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  She shrugged. "It’s a home for children who have no parents. I guess you wouldn’t understand. Your children automatically go into a communal house at five and stay there until they mature at ten, don’t they? On Earth the young stay that way for longer. Some don’t reach maturity until sixteen or older. You only have one child for each pair of parents, whereas on Earth there are sometimes as many as ten children in one family."

  He nodded gravely. "So you were put with a mother who had no patience with children. Our idea is much better. The caretakers are well chosen for their affinity with young minds."

  "Not all mothers are like that one. Most are kind and care for their children, no matter how many they have." She had the need to defend the countless parents who loved their offspring. She’d just been unlucky in the board’s choices for her.

  Shifting in the seat, he looked over his shoulder. "You must be hungry." Without waiting for a response, he rose, went to the panel and tapped a key. A list of strange figures scanned across the screen and he put a fingertip on several articles. He came and sat again. "I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I ordered for you as you are not yet familiar with our diet." His voice was bland.

  Melanie was about to tell him she wasn’t really hungry when a small panel slid open above a bench and a tray appeared.

  "That was quick work," she said as he got up to fetch it over to her.

  She reached to take it from him, but with a small gesture, he stopped her. He touched the side of her couch with the toe of his soft boot. A small table appeared, sliding swiftly from out of the armrest. Placing the tray on it, he took a cover off an oval dish, put it aside and then handed her a long-handled spoon.

  "It was already pre-packed." He returned to his chair and, making her feel jumpy again, watched her intently. Was he studying her moves? Or just plain interested in her, as one alien to another?

  Melanie started to eat. "Mmm, it’s delicious," she said around a mouthful. "What exactly am I eating?"

  "I ordered the crum…" After a pause, he said, "Salad."

  "Crum?" The elongated yellow fruit was the mainstay of their diet.

  "Yes. I thought some of our other dishes might be too salty for your palate. You can try other delicacies as you get used to living here. Irena set the robots on the craft to program your mind well. You know much about us already."

  "It seems so." She shrugged. The thought of robots fiddling about in her mind made her feel nervous again. The idea her brain might be the only part of the old Melanie remaining was enough to make her shudder. No point in asking this man though. He wouldn’t answer her questions unless he was ready to. "I have no recollection of what happened on the ship coming here. I do know a lot about your people. I know you cultivate many kelps and sea plants and have others growing in hot-houses."

  "Yes, we grow fruits like graws and milews. Both are in the food you now eat." With a small jerk of the hand, he indicated her nearly empty dish.

  "It’s really good." Melanie finished and put the dish back on the table.

  "Drink," he ordered. "The cordial is made of crushed graws. It might be too potent for your taste, so I suggest you only sip."

  Melanie sipped as recommended and licked her top lip as she put the glass aside. She shifted on the seat when she noticed how he stared at the small movement of her tongue. His eyes darkened until they were almost black. A very Earthman-like phenomenon that was eerie.

  "It’s strange," she said softly and then bit her lip, as his head went on one side.

  "Strange? In what way? The drink is not right?" he said smoothly.

  She had the distinct impression he knew darned well what she meant.

  "No." Melanie shook her head and reached for the glass again. "You’re so much like my husband to look at. At least your face is, to a point." Hesitatingly she out-stared him. "Yet so different in your mannerisms. Chris never sat so still, never did that thing with his hands you’re now doing."

  "What mannerism?"

  "The steepled fingers beneath your chin."

  "Ah." He shrugged, moving his hands downward to look at them intently, as if he hadn’t even known where they were. "Unfortunately Irena had no way of copying your partner’s body movements. She only had a thing called a photograph to follow. Something flat and lifeless."

  "Oh, I see." Melanie didn’t really understand at all. Chris’s photo? Irena must have looked at the framed one on the buffet. It was the only one in the apartment--their wedding picture. But why had she given Reve Chris’s features? It didn’t make sense.

  "Did she say such in her message?" she asked, uneasiness making her insides tighten with tension.

  "Yes, and many other things."

  "What else?" How she wished this enigmatic Amaryllisan would open up and tell her more facts to make her feel at ease.

  His long fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrest of the chair and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. He gave a small sigh. "She had not enough time to find a more appropriate replacement. You were her best choice."

  "Thanks a lot. You make me sound as if I’m a poor runner up." Melanie turned her ring round on her finger, and for the first time realized it was still there. At least she had one remnant of her past life that hadn’t changed. She stared at the band of gold. "I guess picking me was a last resort for her."

  He neither agreed nor disagreed. "Look," she said then. "I’ve done what she wanted me to do. I’ve brought the craft safely back. You know the longest you must stay on Earth is two days and nights. The other members of the squadron all returned safely, so I don’t see why you can’t send me back now. You can drop me down in some other place, far away from my home."

  Melanie couldn’t contain a shudder because of the terror she’d felt when she knew for sure she was being stalked. "I’ll get in touch with a friend of my husband’s. He’ll help me." The awful dread she’d felt when she’d suspected Pete made her cringe inside, but there was no need for Reve to know of her fear on this score.

