The Course of True Love (1/14)
by Jayel

By the time the Eden Project got underway again and entered Danziger's forest, the temperature was dropping well below freezing every night, and every cloud that formed above them seemed heavy with the promise of snow. The immense trees offered some shelter from the biting winds, but Devon was still determined to reach the still-distant mountains before the real cold set in.

"Do you think it's possible we could make it?" Yale asked Danziger as they sat by a midnight watchfire.

"Who knows?" Danziger shrugged. "Those mountains seeem pretty far away to me, but you never can tell." He grinned. "If anybody can talk, wish, pray, or order them closer it's Adair."

"Very true," Yale agreed with a grin of his own.

"I'm just not sure what all the fuss is about," Danziger continued. "What does she think we're going to find there, a ski resort?"

"I'm afraid I'm not sure either," Yale admitted. "Caves, perhaps? More Morganite?" He poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled his friend's mug. "Perhaps it isn't so much the destination which concerns her as the journey, the progress."

"I think you may be on to something there," Danziger agreed. "I think she sees those mountains as the last real obstacle between us and New Pacifica. If we have to stop, she wants to be able to make one more giant leap after the first thaw and start setting up the colony." He put a gloved hand into his coat pocket and took out a ragged sheaf of papers which unfolded into a set of surprisingly neat schematics and time tables. "If we could get there by about mid-spring, we'd still have close to three full station-months before the colony ship arrives. I figure we can get this main communal shelter up and the primary power running for Julia's hospital and some secondary power production started, maybe water, maybe wind, depending on what's available." He scribbled a new note in one of the margins. "We may still be sleeping in tents, but I think we could manage."

Yale couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Has Devon seen those?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Danziger answered without looking up. "She's put her two cents' worth into every stroke of the pencil, believe me." He glanced up and saw Yale's face. "What?" he demanded, coloring slightly.

"Nothing," Yale promised, still smiling. "You make quite a team, you and Devon."

"Yeah, right," Danziger muttered, putting his notes away. "When we can stop arguing." He saw a light coming through the nearest trees, and his own grin appeared. "Here comes the mighty warrior," he joked, nodding in the direction of the light and Alonzo stumbling out for his watch.

"A piece of him," Yale agreed. "Alonzo, that jacket will be much more efficient if you wear it on both arms at once."

"What?" the weary young pilot barked vaguely. "Oh . . . yeah . . . " He shrugged his way into the rest of his jacket, then looked down at his bare left hand as if it were some exotic new variety of fauna he had never seen before. Then he did a short take and yanked on his second glove. "How you guys doing?" he mumbled through a yawn, settling himself by the fire with his rifle balanced precariously on his knees.

"Better than you," Danziger answered, handing over his still-steaming mug. "Don't let him shoot himself in the foot, Yale. I'm going to bed."

Leaving Yale to finish his staggered shift and listen to Alonzo's woes, he headed back to his tent. Where he found not a sleeping kid but a note. "Dad--Gone to Tara's--Love you--True."

"This has got to stop," Danziger muttered, tossing his gloves on the cot but keeping his coat. True had started sleeping three nights out of every five in Tara's tent, and while he had nothing really against Tara or their newfound friendship, he couldn't help worrying that things might get out of hand. Tara wasn't the most stable human he'd ever met by a long stretch, and his daughter had proven herself dangerously impressionable in the past. Even Devon had expressed concern--privately, of course, and in the most diplomatic terms possible.

Reaching Tara's tent, he considered knocking but decided against it-- having called her for her watch more than once, he knew what a bear his daughter's hostess could be when awakened. Instead, he turned his luma on its dimmest setting and slipped in unannounced.

True had put her bedroll scant inches from the makeshift heater Tara had fashioned from a dented hatch cover and a fair-sized pile of Morganite she had discovered in a small cave just inside the forest. "Let the diggers come take it back if they want it," had been her less-than-tactful response to Devon's objections to this piracy. "I am not about to spend the winter sleeping in my socks if I don't have to." And while he had officially sided with Devon in the interests of a united front, he had to admit it was significantly warmer and more comfortable at Tara's--no wonder True-girl preferred to sleep in here.

Bending to pick up his daughter and carry her home while she was sleeping and couldn't argue, he heard a muffled groan from the other side of the tent, followed by a slightly stifled shriek. Oh great, he thought with an inward sigh. After what had happened last time, did he dare risk letting Tara have a nightmare on her own? Against his better judgment, he went over to the air mattress and shone the light down on its occupant.

Walman should be here, he thought with an admittedly lecherous grin. Tara had thrown off her blankets, and with one arm tossed carelessly over her head, she looked almost posed in the soft glow of the luma, the swell of one breast peeking fetchingly over the closure of her t-shirt. Her t-shirt? *His* t-shirt--he had been looking everywhere for that thing. Still, he had to admit Tara was putting it to better use than he ever could . . . oh no, he did not have to admit any such thing. "Good night, Irene," he muttered softly, turning away.

"No . . . ," Tara mumbled, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. Turning back, he could see her head tossing from side to side as if to ward off some horror or another, her curls alive with the reflection of his light. More alarming was the soft blue glow that had begun to emanate from the shell-like curl of her open palm.

"Come on, kiddo," he grumbled, kneeling beside her. "Wake up." He reached out and touched her shoulder, preparatory to giving her a healthy shake, and she suddenly called his name, John, her mouth going slack as her head fell back from his touch. Suddenly he realized that while Tara was definitely having a powerful dream, it was almost certainly not a nightmare. More importantly, he was apparently in there with her.

He drew his hand back as if from a freshly-charged fuel rod, but he couldn't seem to make himself stand up entirely. She was so . . . .

"Daddy?" Turning with a start, he found his daughter sitting up and staring at him quizzically. "What are you doing?" True asked. "Is something wrong with Tara?"

"No," he said quickly. "I don't think . . . "

"What's going on?" Tara asked sleepily. "John, for pity's sake, get that light out of my face." She struggled to sit up, twisted in a tangle of blankets and t-shirt and hair that suddenly seemed inutterably charming. "True's all right," she continued, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks as she looked at him, as if she were remembering her dream. "You can leave her in here if you want."

"Sure," he said, getting to his feet. "You guys stay warm, all right?"

"Sure, Dad," True answered, looking back and forth between her flustered parent and her suddenly crimson friend. "You, too."

"No problem," he said, beating a hasty retreat.

Resisting a probably-ill-conceived urge to throw himself naked into a snowbank, Danziger headed back into his tent for the second time that night, this time crashing into Devon who was apparently on her way out.

"There you are," she said brightly, pulling the blanket she had draped over her shoulders closer around her body.

"Yeah," he agreed with a grin he suspected looked ridiculous. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing," she said with studied nonchalance, trying and failing to step around him. "I just thought . . . well, I knew True was spending the night with Tara, and Uly's snoring like badger, so I thought . . . it doesn't matter . . ." She started to slip by him again, but he caught her by the shoulders.

"You thought what?" he persisted.

In answer, she stepped backward into the tent and dropped the blanket. "This," she admitted without meeting his eyes, indicating her nearly-naked form, clothed only in a nightgown that was ridiculously inappropriate to the climate.

The only response John could manage to utter for the first minute or so was "Oh . . . "

"I mean, obviously it was a bad idea," Devon went on hurriedly.

"No!" John hastened to object. "No, Dev, it's . . . it's a great idea." He went to her and took her chin in one hand, making her look at him as he smiled. "It's the best idea I've heard all week."

"You think?" she asked, her voice barely more than a nervous whisper.

He bent and kissed her firmly on the lips. "I know," he said, lifting her off her feet.

She laughed aloud in unsuppressable delight as he lowered her to the cot, returning his kisses with equal enthusiasm and tearing impatiently at his shirt. But when his hand moved up her leg, sliding under the silky nightgown, she stiffened. "John, wait," she said, her fingers scrabbling for purchase in the hard muscle of his shoulders. "Please . . . "

"Okay, honey, okay," he soothed, drawing back. "What's wrong?"

Looking up into his eyes, so full of tender patience, she almost wished he wasn't so sweet. "I don't know," she admitted, blushing scarlet again. "I want to, so much--I've wanted to from the beginning; I just . . . " She laid her palm flat against his chest and pushed him firmly away. "I just don't think I'm ready."

John thought he probably would have laughed hysterically if he hadn't felt quite so much like crying--or at least breaking somebody's face. "I understand," he lied, forcing his voice to sound convincing even if the rest of him was obviously still hoping for better times ahead.

"John, I am so sorry," Devon began, touching his stubbled cheek.

"Hey, don't be," he insisted, kissing her palm before getting up decisively from the cot. "If you're not ready, you're not ready--"

"But I came in here, and I--oh, John, you must think--"

"I don't think anything," he promised, his smile a bit more genuine this time. He had known his fair share of teases in his time, and they were all a lot smoother than Devon, and a whole lot less sincere. "Hey, after all the trouble we've had, the shock of something like this going smoothly would probably kill me."

Even brutally embarrassed, Devon couldn't help but laugh. "Probably," she agreed, retrieving her blanket. "Thanks, Danziger."

He ran a hand over her smooth, straight hair. "Any time," he promised, stepping aside to let her go.

When she was gone, he reached for his coat again, then stopped. "Hell, who needs it?" he muttered under his breath, picking up his rifle instead. Yale had been replaced at the watchfire by Baines, who was drinking coffee and watching Alonzo sleep sitting straight up. "Hey, fly-boy," Danziger said, giving him a short, swift kick that did a little toward making him feel better. "We're under attack."

"What?" Alonzo said, looking up.

"Go back to bed," Danziger ordered. "I'm taking your watch."

"But you just went to bed," Alonzo protested even as he got up.

"Yeah, I know," Danziger answered, taking his place. "But I think I'm safer out here."

End of Part 1

The Course of True Love (2/14)
by Jayel

"Julia, that is so great!" Bess enthused, hugging the doctor as best she could considering her current condition.

"Thanks," Julia answered, slightly embarrassed but hugging back. She and Alonzo had discussed it the night before and decided it was time to let the rest of the Eden Project in on their engagement. So at breakfast, they had made a general announcement, heard by everyone but Danziger, who was propped and snoring loudly over his semolina. "We thought you all should know . . . "

"How long have you known?" Baines demanded of Alonzo.

"A few days now," Alonzo admitted. "I guess we needed some time to get used to the idea ourselves before we sprang it on everybody else."

"We know just what you mean, don't we, Morgan honey?" Bess said, positively glowing with good wishes. "When we got engaged, we didn't tell anyone for more than a month--I think Morgan was afraid my dad was going to kill him."

"I'm still surprised he didn't," Morgan agreed good-naturedly, shooting Alonzo a knowing but congratulatory look. "Good for you, fly-boy--I should have known you'd rather die of humiliation than take my advice."

"What about you, Tara?" Devon asked with a smile. She continued to make overtures to the newest member of their group whenever possible, in spite of Tara's continued resistance. "Did you and Val have a long engagement?"

"What?" Tara said, looking up from her plate as if she had heard none of the previous conversation. "Oh . . . yeah, we did, actually," she went on, smiling impishly at Julia and ignoring Devon entirely. "We'd only been together about two months when we decided to do it, and his parents threw us this huge wedding which took forever to prepare. By the time we actually got to the ceremony, we were wishing we had eloped."

"I think Morgan and Bess had the best wedding," True said. "The dancing was really cool."

"Thanks, sweetie," Bess said, pleased. "You know, there's no reason why we couldn't do that again--we could do it today if we wanted. Morgan still has that VR program, and I'm sure Yale would be happy to perform the ceremony."

"Of course," Yale agreed. "But I think that's up to Julia and Alonzo."

"Sure," Alonzo said, blushing a little. "Why wait?" He put his arm around Julia's shoulders. "What do you think, doc? Ready to be an honest woman?"

I knew we shouldn't just blurt it out this way, Julia was thinking to herself with an inward groan. "Actually . . . no," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I mean, maybe we should wait until we get settled again. Devon's right; we need to get to those mountains before the snow falls, and we can't really afford to waste a whole day on something that can wait."

Everyone looked shocked in varying degrees. "Oh," Bess said, forcing a smile. "Of course . . . listen, Julia, I'm sorry--I didn't mean to just jump in and take over that way--"

"No, please don't be sorry," Julia pleaded. "I'm really touched that everyone is so happy for us, and as soon as we've made a winter camp, I think your idea will be perfect. Maybe another wedding is exactly what we need."

At this, everyone except the happy couple got up to start breaking camp. "Everyone but you," Alonzo said when they were alone.

"What?" Julia asked.

"Everyone needs a wedding but you," he elaborated, and she could suddenly see how hurt he was.

"Alonzo, baby, no," she soothed, touching his face.

"Look, I know that standing in the middle of a field in our hiking boots with VR gear on our heads is not exactly what you would have liked--"

"No, it isn't," she admitted, shocking him into silence. "I'm sorry, Alonzo, I just--I never really thought I would get married, so I had these fantasies--I know how stupid it is, but . . . " She looked up at him and smiled. "My groom is exactly what I would have wished for," she said, running her fingertips over his mouth before kissing him. "Maybe I just want to feel like I match."

He kissed her back. "This is a woman thing, isn't it?" he grumbled warily.

"I don't know," she retorted. "As far as I'm concerned, it's a Julia Heller thing--the rest of the women in the universe are on their own."

"Hey, Solace!" Danziger yelled, standing swathed in fabric where a tent used to be, the framework twisted in a pitiful wreck at his feet. "You want to give me a hand with this?"

"Go on," Julia urged. "We better get moving, or they'll leave without us."

***

Once he got Alonzo started on the tent he had almost destroyed, Danziger decided to see what kind of damage he could do packing the hatch in the transrover.

Someone had apparently driven it halfway out of camp already, into a more secluded clearing in the trees. "Whose bright idea was this?" he called, going around the back. Where he discovered Magus and Baines, just coming out of a spine-tingling embrace. "Sorry . . . ," he mumbled, turning on his heel. "Just let me know when you finish up . . . ."

"John, wait!" Magus called, catching up as Baines sprang into the transrover's cab and started it up. "It's not what you--oh hell, of course it's what you think--"

"Marcia, what do I care?" Danziger interrupted. "If you and Baines want to make out like a couple of kids, be my guest. Although I would appreciate your picking a less essential piece of equipment to use as a windbreak if you're going to do it as we're packing up . . . "

"We didn't drive the transrover out here just to . . . It just happened, all right?" she said as Baines drove the truck past them and back into the camp proper. "We came out here to pick up that deadwood he and Walman chopped up last night, and one thing led to another--"

"Didn't I just say I didn't need an explanation?" John said.

"Yeah, but . . . I really need to talk to somebody about this," she admitted.

"Magus," he groaned.

"I thought about one of the other women, but there's no one I really feel comfortable with any more," she said. "Bess is sweet, but she's all wrapped up in Morgan, and Julia has her own problems, and Tara's just weird, and Devon . . . " Her voice drifted off. "Devon's part of the problem."

"Magus, I'm a mechanic," he protested, more certain every moment that he did *not* want to hear any more of this. "What do I know about--"

"You have more capacity to love than anyone I've ever met," she interrupted. "And you're my friend, John, and I need you."

He stopped and looked at her, ready to refuse again, but something in her face made it impossible to do so. "So okay, Marcia," he agreed, sitting down and motioning for her to join him. "Let's hear how you became the Mata Hari of the Eden Project."

"Very funny," she retorted, but her smile showed her relief. "Believe me, this was not at all what I had in mind when things first started with Walman . . . to tell you the truth, I don't know what I had in mind. We were just both so . . . I don't know, we felt so bad after Eben died, and Devon was dying--it seemed like the last chance either of us had to be really close to someone, you know?"

"I guess so," John agreed.

"Then once we started, even after things changed, it just seemed impossible to stop, particularly after everyone found out," she went on. "Suddenly we were a couple, 'Walman and Magus,' just like Julia and Alonzo or Tara and Val." She gave him a sidelong look. "Or Devon and Danziger."

"Hey, just because you guys feel the need to travel in pairs, don't think you can lump us in together, too," he said.

"So you and Devon aren't officially together?" Magus asked. "I thought after you came back--"

"We're still in committee on that one, all right?" he cut her off. "Look, I thought we were talking about your problems, not mine."

"Fair enough," she agreed.

"So let's get on with the story here, kid, so we can get back to work," he went on, giddy with what he hoped was sleep deprivation and suspected was relief. "When did you decide you weren't in love with the ever-charming Walman?"

