little distance in the runabout. She drove, keeping the fast-moving pair in sight. Homer also seemed to watch them, although she doubted he was watching the rider as much as he was watching the horse. “How hard do you think it will be to learn how to ride?” he asked after a long time of quiet contemplation. She glanced over at him and saw the captivated look on his face and could barely resist bursting into laughter. Homer had finally found something on this planet he found more than tolerable. “Probably not too hard. I’m sure Diam or one of his people could teach you.” “I suppose. It would be good to learn, don’t you think?” Her companion’s voice picked up enthusiasm. “Since we’re here and a horse doesn’t take fuel the way the runabout does. It would be best to learn to live with the land a little more. Of course we’d have to get a couple of animals and learn to take care of them. Diam’s people could show us how. They eat grass, right? We have few grassy places near the colony. That’s where he left her, you know. In one of those meadows.” Justina subdued a chuckle over his growing zeal. “So I heard.” Homer settled back into his seat and nodded. “Yes. I think so. I think we should ask for some horses in exchange.” “In exchange for what?” “The medicine.” She almost swerved off the path. “You are going to charge them for the medicine they need to stay alive?” Justina asked, outraged.

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He chuckled. “You should see your face. And yes, we need to charge them or they won’t believe they are getting anything of value. People are like that. And it isn’t like they can’t spare a couple of horses. That’s cheap for what we’re giving them.” “Why stop at the horses then?” she said dryly. “Why not ask for more?” Homer settled back in his seat. “We probably should since they have animals to spare and we have none. We could use animals for meat and wool, like sheep. Maybe even get some cows. Imagine having real milk for the children.” She caught the sly glance he gave her. “Of course at first we’ll need someone to help us care for the animals. Perhaps your friend and his sister could live with us for a while to help us out.” Justina felt her face heat as she caught on to what he was suggesting. That could be a very good reason for her and Diam to be together. “That might not be a bad plan,” she admitted. At the speed they went the time passed quickly but even so the village seemed to sneak up on them. One minute there was nothing but untouched forest around them the next they were in a large clearing, dotted throughout with roughly made dwellings—hide and stick tents, smoke emerging from the top of each one through a thin metal tube. The metal tube was the only giveaway that these people weren’t native to the planet. Metal like that didn’t exist on the planet and it had to have been made from the skin of the ship that had brought them here. Justina looked around and wondered. Primitive the surroundings she found herself in might look but how long would it take for her people to regress to this level of civilization if they hadn’t the means to combat the diseases this planet possessed? It seemed that when Gallia had been named habitable by Earth’s government something had been left out of the report. What she’d read about her new home planet before leaving Earth hadn’t said anything about a previous colony being unsuccessful or why that might have happened. Certainly nothing had been said about virulent

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disease-causing organisms lying dormant in the soil, waiting for someone to disturb them and give them free domain. Odd how something like that might have gone astray. Or not so odd when you considered how much the government paid for a positive report. There were just too few hospitable planets in the universe. When it had become clear that a previous colony had existed she’d thought that no one from the colony had contacted the government back on Earth and told them of the problem. But then she’d read the old man’s journal and it told a different story. Earth had been told but they hadn’t done anything to rescue the colonists here, nor had they marked the planet as uninhabitable. Instead, a hundred years later there had been a curious recommendation added to the medical manifest to take extra antibiotic and antiviral medicines. They’d known but hadn’t cared. So what if half the population died in the first year without proper medical treatment? With it happening on a planet lightyears away and from where no one would ever return, who would ever know? She knew and fury burned through Justina as she realized that her people as well as Diam’s had fallen prey to the same greediness on the part of the government they’d left behind. She was angry at the ones who’d benefited, those who’d edited the report to remove anything detrimental about Gallia and those who’d allowed the compromised information to go to the next group of settlers heading from overcrowded Earth to a new home. Her people and the first colony were both victims—only it had been worse for Diam’s people. Nonspecific antibiotics like Waracin hadn’t existed for his ancestors so they’d lost their bid for civilization. Her betrayal was more immediate but his had gone on for generations. Between them though was the power to correct this wrong. Together they could build on this world with her people’s medicine and his people’s survival skills. Once the vaccine was ready she’d make sure everyone would be protected. 92

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With that in mind she parked the runabout outside the hut Diam directed them to. Exiting, she and Homer stepped into the crowd of curious faces attracted by their unusual craft. Looking about, she tried to spot the little sister Diam had mentioned but no child came forward to greet him. In fact, very few children were present. One look at Diam’s face told her that this was unusual. He glanced about with a worried look on his face. He spoke rapidly to an older woman who stepped out of the hut. She seemed pleased to see him but shook her head sadly at his questions. Diam came quickly took Justina’s arm. “We must do something now. Mari,” he indicated the woman he’d spoken to, “she’s been taking care of Tamalin while I was gone and she says my sister is much sicker than she was.” Grabbing her medical bag, Justina followed him into the small hut. She blinked quickly, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light within. The inside of the hut was sparsely furnished but neat as well. A small fire in the corner gave off what little illumination was inside. Near the fire was a little pallet and on the pallet lay a small figure lying far too still. Justina’s heart sank, suddenly afraid they’d arrived too late to save the little girl. But then the deep-sunk eyelids fluttered and rose, revealing dark eyes that could have been duplicates of Diam’s, and Justina breathed a sigh of relief. Tamalin stared at her, clearly confused by her strange appearance but then she spied her brother and a sweet smile burst onto her face. “Diam,” she cried and tried to sit up. A coughing spasm ended that effort and the little girl sank back onto her pillow. She stared mournfully at her brother. “I didn’t get better. I tried to be good and stay in bed like Mari told me but I’m still sick.” Diam knelt on the rug-covered floor near the bed, a heartbreaking smile on his face. “It’s okay, Tami. I brought someone with a special medicine for you.” He turned to Justina and she saw the hope in his face. “This is Justina, Tami. She’ll make you well.”