  "You misunderstand me… What must I call you? What name do you go by on your home planet?" he asked. When she told him he repeated, "Mel-aanie," with a soft drawl, the ‘a’ drawn out so he made it sound like a soft endearment flowing from his tongue.

  "It’s Melanie," she insisted.

  "This is what I said." Those dark eyes probed hers again.

  Melanie shifted, sipped at her juice and glanced away from his piercing scrutiny. "Was Irena your wife?" The question slipped out.

  "Wife?"

  "Yes, you know, were you married as Chris and I were?"

  Again he shrugged. "We have no such thing on Amaryllis. Irena was my partner. We shared our lives, up to a certain point."

  Had Irena shared his quarters or lived in that cramped space on the other deck while aboard the Starship?

  "Few Amaryllisans stay together for life. Our women choose their mates and most change often. But no doubt you already know this from the data implanted in your brain."

  "Implanted? Good grief! You make me sound like an automaton." The horrible thought persisted. Had she been turned into a robot? The idea made her skin crawl.

  "Far from it. You are flesh and blood, sinew and muscle," he insisted, surely reading her fear.

  "I hope so," she muttered, ignoring his scowl. "Anyway, we’ve got right away from the original subject of our conversation. How about sending me back home? I know it was awfully good of Irena to rescue me, and I’ll be eternally grateful. But how about putting me in a coma, trance, or whatever, send someone with me to bring the capsule back safely and let me go home?"

  "You would run away from us so soon?" The bland question came out smoothly. He had been acting reasonably well, so why was she so scared?

  "It’s not a case of running away. I belong on Earth." Was she a prisoner here? Yes, for as long as this man decided to keep her on his planet. The saliva in her mouth dried up and her stomach felt as if it had become knotted.

  "As I see it you have little t
o go back for," he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. "Your lifemate is dead. You were being threatened with your life, were in fact a moment away from being murdered by this…mobster. You have no other people of your own family." He got up, put the tray containing her empty dish and glass on the bench and waved his palm over a red light in the wall. The lot disappeared.

  "This is all true." Melanie pushed her hair back and glanced at him where he stood, long legs astride, hands on hips. Totally at ease and arrogantly sure of himself. "But Irena promised you would take me back if I should want that."

  "That’s true also."

  Melanie nibbled on her lower lip when he stared at her in that strange way that sent odd alarm bells off inside her. It looked as if he wasn’t going to say any more on that subject. "What else did she say in her message?" she asked, for something to break the tension strumming between them.

  "That you would make an excellent replacement for her in all ways." Turning his back on her he began to press buttons on a keyboard.

  "Replacement?" Melanie gulped--her shoulders going back as she stared at him. What exactly did he have in mind by that statement? Her throat went as dry as a desert while she continued to gaze at the wide expanse of his back.

  "Irena shared all things with me." The sentence was drawled. If she hadn’t seen proof that he was as straight-faced as a poker player she would have sworn he was having a laugh at her expense. Those great shoulders shook slightly. But when he turned back to her his face bore that same calm look, devoid of expression. She must have been mistaken. This man didn’t know how to joke.

  "Our lines have crossed here somewhere, mister." Her voice was snappy.

  "Lines? Crossed? I’m sorry, I fail to comprehend your strange phrases." With a nonchalant lifting of his shoulders he said, "Please do not forget that my brain has to take in your words, assimilate and then translate them. Only then can I understand you. But these odd phrases have no meaning for me. What have crossed lines to do with what I said?"

  "All right." Melanie got up, faced him and then wished she hadn’t. He was so large, so intimidating. Backing up she went to look out of the window. It was growing light. There were much fewer hours of darkness than on Earth. "Let me make it clear. I got the distinct impression you were hinting I should replace Irena in…your…" She couldn’t go on. They slept but as far as their sex-life went, her training had obviously been pretty sketchy. She had no inkling of exactly how they mated. But if her senses had alerted her correctly, this hunk was implying she take Irena’s place in his bed.

  "Bed?" There was definitely a hint of a smile on those dangerous lips now as she glared hard at him. "Don’t look so shocked. I caught the word running around in that unusual brain of yours."

  These pieces of information made her feel a whole lot better. Now he was picking her brain.

  "To set your mind at rest, we do mate much as you do on Earth. Women have the same rights as men in choosing their mate. Yes, I shared my body with Irena and if you would be willing I would share it with you."

  Melanie held up both hands, as if to ward off a dangerous creature. Which he was. "Now just a minute! I have no intention of sharing anything with you. Most certainly I have no intention of…of …sharing your b…bed."

  His head went back, and there was the look of a predator in those dark eyes of his. A dangerous and deadly predator.

  ~ * ~

  Reve kept his gaze on this Earth woman. His scrutiny unsettled her. Color highlighted her cheekbones. Her eyes sent sparks, more brilliant than the many stars passed on the way to the other side of the Universe, in his direction. The strangeness about her fascinated him. In his many voyages he’d seen uncountable species, some had revolted him, some held his interest for a while, but this woman from Earth had an innocence, a glow about her that touched some part of him, hitherto buried deep inside. Some place in his core, previously untapped.