"I was never in love with Walman," she admitted. "And he was never in love with me. We're friends, and we needed one another, and it was . . . nice. Convenient and easy and nice."

"Only now it isn't."

"No," she said. "That's the problem with that kind of relationship. No matter how simple it seems at first, things always get complicated. Haven't you ever gotten into something thinking you could step back any time and then discovered that you were stuck?"

"All the time," he grumbled. "So you want out, and Walman doesn't."

"Something like that," she admitted.

"Because you've got the hots for Baines," he finished.

"It isn't like that!" she protested. "Maybe Baines really loves me. Maybe we're meant to be together." She looked up at him. "Or maybe I'm just sick and tired of being called the wrong name in bed."

"Magus," he groaned again, wanting to be a pal but brutally embarrassed. Other people's love lives had never been his favorite subject--he didn't even like talking about his own, even when he had one worth discussing. "I really don't need to hear--"

"Actually, I think you might," she interrupted, getting up. "Listen, Danziger, if you're not sure you love Devon, don't do anything rash, all right? Because I think maybe somebody else does."

***

In spite of everything, they managed to get started at only a little past the usual time, and soon the caravan had settled into its normal, quiet rhythm, with almost everyone concentrating first and foremost on making as much progress as possible. Only those suffering the agonies of the lovestruck managed to stay buried in their own thoughts, and even they kept moving.

"If I live to be five hundred, I'll never understand women," Alonzo said, making this morose declaration his opening remark to Tara as they walked behind the transrover where Julia was resting.

"Probably not," Tara admitted with a grin. "But if you mean Julia not wanting to get married today, even you should understand that."

"See, I knew you were going to say that," he said. "Can't we just skip the flogging and cut straight to the part where you forgive me my ignorance and enlighten me, O wise one?"

"If you insist," she giggled. "Alonzo, your sweetie is pregnant."

"Yes, I know," he said, giving her a confused look. "So what?"

"So, a wedding is a big thing," Tara went on. "It's the last remaining remnant of the old female gender role, the thing where we're supposed to be these ethereal creatures who walk in beauty like the night--the light through yonder window breaking--a red, red rose. No matter how pragmatic and capable a woman may be ordinarily, when she gets married, she wants to feel exquisite."

"But she is exquisite," Alonzo protested. "She's so beautiful right now, I can't stand it--"

"But it isn't the kind of beautiful she wants," Tara interrupted gently. "It's all very well for Bess to have a VR wedding to renew her vows--I'd be willing to bet in her first wedding, she looked good enough to eat."

"So would I," Alonzo admitted.

"But for Julia, this is the first and only chance she's going to have for this, and she wants it to be perfect," she finished.

"But what am I supposed to do?" he asked plaintively. "I can't conjure up a chapel in the pines here or manufacture a wedding gown out of semolina."

"No, but you can wait until she's not great with child," his friend said. "Look, 'Zo, just give her a little time--she's going to realize how silly this is soon, and then you'll have your wedding and live happily ever after."

"I just don't see why this has to be so complicated," he groused.

"Too bad," she retorted. "You do realize you took longer to work up the guts to propose marriage than you're giving the love of your life to do the deed."

This set him back for a long moment. "Okay," he agreed with a sigh. "So I'm waiting."

End of Part 2

The Course of True Love (3/14)
by Jayel

Yale's relief at finally receiving his turn behind the wheel of the transrover was two-fold. One, his feet hurt--the pace Devon had set was grueling enough for him to be glad no one in the group but he was likely to have heard of the Bataan Death March. Two, the vehicle's cockpit provided the best seat in the house for the soap opera that was currently Eden Advance. Everyone seemed to be experiencing some sort of domestic upset, from the anxiety of impending parenthood to the trauma of planning a wedding. At first Yale had been concerned about this, especially considering the nearness of the long winter which would likely be spent in close quarters. But a private scan of some of the sociological data in his memory had revealed that such conflicts were not only natural but inevitable in any group of this size. Once the group-wide conflicts with "natural predators" like EVE had been eliminated at least temporarily, it was only a matter of time before internal conflicts were raised and bandied about. He just hoped everyone could get their individual sleeping arrangements worked out before the snow fell.

Magus was sitting in what True called the "shotgun seat" beside him, obviously wrestling with some sort of emotional turmoil, and he noticed both Walman and Baines casting surreptious glances in her direction from two different points along the caravan--glances which Marcia rather pointedly ignored.

At the front of the procession trudged John Danziger, a load far more taxing than his backpack pushing him forward and weighing him down. His apparent anxiety--expressed in a tendency to growl at his companions and break everything he touched to bits--had at first been inexplicable even to a man with all of recorded history in his memory banks. But then Yale noticed a pattern. Every time Devon Adair came near the mechanic--which was often--John's growl got deeper, but his frown disappeared into a gentle grin usually accompanied by an equally tender touch of her hair or shoulder or hand, a touch which never failed to elicit a reciprocal smile and blush from Devon. To Yale's mind, this was as it should be and not at all unusual--indeed, this sort of thing had been going on at some level since the crash. So what was bothering Danziger? What was the new element?

The answer wasn't long in coming. Tara Donahoe, walking at a surprisingly chipper clip beside Julia's 'rail, suddenly laughed, and Danziger flinched like he'd been bludgeoned in the back of the head before turning around to glare at True who didn't see him because she was turned around from her perch on the other 'rail grinning at Tara. Oh dear, Yale thought with an inward sigh, watching Tara scuffle playfully with Alonzo as if loathe to give up her spot beside the doctor. He had noticed a new spring in Tara's step of late, and he had accidentally overheard Bess gossiping to Magus about a "crush" Tara supposedly had on one of the members of Eden Advance, but he hadn't thought of John. In truth, he had been rather worried that the object of the girl's affections might be Julia, a possibility that didn't bother him overmuch, aside from Alonzo's feelings, but which he hadn't relished explaining to Walman or Morgan or even Bess. But apparently the lucky crushee was John Danziger, and apparently he not only knew it, it was driving him crazy. The only good point Yale could glean from his continued surveillance was that Devon apparently didn't have a clue. The worst point was that Tara apparently did and was enjoying it to the fullest. Every time Danziger looked her way, she noticed, even when her head was turned toward Julia, and a grin which could most charitably be described as impish lit up her face--a grin he was dismayed to see was more often than not cast sidelong at Devon. A grin which reminded him of nothing so much as her look of triumph the first time she thought she had beaten Reilly. Devon, I'm afraid you may have an enemy, he thought to himself, a thought which worried him more than he cared to admit.

His fears weren't long in being realized. Just after noon, John and Baines called the caravan to a halt and summoned the rest of the group forward. Off to the left about a hundred yards ahead was the beginning of a strip of bare, blackened ground in the middle of the forest, about ten yards wide and ending somewhere beyond the horizon. "What the hell is that?" Danziger demanded, staring through his jumpers. "I can't see the end of it . . . "

"It looks like somebody crashed some kind of spacecraft," Alonzo offered, joining him.

"Not crashed," Tara admitted with a grin. "Just sort of landed real hard." Everyone turned to look at her. "That's where I brought in Renaldi's rocket the first time," she explained. "It goes about ten miles further that way."

"Very smooth, Donahoe," Alonzo teased.

"Yeah, well, I was still half asleep," she said defensively, still smiling. "Shoot, Val was still *all* asleep . . . of course, he woke up in a hurry . . . "

"Yeah, I'll bet," Baines laughed. "What with those burning trees going by and all."

"Exactly," Tara agreed. "If we go to the end of the strip, you can see our first camp. We left some stuff there in ground lockers, non-essentials."

"Anything we can use?" Danziger asked without lowering his jumpers.

"I don't know," she admitted. "We took the actual survival gear with us, of course." A strange look passed over her face, and she glanced back at Julia with a grin. "There is one thing, though, something I think I need. We should be able to get there and back fairly quickly."

"Wait a minute," Devon objected. "You're saying it's ten miles--that's ten miles out of our way, at least half a day wasted--no, a whole day, because whoever goes will have to come back."

"Devon," Yale began, trying to send his former pupil a warning look.

"Only if we walk," Tara said, turning on her coolly. "One of the rails could easily make it in an afternoon."

"That's still an afternoon we can't afford to lose, particularly on something you've already classified as 'non-essential'," Devon answered in her usual decisive tone. "What is it you wanted?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business," Tara replied, a challenging look coming into her eyes.

"Devon, perhaps Tara and Alonzo could take one of the 'rails, get the items Tara requires, then intercept us further along our own course," Yale sugggested.

"No," Devon said, for once meeting the other woman's blue-eyed challenge with one of her own. "We have no idea how long a side-trip might take, and those rails are loaded with necessary supplies. I'm sorry, Tara, but we simply cannot waste the time and resources at this point, not with the winter coming on so quickly."

Anyone who didn't know Tara might have thought she had accepted this refusal gracefully--her coloring didn't change by a shade, and her smile never wavered. Unfortunately, everyone in the Eden Project except Devon had seen the glow in her eyes at least one too many times before to ignore it now. "Head for cover," Alonzo advised Walman under his breath, only half-joking.

"Fine," Tara said sweetly. "You're right, Devon--and after all, you're the boss." She reached into Julia's 'rail and took out her pack, checking the luma and food supplies before slinging it onto her back. "See you later, Doc," she said, kissing Julia's cheek.

"What do you think you're doing?" Danziger demanded. "If you think we're going to let you go off by yourself--"

"And how do you propose to stop me?" she retorted. "Devon's right; what I want from my personal belongings is of no great consequence to the almighty Eden Project as a whole; therefore, it is unreasonable of me to assume Eden Project resources should be *wasted* on my petty little wants."

"Tara . . . ," Devon began in the tone she had perfected trying to cut Danziger off at the pass.

"I, however, am not technically a member of the Eden Advance Team and am therefore not subject to the rulings of the group as a democracy or Miss Adair as queen," Tara continued. "I want my stuff, and I'm going to get it."

"Alonzo, go with her," Julia urged, still hoping to make some semblance peace before a simple dispute erupted into a catfight.

"No one has to go with me--I don't *want* anyone to go with me," Tara said. "Besides, you need 'Zo here with you. I'll catch up inside of two days, I promise."

"On foot?" Julia asked doubtfully. "I don't see how--"

"Tara, I simply cannot allow this," Devon began.

"Listen, Adair, one more word about what you will or will not 'allow' from me and I'm going to knock you on your skinny, rich ass," Tara said, her full fury coming out at last. "You may have paid everybody else's way here, but you didn't pay mine, and I don't have to hear it."

"All right, enough!" John roared, turning around at last. "One more word out of you, Donahoe, and I'll give you something a lot more pressing to worry about than whatever you've got stashed in a ground locker," he warned, stepping in front of Devon and giving Tara a look that would bruise lead. Ignoring the shocked looks of the rest of the group, he grabbed another pack from the 'rail in one hand and Tara's wrist in the other. "Now come on," he grumbled. "Devon, we'll be back day after tomorrow."

"*You're* going with her?" Devon asked incredulously.

"She's right, Dev; we can't stop her," he said in a slightly more gentle tone, letting Tara go to take Adair aside. "And if she goes out and gets shot by a ZED or knocked in the head and dragged off by a convict, not only are several of us going to feel just awful, all of us are going to develop a powerful headache."

"And I'm just supposed to be okay with this?" Devon asked.

He grinned. "Of course not," he said, giving her chin a nudge. "You're supposed to be crazed with jealousy."

"You are the most--"

"Devon!" He glanced back at the rest of the group, giving the snickering Alonzo a dirty glare. "You're supposed to trust me," he said, meeting her eyes.

"Oh, I trust you, all right," she said, giving in. "But Tara? No way."

End of Part 3

The Course of True Love (4/14)
by Jayel

Just what I needed, Danziger grumbled to himself. A hike through hell and back. The swath of blackened forest that marked he and Tara's path was a quagmire of thorny scrub over charred and broken roots, and to make matters worse, it had started to rain. "Great," he muttered under his breath, turning up the collar of his coat in a feeble attempt to keep the icy drops from running down his neck. "Just great."

"What a grouch," Tara teased, turning her face up to the cloudburst like a child expecting a kiss. "Nobody said you had to come."

"Like I was going to let you come traipsing through the woods by yourself," he retorted.

"Traipsing?" she repeated. "Is that what we're doing? I didn't realize . . . you know, I've been places by myself before. As a matter of fact, I was probably traipsing all over the mapped sections of the galaxy when you were still a babe in nappies." She looked him up and down. "Really big nappies . . . "

"Yeah, well, you've never been anywhere like this," he interrupted, refusing to blush. "Now button your coat before you catch cold."

"Yes, daddy," she replied obediently, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. They walked on in silence for several minutes with Danziger keeping his eyes focussed doggedly on the path ahead.

He almost wished they had let True tag along. She had wanted to, had chased them for half a mile away from the rest of the caravan, begging, wheedling, demanding, and making promises of future obedience no child could possibly have kept.

Finally, Tara had turned to the child, one gloved hand on her hip, and beckoned her closer with a single crooked finger. "What?" True demanded, returning the woman's mischievous grin with a conspiratorial giggle.

Tara leaned forward, her arms draped over his daughter's shoulders, their surprisingly similar little noses scant inches apart. "Go back to camp, True," Tara ordered, her mock-sternness undermined by laughter. She gave the child a quick kiss on the mouth. "Do your lessons like a good little girl and let me take care of your dad."

True glanced over the woman's shoulder at Danziger, her face the very picture of impish revelation. "Ohhh . . . ," she said, giggling again. "Okay . . . But you'll meet up with the rest of us day after tomorrow, right?"

"If not sooner, I promise," Tara said, crossing her heart before giving her a hug. "Love you much, baby," she said, almost too softly for Danziger to hear.

"Me, too," True had whispered back before coming to hug him as well. "You guys be careful."

"We'll be fine," John had said gruffly, giving her one last squeeze. "You mind Yale and Bess, all right?"

"I will," she had promised, happily waving good-bye until they were out of sight.

The memory of True and Tara's faces as they kissed good-bye made Danziger smile in spite of himself, which in turn pissed him off. "I thought you didn't like kids," he said suddenly, seemingly a propos of nothing.

"Why would you say that?" Tara asked. "Before True and Uly, I never really knew any kids, but I think they're the berries. True's my sweetie, and there's not a thing wrong with Ulysses that couldn't be cured by giving his mom a pill every once in a while."

"Hey, lay off Devon, all right?" he said sharply. "What is it with you two, anyway?"

"I can hardly answer that question and 'lay off Devon' at the same time," she said primly, looking up at the sky. "There, be happy--the rain has stopped."

"That's something, anyway," he grumbled, shifting his pack to a more comfortable position. "It's also getting dark--I don't suppose you and Val bothered to build a shelter where we're going."

"As a matter of fact, we did," she retorted with a grin. "Hang in there, big guy--barring act of God or grendler, we'll sleep indoors tonight."

***

Meanwhile, the rest of the Eden Project had already stopped for the night, having made an additional seven miles of progress after John and Tara's departure. Most of the tents were up, with Cameron and Morgan handling the erection of the ones remaining. Yale was sharing his considerable knowledge of the Trojan War with a fascinated Ulysses and a somewhat distracted True; Bess and Devon were beginning preparations for the evening meal. And everyone else was resting, preparatory to taking one of that night's staggered security watches.

Julia was actually supposed to be setting up supplies in the medtent, just in case someone had an emergency in the night. But in fact she was watching Alonzo wash up, a sight which never failed to make her feel safe and happy, no matter how tired or fretful she might be. "You may not realize it," she remarked conversationally from her perch on the cot. "But you have the single most perfect chest in the history of human anatomy."

He turned away from his own reflection to flash her his sexiest grin. "Is that a medical opinion?" he asked teasingly, sitting beside her.

"Absolutely," she answered, taking his hand and smiling back. "Professionally speaking, I'd say you're pretty much perfect."

"You're too kind," he grinned, leaning forward to kiss her lips. "But you're the real looker in the family, you know."

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "Particularly now, when I have this lovely, bulbous growth that makes me look like a pear with legs."

"Actually, I think that growth, as you call it, is very sexy," he asserted.

"Oh, please--"

"It is, I swear!" He laid a hand on her stomach, the expression on his face a sweet mixture of protectiveness and desire that made her knees go weak. "This is going to be our beautiful daughter," he went on, all the teasing gone from his deep brown eyes. "And you're my beautiful love."