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She had her bag open before she even reached the little girl’s side and was measuring a hypospray dose of Waracin before anyone could object. Even so, she hesitated before administering it. “This is all right with you?” she asked Diam. He put his hand on her wrist. “Make her well, Justina.” Tamalin winced as the hypospray stung the side of her arm but she didn’t even whimper a protest. Diam sat next to her on the bed. “I brought you a present.” “A present?” Sick as she was, the child’s curiosity perked her up. “What kind of present?” Justina watched as Diam produced the book he’d found in the city and placed it in Tami’s hands. The little girl’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and she touched the colorful cover with awe. “A book? Just for me?” “Well it would be nice if you shared it with the other children.” “Oh, I will,” she said, but when she took it from him she hugged it close to her body as though worried it might be taken right away. “Can I read it now?” “The light isn’t good for reading right now but you can look at the pictures. It is about how our people came to Gallia.” Diam threw Justina a quick look. “Just like Justina and her people.” The little girl stared at Justina in astonishment then broke into a smile. “You came on a building like this?” she asked, pointing to the spaceship on the cover. Settling herself onto the bed next to the child, Justina prepared for a long question and answer session. First she pulled a portable lamp from her bag and set it up next to the bed. The child’s mouth dropped open when she switched it on, providing a soft but good reading light. Taking the book and Tamalin into her lap she turned to the first page.

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“I came on a ship that traveled through the stars from another planet,” she began. “And yes, the ship looked a lot like the one on your book.” Homer watched as the two women he loved most leaned closer to each other over the pages and for the first time in years he felt content. The feeling only lasted a moment before Homer stuck his head past the hide flap covering the doorway. “Diam, there is a group of people coming to meet us. And it looks a lot like an unwelcoming committee.” Resisting a sigh, Diam rose to his feet. He’d known bringing the colonists here would attract attention but had hoped to have a little time before confronting Wynalya and Argon, the titular head of their village. The man generally deferred to the witch and wouldn’t stand against her without cause. He’d hoped to have a healthy Tamalin to act as evidence the Newcomers’ healing would help them but it was too soon for that. On Wynalya’s orders Argon might insist the Newcomers leave the village and Diam couldn’t allow that. Justina looked like she was going to go with him but he indicated she should stay with his sister. “You are a guest in my home. As are you,” he added belatedly to Homer in Standard. “Both of you stay here and I’ll deal with my people.” “I’ll come with you,” Homer said. “I’m second officer of the colony and can speak for them. “Besides,” he added with a grin, “if one of these people is this witch you’ve talked about I might as well meet her.” For a moment Diam thought to argue. But Homer looked determined—and he also looked tall, strong and virile. Just the kind of man to distract Wynalya. If the witch reacted to the Newcomer the way Diam was pretty sure she’d react, Homer could provide a much-needed distraction and buy them time to cure his sister. He tried to feel guilty about using the man that way but couldn’t manage it.

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Outside the hut was a crowd of other villagers, clearly attracted by the Newcomers and their vehicle. Diam and Homer stood together and blocked the door to the hut as the “unwelcoming committee”, as Homer had phrased it, came closer. As Diam had predicted, it was Argon and Wynalya, as well as four of the stronger men in the village, one or two of who were usually called upon to perform police duties. That all four had been summoned did not bode well. “Have weapon?” Diam asked Homer in Standard. Homer patted his belt. “Yeah. I’m armed. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. Where is the witch? Isn’t she coming?” There was only one woman with the group. “She’s there,” Diam said. Homer’s head jerked and Diam felt him stiffen. “You mean the dark-haired woman?” “That would be Wynalya.” “Oh.” Homer definitely looked intrigued. “Does she have someone… A husband, mate. Whatever you call it. Someone special?” “No.” “Hmm. Doesn’t she like men?” It was all Diam could to not laugh. “Yes she likes men. A lot.” “Hmmm. Well then.” The bigger man changed his stance and Diam could swear that he’d adjusted his pants. Perhaps to accommodate an erection? From the look on Homer’s face it wouldn’t have surprised Diam in the least. What did surprise him was that Wynalya, who was leading the group at full speed with her face fixed into a mask of fury, suddenly slowed down as she got close enough to see them both clearly. He’d hoped she’d find the man interesting but hadn’t expected her to display that interest so blatantly. Usually the witch was better at hiding her feelings but after casting one furious glance at Diam she turned her attention to Homer and her expression turned more contemplative than angry.

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Diam suppressed a smile and took a step forward. “Argon, Wynalya. How good of you both to welcome us back.” He spoke his people’s common language, which he knew Homer didn’t understand, but he also knew the man had his translator up to his ear. Wynalya leveled her glare at him. “You bring the Newcomers with you.” “These people helped me. I fell and hurt my ankle and they healed it. Then I grew ill with the coughing sickness and they cured me of that.” Diam knew this last would make an impression and it did. Many of the women in the crowd whom he knew had sick children in their huts gave each other quick, hopeful looks. They would know why he’d brought the strangers to his home first, since his sister was ill. If Tamalin recovered so might their children. Diam continued his speech. “They took me into their homes and gave me food and shelter. After they had done all that how could I refuse them my hospitality?” He couldn’t have and everyone there knew it. Once you’d received shelter in another’s hut or village you were bound to offer the same welcome to them or their family. Diam was within his rights to have Justina and Homer in his hut. Not that at the moment Wynalya seemed to be willing to acknowledge that. Her eyes narrowed into slits and lips tightened as if holding back some remark. Diam tensed for her to lose control and lash out at him. She could insist he go with her someplace private and he didn’t want to leave Justina alone. For once he was glad to have the imposing figure of Homer next to him. The colonist was sized to match any of the other men and he exuded the quiet confidence of a man who someone should think twice about messing with. Homer stepped forward and spoke into the small translator in his hand. “I greet you, cousins.” “Cousins?” Wynalya’s voice was full of scorn. “We aren’t cousins.”

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“We are all from distant Earth, which seems to have left us to fend for ourselves. That relates us in some way. We have problems to work out. Perhaps we should discuss them.” Wynalya gave him a long, lingering look which Diam was sure she meant to be withering. But Homer didn’t wither and the longer she gazed at him the more hungry her attitude became. He almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. But Homer didn’t look sorry at all. He seemed to bask in the woman’s stare, meeting it with his own. Finally Wynalya raised one eyebrow and a slight smile played across her lips. “Are you someone who could discuss problems for your people?” “I am second-in-command of the colony and I discussed what I could do if I meet some of Diam’s people with our leader before leaving. I can speak for them.” “Very well. Perhaps we should talk somewhere private. My home is much larger than Diam’s.” “Perhaps.” Homer gave Diam an amused glance. “But not just now. I am a guest in Diam’s home tonight and don’t wish to abandon my companion.” “The woman, you mean? She could come as well.” Wynalya said it but there was a lack of enthusiasm to the invitation that needed no translation. Diam shook his head. “Justina will stay with me,” he said firmly. “Oh?” Now Wynalya stared at him, looking intrigued. Clearly she was curious about the woman she hadn’t yet seen. Homer stepped in. “And I can’t leave Justina. Besides it has been a long day and we’re all weary. Tomorrow we can talk. In the morning.” The witch didn’t like it but Diam knew she couldn’t do much about it now. He nodded to Argon, who’d stayed in the background, apparently content to let Wynalya lead, as always. Diam at times wondered if the man had any kind of backbone at all.