  If he so desired he could easily control her mind. Could bend her will to suit his needs. Perhaps he would, when he tired of the freshness of her ideas. Irena had programmed the robot to instill data in her brain, but had not had enough time to completely transform her to an Amaryllisan. He was glad because, as she was, she held the power to excite his senses, ignite his more primal, baser desires. She was frightened of him, but had the courage to camouflage her fear well.

  "Are all the Earth people the same as you?" The color darkened her skin even more. Skin with a sheen to it. Skin that begged his touch. Another detail that pleased him. And his senses told him she was softer by far than Irena--less driven by her ambition. It would be interesting to find out how many other ways she differed from Amaryllisan females. Her expressions changed constantly, were a mirror to her thoughts. If she knew how well he could read those thoughts, she would doubtless be very angry. Anger was an emotion unknown to his kind, and he was just learning from this woman how many forms it took.

  She looked confused. "Earth people are very diverse in all ways."

  Here was another strong emotion he had no conception of. She frowned often, as if everything about him and Amaryllis perplexed her.

  Her shoulders lifted a fraction in a shrug. "I don’t believe there’s one other person there who is exactly the same as me. Perhaps one might have the same coloring or looks, but so many other things are different. Even twins, triplets or quads may look alike but have certain differences."

  "Twins and triplets?" he had to ask when a description of these words flashed through her mind and he suffered a moment’s disbelief. How could a female produce so many offspring in one birthing? It seemed an impossibility.

  "Multiple births. Don’t look so shocked. Some women have given birth to six babies in one go." She laughed, obviously because of his stunned expression. The way her mouth curved and her eyes shone when she was pleased delighted him. "Some women go through procedures to help them to conceive and these multiple births are often the result. We have many colors, creeds, religions, races, and languages on our planet. No two Earth people think alike. Perhaps that’s why we always have a war going on there somewhere. Often different cultures clash and a fight ensues. You don’t have wars here, do you?"

  Motioning for her to also sit, Reve dropped down into the chair he’d vacated. With a kind of diffidence he found appealing, she did as he bade--her legs crossed severely at the ankles, her knees pressed together. Did she think he was about to demand she share her body with him this very moment? Her brain patterns suggested she found him intimidating still. Perhaps it was best to let her continue in this vein.

  "We are too civilized to make war," he said with a shake of his head. "What is to be gained by such idiocy? We long ago fought our last inter-galactic battle." Records showed the victors and vanquished lost something of their heritage in long drawn out conflicts.

  "When was this?" she asked, looking intrigued.

  "Many hundreds of megnums. Amaryllis was settled after the last great battle, in which whole planets were disintegrated."

  She looked horror-stricken. "Whole planets?"

  "Yes. We had little option but to choose this planet for what was left of our civilization."

  "Good lord. That must have been some war."

  "It was. And this is why we must now go to the far planets to find one suitable for settlement. Our long-term aim now is to seek out another world we can inhabit, before our own is completely covered by the waters. As you know we have two mountains giving up the substance vital to us. Without kota we have no fuel to drive our ships. The sluns who inhabit the mines are our only enemies. Not because they voluntarily wish us harm, but because the microcosm they carry can paralyze a person if it penetrates the skin."

  Her eyes went wide again, this time with fear. "And do they kill many people?"

  "The workers must wear protective clothing while mining the fuel. We have not lost a miner for many megnums." Reve stood. "Now, I suggest you sleep. I have duties I must attend to. When you have rested, I will accompany you to Amaryllis. At least you
must see how we live." He watched the indecision hover over her features. "Before you decide whether to return to your planet straight away or not."

  She looked about. "Where…where shall I sleep?"

  Reve went to the wall and released his sleeping couch from its recess. "You may sleep here. You have no need to worry. I will not be interfering in your slumber."

  "I didn’t think for a moment you would be," she retorted.

  This was a lie. She was very unsure of his motives. Thankful he could easily conceal his thoughts, and true feelings, he showed her a stern face. Unlike she, whose face was so open and clear to read, along with what went on in her brain.

  He decided to taunt her. "What made you presume that? You know not what I am like, except for the few details programmed into your brain by Irena." His comment had confused and upset her. With an agitated movement, she glanced down at the couch. "Take my word for it. You may rest here. Do you feel more comfortable now you are able to see from the scanning window? Your pulses aren’t racing any more and you seem to have recovered from the attack of the panics."

  Her ready smile, as his statement seemed to reassure her, made something deep inside him spring to life. By the Great Bodka, he had an excitement buried too long.

  "Yes thank you, I feel a hundred per cent better now that I’m not cramped into that small space. Are you positive I’m not putting you out?" Her glance scanned his quarters and she took her bottom lip into her mouth, small even white teeth worrying it. An action she did when she felt less than comfortable with anything.

  "I am the commander here." He drew his shoulders back. "Have no fear, I would not be coerced into doing anything that was not my wish." Most certainly would not be forced into vacating his chamber if it was not his choice. "Now, I really do have many tasks needing my immediate attention."

  Her frown returned and she pushed her hair back uncertainly. Her brain waves said she was still frightened of his manner. He would have to be more temperate when he dealt with her and try not to make her so nervous. Something in her behavior was almost immature. It was a strange trait.