"You silver-tongued devil," she joked tenderly, reaching out to welcome his embrace. "Do you know how much I love you?" she whispered, stroking his soft brown hair as he kissed her throat.

"Sometimes I forget," he admitted, kissing her ear. "Like when you tell me you want to marry me, just not right now."

"Alonzo," she pleaded. "It isn't that I don't--"

"I know, doc, I know," he interrupted, unbuttoning her softly faded denim shirt, an over-sized hand-me-down from his own wardrobe. "Tara and I had a long talk about it."

"You and Tara?" she repeated, struggling to keep a mental grip on the thread of their conversation as he wove it around his kisses. "I shudder to imagine . . . "

"She said it had nothing to do with me really," he went on, the near-comic speed with which he disposed of his boots belying the casual slowness of his words. "She thinks you just have this . . . I don't know . . . vision, I guess is the words, of the way your wedding should be." He eased her boots off, too, and massaged her aching feet. "And our Valentine, as much as we both can't wait to have her, wasn't really part of what you had in mind."

"I see," Julia said, her eyes falling shut in pleasure and comfort blissfully combined under his touch. "Tara can be very perceptive when she tries . . . . too bad she's so far off base with Danziger . . . "

"What are you babbling about now?" he teased, drawing her forward onto his lap, his hands supporting what used to be her waist as he kissed her mouth.

"Tara and John," she insisted, tugging her t-shirt over her head, snatching the pony-tail band from her hair in the process. "She's never going to do anything but alienate him by attacking Devon--even if she had a chance with him in the first place."

"You are so wrong," he laughed, kissing her bare shoulder as his fingers gently kneaded the muscles of her back. "She's playing him like a violin . . . "

"Alonzo, John loves Devon," she insisted, struggling to stifle a sigh of cat-like satisfaction. Her back felt sooo much better when he did that .
. . . "I know he does . . . "

"He does love her," he agreed. Her breath felt so warm and nice when she nuzzled his chest that way . . . . "I'm just not so sure he's *in* love with her."

"What's the difference?" she asked, feeling a familiar impatience building inside her like the most delicate flutter of wings.

"I'm *in* love with you as well as loving you," he explained, kissing her sweet-smelling hair, losing himself for a moment in its silk. "From the first moment I saw you I wanted to touch you so much it hurt."

"I'm flattered," she breathed, kissing his adam's apple and knowing just what he meant.

"But John and Devon . . . John's a pretty impetuous guy, wouldn't you say?" he said, bending to kiss and nuzzle her breast. "Still tender?"

"Yes, but that's nice," she purred, cradling his head in her hands. "And yes, Danziger is definitely an impetuous guy."

"So I'm thinking . . . if he were going to actually put real moves on Devon, he would have long before now," he finished, shifting her hips forward to press her soft stomach closer to him, a warning and a promise.

"I think you're wrong," Julia insisted with a giggle. "But just now I'm willing to concede."

***

The red-orange face of the sun , its rays reaching like slender fingers through the clouds and the brown-black lattice of trees, had almost disappeared behind the horizon when Danziger and Tara reached the end of the burn-line. "This is it," Tara announced, shining a luma off to the right.

"This is what?" Danziger demanded, shining his own light in the same direction and seeing nothing more worthy of comment than a big, gray, vine-covered rock poking out of the side of a small hill.

"The shelter," she explained, leaving the path. "I thought surely the grendlers would have figured it out by now." She walked over to the rock and ran her hands under the vines that covered its face. "Val's aunt and uncle were a couple of those environmental terrorists you guys are so crazy about," she explained, seeming to find what she was looking for and giving it a sharp tug. The rock let out a shriek of rusted metal, and a perfectly ordinary-looking wooden door swung open beside it. "He spent a couple of summers with them as a kid and learned how to build a camouflaged bunker," she continued, shining her light inside. "Still dry, even. Come on in."

Even with his aching feet and the beginnings of the sniffles, Danziger had to admit the shelter was impressive. A little smaller than the common room of their old dome, it was dug out of the side of the hill, but not nearly so dank as a Terrian cave. "Where's the ventilation?" he asked, shining his luma at the ceiling.

"Very thin synthetic graphite tubing pushed up through the top," she explained, going over to the small, round fireplace. "The individual tubes are too thin for much rain to fall through, but there's enough of them to let in plenty of air." She struck a match and dropped it onto the kindling already neatly stacked inside. "I always thought it looked sort of like a hobbit hole."

"Not so much furniture, though," he agreed, his light picking up little more than a woodpile and an open--and empty--food locker. "You know hobbits?"

"I love those books," she said with a grin, straightening up. "You?"

"Yeah, I read them when I was a kid," he admitted, looking away.

"We took most of our stuff with us when we left here," she explained, opening her backpack. "Boy, that was a fight . . . I just wanted to stay here, but Val . . . Anyway, the stuff we did leave is outside in ground lockers--much more secure than the actual shelter. We can get what I need in the morning."

"What are we here for, anyway?" he asked. "Or are you going to bite my head off, too?"

She took out a pot and a pair of semolina packets. "You'll see," she said. "Now here--there's a well out back. Go find me some water so I can cook your dinner."

End of Part 4

The Course of True Love (5/14)
by Jayel

Marcia Magus knew intellectually that she had experienced rougher days in the past--the day of the crash, for example, or the day Eben died, or the day that had ended with her finding a grendler corpse draped in gore-soaked splendor over a post in the middle of camp. But emotionally she couldn't remember ever feeling so drained.

The good news was that Walman had first watch, so if she could manage to make it through the next ten minutes without blurting out something awful, she could probably be asleep by the time he returned, and this twenty-four hours of turmoil would finally end. "You should put on an extra pair of socks," she advised him, watching him prepare to go back out into the cold.

"I ran out of clean socks yesterday," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "This is the only pair left that couldn't stand guard on its own."

"Here, take a pair of mine," she offered, smiling back in spite of herself. "Am I going to have to start doing your laundry now, too?"

"It would be a friendly gesture," he joked, taking the socks and slipping them on. "No, Marcia, I am perfectly capable of washing socks all on my own." He yanked on his boot with a muffled curse, catching an impatient finger in the laces. "Besides, you do enough stuff for me already."

"You can say that again," she retorted, trying to sound amused but suddenly wanting to cry. He was such a great guy, why couldn't . . . . ? She turned away and went back to folding her own laundry. "Be careful out there, all right?"

"Always," he asserted, his grin plain in his voice even though she couldn't see it. "It's me, remember?" She didn't answer, or turn, and he came and touched her shoulder. "Hey, Marcia," he said more softly. "Remember me?"

She touched his hand, but she didn't turn around. "Yeah," she answered, her vision blurred with tears in spite of her smile. "I remember you."

***

Danziger should have known Tara was setting him up--the dinner was too good, the jokes too easy, the shelter too cozy, the fire too bright. He had almost managed to relax when she put down her bowl and got down to the point. "So tell me this, big guy," she said with a dangerous grin. "Just what exactly is the story with you and Adair?"

The last bite of stew stopped halfway down his throat, never, he predicted, to be dislodged. "I don't suppose you care that that's none of your business," he managed to choke out after a long swallow of water.

"Let's pretend it is," she said. "Hey, we've got to talk about something, right?"

"No, not actually," he said. "We could get some sleep so we can get an early start in the morning."

She shook her head. "Not sleepy," she said. "Come on, Danziger, what's the big deal? Everybody knows something's going on with you two; why be ashamed to admit it?"

"I'm not ashamed to admit anything," he answered, gratified and somewhat surprised at how easy it was not to sound defensive. "I'm just not stupid enough to tell secrets about a friend to someone who obviously has it in for her."

Tara's eyes widened, mock-innocent, for a moment, then she smiled, caught. "Touche," she conceded, picking up their bowls and utensils and carrying them to the washbucket she had produced earlier from her pack. "But I don't really have it in for her, John. I just don't like her."

"Well, I just do," he retorted, helping her.

"I know, and I've got to tell you, it's one of the great mysteries of our age," she joked, handing him a dripping bowl to dry. "I mean, granted, she's a knockout, but I would think the other would tend to outweigh physical considerations."

"The other?" he asked, mentally keeping an eye out for the proverbial primrose path. His years with Elle had given him a crash course in feminine wiles he wasn't likely to forget so soon.

"Her whole attitude," Tara went on, at least sounding sincere, her eyes focused on the task at hand. "I don't know; maybe I'm just hypersensitive."

"You? Never," he joked.

"Very funny," she retorted, catching him in the stomach with the second bowl. "Let's just say Devon Adair reminds me way too much of dear old mom to be way up on my hit parade--not to mention . . . " Her voice trailed off as she glanced up at his face. "Never mind."

"Not to mention what?" he prompted.

"Look, it's no use my telling you, because you'll just think I'm wrong, and at best you'll try to talk me out of it, and at worst . . . . at worst, you'll just hate me." She took the bucket to the door of the shelter and flung the dirty water out into the night.

"Tara, I am not going to hate you, no matter what you say," Danziger promised patiently. "When are you going to realize that everyone's emotions just don't run as high as yours?"

Her head snapped around, her eyes flashing with anger for a moment, then she smiled. "Now *you* sound like my mother," she sighed, dropping the bucket by the door and sinking back down in front of the fire. "'Tara, darling, must you be so dramatic?'"

"She had a point, kiddo," he said, joining her. He laughed. "Maybe that's why you and True-girl get along so well."

"Yeah, maybe," she conceded grudgingly, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees and staring into the homey blaze. "Look, you're right; we should just go to sleep."

Danziger couldn't help thinking how easy it would be to just agree and let this go, but that seemed cowardly and ultimately unwise. If there were going to be serious problems between this woman and Devon--and himself, he added sternly--better to work them out now. "No, actually I think you're right," he said. "I think we should talk about this . . . " She didn't answer, leaving the ball in his court just like a woman. "You blame Devon for Val's death, right?" he ventured gruffly.

"Yep," she replied, tossing another log on the fire without meeting his eyes.

"That's not fair, you know," he pointed out. "She was in a coma, for heaven's sake--she couldn't have--"

"She sure as hell came out long enough to lay down the law, didn't she?" Tara interrupted coldly. "You were there, Danz, you saw her. She said the only way all of you guys could survive was if Val killed himself--what was he supposed to do? Let you die? I could have done that, at least then I could have, but not Val, and she knew it--"

"How did she know?" he asked. "She has no memory of Val, no idea what he was like--how did she know what she said would make him do what he did? If memory serves, she wasn't even talking to him--"

"No," she agreed, turning to look at him. "She was talking to me. I was the one who was supposed to make the decision for him to die . . . it was all supposed to be my responsibility." She turned back to the fire, but not before he saw the glow come into her eyes. "'You're special, Tara,'" she said, quoting again in the same voice as earlier, Elizabeth Anson's voice. "'You have a gift--your father made you special so that you could do great things.'"

"Devon never said that," he interrupted, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"'Gifts like yours come with responsibility . . . sometimes we have to sacrifice what we want for the good of things more important than us,'" she went on, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. She looked up at Danziger. "Tell me Devon's never said that," she challenged him. "I've heard you say it yourself, how she's always putting the diggers ahead of you guys."

"Sometimes she's right," he said, wondering suddenly what Devon would think if she heard him admit that one.

"Yeah, well, sometimes she's wrong," Tara finished, turning away again. "And even if she is right, I don't have to like it. And I don't have to like her."

Danziger's instinctual urge to comfort, an instinct which had very little to do with how her skin smelled or her hair glistened in the firelight, was almost irresistible. Only the memory of Devon's face when he said he was coming on this little excursion kept him from giving in to it. "No, you don't," he agreed slowly. "But you can't hurt her, either." He reached out and touched her face, making her look at him. "I won't let you," he promised, meeting her blue eyes steadily in spite of the way the pain he saw there made his own heart ache. "And I sure as hell won't let you use me to do it."

Her eyes widened. "That's what you think?" she said softly. "You think I'm only pretending to . . . You think I only want you because you belong to Devon?"

And Adair always said *he* was blunt . . . "To tell you the truth, Donahoe, I wasn't really sure you wanted me at all until just this second," he admitted.

"Oh be serious," she scoffed. "Not even you could be that dense . . ."

"Okay, maybe I had a clue that you were giving me the treatment," he admitted.

"The treatment?" she repeated, incredulous. "Geez, Danziger, you must have run into some real cats in your time to make you this suspicious."

"Let's just say I've been led around by certain parts of my anatomy enough times to recognize the grip," he said sardonically, tossing a bit of bark back into the fire. "But I've got to tell you, honey, I've seen very few who did it better than you."

"Gee, thanks," she retorted.

"Hey, I just call'em like I see'em," he said.

"Yeah, well, you don't see much," she shot back. "Otherwise you'd see that if all I really wanted was to clobber Devon Adair, I could think of a lot less messy ways to do it than stealing her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" he repeated.

"Well, what would you call it?" she challenged. "Not lover, surely--Devon's afraid of sex. I'm surprised she ever got pregnant with Uly--are we certain she didn't hatch him from an egg? Partner? No, Devon doesn't want a partner--she's got to be the boss."

"How about friend?" he said.

"Okay, fine, friend," she answered. "But if Devon's just your friend, why are we having this conversation? Why was her name even mentioned?"

"You brought it up," he pointed out.

"You're damned right I brought it up, because she is right in the middle of anything you and I might have or not have or even think about having, and it's not because of me," she said. "Look, Danziger, if you don't want to have sex with me, or a relationship with me, or even breathe carbon dioxide in my direction, fine--I'm a big girl, and I've been living with disappointment of one kind or another for a long time now. But don't sit there and try to make me believe that the only reason you won't have anything to do with me is some noble obligation you feel to protect Devon Adair, because, in the words of my dear departed, that dog won't hunt. And I suspect if Miss Devon knew we were having this conversation, she'd give you a similar piece of her mind--"

"I doubt it," he said, almost but not quite laughing. "Devon isn't as . . . open with her feelings as you are--"

"Oh, that's right, I'm the drama queen," she agreed bitterly. "And yes, I'm a little bit nuts, and I have been known on more than one occasion to use whatever charms I can muster to get my own way. But I will promise you this, John Danziger." She stood up and looked down at him, obviously preparing to make an exit but affectingly sincere nonetheless. "The first time I fell in love, it was the hardest, scariest, most traumatic thing I'd ever done, and it still hurts like hell every time I think about it," she said. "It's not likely I'd risk going through all that again just to get in a cheap shot on the likes of Devon Adair." Turning away with a small, violent storm of raven curls, she snatched up the bucket and stalked out into the night.

"'As God is my witness,'" Danziger groaned to himself in a surprisingly good approximation of Tara's accent as he rolled onto his back before the fire like a bear who should have stayed in hibernation. "'I'll never be hungry again . . . '"

***

Yale and Walman had spent the last half of Yale's watch in almost utter silence, walking the perimeter and drinking coffee and saying absolutely nothing which wasn't necessary. Neither of them was feeling particularly unfriendly, but Walman was obviously preoccupied, and Yale couldn't think of a single ice-breaker that wouldn't eventually lead to a conversation he was almost positive he didn't want to have.

But when Baines showed up as his relief, the tutor felt some comment on his behalf was in order for the harmony of the group as a whole. "Baines, I thought Alonzo would be here for the second half of Walman's watch and the first half of Morgan's," he said, trying to sound no more than casually curious.

"He was going to be, but we traded," Baines said, settling down by the fire with his rifle over his knees.

"Insomnia?" Walman asked innocently, handing him a cup of coffee. "Or is the doc feeling frisky again?"

"No, it was my idea," Baines said, taking the cup and looking at Yale.

"Are you certain it was a good one?" Yale asked pointedly.

Baines grinned. "Pretty sure," he promised. "Go on to bed, Yale--my buddy and I have some stuff we need to discuss."

End of Part 5

The Course of True Love (6/14)
by Jayel

Magus knew she was dreaming, and in the back of her mind she dreaded the moment when someone would wake her for her freezing watch. But in the front of her mind she was warm, blissfully warm, lying almost naked on her stomach on a velvety beach, listening to the sound of waves gently lapping a few inches from her bare toes. She could feel the sun beating hot but gentle on the muscles of her back and legs, the velvet powder of the sand beneath her fingertips, the tickle of her hair against her cheek, stirring softly in the breeze. This is so real, she thought with a mental sigh of contentment . . . so real and warm and safe--somehow, she knew she was safe, that no one would harm her here. No one would disturb her, because no one else was there. She was alone and safe and free . . . . and every fiber of body relaxed, and every thought in her head was sweet, too sweet to be pinned down in words . . .