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To his surprise Argon stepped forward and took charge of the meeting. “Diam has claimed the right to house the Newcomers overnight. We will honor that. They’ve had a long journey today if Diam’s horse is any indication.” He pointed to the exhausted animal standing next to the runabout. “They should rest tonight and we will speak more in the morning. This is acceptable?” Everyone nodded, including Wynalya, although reluctantly. “Tomorrow then,” she said finally with a meaningful look at Homer. “In the morning.” She led the way away from Diam’s hut but her departure was less intense than her arrival and Diam could have sworn she took one quick glance back at Homer. The big man adjusted his stance again and he looked like he was hiding a smile as well as an erection. There was definitely a predatory look in his eyes. Given that he hadn’t looked that way at Justina, Diam now knew Homer’s interest in the doctor had been more that of a friend than a lover. The knowledge was comforting even if he knew he had Justina’s love now. Homer and Diam waited until the “unwelcoming committee” was well away from the hut before changing position. Then Diam looked over at his tired and patient horse. “Homer,” he said in Standard, “Come with me and I’ll show you how to take care of Milly.” The big man clapped him on the shoulder so hard it nearly sent Diam off his feet. “Glad to!” Homer said happily. When they returned from the meadow where they’d left the now groomed and resting animal happily grazing, Tamalin had dozed off. Justina eased the sleeping child off her lap and covered her with the blanket before joining them. “So did you meet Wynalya, Homer?” “Yes.” The man’s face became contemplative. “And she met me. This could be very interesting.” Her eyebrows quirked up. “Interesting?” “Oh yes. Very interesting.” 99

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“Where were you all this time?” she asked. “Feeding Diam’s horse. And now it’s our turn.” The big man rubbed his hands together. “You have meat, I understand?” He asked the question so eagerly that Diam couldn’t help but laugh. “That is one thing we are rarely short on.” The predatory look in Homer’s eyes was back. “Wonderful. It’s been years since I’ve tasted meat.” “No meat?” Diam sat down. “I know there are no animals in your colony but why would you not have meat back on Earth?” “Not many animals left. The place was overcrowded when your people left and it hasn’t improved in the past hundred years. No place to graze animals means no animals.” “A very different world.” Diam tried to think how it would have gone for his ancestors if they hadn’t had the livestock they’d brought with them to live off. There were almost no native animals on the planet that could have substituted and his people would have starved without the means to grow food. “I’ll have to see what there is to eat,” he said, heading for the small cooking area of the hut. Just then there was a knock on the doorway and when Diam lifted the flap Mira came through with a large pot of mutton stew, goat cheese and a simple flatbread made from wild grains that had been gathered earlier in the fall. Diam thanked her warmly for her thoughtfulness. It was typical fare for Diam’s people, but exotic enough to impress his guests. Homer seemed to enjoy the stew the most, while Justina seemed apprehensive over the meat, picking at it as if wondering if it was safe to eat. The cheese and bread, however, she loved, and she had several slices. Tamalin stirred on her pallet. “Diam?

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He went to her side immediately, not even bothering to put down the slice of bread he’d just finished smearing with soft cheese. Her face was pinker than before, the terrible pallor gone from her cheeks and she breathed almost normally. Just a few hours on Justina’s medicine and already she seemed nearly well. “How are you doing?” Diam asked. “Can I get you anything?” The little girl eyed the bread and cheese in his hand with eager eyes. “Could I have something to eat?” Mira had told him that Tamalin had been too ill to eat anything for the past two days. With a roar of relieved laughter, Diam gathered her up into his arms and carried her over to the table. “Little sister, you can have anything you want.” They celebrated her recovery the rest of the evening and it was much later when the little girl was put back to bed. Homer muttered something about keeping watch on the runabout, which Justina translated to mean he was going to sleep inside it. This left Justina alone with Diam and a sleeping child—and wondering what he intended to do about it. Justina wasn’t sure if Diam would want to reveal his relationship with her while they were in the village by inviting her to share a bed with him. After a moment’ hesitation he lifted a leather flap that separated a corner of the hut, revealing a wide pallet set in an alcove. “My bed,” he said quietly. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing it with me…” “I’d love to,” she said quickly, before he could take back the words. His relieved grin said better than words that he’d been wondering the same thing. It was time to establish just what their relationship was. “Diam,” she said. “Back at the colony you asked me to be your mate.” He stiffened. “You said it was too soon for you.” “Then it was. Now—perhaps it isn’t.” She saw the hope blossom on his face and knew that regardless of what happened between their people, she and Diam would work things out. Diam moved close and

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cupped her face with his strong hands. It was comforting, his strength, not the threat it might have been in another man. Justina smiled at him. “You will be my wife then?” he asked. The answer was easy. “I will.” He kissed her and it was the sweetest kiss ever, their lips barely touching. A loving kiss rather than a passionate one. But even a kiss that sweet couldn’t avoid passion for long and soon they were wrapped around each other. Holding her hand, he pulled her into the alcove of his bed and lowered the flap to separate them from the rest of the hut. It was dark, so Justina pulled out her portable lamp and set it on a small shelf set in the wall, adjusting it to give the most minimal of light. It glowed softly, providing a quiet illumination to the scene. The light brown of the tanned hides that made up the wall of the hut and the alcove’s curtain contrasted with the furs covering the bed. It was warm and romantic. And then there was Diam sitting next to her on the pallet, more warm and romantic than their surroundings. Justina gave a happy sigh. This was what she’d come for. Their clothes were off in a moment and then they were on top of the warm furs and in each other’s arms. Justina admired the long lean body of her lover, his tanned skin glowing a soft bronze in the light of her lamp. “We’ll have to be quiet,” Diam said. “Or we might wake up Tamalin.” “I know.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to avoid making noise during sex. On the ship they’d come in there had rarely been true privacy. “I can be quiet if you can.” He nuzzled her neck, his lips gently nibbling the skin and sending sparks along her spine. “It is good to have you here, in my bed for a change. Makes it feel more like you belong with me.” “I do belong with you, Diam. I know that now.”