"Marcia, honey, wake up," Walman urged, giving her a gentle but insistent shake. "Come on, honey, we've got to talk."

"What?" she mumbled, rolling over on her back and getting hopelessly tangled in the blankets piled over her. "Walman?"

"Yeah, honey, it's me," he said, shaking her again. "And Baines . . . we need to talk to you, pronto, all right?"

"What time is it?" she asked, glancing groggily back and forth between them. They looked so . . . demanding, for heaven's sake, like she was the one inconveniencing them by daring to be asleep in the middle of the night. "Am I on watch?"

"No, Marcia, this isn't about watch," Baines said, squatting beside Walman--they looked like a pair of Terrians who'd shown up to tell her a bedtime story. "It's about us."

"Hey, there is no *us*, all right?" Walman snapped. "At least none that involves you--"

"I think we should let Magus be the judge of that," Baines retorted.

"Oh my lord," Magus groaned, rolling over and burrowing under her pillow. "Somebody just shoot me . . . "

"Is he telling the truth?" Walman demanded. "Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?"

She snatched the pillow off of her face and sat up, giving them each a stern glare in turn and receiving an expectant, hopeful smile in return. "Can't we talk about this in the morning?" she asked wearily.

"Marcia, come on," Baines said with a nervous laugh. "Tell him about this morning, behind the transrover--"

"Yeah, honey, let's hear about that," Walman interrupted. "The truth, I mean--I've already heard his version."

She looked at Baines. "You told--? Right." She ran her hands back through her hair, trying to finish waking up and collect her scattered thoughts. "Okay, Walman . . . . ahm . . . gee, well, this morning, behind the transrover . . . we were loading that deadwood . . . and I was just standing there, and he was just standing there, and then we were looking at each other, and . . . what did you say? You said something about my hair, and the morning sun, and . . . I'm sorry; I don't really remember exactly what you said, but it was great--anyway, Walman, Baines kissed me, and it was lovely, and then Danziger showed up, and we stopped kissing." She stopped--from their faces, she could see only too clearly that she was making absolutely nobody happy with her version of events. "And so far that's it," she finished.

"Well, that sounds like just about enough to me," Walman said angrily. "Am I wrong? What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know, Walman; I would guess that what you think is entirely up to you," she retorted. "And Baines, if you think this morning really meant something, then I guess that's entirely up to you--"

"No, it isn't," Baines corrected with a smile. "I mean, yeah, partially, but not entirely." He gave Walman a wary look. "Right now I'd say you have the deciding vote all the way around."

But I don't want to vote, she wanted to scream--maybe if she screamed loud enough, they'd go away and let her get back to her dream. "So what, this is some sort of contest now?" she asked. "I'm supposed to choose between you? Is that it?"

"Something like that," Baines said, suppressing a laugh.

"What's so damned funny?" Walman demanded.

"Nothing, man, nothing," Baines promised, still grinning. "This whole thing, maybe--listen, you guys talk, all right? I'm just going--" He stopped at the sound of a woman's scream ringing through the camp. "Hey, did you hear that?"

"Yes," Magus answered, scrambling to her feet. "That sounded like Bess." She made it to the tent flap just as another scream rang out.

"That is definitely Bess," Walman agreed, snatching up his rifle. "Come on--let's see what's going on."

***

Danziger woke up in front of an almost-dead fire with an excruciatingly stiff neck--the last thing he remembered was wondering if he should go out looking for Tara. "Oh man," he groaned, heaving himself upright and rubbing his aching neck.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," Tara said from the doorway. "Guess what?"

He turned his head and almost forgot his pain. She was standing with her back to him, pointing a luma out into the night, and she was gorgeous. Her feet and legs were bare, and for the first time he noticed the tattoo, a twisting green vine laden with deep scarlet flowers which twined around her ankle and up her right leg, disappearing beneath the hem of the shapeless t-shirt that fell a few scant inches below her childishly rounded behind. "How did I miss that?" he muttered, remembering the shorts she had worn all summer.

"What?" she asked without turning around. "Oh, the vine thing--it had faded until you almost couldn't see it . . . Hey Danziger, I said guess what."

"What, Tara, what?" he responded crankily, hauling himself to his feet.

She still didn't turn around. "It's snowing."

"Oh no," he groaned, joining her at the door. Sure enough, the luma's beam revealed a star-storm of white flakes flying merrily through the darkness. "How long has that been going on?"

"Not long," she said, shining the beam around the clearing. "I just came in less than an hour ago, and it hadn't started then--oh God, look . . . " She stopped the light on a graceful, four-legged creature that was just emerging from the trees. "That's a deer, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah, I think so," he agreed. The animal seemed to be posed for their benefit, staring back at them with the roundest, softest brown eyes he had ever seen, one foot poised as if for flight, its ears pricked up to catch every sound beneath an impressive rack of antlers. "I think your light has it paralyzed."

"Poor baby," Tara crooned. "I'm sorry . . . " She flipped the switch to off, and the deer bounded back into the trees.

"What did you do that for?" he joked. "We could have eaten on that for days--"

"No!" she protested, putting a restraining hand on his chest, her eyes searching the dark for other signs of life. "Don't you dare--"

"Tara, don't be ridiculous," he soothed. "I wouldn't any more shoot a beautiful animal like that than you would."

She looked at him, first his face, then at where her hand still rested on his chest. "I know," she admitted, blushing. "Sorry . . . "

"It's okay." She started to take her hand away, and he found himself stopping her, holding her warm little palm against him. "Aren't you freezing?" he asked, looking down into her eyes.

"No . . . well . . . that wind *is* a bit nippy, now that you mention it," she answered with a shy grin that should have seemed calculated but somehow simply didn't. "Maybe we should shut the door and pack . . . the sun'll be up soon."

"Is it that late?" he asked, not really caring how late it was but needing something to say, something to continue to conversation and postpone whatever lay beyond the compelling pressure of her touch. This was exactly what he had promised himself he couldn't feel, this wanting--needing--to touch her back. The soft, slightly-soapy smell of her seemed a part of the crisp but muffled patter of the snow on the fallen leaves, as inviting and inexplicable as the suddenly-lurid painting on her leg--how had she managed it? Surely the clatter of a bath would have awakened him. "I thought I just dozed off . . . "

"You were tired," she offered helpfully, her tone brightly casual even as her hand moved sinuously over the muscles of his chest, a tentative caress that was like a question as it slipped up over his shoulder and along his throat, her eyes focused determinedly ahead. "I guess bickering makes you sleepy . . . "

"Tara, wait," he said, meaning to push her away but finding his hands around her waist instead. "You don't want this--"

She looked up at him then, and laughed, her blue eyes dancing with happiness but not, he thought, with triumph. "You wanna bet?" she retorted playfully, slipping both hands up around his neck, standing on her bare tiptoes to do it, making her t-shirt ride up even higher. She bent his head down to her and kissed him, a gentle pressure of her lips on his that was confident but wary, as if daring him to object.

"It's not really me you want," he insisted, allowing her to nestle in closer, feeling her warm little body mold itself to his own. "You want . . . " She stopped him with another kiss, and this time he responded, his tongue accepting her lips' invitation to taste the warm wet of inside.

"Maybe," she admitted when the kiss broke, her fingers entwined in his hair. "Maybe all I really want is Val back, and all you really want is Devon." She pressed her open mouth to his throat, tasting his skin, making him shiver with more than the cold. "But I'm positive that I want this," she continued, curling closer still into his embrace. "And it sure feels like you and me, doesn't it?"

***

Morgan crashed through the campfire in his haste to reach his wife, scattering embers in his path even as he threw back the tent flap. "Bess, baby, what's wrong?" he demanded, dropping to his knees beside her.

"Morgan, I'm so sorry," she wept, her face too pale and dewy with sweat. "I tried to make it stop . . . I thought if I could just lie still and quiet, it would stop . . . "

"What, baby, what?" he said, brushing back the wisps of hair that were clinging to her forehead. "Julia!" he yelled back toward the door.

"I'll get her," said Baines, the first of the other group to arrive. He turned and pushed past Magus and Walman and sprinted for the medtent.

"It hurts," Bess complained, pressing a hand to her swollen belly. "Oh God, Morgan, it hurts so much; I know there's something wrong--"

"Hang on, sweetie," Morgan soothed, gathering her up in his arms and holding her convulsively tight. "Julia's on her way . . . she'll fix it . . . " He pressed his lips to her brow, rocking her back and forth. "She has to be able to fix it."

End of Part 6

The Course of True Love (7/14)
by Jayel

"Julia?"

She was dreaming that Alonzo's chest was talking to her, only for some reason it sounded like Baines . . . .

"Hey, doc, you've got to come quick . . . . "

She opened her eyes, lifting her head slightly to give her fiance's stomach muscles a stern look. I mean, yeah, sure, they were perfect, but she wasn't about to converse with them in the middle of the night, particularly if they were doing impressions . . .

"What? Baines, is that you?" Alonzo's voice mumbled from somewhere above. "What's going on?"

"Yeah," Julia agreed through a yawn, shaking off the fuzzy silliness of sleep. "What's the matter?"

"It's Bess," Baines explained urgently. "She's in a lot of pain--she was screaming; didn't you guys hear it?"

"No," Alonzo said, sitting up and taking Julia with him. "Tell her we're on our way."

Wake up, stupid, she scolded herself, stumbling to her feet and grabbing for her diaglove. But the very idea that something might be wrong with Bess was enough to send her reeling, even if she'd been wide awake. Not the baby, she mumbled to herself as she and Alonzo sprinted through the snow--oh no, it was snowing, too? Please, just not the baby . . .

"I think it's the baby," Bess wept as they came in. "I started having these pains a couple of hours ago, like something was stabbing me in the back."

"It's all right, Bess," Julia said, hoping she sounded more convincing than she was convinced. "Everything's fine--"

"No, it isn't!" Bess cried, one hand still clinging to her husband's coat. "It hurts--" Her eyes suddenly widened, and she let out another blood-curdling screech. We managed to sleep through that? Julia thought incongruously as she eased the blankets down. "And I'm bleeding," Bess confided when the scream had died away. "I can feel it--"

"No, you're not," Julia assured her, looking up from her examination, too relieved to suppress her smile.

"Julia, I said I can feel--"

"What you feel isn't blood," the doctor promised, taking her other hand. "It's water . . . " She glanced around at the rest of the Eden Project, all crammed into the Martin's tent--even Uly and True were there, each holding one of Devon's hands. "Bess, your water broke," she explained. "The pains you've been feeling--they're contractions. You're having the baby."

"Wait--wait a minute," Morgan stammered. "No . . . it's too early, Julia. You said yourself it would be at least another month--"

"Obviously, I was wrong," Julia said, still grinning foolishly as she ran her diaglove over Bess' bared stomach. "What I mean is . . . when I made my initial determination on the date of conception, we were all under a lot of stress . . . "

"EVE," Bess agreed, her tired face suddenly beatific as Julia's words sank in. "Morgan, honey, remember the baby leaves? I must have been the same way--Our baby seemed smaller, less developed, because everything had just . . . stopped, right, Julia?"

"Something like that, yes," Julia agreed. "All life seemed to be in stasis, waiting for the contaminant to run its course. Obviously, you guys were a lot more pregnant than I realized. And in all of my examinations since, I've been studying the raw data in relation to that initial diagnosis--"

"But what about now?" Morgan demanded, for once sounding anything but hysterical. "What about the baby now--is it ready to come out?"

Julia checked her glove readings again. "I . . . well, I think so," she said slowly. "Everything seems perfect--"

"Seems?" Morgan said. "Listen, Doctor, this is our life you're talking about, our baby--How about a little certainty here?"

"Morgan, I'm sorry," Julia said truthfully. "I know how upsetting this must be, believe me, but that's as positive as I can be. The baby seems perfectly developed, if rather small, and obviously it thinks the time has come."

"It'll be okay, honey," Bess promised, reaching up for him.

He bent and kissed her lips just as another contraction hit. Her scream reverberated through his head like a lightning strike. "I suppose that's normal, too?" he asked Julia, glassy-eyed.

"I'm afraid so," she admitted with a smile.

"Come on, everybody," Devon ordered. "Let's give Bess some air, all right?" Magus, Baines and Walman filed out, with Yale and the kids right behind them. "Alonzo, are you coming?" Devon asked pointedly.

The pilot was apparently mesmerized, squatting by the cot, Terrian-style. "What?" he said when he realized everyone except Bess was staring at him. "Oh . . . " He reached out and put a hand over the one Bess had resting on her stomach. "Could I stay?" he asked her.

"Forget it, fly-boy," Morgan snapped. "If you think I'm going to let you sit--stand--be over there while my wife is giving birth, you've got another--"

"Are you sure you want to?" Bess asked.

Alonzo glanced up at Julia and grinned. "Yeah," he said. "I'm positive. I want to see what it's like."

"It isn't pretty," Julia cautioned, setting up the chair she and Bess had already chosen weeks before as the most likely candidate for "birthing stool".

"I can always leave if it gets too intense," Alonzo pointed out. "But I think it's going to be beautiful."

"Excuse me, but didn't I just say no?" Morgan interrupted.

"I think beautiful may be an over-statement," Bess said with a grin, putting a restraining hand on her husband. "But if you really want to stay, be my guest."

***

Gee, I wish I could tell how I felt, Devon laughed bitterly to herself. Standing with her back to the camp, she could hear Magus and Walman deep in conversation at the campfire. She could hear Yale's deep and patient voice explaining something, answering the chirp of Uly's questions--what's happening with Bess, no doubt. She could hear Bess cry out every few minutes, although now that she knew what was wrong, her cries sounded less like panic and more like . . . triumph? Yes, that was it--she remembered so clearly what that was like. Every contraction meant the strength of a new life coming into the world--every ounce of pain was a victory for life. She envied Bess, even her pain--if ever a moment had come when her head had felt clear and focused, if ever she had known exactly what it was that she wanted, that moment came when Uly was born. What must it be like for Julia, watching, helping, knowing her own time would be coming so soon? Was she afraid? Hard to imagine--Julia always seemed so fearless, especially at times like this, times when everyone else was hysterical. Maybe Devon envied her, too.

She turned her face up to the snow and let it fall softly on her skin, melting into the tears she hadn't realized she had shed. Crying . . . why? What did she have to cry about? Yale said this snow would be gentle, that it would probably melt away long before Bess was ready to travel again. So they could continue--New Pacifica would be that much closer, or at least the mountains that seemed to hold it just out of her reach. So why waste the energy to cry?

"I don't know; it sounds pretty gruesome back there," True said, joining her.

"What, you mean Bess?" Devon replied, finding a smile for the child.

"No, Yale," True corrected with an impish grin. "The more times I hear somebody talk about where babies come from, the more I know I don't want any." She took Devon's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do so and joined her in her perusal of the night. "Do you think it's snowing where Dad and Tara are?"

I hope it's falling in big, wet, heavy lumps and landing right square on their heads, Devon thought privately. "Probably," she said aloud. "But I'm sure they're all right."

"Me, too," True agreed. "Dad can handle it--Tara's probably freaking out." She laughed. "She told me she'd never seen actual snow fall before, only VR snow. Dad's probably ready to slug her."

"Oh, I doubt that," Devon said. "Besides, your dad has gotten much better at keeping his temper." She looked down. "You should be wearing a hat."

"I know," she sighed. "I'll go in and get one in a minute."

"You and Uly should go back to bed," Devon admonished, brushing the little girl's hair back from her forehead, the only caress she was reasonably certain the child would accept.

"No way," True said firmly. "Not until after the baby comes. Do they know what it is yet?"

"I don't think so," Devon answered. "Julia does, of course, but I think Morgan and Bess decided to let it be a surprise."

"I couldn't stand the suspense," True confided.

"Me either," Devon agreed with a grin.

"I asked Tara why she and Val never had kids, and she said she didn't want any," True continued as if one remark led naturally into another.

She wants you, kiddo, Devon longed to blurt out. "Some people don't," she said instead. "True, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

True looked up at her. "No," she said. "Do you mind it when I ask you questions?"

"Not usually," Devon replied, smiling. "I've been curious . . . why are you and Tara so close?"