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Even so Justina couldn’t help feel a small surge of discomfort. There must have been many other women who’d shared this bed with him. “I suppose you feel most comfortable in a bed you’ve had so much practice in.” He stared at her for a moment, and then the ends of his lips twitched upward. “You’re jealous?” “Perhaps. A little.” “Should I be jealous of Homer?” “No. He was never important to me the way you are.” Diam slid her onto her back and licked the tip of her nipple. Just in time Justina remembered to muffle her cry with the back of her hand. He smiled at her. “And no woman has ever meant to me what you do, Justina. No woman ever shall.” Justina was at a loss for an answer but that didn’t matter, as Diam didn’t seem to require one. All he wanted from her was what she was most willing to give him. Her love, right here in this bed. They were both so eager that it was barely minutes before he entered her, driving inside her pussy with one intense thrust. Then he took up a powerful movement and having to keep silent grew more of an issue as they made love in the too-quiet hut. As her passion took over Justina tried harder to smother her cries, covering her mouth with her hand until it seemed she’d have to give up air to be silent. Finally it was too much and as her climax claimed her Justina threw back her head and was barely able to keep from screaming her release. Diam followed her with his own groan of relief, which seemed to echo in the silent hut. Fortunately it seemed that no one heard them…or if they did didn’t wish to comment on it. Justina made a mental note to work on better control next time. It hadn’t been a problem with Homer but Homer had never made her feel the way Diam did.

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When their breathing had returned to normal and they were both able to move again, Justina turned off her lamp and they settled into the dark of Diam’s hut. He cradled her close to his chest and in the quiet she thought for a moment he’d fallen asleep. But he hadn’t. Diam’s voice was a soft whisper in her ear. “I want you to know how much you mean to me, my mate. You are everything, even more than my own people. If tomorrow they reject what you intend to offer them, I will leave with you. If you will have me.” As if she wouldn’t. “Of course, and your sister as well. You will both be welcome to come back to the colony with us.” Justina settled back to fall asleep with a smile on her face. She hoped that tomorrow would work out their way but at least one thing was certain. Her new family, which is how she now saw Diam and his sister, would be safe. She’d make sure of that. She wanted to help his people as well but that would depend on Wynalya and the villagers—and the cards.

***** Homer stretched out across the back of the hovercraft and discovered that if he kept his knees slightly bent he just fit on the narrow bench seat. It worked but he wondered how stiff he was going to be in the morning. He grimaced over the thought. It had been a gallant gesture on his part to insist on sleeping out here to give Diam and Justina some privacy. He just hoped they appreciated his sacrifice because his back sure wasn’t going to. Still, what else could he do with the way those two looked at each other when they didn’t think he was watching? The pair was in love and, he suspected, had been pretty much from the moment they’d met. He hadn’t noticed at the time but it was obvious how deep Justina cared by how desperate she’d been to find Diam when he’d left. And

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once he’d seen them together in the remains of the old city, Homer had known there was no way she’d ever really seen him as anything other than a friend. Love at first sight. Never before had he seen it and it was impressive to behold. Now it made him doubly bothered by how he was on the outside of any kind of relationship. That hadn’t bothered him too much before but it did now. He wanted someone special in his life. The image came of the dark-haired beauty who had all but breathed fire at them earlier. Homer moved slightly to adjust his pants as once again his cock stiffened. Now he knew why Diam had looked so amused when he’d talked about the village witch being old. No, she wasn’t old, decrepit or the least bit of a hag. She was just the right age for a man to sink himself into and she was probably a wild ride once he was inside. From what he’d gathered, fucking her wouldn’t even be that hard to arrange. Trouble was when he’d looked at Wynalya outside of Diam’s hut he hadn’t just thought about sex. Another image had come to him, not of her lying on a bed with all that black hair of hers fanned out on a pillow. No, for the first time in his life he’d seen a woman standing next to him and watching his crops grow. He saw her in his house as well as his bed and he saw her belly bulged with a child he’d put there. He didn’t see a quick lay in Diam’s village witch. He saw a wife. The first might be easy—in fact, he’d seen the way she’d looked at him and the invitation to her hut all but assured him that bedding Wynalya was pretty much a certainty. The latter most definitely wouldn’t be and that meant if he wanted the witch to consider marrying him he would have to work very carefully. He’d think about it overnight and maybe by the time he faced her in the morning he’d have come up with a plan. A rap on the clear canopy of the runabout disturbed his thoughts but not nearly as much as the rest of him was disturbed when he saw who it was. Speak of the devil and here she was. Black hair wild around her face and those hot dark eyes of hers staring at him in an unreadable expression, Wynalya stood outside the 105

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runabout. Damn it but if he didn’t want to know just what that look on her face meant. In fact, Homer realized, he wanted to know what all of her expressions meant. It wasn’t possible to pretend he wasn’t there, not when she was staring right at him. And he couldn’t very well ignore her. He didn’t have a plan yet but he didn’t have a choice either. Suppressing a sigh, Homer sat up and raised the canopy, slung his translator around his neck and began to climb out of the vehicle. Wynalya folded her arms and tried not to react as the big Newcomer rose above her. He had to be at least two meters tall and not bad-looking either. When they’d met she’d found him intriguing and unless she missed her guess he wasn’t disinterested in her. Certainly the bulge in his pants indicated that. Of course he might just be a big man there as well. Wynalya licked her lips in anticipation and decided that’s why she’d sought him tonight. Normally she didn’t go looking for a man since enough came to her wanting her bed she didn’t need to seek satisfaction on her own. But tonight she’d been restless and inexplicably needy. A little action with her hand or the carved stick she kept for pleasure would have covered the need but the Newcomer man had haunted her, particularly after his refusing her hospitality earlier. Now she looked at him and imagined how he would be in her bed and knew seeking him was one of her better ideas. “I thought Diam offered you a bed for the night.” She’d offer him better than a bed, she thought smugly, and she’d make sure he took her up on it. And then she’d get him out of her system and he and the woman Newcomer could return to their village tomorrow. The man listened to the small box in his hand and spoke into it. “He did.” The box translated his words. “I decided to sleep out here.”

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Wynalya looked at the device and briefly wondered how it worked then pushed the thought out of her mind. She had no interest in Newcomer technology, no matter how intriguing it was. The man had only one thing she was really interested in. “And why would you do that?” she asked, but then her question was answered by a muffled cry coming from within the hut, clearly the sound of a woman in passion. The sound was followed by a man’s low groan, the latter voice recognizable from long experience as Diam coming to completion. So that’s how it was with Diam and the woman he’d brought. Wynalya couldn’t help a pinprick of disappointment. She’d told him he should find a woman of his own although she’d never dreamed he’d find one among the Newcomers. That this woman she hadn’t even seen yet could capture the passion of the one man she’d never been able to completely enjoy being in her bed hurt her pride if nothing else. It wasn’t like she really cared for Diam. She didn’t care for anyone that way, would never let a man get that close to her. But still, it was unsettling to know that someone else could give him what he needed. He’d been one of the better young studs in the village. Which reminded her she wasn’t alone. Wynalya looked to see the big Newcomer watching her. She hid her feelings and simply let one eyebrow arch. “It seems Diam found more than I expected in your village.” “You sent him there, didn’t you?” Even through the translation there was a blatant accusation in his words. “You wanted us gone from Gallia.” So Diam had told them his mission. Her anger flared at that. “I do what I must to protect my people. I serve them.” “So why are you here now—with me? For your people or for yourself?” His words could be taken more than one way and Wynalya wondered if he might be suggesting a liaison between them. Raising her chin, she stepped closer to him and peered into his eyes. With only starlight and the low moon for illumination they were

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darker than the brown she remembered from the afternoon. She saw a hint of humor in them but only a hint. He didn’t smile. “My needs are simple, Newcomer man—” she began. He interrupted. “My name is Homer. You should call me that.” Pride sparked through her. “Really? And why should I need your name?” Now his eyes twinkled and he grabbed her, pulling her close. He was taller than her by many centimeters and for the first time Wynalya felt dwarfed by a man. The Newcomer leaned over her and captured her mouth in a mind-bending kiss, all lips, teeth and tongue. He devoured her with his mouth, his hands like bands of iron molded to her upper arms. She couldn’t have pulled away from that masculine strength if she’d wanted to. And she didn’t really want to. This was a new experience and Wynalya found it actually to her liking. She let him drag her closer against his hard, muscular body. Farming must be as hard work as raising animals, she briefly thought before a line of hard kisses down her neck caught her attention. She gave him an equal set of nibbles that would probably mark him. So be it. This was what she’d come for. Wynalya molded herself against him and it was clear that the lump in his pants was a hard and ready cock that jumped against her belly. She smiled to herself. Men were so easy to control once you got them like this. She’d get him back to her hut, have sex with him there and get this odd obsession out of her system. Tilting her head back, she rubbed herself against him. “Come with me, Newcomer man. I offer more than a bed.” The box around his neck translated her words. He blinked at her, eyes glazed with passion, and then something changed in his face, his eyes widening as if with sudden comprehension. He put her from him and grabbed the box. “I told you. My name is Homer. And I have a bed for the night,” he said, indicating the vehicle he’d come out of. 108

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Bewildered, Wynalya stared open-mouthed at him. “You want me. I know this, so do you and yet you refuse me? You stay here instead?” He didn’t look any happier than she was feeling but he did look resolved. “There is too much between us. You wanted my people gone or dead and I don’t think it is just because of your people getting ill. We are what your people used to be and what you could be again if you were willing to change your ways. But you don’t want change— you want things to stay the same. But they can’t.” Waving his hands, he pointed to the sleeping village around him. “There are too few of you now. We did a count as we searched for a landing place and there aren’t more than ten villages like this, all of them small. I suspect every year there are fewer born, fewer living to adulthood. Too many get sick even with your rules of not growing crops. You may not like it, Wynalya, but you need things to change.” She gathered her pride, still tattered by his rejection, and raised her chin again. “You say we need change. I say we do not. We certainly don’t need you.” “You do need us. And we could use your help as well, to adjust to living on this planet. We don’t have the resources you do—the animals and the expertise. We didn’t even know that the disease came from the soil. We can learn from each other.” “So you say. You also say you speak for your people but what do you want for yourself, Newcomer man?” “My name,” he said firmly, “is Homer. And what I want could be very simple. Possibly even the same thing you want if you decided to recognize it.” “I thought you didn’t desire me.” He shook his head. “I desire you just as you desire me. But it won’t be tonight, not like this. Not when that’s all you want from me.” “What else could I want?” she said but then the possessive look in his eyes caught her attention and for the second time that night astonishment hit her. “You can’t think I’d want to be mated to someone like you, a newcomer to my world who wants to change everything.” 109

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Now he smiled and it was the most infuriating thing she’d seen. He shrugged. “Why not? We’d be good together.” “It isn’t done. The village witch never takes a mate.” “Never?” He shook his head. “What a lonely life that would be to have no one to care for. Perhaps that is another thing that should change.” He reached out his hand and touched her cheek. “It is something to at least consider. Think about it, Wynalya. Sleep on it tonight.” Stung, she turned to leave. “Oh, I shall sleep. Probably better than you will given the bed you’ve chosen…Newcomer man!” Homer watched her go and whispered after her, “My name is Homer.” Once she was out of sight he shook his head. Not a great plan, particularly the part about sleeping in the runabout but she hadn’t left him any choice. If he’d gone with her tonight she’d have dismissed him like she probably did all men. Now she’d have to take him seriously. Ruefully he considered the backseat of the runabout then he shrugged and climbed back in. Most likely neither of them would get much sleep but at least they’d have something to think about. In the meantime… He took the small translator and said into it in Standard, “Homer is my name.” The box translated the words into Gallian, the natives’ common language, and as best he could he repeated them. He then reset the translator for Jabin and tried again. He repeated it over and over again until he could say the phrase both in her languages and get the same meaning in Standard. When he’d accomplished that he moved to a new phrase, “You will call me Homer.” Maybe he’d have trouble sleeping but this would be one way to spend a sleepless night. With a little practice he’d be able tell her what he wanted to and he’d get her to use his given name even if he had to learn every language she understood to do it.