She seemed to consider for a moment. "She let me talk about Gaal," she said at last. "I mean really talk about it . . . I was asking her about Reilly one night when Dad was away the last time, and she was telling me . . . but I guess I shouldn't tell about that. Anyway, it sort of reminded me of Gaal, and I said I knew what she meant."

"True, honey, you know you can talk to any of us about anything," Devon began, kneeling on the snowy ground to meet the child's eyes.

"I know, Devon, and . . . that's great, but . . . You guys always try to make me feel better, you know?" She seemed to be sorting out something far too complicated for her words. "Dad always says I shouldn't worry, that he'll never let anything like that happen to me again, and you and Bess always tell me it wasn't my fault, that I shouldn't feel bad about it. But sometimes I do feel bad, and I can't help it. And Tara . . . she understands that. She has a lot of things in her life that she feels bad about, too--she's not like you, Devon."

"So I gathered," Devon said dryly, unable to help herself.

"No, I don't mean it that way," True insisted. "You've always tried to do the right thing, the nice thing, even if it meant you didn't get your way. Tara's not like that . . . and sometimes, neither am I. I want to be--I'm trying to be." She blushed. "But sometimes . . . Anyway, it was easy to tell her everything, even stuff I had never told Dad, stuff I had had to lie about, because I knew she wouldn't be disappointed in me."

"Oh True . . . "

"And she just listened, Devon--she treats me like a grown-up, because she doesn't know how to treat me like a child. She's not this great mom like you--I can be friends with her without feeling like--" She broke off, staring at the ground.

"Without feeling like someone's taking your real mother's place," Devon finished gently.

"Yeah," True admitted, looking up. "I mean, sometimes when I hear Uly call you Mom, all I can think of is how much I'd like to call you that, too, and then I feel so awful . . . I never want to call Tara anything but Tara. Bess said she had an older sister when she was a kid, so maybe she knows how I feel."

"Maybe," Devon agreed, resisting the urge to draw the child close and hug her so tight she'd never get away

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings sometimes," True continued. "I never mean to, not really--"

"I think I understand," Devon interrupted with a smile. "That doesn't mean it's okay, but--"

"I know," True agreed. "I'll try to do better, I promise."

Devon did hug her then; she couldn't help it. "You're fine," she promised, kissing her hair so lightly she didn't feel it. "Now come on--let's get you a hat."

End of Part 7

The Course of True Love (8/14)
by Jayel

Tara's last prayerful thought before sinking into the deepest sleep she had known in months was, "Please, God, just let me wake up first." The trek across the burning sands of guilt Danziger was almost certainly going to insist she accompany him on in the morning would be torturous enough even if she had a few minutes to wake up, get dressed, and mentally prepare. To awaken halfway through naked and all-unknowing would be too brutal to bear.

Luckily, her prayer was answered and in the affirmative--when she opened her eyes, Danziger was still snoring. As a matter of fact, his snoring was what woke her up, jogging her away from a dream about earthquakes and chain saws inexplicably combined. "Ye gods, John," she grumbled, smiling nonetheless as she slipped regretfully from beneath his heavy arm. "No wonder True-girl sleeps with me." Planting a kiss too light to wake him on his bare shoulder, she pulled the blankets closer around him and got up.

The snow had stopped falling, leaving the thinnest frosting of white on the world outside. The possibilities of a snowball crossed her mind, but she decided against it--no need to tempt fate just yet. She dug a small but efficient-looking shovel out of Danziger's pack, pulled on her gloves, and went out into the sunrise.

Getting back into the ground lockers proved a little more taxing than she'd anticipated, even the small one she'd opened the night before, but once she was inside, she had little trouble finding what she wanted. The white plastic box was at the top of the largest locker, exactly where she'd left it when Val had finally convinced her taking it with them simply wasn't practical. "We'll be back," she remembered him promising, his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple as she tearfully closed the box and shut the locker cover.

"Yeah, I know," she remembered answering, dashing the silly tears away. "And hey, it's not like I'll be needing it again, right?"

Don't go there, Tara, she advised herself sternly, lifting the box out without opening it and tossing it on the snow behind her.

Her second treasure was a little harder to find. The tiny capsule was buried under piles of Val's old books and a bag filled with her half-finished knitting. Why did we bring all this stuff? she grumbled in her head, working it free of the clutter.

The seal was still intact, and a dot of light glowing red at one end indicated that the contents were still viable. I should wait, she thought, fingering the release button. I mean, this is definitely something he would want to discuss first . . . But if I ask him, he's just going to say no, and then I'll have to try to convince him . . . Easier to apologize than ask permission, she decided, pressing the button gently. Besides, who says it's going to work?

The red light turned green, and the softer black end of the capsule slid free of its hard steel shell. Tilting it slightly, she dropped a tiny, writhing glob of living tissue into the palm of her gloved hand. "Please be okay," she whispered, watching it grow and take shape. "I don't think I can kill you, even if you're screwed up . . . "

When she got back, Danziger was awake, dressed, and fumbling around with the coffeepot. "I assume you know what you're doing there," she teased, dropping the shovel and the white box before the fire.

"Mostly," he retorted, shooting her a murderous glance fairly typical of his usual morning demeanor. "Where'd you go?"

"Out to get my stuff," she explained. "That is what we came here for, right?"

"Yeah," he muttered, setting the coffeepot on the glowing embers. "So you said."

She started to say exactly what came into her head, but bit down hard on her tongue and counted ten instead. "Those ground lockers were frozen over pretty good," she went on, peering inside the deep inner pocket of her jacket to make sure the treasure there had made the trek indoors without injury. "It took me ten minutes just to scrape the ice off the locks . . . then I had to try to remember the combinations . . . " Tired of addressing herself to the back of his head, she turned her attention to her newborn creature, lifting it free of the jacket and cuddling it against her shoulder.

"So this is it?" he said at last, waving absently at the box. "This is what we came here for?"

"Some of it," she replied. "And this is the rest."

He turned around and found her nuzzling a kitten, still so new its eyes were sealed shut. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, going to her. "And where did you--"

"It's a cat, obviously," she interrupted. "I got it out of one of the ground lockers--or the embryonic material for it, anyway." She took a tiny bladder of synthetic milk from her pocket and brushed it over the kitten's tiny, mewling mouth. "How do you make these things eat?"

"You have to squeeze that thing," he explained gruffly, taking both kitten and milk bladder from her. "How's he supposed to know there's milk in there if all he can taste is the plastic?" He squeezed the bladder gently, dripping milk on the furry little face until the kitten seemed to get the message and started sucking on his own.

"Danz, you're a man of many talents," Tara teased, smiling goofily up at him in spite of herself. "Think True will like him?"

"True?" he echoed. "Wait a minute--"

"I got him for her," she interrupted. "Actually, we brought him along for me--he's a clone of a cat we had for years, even took him into cold sleep with us--Watusi, we called him, God only knows why--maybe because he was huge. Anyway, when we came here, we knew we couldn't keep him anymore, so Val had him cloned and gave me the makings as a sort of bon voyage present, I guess. We always meant to take this little guy out just as soon as we were settled." She paused for breath and dared a quick glance at his face. Not at good idea--he looked just as grim as she'd expected. "I know True always wanted a cat, so I thought, since we were here--"

"Tara, this was not a good idea," he began. But she noticed he wasn't just feeding the kitten; he was stroking the tiny head with one massive fingertip, cradling the fragile little body in his palm. Oh my sweet love, she couldn't help thinking to herself, melting inside just watching. "How are we supposed to take care of a kitten on the road?"

"It's easier than you might think," she promised. "And besides, he won't be a kitten very long--These tube-clones tend to reach full maturity within a few hours--"

"Assuming they survive," he finished. "Julia might have told you we've already had some experience with this sort of thing."

"The horse--yeah, she did," she answered. "But that kind of genetic defect is unusual, I promise--For whatever reason, the embryos Julia found had been coded to mutate that way."

"Still, we don't tell True anything about this until we know he's going to make it," Danziger ordered.

"Absolutely," she agreed with a smile. "Look, we probably won't even see True until he's full-grown and well out of the woods."

The kitten had stopped eating and curled up in a ball in his hand, obviously preparing for a nice, long nap. "Here, take him," he ordered. "If we don't pack up and get out of here, he'll be on his third or fourth life by the time we see True again."

"Okay," she agreed, taking the warm ball of fur and holding it against her. "But I think he likes you better."

"Of course he does," he muttered, throwing scattered equipment into his pack. "What's not to like?"

She shot him a mischievous smile. "Not much, actually." She tucked the sleeping kitten back into her jacket pocket. "You're a little bossy sometimes . . . and I've got to tell you, you snore worse than anybody I ever heard in my life."

"I don't snore," he grumbled without looking at her.

"Excuse me?" Tara retorted. "Don't go to hell for a liar over something as pitiful as that, John Danziger--"

"Hey, don't do that, all right?" he interrupted, turning to her.

"Do what?" she asked, genuinely mystified. "Tell you you're going to hell?"

"No," he said, going back to packing. "Call me 'John Danziger', like you might be my first grade teacher or my mom or something. Devon does that all the time, and it really gets on my nerves."

"Then by all means, let me delete that phrase permanently from my vocabulary," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "So tell me what to call you instead."

"What?" he asked, stuffing bedding into his pack with a shameless disregard for proper folding.

"Tell me what to call you instead of 'John Danziger,'" she replied, giving the name a broad hint of Devon-style inflection. "I was thinking maybe 'pookie'--"

"Oh shut up," he ordered, but she could tell he was trying not to smile.

"I'm serious," she laughed. "Our relationship has undergone a dramatic change--we are actually acknowledging that, right? Or was one of us sleepwalking?"

"Tara . . . " He stopped packing and just looked at her for a moment. "I don't think I could have slept through that," he admitted at last.

She couldn't think when she had felt more encouraged . . . maybe the world didn't have to just end after all. "Me neither," she answered with a smile, going over to him. "Seriously . . . do we need to talk about this?"

"Oh, probably," he grumbled morosely.

"Don't sound so excited," she retorted.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm just not very good at 'talking' about this sort of thing, but lately it feels like that's all I ever do," he complained.

"Well, maybe not all," she teased, touching his cheek with affection. "Okay, so you don't want to talk . . . fine, just listen--"

"Something tells me I'll like that even less," he muttered.

"Hush," she ordered, sinking down onto his lap. "I'm crazy about you, but you know that--at least, now, you know that, and I got the impression that you weren't entirely repulsed by the knowledge."

"Of course I wasn't--"

"I said hush!" She put a hand over his mouth and continued. "But you don't want to hurt Devon. As a matter of fact, you're not even sure you wouldn't rather *be* with Devon--you've certainly put a lot more time and energy into that possibility than you have with me. And besides, I may just be some crazy woman who's tired of sleeping alone and looking for someone whose special purpose reminds her of her husband's--yours doesn't, by the way, but in the interests of grace and gentility, I won't elaborate on why not."

"Special purpose?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what my dear departed mother-in-law always called it, and I think it's a very descriptive phrase," she retorted playfully. "As I was saying, you find yourself, romantically speaking, caught between a rock and a hard place--say, I wonder which one of us is which?"

"Is there a point to this charming recitation?" he said, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Of course there is," she promised. "The point is, you don't want to hurt anybody--fine, honey, don't. Don't hurt Devon--she doesn't deserve to be hurt. And maybe I do--"

"No," he interrupted. "You do not."

"Good," she said. "Then don't hurt me, either--not yet, anyway. Am I correct in assuming that you and Devon have sort of unofficially put off taking your friendship to a higher plane, physically speaking, until after we get to New Pacifica?"

"That seems to be the idea," he admitted slowly.

"Fine," she said. "That gives you plenty of time to make up your mind--who knows? Miz Magus might get you yet."

"Magus has more than she can handle already," he retorted. "So what are you saying? That we should just pretend this didn't happen until we all get to New Pacifica, and--"

"No, not exactly," she interrupted, caressing his hair with a dreamy smile. "You and I, to each other, should pretend no such thing, although I dare say a repeat performance within the confines of the camp might prove problematic. But to everybody else? I think, for the moment at least, that might be best."

"So what you're saying is that you won't tell Devon if I don't," he said.

"Exactly . . . or True, or Yale--I might tell Julia, but she won't tell anyone else if I ask her not to," she explained. "What I am saying, my love, is that I can wait. For the good of the group as a whole, I can continue to pine for you in silence--you're right; I could use some time to sort this thing out myself."

"But what about my relationship with Devon?" he asked gently.

"That's your business," she answered. "Yours and Devon's--just like your relationship with me is yours and mine, not hers." She grinned. "If you can wrestle, coax, wheedle, or trick her into the sack between now and the time we get to that rendezvous point, more power to you--just don't tell me about it."

He gave her a sharp look. "For a Catholic, you have some pretty interesting ideas about morality," he remarked.

She laughed. "Well, maybe when Val got killed that way, I figured the good Lord owed me one," she admitted. "Or maybe . . . Maybe I'm just desperate." She threw her arms around his neck dramatically. "Or maybe you're just irresistible; my morals are simply no match for you."

"Very funny," he growled, obliging her with a kiss that made her think she had made the right decision for once. Patience was definitely the key. He wanted her, too, and not just for one night--she could feel it. If she could wait long enough, everything would work out just fine. "So as far as the rest of the world is concerned, when we get back, everything is just as it was," he said, breaking the kiss at last. "With the possible exception of Julia."

"Exactly," she answered, planting a final kiss on his nose. "Until we get to New Pacifica. And then all bets are off."

End of Part 8

The Course of True Love (9/14)
by Jayel

Magus and Walman sat in heavy silence on opposite sides of the campfire, each of them ostensibly on watch but actually just listening to Bess and wondering when the other would break down and say something. Baines had gone with Cameron to try to figure out the best way to find Danziger and Tara and let them know the caravan had stopped, and everyone else was more than occupied elsewhere. So the time for talk had definitely come.

"You know, this is as close to privacy as we're likely to find in the next few days," Magus finally began, poking at the fire with a stick and watching the sparks rise into the dark.

"Yep," Walman replied, the very soul of eloquence as always.

Maybe I ought to just poke him, Magus thought, gritting her teeth as she attacked the coals more vigorously, making them crackle and sing. "Yep," she echoed ironically.

"I'm sorry, Marcia, I just don' t have a single clue what you want me to say," he retorted, tossing another log on the fire and making some crackles of his own.

"Say what you think, Walman," she answered, looking up, knowing this was the closest thing to an opening she was likely to get from him. "Just tell me what's going on in your head--"

"And what if I don't know?" he interrupted. "I mean, there's just so much--here I think you and I are . . . and then Baines comes out here and drops this bomb on my head out of a clear blue sky--What am I supposed to be thinking right now?"

"It doesn't matter what you're *supposed* to think," she said gently. "Or what I want you to say--"

"Doesn't it?" he said, springing to his feet as if he couldn't stand to sit still another moment. "This whole thing is about me thinking and saying the wrong stuff, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You know what I'm talking about," he retorted, looking pointedly over her head toward the edge of camp where Devon was talking with True. "One time I say the wrong thing, and the next thing I know, you're cozying up to Baines--Baines, for pity's sake!"

"And what is wrong with Baines, I'd like to know?" she demanded, getting up herself. "And where do you get off thinking whatever I do with Baines is about you, anyway--"

"Isn't it?"

"No!" she insisted. "No, it isn't . . . " Bess let out a particularly piercing wail, followed by shouts of encouragement from Morgan, Julia, and Alonzo, and Magus and Walman both stopped dead to listen until these subsided.

"Sounds like it won't be long now," Walman remarked.

"Yeah," Magus agreed, looking toward the Martin tent. "They're really lucky, you know? They have each other, and now . . . " She looked back at Walman. "Is it such a huge leap of imagination to think I might want that?"

"What?" he asked, mystified. "Of course not . . . "

"I want somebody who looks at me the way Morgan looks at Bess," she continued. "I want somebody who, even if I did something terrible and everybody in this group voted to leave me behind, would still come back for me and tell me he loved me anyway. I want to be special to somebody, Walman--"

"Marcia, you're special to everybody," he protested.

"No!" She shook her head, shaking off impending tears. "That isn't what I mean," she continued. "I know I'm *special*, that we're all special--we're all members of the group, and we depend on each other and care for each other and if anything happened to any one of us, the rest would never be the same. That's something I never would have known on the stations--I'm not sure any of us would ever have had that, and I know we should all be grateful, especially me." She held a hand out to him, and he took it and let her lead him back to the fire. "But sometimes it isn't enough," she admitted, still holding his hand without meeting his eyes. "I want just one person . . . just once, I want to be somebody's whole life . . . I want somebody to be my whole life . . . "

He squeezed her hand. "And you and I . . . we just ain't it," he finished for her.