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Chapter Ten The next morning Tamalin was not only able to get out of bed but was impatient to dress and go outside. Justina insisted that the child should bathe first, even washing her hair. To Diam’s surprise his sister gave the woman almost no argument, which suggested that Justina had earned the little girl’s respect…or possibly something even deeper. There was definite hero-worship in Tamalin’s face as she cleaned up and put on fresh clothes, and she insisted on helping Justina make breakfast. Clean, Tamalin looked even healthier than before and Diam’s hope that the village would accept Justina’s medicine grew. With both his sister and his own recovery as evidence, which he’d tell them about if he had to, it would be hard for even the most skeptical to find a reason to not listen to the healer. But Diam knew that Wynalya had been unreasonable many times before and without her support changing old ways would be difficult. Wynalya didn’t like change. Homer joined them for breakfast but there was something about the man that made Diam wonder if he’d really spent the night in the runabout as he’d claimed he was going to do. There were dark circles under his eyes that could mean lack of sleep. Possible since the craft wasn’t really designed as a comfortable bed for a large man. But it was the small bruises along his neck and the odd way he smiled that made Diam wonder if Wynalya hadn’t managed to tempt him to her hut after all. He said nothing though and it wasn’t until they’d gone outside to where they were to meet Wynalya and the others that he thought of it again. Wynalya showed up with similar dark circles and bruises and Diam almost burst out laughing, particularly with the smug look on Homer’s face. What was particularly interesting was that the witch didn’t look as triumphant as she usually did after a conquest. Instead she kept glancing over at Homer with a 111

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troubled look while he continued to act serene. Perhaps for once the witch had met her match. If so, she didn’t like it. Wynalya looked at the healthy Tamalin holding Justina’s hand and her eyebrows shot up. “The child is well?” “The Newcomers’ medicine is strong. It healed her overnight just as it did me.” Standing outside Diam’s hut they’d attracted a crowd and now there was a lot of muttering among the gathered people. Almost everyone had someone sick in his or her hut and a medicine this effective was appealing even to the most hidebound. But it was Wynalya who would say if using Newcomer medicine could be done. Wynalya held up her divination cards. “What you say is tempting, Diam. But we’ve learned to our regret that looking for new ways only leads to trouble. These say we move again to new pastures and not accept help from those not like us.” Diam’s heart sank. “You’ve read the cards this morning?” “I did. That was the message I got.” Justina stepped forward. “I wonder if that is the message for all?” she said in Jabin. “Perhaps you were only reading for yourself and not the village as a whole.” Wynalya’s eyes narrowed. “You distrust my reading?” Justina lifted her hand in a conciliatory gesture. “No, not at all. But there was only you present when it was made. Perhaps a new reading done here in front of everyone, by someone else, would speak for everyone.” “Someone else—you perhaps? Why should we listen to a reading by you?” From her pocket Justina produced the cards that belonged to his family. “Diam has asked me to become his mate—that makes me a member of his family. It also means that while I’m still a Newcomer, as you like to call us, I’m also one of you.” There was muttering around them and Diam knew that Justina’s argument struck a chord in those watching. Even Aragon nodded approvingly.

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The witch however remained unconvinced and untrusting. “Do you believe in the cards?” Justina bowed her head. “I respect them. My mother’s grandmother read the tarot for me as a child. She spoke of a time for me where I would find the man of my heart in a faraway place.” She gave Diam a look that warmed his heart as well as his cock. “I believe that reading was true for here I am and here is Diam.” She held up Diam’s deck of cards. “I would like to read these now for our future, my people and yours. We’ll do it in front of everyone, in the middle of the village.” They all looked skeptical but Wynalya and Argon followed her as she led the way to the small open area where the villagers set up their market. They took their places around the small table he and Homer set up in preparation earlier that morning. As Justina sat in her place, Diam looked around and realized that many people present looked hopeful that she’d succeed in convincing their leaders to give new ways a chance. Most were mothers, looking for the cure for their children that Tamalin, happy and healthy by Diam’s side, evidenced. Like him they were willing to do anything, even learn new ways from the Newcomers to obtain that. He hadn’t realized it before but he wasn’t the only one impatient with the life his people lived and wanting something better. It was heady knowledge that he wasn’t alone. Maybe Wynalya was right and he should someday consider the leader’s position when Argon was ready to retire. Not anytime soon but someday, when the time was right. In the meantime he had a job to do, to help Justina with the cure to the disease that had killed so many. A cure that his people might reject if her efforts to convince them weren’t successful. With surprising skill Justina shuffled the cards many times. They were old and worn so she had to do it carefully but to Diam they looked well mixed when she was done. When she laid them out facedown she used the layout Diam had shown her. The five-card spread for the present, the past, next step, future and conclusion. 113

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She turned the present card over and Diam gaped when he saw it was the Fool card, just as when Wynalya had read the cards for him. Justina didn’t seemed surprised though. She tapped it. “The Fool—a man on a mission to improve his life and the lives of those around him. He looks beyond the obvious and tries to see what possibilities exist.” She shot him a loving smile. “Not really a fool then… I think this is you. You are the seeker who looks for more.” She turned over the next card and a chill went up Diam’s spine as he realized that card too was the same as Wynalya’s reading. Justina studied it with interest. “The Tower. Changes to a way of life.” Justina looked at Wynalya and Argon. “This is significant. It is in the past position so it could be how we have all come to this point. It certainly can refer to my people as we’ve come Gallia to change our way of life. The tower might even be the ship we arrived on.” Many people murmured in agreement and Diam had to resist a smile. The tower did resemble the Newcomers’ ship when it had been seen flying overhead. Justina did well to make it relevant to them, to include her people in the card reading. In many ways she was reading for both colonists and villagers. Justina continued. “But it can refer to you as well. A long time past you had to change your ways to survive on this planet. Now things are bad again and perhaps another change is in order.” She turned the next step card over. It was a woman, blindfolded with two swords. “Justice. That is the card, right?” She asked innocently. Wynalya’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I think you already know the answer to that. Your name means Justice, doesn’t it? Do you think you are the next step for us?” Justina shrugged. “Probably not the way you mean it. I am here because my people and yours have both suffered from injustice. I understand our actions, while innocently intended, have caused problems for you. We offer justice to your people to offset the difficulties our farming has caused.” She turned over the next card. 114

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“Judgment. An outcome that is satisfactory for all. This card also means changes and in this position I would think it means changes that will overcome obstacles.” Justina turned over the last card and again the Death card with its skull showed. “Death. This could be read as the end of a cycle of life but it also suggests a new beginning. Again change is inevitable. As inevitable as death?” The witch narrowed her eyes. “These cards are familiar. It would seem to be the same reading I gave Diam before he left.” Diam thought he heard something like a suppressed chuckle come from Homer and when he looked at the man Diam thought the man was hiding a smile. The expression on Justina’s face could only be called innocent. She shrugged her shoulders and waved one hand over the array of cards on the table. “You saw me shuffle. If the cards are the same it must be fate.” Again there was that strange noise from Homer and this time Justina shot him a stern glance. The man’s face instantly turned blank. She returned her attention to Wynalya. “They are same cards perhaps but not the same meaning. Every time a card comes up it means something different, depending on who is present at the reading. Interpretation is in the judgment of the reader.” “Judgment again.” Wynalya scoffed. “You think your reading is better than mine?” “I think that judgment is a personal thing and based on what we think we need at the time.” Diam felt Justina’s quick glance. “We do many things that later we regret.” For a moment he wondered what she was thinking of but then he remembered how he’d tried to drive her people away by stealing their medicine and knew she was right. He regretted that action even now. She pulled out the journal they’d found in the city and held it up for all to see. Turning to the first page she showed it was written their old language of Jabin.