She looked up at him and smiled, maybe not loving him but liking him more than she could ever remember liking anyone before, woman or man. "No," she agreed. "We're not."

He pulled her close and hugged her, not as a lover but as the warmest of friends. "But hey, that's okay," he said, holding her tight. "We had a good time, right?"

"The best," she agreed, pressing her tear-spattered face to his shoulder one last time before pulling away.

They sat together, side by side, in companionable silence for a long time, until the snow stopped falling and Devon and True had gone inside. "Hey, Magus," Walman said at last.

"Yeah?"

"What about Baines?" He turned and looked at her. "Do you think he might be the one?"

She seemed to consider this for a long moment, then shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe . . . I guess we'll just have to see."

He grinned. "I guess so." He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her another squeeze. "But if he isn't . . . you know, if he hurts you . . . "

"Yeah?" she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"You know," he grumbled.

"Tell me anyway," she insisted with a smile.

He smiled back. "I'll make him wish he'd kept his butt in the Transrover."

***

In spite of his brave assertions to the contrary, Alonzo was actually a little nervous about watching Bess give birth--he knew that his doc was right, that judged strictly on aesthetics, this particular drama was likely to rank right up there with watching Grendlers eat semolina mush. But if Bess and Morgan's baby was coming now, he figured it was a pretty safe bet that his and Julia's Valentine would be along pretty soon. And no matter what, he was determined to be ready, even if it meant losing his dinner or even passing out cold. Julia might have to bear the pain alone, but that didn't mean he couldn't do everything possible to help. And that meant having at least a working knowledge of the process.

And actually, once things really got underway, he found he was too engrossed and thrilled to be a part of what was happening to even think about being nauseous. Bess seemed scared but happy--her face glowed like an angel's even while she was screaming. Julia was as capable and efficient as always in a medical emergency, but he noticed her businesslike demeanor melting into a look of sheer wonder and joy more than once. And Morgan, God bless him, was an absolute rock. He sat directly behind his wife the whole time, holding her up and murmuring encouragement without the slightest hint of hysteria. "Not much longer now, sweetie," he promised after a particularly lengthy contraction, kissing her cheek. "Look, you can see the top of the head--oh my God, Alonzo, you can see the top of the head!"

"I know," Alonzo agreed, knowing he was grinning like an idiot but completely incapable of wearing any other expression.

"Come on, Bess, one more push," Julia ordered gently from her position on the floor. "Morgan's right; we're almost there."

"Okay," Bess agreed, laying her head back against her husband's shoulder. "But this hurts a really lot . . . "

"I know, baby, I know," Morgan soothed, stroking her sweat-damp hair back from her face. "Just one more--"

"I'd say two," Julia admitted. "But only one more for the head."

"Okay, I'm doing it," Bess cried, her nails digging into Morgan's wrist as she pushed. "Is it coming?"

"Yes, of course it's coming," Julia answered, almost laughing. "Can't you feel it?"

"Oh yeah," Bess agreed through gritted teeth. "It has your head, Morgan honey--"

"I think it only seems that big, Bess," Alonzo joked, handing Julia a clean, thick towel.

"One more, Bess, I swear," Julia promised. "Just one more--"

And then a beautiful baby Martin dropped into her arms.

"He's out!" Morgan yelled. "You did it, sweetie--he's beautiful--"

"He?" Bess asked weakly. "It's a boy?"

"Oh yeah," Alonzo answered, unable to take his eyes off the squalling little life who seemed determine to squirm away from Julia's attempts to wipe his face. "He's a boy . . . "

"Is he okay?" Morgan demanded. "He seems so small--"

"He's perfect," Julia promised, getting up. "Here . . . " She laid the baby on his mother's breast, and almost immediately his screaming faded to an irritable whimper.

"I think he likes us," Bess said tearfully, stroking the little cheek. "Oh God . . . Morgan, look . . . "

"I see him, angel," Morgan answered, though his eyes just then were closed in silent prayer. "Julia's right . . . you guys are perfect."

***

Julia managed to stay the cool, calm representative of medical science she had been genetically engineered to be through the rest of the birthing process and even through her briefing of the rest of the Eden Project. But once she and Alonzo found themselves alone again in the privacy of the medtent, she burst into happy tears.

"Hey, doc," Alonzo soothed, pulling her close. "What's wrong? Were you hoping they'd have an ugly baby?"

"Of course not," she scolded, smacking his chest before sinking gratefully against it. "Nothing's wrong . . . everything's just so . . . "

"I know," Alonzo agreed, patting her back. "I feel exactly the same way." He cuddled her close for several minutes until the real tears were gone, leaving no more than a mild case of the hiccups in their wake. "Better?" he asked, turning her face up to his.

"I'm great," she promised, kissing him briefly on the lips. "But you want to know a secret?"

"Always," he teased.

"I was scared to death," she confessed. "I had never delivered an actual baby before. My specialty was Syndrome--all the 'births' I witnessed were in VR."

"I'm glad Morgan didn't know that," Alonzo joked.

"So am I," she agreed with a giggle. "But it went okay, don't you think?"

"You were perfect," he promised. "No one could have done a better job."

"Oh, I doubt that," she demurred, but she was pleased nonetheless. "I'm glad you were there with me."

"So am I," he said truthfully. "It really was beautiful . . . except for the icky parts."

"Yeah, except for those," she retorted with a grin. "So do you think you can stand one more?"

"What, you mean ours?" he said. "I wouldn't miss it for the world; you know that."

"Good," she said, obviously relieved. "I was afraid that after you saw Bess give birth . . . "

"Hey, the only reason I wanted to watch Bess was so I'd know what to do when Valentine comes," he said. "We're in this together, remember?"

In answer, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. "I know," she said at last. "And I am so glad . . . "

"You know, when Valentine decides to finally show up, our only doctor is going to be otherwise occupied," he pointed out, gently caressing her cheek.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," she admitted. "I talked to Yale, and he said he would be happy to do what he could . . . but I'd really rather it was just us."

Alonzo's brown eyes widened. "What, you mean just me and you?" he echoed.

"I could tell you exactly what to do," she promised. "You'd be great, I know you would--"

"Yeah, but, doc--what if something goes wrong?" he asked doubtfully.

"If something goes wrong, you're going to be as able to help me as Yale would," she answered. "Don't worry; we'll go over all the possibilities long before the time comes--"

"Then we better do it soon," he interrupted. "If Bess' due date was wrong, yours probably is, too."

She just looked at him for a moment, stunned. "You're right," she said at last. "I honestly hadn't thought . . . "

"Hey, it's okay," he promised. "Don't be scared . . . "

"I'm not scared," she said with a smile. "Whenever it happens, I know we're going to be fine."

End of Part 9

The Course of True Love (10/14)
by Jayel

The sun had almost disappeared over the horizon when Danziger finally stopped so abruptly that Tara crashed into the back of him. "I take it we're here," she grumbled, rubbing her nose.

"We should be," he answered, taking out his jumpers. "This is where Yale and I calculated our most likely rendezvous point would be." He lifted the jumpers and scanned through the thick forest to the left and right. "But I don't see any sign of them."

"We got a late start," she pointed out, dropping her pack and stepping in front of him to look, as if her bare eyes might pick out details his jumpers had missed. "Maybe we missed them."

"Yale wouldn't have let them go any further than this without us," he said. "Besides, that Transrover leaves a pretty clear trail. Nothing with wheels has been through here in at least a decade--maybe never."

"Now there's something fun to mull over at dinner," she muttered, sitting on her pack with a thud. "Do you think something happened to them?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he answered, letting his own pack fall to the ground. "Maybe they're just slow. Either way, there's nothing we can do about it tonight."

"So we're stuck sleeping in the snow," she grumbled. "Great . . . "

"Hey, this is your field trip, remember?" he retorted, tossing her a luma. "Why don't you stop Martining and see if you can find us some dry wood?"

"Did I mention you were bossy?" she answered, getting back up with a groan. "My back hurts, my legs hurt--my everything hurts."

"Poor baby," he said sarcastically, giving her a grin. "While you're out there, you better see if you can find that stupid cat."

"He is not a stupid cat," she asserted primly. "He's a very smart cat. And I don't have to find him--Here, kitty, kitty, kitty . . . " The creature that had been a helpless kitten that morning bounded out of the shadows, now a full-grown gray tabby of monstrous proportions. "There's the boy," Tara cooed, picking up him like a baby. "Did you find a mouse, sweetie?"

"Devon's going to love that," Danziger grumbled, staking out waterproofing for their sleeping bags. "That baby of yours is going to screw up the eco-system of every environment we pass through--"

"Oh hush," she scolded. "Here, stay with daddy while I go do his bidding like a good little slave . . . "

"Be careful," Danziger called back over her shoulder without the slightest hint of concern as she and her luma disappeared into the trees.

***

"Baines and I will take the Dunerail out in the morning and intercept them," Alonzo was telling Devon as he helped her make dinner. "Yale says he and Danziger agreed on a specific rendezvous point before they left, so we should be able to pick them up and have them back with the rest of the group by lunch."

"That's a good idea, but I'm not sure you should be one of the ones to go," Devon answered, peeling tubers into a pot and trying to remember what Bess used to make them taste a little less like boiled cardboard. "Bess really sneaked up on us--heaven only knows when Julia may . . . " She paused, searching for the right word.

"Blow?" Alonzo offered helpfully with a grin.

"Give birth," Devon said instead, smiling back. "And I know she would rather you stayed close to camp." She added water from a nearby pitcher to the pot and hung it over the fire. "I can go with Baines."

Alonzo stopped slicing a leftover loaf of Bess' semolina bread and tried to be diplomatic. "Maybe that isn't such a good idea," he ventured. "I mean . . . if you go, who's going to watch the kids?"

"I imagine they'll be in school," Devon said. "I think Yale can manage." She opened a storage bag of greens the children had picked that afternoon and started tearing the leaves into salad. "Why?" she went on casually. "Is there some reason I don't know about why you think I shouldn't go pick up Danziger and Tara?"

Why me? Alonzo groaned to himself, inwardly promising that Donahoe a slug when he saw her again. "Not really," he fudged. "You and Tara just didn't part on the best of terms . . . "

"Don't worry, Alonzo," Devon interrupted. "I think I can restrain myself from pushing her out of a moving Dunerail."

"Maybe it's not your restraint I'm worried about," he joked.

"That is a point," she agreed with a smile. "But I think we'll be fine."

"Still, wouldn't it just be easier to let Cameron go?" Alonzo persisted. "Or Magus--from what I hear through the grapevine, she and Baines have some things to talk about anyway."

"I heard that, too," Devon admitted, stirring the tubers. "You know, Tara may not understand much about this group, but she was right about one thing--the speed and level of gossip is uncanny."

"You're telling me," Alonzo grinned. "Eben informed me that I was on intimate terms with the doc a good two weeks before I knew anything about it." He laid the slices of stale bread on a small grill and set them near the coals to toast. "You know, Devon, you're right about something else, too," he said, glancing up at their leader's drawn but lovely face. "Tara really doesn't understand much about this group, or any group . . . "

"I know," Devon agreed with a sigh. "I keep trying to remember that, to bear in mind that she's been a loner for a long time--"

"Not a loner, Devon," Alonzo interrupted. "She was with Val."

Devon stopped and smiled. "Of course," she nodded. "I try to remember that, too."

"I wish you could have met him," Alonzo said.

"So do I," she answered. "For a lot of reasons . . . But you knew them as a couple, right?"

"And only as a couple," he agreed. "They really were inseparable--I used to wonder how Val could stand it, having someone around all the time that way. We used to kid them about being so environmentally conscious they breathed the same oxygen." He glanced back over his shoulder toward the medtent with a smile far different from his usual fly-boy grin. "Now it makes sense," he admitted.

"To you, I would think it would," Devon agreed. "To me . . ." She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh of resignation. "I don't know, Alonzo . . . I've never really been that close to anyone."

"What about Uly's father?" Alonzo asked gently, a question of long-standing debate among pretty much the entirety of Eden Advance.

"We were close, yes," she answered candidly. "But not . . . we weren't really together that long--less than a year, really." She stopped stirring, setting the spoon aside before she turned soup into mush. "He accused me of wanting him just so I could have a child--using him for stud, I believe he called it."

"That seems a little harsh," Alonzo said.

"I thought so, too," she grinned. "But when I tried to deny it . . . let's just say I couldn't swear without hesitation that it wasn't at least partially true." She opened a storage cabinet and took out a stack of bowls. "So . . . while I can envy Tara her marriage and feel for her loss, I don't really understand it, not deep down," she continued, setting up the serving table. "So I guess that means I'm not ever going to understand Tara."

***

Danziger had long ago finished setting up a makeshift overnight camp by the time Tara made it back. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded as she dropped an armload of wood by the fire and collapsed onto a handy log.

"I stopped for drinks at the Algonquin," she shot back, pulling off her boots. "I've been doing what you told me to do, getting wood for the night--it's been snowing, remember? Not a lot of dry timber around. And don't forget that we life-sensitive souls of the Eden Project never use anything but wood that died peacefully in its sleep of natural causes after a long and fruitful life. And speaking of fruitful . . . " She reached into her pocket and took out a handful of small, slightly wizened apples, tossing him one. "The frost has been at them, but they're still pretty good."

"Thanks," he mumbled grudgingly, taking a bite. "You could have called in on gear to tell me you were okay, you know."

"I could have called back over my shoulder and you probably would have heard me," she retorted, stretching her stocking feet toward the blaze with a sigh of contentment. "Why, did you miss me?"

"Oh yeah," he shot back. "The peace and quiet were starting to drive me insane."

"Very funny . . . " She stretched luxuriously, a motion the tabby took as an invitation to climb into her lap. "Hey big guy," she murmured, scratching beneath his silky chin until he purred in contentment. "So Danziger, what's for dinner?"

"Whatever you cook," Danziger answered, suddenly consumingly interested in the contents of his already half-empty pack.

"Oh no," Tara said firmly. "I cooked last night. Besides, if I'm man enough to gather wood, you're woman enough to make me a sandwich." She slid to the ground, leaning against the log instead of sitting on it, with her head pillowed on her arm and the cat still cradled in her lap. "No hurry, though," she yawned. "I'm too tired to eat."

"No wonder," he answered, watching her in spite of himself. "That box of you've got strapped to your pack looks like it weighs a ton." He took out a packet of travel rations and the collapsible pot. "I still say you should have let me carry it for you."

"No way," she answered sleepily, her eyes still closed. "And have you think I was using sex to get you to do stuff for me? Forget it . . . . Besides, if you pick it up, you'll figure out what it is, and that will spoil Julia's surprise."

"How will my knowing what it is spoil Julia's surprise?" he asked reasonably, ignoring her first remark.

"Trust me; it will," she retorted. She rolled onto her back and regarded him with blue- eyed interest. "Hey, Danziger--tell me the truth."

"Have I lied to you yet?" he asked, filling the pot with water and setting it to boil.

"Not as I know of," she admitted. "Still, now might be a good time to start . . . Are you sorry?"

"That I think you're basically a lazy bum?" he joked. "No, not at all."

"I'm serious," she persisted. "You know what I mean."

He dropped the contents of the ration packet into the water before giving her his full attention. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, sitting back on his heels. "And no . . . no, I'm not sorry at all."

She smiled. "Really?"

"Maybe I'd better clarify," he hastened to add, coming to sit on her log. "I am very, very sorry to think how Devon's going to react to this--"

"We weren't going to tell Devon, remember?" she interrupted, turning toward him without sitting up.

"You're not going to tell her," he said. "But I might . . . No matter what happens, she's got to find out eventually. Even if . . . "

"Even if you decide you'd rather be with her," she finished for him. "Trust me, baby, if that's what you decide, she'd really rather not ever know I was a blip on your screen."

He just looked at her for a moment, just taking in the way her eyes shone in the firelight and the fullness of her mouth. "I asked her to trust me, and I've betrayed that trust," he went on at last. "And I am sorry about that . . . she's my friend, Tara, if nothing else--"

"I know, I know," she said, sitting up. "How could I not know? You tell me about every fifteen minutes--"

"Tara--"

"And it's okay," she cut him off. "I get it; I understand . . . " She reached for her boots. "I could just do without hearing about it for a few hours, all right?"