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“This was written by a man of your people who fought the illness that killed so many back then and plagues us even now. He spent the last years of his life finding a way to keep his people from getting ill. Unfortunately he was too old when he found it and could no longer leave the city. He wrote that he should have kept someone with him to help him but thought he’d could do it all on his own.” Justina paused and looked around. “Just as many of us think we can survive on our own but find later we can’t. In this case it cost a great deal more than one man’s life. When he found the cure he could not share it and instead had to wait for someone from his people to return. But no one came and he died alone, his secret lost—until Homer, Diam and I found it. “Even with your prohibitions about not growing crops people have gotten ill and died. And yet all this time you’ve suffered from an ailment that a cure existed for—if you’d only known about it.” Looking around Diam realized everyone, even Wynalya, was hanging on Justina’s words and that made him proud. She was a strong woman and he was glad he loved her and that she loved him. Together they would help his people and hers find the answers to their problems. Justina met his gaze and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. She nodded before returning her attention to the others. “Wynalya, you want what is best for your people. So do we. We can use what that old man found to help everyone, your people and mine. That is the judgment we can create—stopping people from getting sick because of the dirt of this new world of ours. We can use my medicine until the vaccine is ready, then make sure that everyone is protected after that.” “It will take years and it won’t be perfect but few judgments are.” Wynalya’s lips twitched as if she almost wanted to smile. “Not ‘perfect’, you say. An imperfect judgment then? Can we live with that?” “My people can if yours will.” 116

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For a long time Wynalya and Justina locked gazes until finally a slight smile slid over the witch’s face and she began to nod slowly. “Perhaps there is more that we can talk about.” She glanced at Homer. “Come to my hut and we’ll work out some kind of compromise.” A smile flickered across the big man’s face only to disappear as quickly as it came. He used his translator. “I think it might be best that Justina and I speak with Argon as well as you…and not in your place but his.” Her eyes flashed. “You still refuse to visit me in my hut, Newcomer man?” Homer stiffened and leaned over, speaking directly to her in rough Gallian. “My name is Homer. If I come to hut it won’t be to talk.” Surprise and something Diam thought could be hope showed in her face. Perhaps it was true what he’d always suspected about the witch. What Wynalya really wanted wasn’t to randomly bed the men in the village but was a man of her own and a child to pass on her knowledge to. If so, it looked like that was something she might have soon given the look on Homer’s face. Maybe that is what every person dreamed of. Someone to love and someone to continue what they’d started in their lifetime. Immortality, companionship and completion—that was certainly what he wanted and what he saw when he looked at Justina. The lady in question stood up, folded the cards and handed them to Diam. “With your permission I’d like to treat your sick,” she said to Argon and Wynalya. At the witch’s nod, Argon smiled at her. “I will take you around the village and introduce you to the families of those who are ill.” With one last smile at Diam and a quick hug for Tamalin, Justina picked up her bag and followed Argon. Wynalya gave another long, measuring look at Homer then headed back to her hut. Diam helped Homer pick up the table to move it out of the square. The big man had a smug smile on his face. 117

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“When did you learn to speak Gallian?” he asked in Standard. Homer shrugged. “You aren’t the only one who can use a translator. I only know a few words…so far.” “But you are going to learn more. So you and Wynalya can talk?” The big man smiled slyly at him. “Talk. And other things perhaps.” He shrugged. “Some relationships take time.” Diam laughed then changed the subject. “You knew Justina was going to do a reading to convince them?” Homer nodded. “That’s why she asked you how to read the cards.” Diam shook his head. “But it was a risk. She’s never done a reading before and it can really depend on the cards you deal.” “Not really.” Homer eyes glinted with mischief. “She knew what cards she wanted and how to interpret them.” He hesitated then his face broke into a grin. “One thing I should warn you about Justina—the tarot might be new to her but she has always been good with cards. Very good,” he said emphatically. “Don’t play with her unless you’re willing to lose.” Diam’s jaw dropped as he realized what the other man was saying. The Newcomers’ leader had implied the same thing. “She cheats?” Homer laughed. “Not always—only when she wants to be sure of the outcome. Look at it this way, when she wants something she won’t let chance come into play and what she wanted most is you.” Homer studied the path Wynalya had taken from the square. “I understand why now. When the right person comes along you want everything possible on your side.” Diam slapped the other man on the back. “My friend, that is one thing we completely agree on.”

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Epilogue Four years later The table looked great. Diam set the roast leg of lamb, his contribution to the feast, on the dining table amid the vast array of vegetable dishes that Justina had prepared, with Tamalin’s help, of course. Since moving in with them the little girl, now nearly ten, had turned into a budding chef, just like her sister-in-law. She even proclaimed to like vegetables better than meat, although Diam thought that might be taking her heroworship a little too far. Tonight was a private dinner, just their family, to celebrate the end of their first full month back in the colony. After nearly a year spent in the old city testing the vaccine his ancestor had discovered, then the following years moving from settlement to settlement, immunizing his people against the native diseases of this world, it felt good to be back in a dust-free house with solid walls and roof again. After spending so much time in other places Diam hadn’t expected that Justina’s quarters in the colony would feel like home but they did. It was good to have familiar surroundings, particularly given that this was the place where they’d first fallen in love. He shared a warm look with his loving wife as she sat down opposite him at the table. Truthfully any place with Justina felt a little like home. A knock on the door interrupted before they could start eating though. Opening it, Diam let Homer into the room. The man was more than happy to see them. “I’d heard you were back,” he said in imperfect Gallian. “You must come quick, the baby is having Wynalya.” After their marriage Homer and Wynalya had moved to the colony so he could start his animal breeding program for the colonists. The man looked so panic-stricken Diam