"Tara," he repeated.

"I mean, tomorrow we'll most likely be back in the bosom of the family, and you won't have to tell me how close you are to Devon," she continued. "I'll be able to see it with my very own eyes every minute of the day--"

"Tara!" He turned her face up to his. "Shut up a minute, all right?" he said gently.

She obeyed, the look she suddenly recognized in his eyes making her tremble to the marrow of her bones. "Okay," she whispered, keeping her eyes open until the last possible millisecond as she accepted his kiss.

At first he stayed up on the log, intending to kiss her just once, to do no more than touch his mouth to hers and make her feel safe, to reassure her that her cause wasn't lost, to reassure himself that she was real. But she was too real--too real, and too warm, and too *there* for him to let her go. He slid to the ground beside her, drawing her into his arms, and she molded herself to him with a sigh of contentment that would have sounded perfectly natural coming from True's new pet. Nuzzling her throat, he slid both hands up her back under the piled layers of her clothes, making her gasp. "You need a shave," she teased, stroking her fingers through his hair.

"Sorry," he mumbled, starting to pull away.

"No!" She framed his face with her hands for a moment before drawing him down to kiss her mouth again. "I like it," she whispered, her breath hot and urgent in his ear. "But that lovely dinner you've so graciously begun is going to burn."

"I don't care," he growled, pressing her to the ground beneath his weight.

"Promise?" she asked playfully as she wriggled out of as many clothes as the cold would allow her to spare, but her eyes were serious.

"I swear," he answered, pausing to solemnly kiss her brow. "Right here, right now, all I care about is you."

End of Part 10

The Course of True Love (11/14)
by Jayel

Morgan couldn't remember ever being less annoyed at being awakened at dawn. "I'll get him," he mumbled, kissing his wife's shell-like ear before rolling out of the cot and padding across the tent in his sock feet. "Cool your jets, big guy," he soothed, unlacing the insulated swaddling of his son's papoose bed. "She's right over there waiting for you, I promise."

He lifted the squalling infant in his arms, the angry sobs subsiding into a series of apologetic hiccups as the hot little face nuzzled against his shoulder. "I think you've found your calling, sweetie," Bess said, sitting up. "You're a natural."

"You think so?" Morgan asked, pleased. "I was really worried, you know." He planted a tender kiss on his baby son's downy head before handing him over to his mother. "I mean, back on the stations, I never even had a dog . . " He gave his family a lovingly goofy grin as Bess cradled the baby in one arm and unbuttoned her nightshirt. "I just knew I was going to drop him on his head the first day--"

"Don't be silly," Bess scolded with a smile.

"No, really," Morgan protested. "Babies as a concept are beyond me."

"But he isn't a concept; he's our son," she answered reasonably, stroking a petal-soft cheek with one fingertip.

Morgan's grin broadened. "Yeah," he agreed. "But you know . . . we really should decide what to call him." He touched the baby's tiny, outstretched palm, thrilling as always as the fist closed around his finger with infant determination. "Any ideas?"

"Actually, yes," she said shyly. "I was talking to Yale . . . Did you know that the first baby born in the American colonies was named Virginia Dare?"

"I seem to remember that from somewhere, yes," Morgan answered, his heart glowing like Morganite with love for her. "But I don't think he's much of a Virginia."

"No," she admitted with a smile. "But Dare is nice. Or at least I think so--If you have something else--"

"No," he hastened to assure her. The man he had been on the stations would have insisted on a Morgan Martin, Jr., but now . . . He liked the idea of his son being the first new life in this new world and having a name that was all his own. "Dare is perfect--it suits him." He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, sheltering baby Dare Martin for a moment in the warm connection that had given him life.

***

We're lucky the Grendlers didn't carry off everything we own, Danziger thought, heaving himself upright with a groan. Making love on the snowy ground in a fit of passion was all very well at the time, he supposed, but the morning after was killer. "Tara?" he muttered, rubbing his face, trying to make his skin fit his skull again.

When she didn't answer, he looked up and scanned the camp. The fire was still burning; the coffee was on . . . Getting to his feet with another elaborate groan and a cacophony of crackling joints, he found a wizened apple and a bowl of still-hot semolina porridge steaming on the cooking grate.

But his companion was nowhere in sight.

"Tara!" he yelled, cautioning himself sternly against panic. She's famous for wandering off on her own, he thought as he tugged on his boots. How far could she have gone? Assuming she was moving entirely on her own power and hadn't been kidnapped by convicts or carried off by some lovestruck Grendler . . .

A scream that seemed to come from just south of his left elbow made him jump out of his figurative skin. Swinging around, he found True's new cat regarding him with round green eyes. "Thanks, pal," he muttered, leaning down to scratch behind the creature's velvety ears. "Where'd she go, anyway?" But the cat had no new information to offer.

Scooping up his mag-pro and feeling a little silly, Danziger headed into the trees in the direction of the freshest-looking Tara-sized footprints in the snow with the cat padding along at his heels.

***

Magus was stowing her gear in the center compartment of the 'rail when Devon's resolve to leave well enough alone finally broke. "Hey," the Eden Project's leader said, momentarily incapable of devising a more clever opening remark.

"Hi," Magus answered. "Baines is just getting the smaller gun. We should be out of here in a minute or so--"

"Listen, Magus, I was just thinking," Devon interrupted. "Why don't you let me ride along with Baines? I know you guys are having some personal problems--"

"Thanks, Dev, but we're fine," Magus said.

"Really, it's no trouble," Devon promised. "The kids are with Yale . . . " She let her voice trail off, an embarrassed smile illuminating her face. "To tell you the truth, Marcia, I'd really prefer to go."

Magus smiled back, giving her shoulder an awkward pat. "So I gathered," she admitted. "But Devon . . . are you sure that's such a great idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Devon asked evenly, suddenly engrossed in picking the non-existent lint from the palm of her left glove. "I'm sure Danziger and Tara are very concerned about our not showing up at the rendezvous point."

"I'm sure they are," Magus agreed slowly. "Devon, listen . . . " She glanced around as if to take note of any eavesdroppers. "I don't like her either, all right?"

"Who?" Devon asked innocently, earning herself an exasperated look from her companion. "Okay . . . ," she confessed. "You mean Tara . . . and no, I don't like her. How could I? She's done nothing but antagonize me since the moment we met. But I haven't noticed her being anything but pleasant to you--"

"Except for when she almost killed me," Magus finished with an incredulous laugh. "Okay, so maybe it really was an accident . . . " She frowned, then shook her head. "Yeah, to be completely truthful, I know it was an accident . . . "

"But?" Devon pressed gently.

"But . . . I've had a really hard time thinking of her as . . . "

"One of us?" Devon suggested.

"Human," Magus finished flatly. "I know I shouldn't feel this way, but . . . No one but me has ever seen the inside of her so-called 'matrix', and believe me, you're all really lucky."

"Magus, I think I understand at least partially what you're talking about here," Devon began diplomatically. "But to feel an antipathy towards Tara just because her physiological make-up is different from ours would be--"

"Devon, just for once, would you stop it?" Magus interrupted. "I said I knew my feelings were misguided--you don't need to reiterate the point, all right?"

"Sorry," Devon said sheepishly.

"*My* point is that, for whatever reason, I have a hard time trusting Tara or thinking of her as someone who has the best interests of the group at heart," Magus continued. "And that's why I think it would be better if you let me and Baines go fetch her and Danz back to the fold."

Devon didn't answer for a long moment. "You think she and Danziger may be . . . "

"I think that's a possibility, yes," Magus said bluntly. "I think it's equally possible that nothing like that is going on at all. But either way, I think it's better if you let him tell you anything you know about whatever has happened between them while they were gone."

"I trust John," Devon began, obviously preparing to make a speech.

"Great," Magus cut her off. "So keep trusting him. Devon, he's a guy, all right?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Devon asked, stung.

"It means that while his heart is probably in the right place and his mind is probably in the right place, the rest of him may be wandering," Magus answered. "I mean, whether we like it or not, Tara is one hot tamale in the looks department, and she is not the kind of girl who likes to sleep alone."

"She's beautiful, yes," Devon admitted.

"Beautiful isn't really the point," Magus said. "Look, all I'm saying is that love and commitment are one side of the great male equation, but sex is the other, and sometimes the scales get tipped. And if John's scales have gone south sometime in the past three days and it means no more than that, you're better off not knowing about it."

"But what if it does mean something?" Devon pointed out, blushing furiously. "What if he . . . what if she . . . "

"Then John will tell you as soon as he gets back," Magus said gently. "If nothing else, he is your friend, Devon. He's not going to do anything to intentionally hurt you."

"I know," Devon admitted, smiling bravely as she blinked back tears.

"So let him make the first move if any moves need to be made, all right?" Magus said, climbing into the 'rail. "We'll be back by lunchtime."

***

Finding Tara proved to be much less of a chore than Danziger had expected--she was sitting on a log not more than a hundred yards away from camp, wearing VR gear. Her head was down, and her face was covered from the eyes down by her upraised hands.

"Hey, you," he called, trying to keep from startling her. But she didn't look up. "Tara, come on," he continued, moving closer, close enough to see the blue light coming from her palms and eyes like the glow of a super-intense lumalamp. "We need to start packing up," he continued, trying to ignore this upsetting little display of cyber-witchery as he touched her shoulder--

Suddenly time seemed to flip-flop backwards--it was last night again, and he was kissing her, and there was a pine cone under his right knee that hurt like a son of a--

"Hey, cut it out!" Tara yelled as he felt himself fall backwards on the snowy ground. She snatched her gear off of her head, the light in her eyes fading in a flash. "Damn it, Val, how many times do I have to tell you---!" Then her words stopped, leaving her mouth still hanging open in dismay.

"You all right?" Danziger asked sardonically, climbing back to his feet. Suddenly, his head felt like he'd just woke up from a three-day bender, and his emotions were beginning to match. Val . . . great. Just great . . .

"I'm fine," she answered, retrieving her fallen gear. "Are you? I pushed you pretty hard--"

"I think I'll recover," he said, catching her hand and hauling her to her feet before stalking off in the direction of the camp.

"John, wait, for pity's sake," she called, running to catch up. "I wasn't--I didn't--Would you please just stop?"

He did as she asked, turning on her with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raise--the patented Danziger look of annoyed impatience. "You weren't and didn't what?" he asked.

"I wasn't thinking about Val, and I didn't use you to fill in the gaps in some VR program," she answered bluntly as she caught her breath. "That's what you think, right?"

"Actually, I hadn't gotten around to drawing that detailed a conclusion," he said. "But now that you mention it--"

"No, don't even start," she cut him off. "Or at least let me explain first." She reached up as if to touch him, then let her hand drop. "Okay . . . I was thinking about last night, recording my memory of it on a VR tube while it was still fresh and all the details were still in short term . . ."

"Have you any idea how completely odd that sounds?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know," she answered. "Anyway . . . I just wanted to have it for later, when you . . . when you decide you'd rather be with Devon."

"You know, Tara, it's really starting to bother me that every time you and I have a disagreement, it somehow works around to being Devon's fault," he pointed out.

"So okay, forget Devon," she said impatiently. "Let's talk about Val--My dead husband, the guy I'm on the rebound from losing. He used to do what you just did all the time--touch me while I was downloading memory. It's a really bad idea--your consciousness gets caught up in the program with mine, and it creates a loop . . . If I hadn't realized the images were doubling up, the same thing could have happened to you that happened to Magus, only worse, because the matrix was more concentrated and you--or your image, anyway--was already a virtual component of the program." She stopped for a moment, then looked up at him again, meeting his eyes. "When I called you Val, the thing that made me think of him wasn't . . . wasn't what was on the program, but the act of pushing you away, the feeling that someone else was inside my head."

"And that's why my head feels like it's going to explode," he said slowly.

"Yeah, probably," she answered, looking away. "Count yourself lucky--if an aneurism had started, you'd have just died, because there'd have been nothing I could have done for you, and Julia's apparently out of earshot." She bent and picked up the cat, brushing the snow from his pointed nose. "So do you believe me?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. "I don't know," he said at last. "I want to--"

"Do you?" she shot back. "I mean, if I'm just using you, it makes any decisions you feel you have to make a lot easier--"

"You're right, it does," he answered, cutting her off. "But I don't want to make the easy decision, Tara. I want to make the right one, whatever that is."

Suddenly at the same moment they heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching dune rail. "Convicts don't drive, right?" she said with a shaky grin, dropping the cat at her feet.

"Not to our knowledge so far," he agreed. "So let's hope this is the cavalry."

End of Part 11

The Course of True Love (12/14)
by Jayel

Baines threw the 'rail into gear and took off almost before Magus had finished strapping herself in. "Hey, where's the fire?" she demanded, resettling herself after the jolt.

"Sorry," he answered with a grin. "I just figured we better get out of there before Adair could think of another good reason to come along."

"Hey, give her a break," Magus retorted, but she smiled back. "If I were in her shoes, I'd be halfway there by now, even if I had to hoof it on shank's mare."

"Jealous type, are you?" he teased. "Good to know, good to know . . ." He shot her another grin, then sobered. "Listen, Marcia, I'm sorry about last night," he began.

"Which part?" she asked.

"The part where Walman and I went momentarily out of our minds and woke you up to make you choose," he answered. "We were both way out of line--"

"Yeah, you were," she agreed. "But I have to admit . . . it was sort of flattering."

"Oh no," he said, mock-despairing. "We've created a monster . . . "

"Oh shut up," she grumbled, her smile never wavering.

"Okay," he said amiably. "This is me, shutting up . . . . " A long silence. "So what did you finally decide, anyway--?"

"Baines!"

"Sorry!" He flipped open the map tube and shook the map out into her lap. "Tell me where I'm going, will you?"

"Head straight east for another two-point-seven miles," she instructed him, studying Yale's carefully-drawn directions. "Then it's just east-southeast for thirty-point-three more."

"Good enough," he nodded. "Nice morning's ride and back."

"I decided not to decide," she announced, looking out at the scenery.

He didn't answer for a moment. "What does that mean?"

She smiled. "That means you're both such great catches no woman could possibly choose between you," she retorted. "It means I'm not ready to make any kind of commitment. And if I say I want you or I want Walman or I want to take a stab at vamping Martin away from his wife, that constitutes a commitment."

"Commitment is right," he retorted. "To the insane asylum--"

"Baines, I was kidding," she pointed out gently. "Using a joke to make a point?"

"I know you were kidding, thank you very much," he grumbled. "I just . . . I feel like I'm getting hung out to dry here, all right?"

"Nobody's hanging you out to do anything," she protested. "I'm crazy about you, all right? And I *have* told Walman that he and I can't be anything but friends, at least for the time being--"

"So you picked me," he enthused.

"No!" The thought that maybe she should have let Devon come after all was more than crossing her mind--it was taking up a permanent roost. "Baines, just listen to me for a second without talking, all right? No talking, no thinking, no jumping to conclusions--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he interrupted. "I'm listening, I promise."

"The other morning, when you kissed me . . . that was really great," she began slowly. "I mean really incredible . . . And I definitely think I'd like to try that again sometime . . . "

"But?" he prompted. "Oh yeah--No talking. Sorry."

"No buts," she promised. "Well, one but--But I'm not ready for you and me to be an official, group-sanctioned, carved in stone couple, not after a couple of kisses."

"Hey, I'll buy that," he answered with a grin. "But tell me this . . . how many kisses do you think it's going to take?"

She groaned. "If you're concentrating on the counting, way too many," she retorted.

"I was kidding," he teased. "You know, making a joke to make a point?" He stopped the 'rail and looked at her. "Okay, so I listened to you, now listen to me, all right?"

"That . . . seems fair," she said with a nod, suddenly trembling for no good reason.

"If you want to go slow, that is fine by me," he said, touching her cheek. "I can go just as slow as you please and slower." He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. "But don't ever think I'm going to give up," he finished.

"I won't," she answered, smiling as the whole world suddenly seemed to be spilling over with light.

"So all right," he said, shifting the 'rail back into drive. "Now let's go pick up those two lost sheep."