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couldn’t help tease him. “The baby is having Wynalya? That seems odd. Maybe you should speak Standard.” Homer glared at him then shook his head. “No time for jokes,” he said, switching to the language he knew best. “My wife is having a baby and I need Justina.” The lady in question was already grabbing her coat and medical bag while Tamalin cut a slab of cheese, layered it onto a piece of bread and handed it to her. “To keep you from starving,” the child said. Ruefully, Justina eyed the laden table. “Save something for me,” she said as she gave Diam and Tamalin a kiss and departed with the overwrought soon-to-be father. Brother and sister stared at the rest of the food and shared a look of resignation. “Marry a healer—” she said, starting one of Justina’s favorite expressions. “And you get healer’s hours,” he finished philosophically. “Let’s eat.” It was hours later before she returned. Tamalin had reluctantly been sent to bed but Diam was waiting, a single lamp lit over the table with a plate set with all her favorite foods. No roast lamb but there was another thick slice of cheese on her favorite bread. Justina smiled wearily at him. “Homer has a son.” “Ah. That will make him happy.” “It seemed to make Wynalya happy as well. Although she did suggest to Homer that she wanted to try again for a girl next year. He didn’t seem displeased by that idea either.” Justina sat down and started her dinner while Diam watched. After a moment he moved behind her and massaged her shoulders. She leaned back into his fingers and moaned appreciatively. He worked her muscles harder, trying to get the kinks out. It seemed like Justina took care of everyone else so he made it his business to take good care of her. Nights like this she was sometimes even too tired to make love but even then he always held her through the night. He just hoped that wasn’t the case tonight.

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“This is what, the tenth baby this month?” he asked. Justina nodded ruefully. “Something like that. We’ve a population boom going.” Leaning back, she gazed up into his face. “Are you sorry we haven’t had a child yet?” Diam paused the massage, wondering how much she really could see into his heart. He wanted a child but when they were both ready for one and not before. “Not really,” he said. “The timing hasn’t been right.” “That’s true, we’ve been on the road a lot. Not a good time to start a family.” He resumed rubbing her shoulders. “It was important to get everyone immunized. Now there is so much less to worry about. My people can begin farming again, your people aren’t so dependent on the pills. That is worth waiting for our own needs.” His fingers stopped for a moment. “You do want a child, right?” She tilted her head and met his gaze and in it was all the want and caring he could possibly ask for. “Oh yes. I do. I want your baby, Diam. Eventually…maybe even next year. But in the meantime—” “In the meantime?” Diam knew what the sultry tone suddenly in her voice promised and his heart seemed to trip a beat or two. Maybe she wasn’t so tired this evening. A slow smile spread over her lips. “In the meantime what I really want is you all to myself.” She pushed aside the rest of her dinner and turned in his arms. “I love you, you big, hairy man.” Diam couldn’t hide how happy that made him. “I love you too. Every hairless inch of you,” he added, unable to resist teasing her as she had him. She stood on the tip of her toes and gave him a long lingering kiss. “Then what are we waiting for?”

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In deference to his sleeping sister down the hall, Diam couldn’t give the shout of joy he wanted to. But he did sweep Justina off her feet and into a celebratory kiss before carrying her in the direction of their bedroom. On the way to the bed he stripped off her clothes and had his shirt undone by the time he laid her down. His own colony-styled shirt and pants followed hers to the floor and again he decided that closures that didn’t need laces were a big improvement. It took a lot less time to get dressed—and undressed—when a man was in a hurry. He was a man in a hurry. Justina simply grinned at him and opened her arms wide. “Come and get me, my barbarian.” And he felt like a barbarian—strong, virile and powerful—as he lowered himself over her, his hard and ready cock poised to take possession of her. His woman, the one he’d always wanted, in his bed, in his home. They came from such different backgrounds but they’d managed to make their relationship work. He hadn’t told her but this morning he’d read the cards and asked about their future. The judgment card had come up…a successful outcome assured. The cards never lied. Diam drove home, his cock buried in her pussy up to the root. The cards never lied but they sometimes needed a little help to make a good thing come to pass. His woman wanted him to satisfy her. How could he possibly fail her? She felt so good that he couldn’t help a small laugh as he rested for a moment, letting her get used to him. “You make me so happy, Justina.” Laughing, Justina threw her arms around him. “You make me happy too. But if you don’t start doing something down there I’m going to go a little crazy.” She lifted her hips and urged him to begin moving. He obeyed and thrust deeply then again and again until it was like all the other wonderful times they’d had before, the feel of her tight passage clutching at his cock with every stroke.

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He buried his head in the valley between her breasts and breathed deep of the scent coming off her body, warm and aromatic, the smell so right. As always it hit him right in the gut—this woman was his and he belonged to her as well. In moments she was crying out her pleasure just as his peak hit, and her pussy clutched at him and milked him into a long, drawn out, satisfying climax. Diam collapsed onto the bed next to her. “I love you, Justina.” “And I love you, Diam.” She leaned up on one elbow. “I don’t think I ever told you this but I’m glad the cards sent you to us to seek judgment for your people, even if you didn’t get exactly what you were looking for.” Diam chuckled at the memory. The witch’s interpretation of judgment had insisted on forcing the Newcomers to leave Gallia and instead they, and their ways, had become part of the Gallians’ lives. Instead they’d become part of the Gallians’ way of life. Nomadic ways to prevent illness no longer needed, the villages all boasted solid homes and the land around them grew crops as well as animals. The colonists’ way of life had changed as well, with herd animals being grown for food and clothing and horses for transport. The changes had turned out pretty good for everyone. “So am I,” he said as he kissed her gently. “Imperfect judgment or not.” But as she fell asleep in his arms he thought that if the judgment he’d found for his people had been imperfect, it certainly had become easy to live with. The End

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About the Author Cricket Starr lives in the San Francisco Bay area with her husband of more years than she chooses to count. She loves fantasies, particularly sexual fantasies, and sees her writing as an opportunity to test boundaries. Her driving ambition is to have more fun than anyone should or could have. While published in other venues under her own name, she's found a home for her erotica writing here at Ellora’s Cave.

Cricket welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by Cricket Starr Divine Interventions 1: Violet Among the Roses Divine Interventions 2: Echo In the Hall Divine Interventions 3: Nemesis of the Garden Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis III anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology Hollywood After Dark: Fangs for the Memories Hollywood After Dark: Ghosts of Christmas Past Holiday Reflections anthology Memories Revised Memories To Come Perfect Hero Rogues with Liddy Midnight The Doll Two Men and a Lady anthology

If you are a fan of Cricket’s Hollywood After Dark vampire stories, be sure to see the other stories in the series at Cerridwen Press (www.cerridwenpress.com), written under the name Janet Miller.

Hollywood After Dark: All Night Inn Hollywood After Dark: Tasting Nightwalker Wine

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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