***

The ride back to camp with Magus and Baines was slightly less relaxed than a sojourn spent sitting bare-assed over a nuclear reaction tube, or so it seemed to Tara. Magus kept glancing at her in the 'rail's rear-view mirror as if expecting her face to develop some dead giveaway mark (a scarlet "A" on her forehead, maybe? a big, black wart on the end of her nose? "666" on her chin?) Baines was openly anxious about the cat, even though the poor creature had been an absolute angel so far, curled up in perfect relaxation on Tara's lap in spite of all the bumps and jolts. And Danziger . . . Danziger wouldn't even look at her. His attention was focused squarely and unswervingly on the members of his own Eden Project clan who had rescued him from her clutches. Donahoe, you're paranoid, she grumbled sternly to herself

Once the subjects of Bess and Morgan's new arrival and the fast-melting snow had been exhausted, the four of them subsided into utter silence by mutual if unspoken agreement, a pact which held all the way back to camp.

Not that I blame him for being pissed off, Tara thought, her eyes turned unseeing toward the passing trees. If he had called me Devon, I'd have taken his head off . . . But if he had called her Elle . . . It was different, damn it straight to hell. If Devon had really wanted him, she'd had ample opportunity to jump his bones long before she, Tara, had appeared on the scene. Of course, Devon Adair was hardly the bone-jumping type, she thought, the image this conjured in her mind making her snicker and earning her another of those weird looks from Magus' reflection. No, Devon wouldn't make a pass at anyone until she was absolutely certain, and then she'd probably just make herself available to catch . . .

Tara, you're a natural born slut, she decided with an inward sigh. A true fly-girl . . . it was lucky for Alonzo he'd found Julia early on; otherwise these Puritans would have had him in a set of stocks by now for sure . . . Julia had become for Alonzo what she and Val had always been for one another--a reason to be respectable that had nothing to do with morality. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what Miss Adair and the rest of the Eden Project would have thought of their noble Brother Solace if they'd met him when she had, when he had literally had a girl in every port of call and not a single blot of guilt on his conscience. As soon as she and Val had seen him with Julia that first time, they'd been sure that he was up to his old tricks--picking out the prettiest girl in the crowd for a quick spin around the block before he took off again. But Julia was different. And consequently so was Alonzo. She had been skeptical, but Val swore he had been just the same when he met her.

"One true love, and the universe tilts, angel-face," he had promised her their first night on the road with the Eden Project, headed back to save the then-faceless Devon Adair. "Our boy 'Zo will never be the same."

"Can I get an amen on that?" she had murmured back, palpably aware of the people sleeping all around them.

"Amen," he had teased, kissing her nose. "So if you're planning to go astray, you'd better set your sights on somebody else."

"I'm still in the interview stage," she had retorted. "But you seem to think Walman's the front runner so far."

"Naw, he just gets on my nerves," he had answered with a grin. "No, baby, if I were going to worry about anybody in this outfit, it'd be John Danziger."

She had demanded an explanation of this remark, of course, but no amount of poking, pinching, or pleading had moved him to elaborate. Now more than ever she longed to know just what he'd meant.

Glancing up, she saw Magus staring at her again, this time with what could almost pass for sympathy, and she realized there were tears running down her cheeks. Great, she grumbled in her head as she dashed them impatiently away. Perfect cover-up, Donahoe--Why not just make a blanket announcement as soon as you arrive? I gave it my best shot, folks, but he ditched me like a hot rock. Gentlemen, collect your winnings at the window; ladies, back to business as usual . . .

***

Devon told herself she was absolutely, positively not watching for the dune rail's return. She was surveying the terrain ahead for a possible pass through the gently-sloping but still unmovable mountains. She was standing guard on the camp. She was bird-watching. She was doing anything but wringing her hands with anxiety as she waited for her first clear look at John's face as he came back to her.

But when the vehicle actually came into view, all pretense was abandoned. "They're back!" she yelled over her shoulder before dropping her jumpers and running forward to meet them.

"Hey, you," John said with a grin as she flung herself into his arms. "I hear you guys had some excitement."

"Yes," she agreed, laughing with happy relief just to feel him there, close enough to touch and smell . . . "He's beautiful, Danziger. You should see him--both of you." She made herself step back and include Tara in her smile of greeting. "Did Magus and Baines tell you what they decided to call him?"

"Yeah," Tara answered, smiling back, making her heart stop with panic for a moment--when had Tara Donahoe ever turned a smile in her direction? "Dare--It's a great name. Bess must have picked it out."

"Yes," Devon replied, her own smile wavering a bit. "She did, actually . . . So, did you get what you went after?"

"Not completely," Tara answered, dragging a long, white box from the back of the 'rail. "Some of what I wanted was already ruined, I'm afraid." She reached into the back seat with her other hand and scooped up what looked like a gray-striped cushion with white-footed legs. "But we got this . . . "

"Oh my . . . where on earth did you find that?" Devon asked, charmed in spite of herself by the cat's whimsical expression of infinite patience as he drooped from the woman's arm.

"Good guess," Danziger quipped grimly. "Tara had an embryo tube back at the storage units. Needless to say, I was not consulted."

"What a grouch," Tara retorted.

"True is going to be thrilled," Devon began.

"Dad!" True shouted, running up as if on cue. "Tara, hey! You're--oh wow!" With a shriek of delight shrill enough to make them all wince, she took the cat from Tara's arms. "He's perfect! Daddy, can I keep him?"

"Of course you can keep him," Tara answered, smiling at the child with what Devon had to admit at least seemed to be genuine affection. "He's yours."

"Really, Dad?" True persisted, turning to her father.

"I guess so," Danziger replied, pretending a reluctance which fooled no one, particularly not his daughter. "Of course you can have it--like she said, he's yours."

"Thank you!" the little girl said, throwing her arms first around Danziger, then Tara, squashing the poor cat unmercifully in the process. "What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one," Tara replied, kissing her hair. "His father's name was Watusi, but you can call him whatever you like."

"How about Job?" Devon ventured to suggest with a grin. "True, be careful, please, or he's liable to scratch you."

"She's right, True-girl," Tara agreed. "He seems pretty even-tempered so far, but I wouldn't want to risk it."

Another miracle--the woman had actually agreed with her. A little shudder of apprehension raced up her spine. Devon, you're paranoid, she scolded herself sternly.

"Besides, you keep squeezing him like that and you'll break his ribs," Danziger added, interrupting her thoughts. "He's a living thing, Truegirl, not a toy."

"I know," True promised. "I'll be careful--should I take him and let Julia check him out?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Tara said, tucking her box under her arm. "Come on--I've got something for her, too."

John watched them walk toward the med-tent together, and Devon watched John. "So how as your trip?" she asked, not sure what to make of his rather grim expression.

He turned and looked at her without answering for a long moment. "Kind of eventful, as it turns out," he said at last. "Hey Adair, you feel up to a walk?"

End of Part 12

The Course of True Love (13/14)
by Jayel

Devon and Danziger walked together through the trees, not touching, not talking, until all sight and sound of the Eden Project had disappeared, leaving them alone in a forest that seemed to Devon as exquisitely untouched as the Earth's first winter dawn. "So beautiful," she almost whispered, compelled by the scene to speak but loathe to disturb the silence. "You know, back on the stations, I sometimes allowed myself to have these fantasies . . . dreams, I guess they were . . . of what it might be like here." She stopped, touching the snow-stained trunk of one of the larger trees with her gloved fingertips. "Of what it might be like on a planet still utterly unspoiled." She glanced up at him and smiled. "But even in my wildest dreams, I never pictured anything as beautiful as this. Nothing in my life before could possibly have prepared me for the life we're building now."

"I know what you mean," Danziger said, squinting up at the flat blue sky before smiling back. "But you know, Dev, that word . . . unspoiled . . . That gets kind of complicated."

She leaned against the tree for a moment, clinging to the trunk as she took a single, ragged breath. "What do you mean?" she said evenly, meeting his eyes.

I mean you're gorgeous and I should be shot, he thought as he looked at her. Her delicate features were carefully arranged to appear utterly placid beneath his scrutiny as she waited for him to go on, but her eyes . . . Those blue eyes were afraid. They were the eyes of some innocent creature--no, not innocent. Wounded . . . wounded so long ago that the complicated whys and hows of whatever had inflicted the hurt were all but lost, leaving only the memory of the pain itself, still fresh and clear enough to make her shy away from the slightest threat . . . . But she trusted him. The last time those blue eyes had looked into his, she had told him point-blank that he had her trust . . .

"You belong here," he said, letting the words just come without deliberation. "That word, unspoiled--that's something you can believe in without question. You look at these woods, this whole planet, and you don't see the Z.E.D. or the convicts or the cold, hard winter. You see someplace new, a new start--Paradise." He smiled. "The *Eden* Project? That's no accident, and it's not a joke. When you talk about New Pacifica, what you mean is new perfection, a place where your child--where everybody's child can be grow up safe from all the things that made life on the stations so hard and ugly." He briefly touched her cheek. "You stand here in the dirty snow and you see beauty so intense you can barely believe it's real."

Her eyes searched his face as she smiled. "Would you like to hear something funny?" she said. "When you and I . . . when we all ended up in that desert together, and the ship had crashed, and things were so . . . I worried about you a lot."

"Worried about me?" he asked incredulously.

"Not that you wouldn't be all right physically," she clarified. "That you'd never . . . I know how resistant you are to the very idea of such a thing, but you're a natural leader, John, much more so than I am. People were afraid, and they gravitated toward you and made you their spokesman . . . " She grinned. "And you cut me no slack whatsoever," she continued. "I was worried that I'd never be able to win you over, to make you understand why what we were doing, what we *had* to do was so important. I was frankly terrified that you would never understand me." She reached out and took his gloved hand between her own. "But you do . . . more than anyone else." She smiled again. "So how did that happen?"

"I don't know," he admitted, holding her hands in a gentle grip."Devon . . . you're right. I do understand you, at least as much as anybody ever understands anybody else. And as hard as it's been for me to admit it, I love you." She opened her mouth to answer, but he shook his head. "Wait," he ordered. "Trust me; you want to let me finish." She looked as if she might protest, then nodded. "I understand you . . . I love you . . . But I'm not like you."

She just stared at him for a moment. "Meaning what?" she said, pulling away.

"Meaning . . . I don't believe in unspoiled," he answered, letting her turn her back on him. "I love it here, too--but as much as I'd like to believe that we can create this perfect world for our kids--"

"Our kids?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "Look, John, why don't you just go ahead and tell me what you came here to tell me? I'm a big girl; I can take it. Just don't try to make me believe it has anything to do with True or Uly or New Pacifica--"

"You're right," he interrupted. "It's about you and me."

"And Tara," she added, turning on him angrily. "Right?"

"Maybe," he retorted, his own emotional hackles beginning to rise. "Not actually, but if you want to bring her into it--"

"I don't want to bring her into anything," she shot back. "As a matter of fact, had I known then what I know now, I wouldn't have . . . " She stopped.

"Finish, Adair," he said. "You wouldn't have brought her into the group? As I recall, when Tara first came into the group, you were in no condition to object." And when she was left alone here, it was to save your life and ours, his mind added perversely, a thought he firmly pushed aside for later.

"I don't know," Devon admitted, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean . . . I hate this!" She kicked at the snow. "Why does it always have to be this way?"

"What way?" John asked.

"Why am I always the outsider?" she demanded. "You say you're not like me, meaning, obviously, that you're more like Tara--but why? How can you be more like Tara? You think I live in this fantasy world, that I have no concept of real relationships, but--" She broke off. "Look, John, it doesn't matter," she insisted, struggling to smile. "You're right; I never should have brought Tara into the discussion--"

"No, I think maybe I should have," he said. "You're right, Devon; without Tara there'd be no need for this discussion--"

"Danziger, I am not a child," she interrupted impatiently. "I've seen Tara, and I can certainly imagine that she would be . . . She's obviously taken with you on a physical level, and you wouldn't be human if you weren't flattered--"

"Devon--"

"All I'm saying is that if you and Tara have had some sort of fling, I don't need to hear any details," she finished, blushing hotly. "Believe me, John, confession may be good for your soul, but--"

"A fling?" he repeated. "That's what you think? That I've betrayed your trust so I could go off and shank Tara for the pure animal hell of it? And now you think I've come crawling back to you for some kind of absolution? Great, Adair, just great . . . "

"So I'm wrong?" she persisted. "There's nothing going on between you and Tara?"

"Of course you think that," he went on without listening. "Hey, I wasn't with you, right? You weren't watching me, telling me what to do--naturally I turned back into some hairy, mindless beast--and of course, Tara, being less than human, too, was right there to take advantage--"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"The funny thing is, I kept defending you," he crashed on, working himself up to a major tirade. "I told her to get off your back, that you were only trying to help--"

"I *am* only trying to help that damned woman!" she shot back.

"Why?" he asked. "If you don't like her, if she's some monster you never should have allowed into the group, why try to help her?"

"I never said that!" she cried. "You said I didn't want her in the group, not me--Do you want to know what I think of Tara? Is that the issue? Okay--I think she's a spoiled brat who has always gotten her way in everything who has lost the poor sweet soul who took up waiting on her hand and foot when she ran away from her parents, so now she's looking for a new model." She could feel her usual reasonable, nurturant self watching in abject horror as these words kept pouring out, but she couldn't--wouldn't--make herself stop. "And because she blames me for depriving her of her husband's protection, she's decided that the only one who can take his place is the man I want for myself. Don't get me wrong; I'm sure she finds you quite alluring on your own--after all, I do. But ultimately, I think this is all about hurting me and finding a new place to hide--killing two birds with one stone, I guess you could call it." She stopped, giving him the opportunity to stop her or add his own input, but he simply stood there listening with the same look she had seen him give Morgan a thousand times. "I didn't want to think that there was anything going on between you, but I couldn't help it--I wanted to trust you so much. But then Magus . . . "

"Magus?" he prompted, his expression softening somewhat. "Magus what?"

"Magus pointed out that Tara is very . . . in touch with her femininity," Devon answered slowly. "And that men tend to be . . . And I knew I had been just awful about something similar just a few days ago, and I couldn't help thinking maybe . . . " She looked up at him, hope shining in her eyes so brightly his heart hurt just watching. "But if you tell me nothing happened, I'll believe you," she said. "And I'll apologize to Tara, and I'll do everything I can to make things right for all of us--"

"Devon, you can't," he interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's not your responsibility--you can't just fix everything--"

"I can try," she persisted. "John, please, just let me try--Sometimes just trying is enough--"

"And sometimes it isn't," he finished. He turned away--there was no way he could face those eyes and say this. "I can't tell you there's nothing going on between Tara and me, because there is," he said, pushing so hard to get the words out that when they came, they sounded as flat and cold as the slate-blue sky above them. "And it wasn't just a roll in the sack . . . I care about her. She needs me, Devon--"

"*She* needs you," she repeated incredulously.

"And maybe I need her," he continued. "You're right, Dev--she's no more like me than you are. As a matter of fact, I can't imagine her being much like anybody else I've ever known, and I don't mean that as a starry-eyed compliment. But the things she needs, the demands she makes--they're all things I can give. I never have any trouble figuring out what it is she wants from me--"

"No, I'd bet not," Devon shot back bitterly.

"Hey!" he warned, turning back to her. "Don't start--"

"And why shouldn't I?" she retorted. "It sounds to me that my problem may have always been that I'm too nice--so fine. From now on, let's everybody be honest and upfront with their feelings like Tara. No more sugarcoating, no more sparing anyone else--let's get it all out in the open so we can pick it apart and have hysterics together. Won't that be fun? Nothing will get done; no progress will be made toward meeting that colony ship; the kids won't get fed; the delicate network of social interaction we've all worked so hard to build and maintain over the past year and a half will go up in a blaze of glory that should last about a minute and a half; but hey! At least we'll all be honest. At least no one will ever have to spend a single moment wondering what's going on in anyone else's head. And after all, that's what's important--taking care of number one."

"Are you finished?" he asked mildly when she finally fell silent, all but gasping from anger and hurt.

"No," she answered, taking a step toward him, so that her face was but a few scant inches from his. "No, John Danziger, I am not finished," she said, steadily meeting his eyes. "Not by half--and I doubt I'll be finished for a quite a while to come. This looks like it's going to be a long, hard battle, and I promise you I'm not about to surrender." She took a step back. "But I think that right now, I'm going back to camp."

End of Part 13

The Course of True Love (14/14)
by Jayel

Julia listened to every word True said as she prattled on about her new pet, but the doctor was watching Tara. When they'd first come into the medtent, her friend had been as animated as Julia had ever seen her, teasing True and asking all about the birth of little Dare. But once Julia had begun her examination of the cat, Tara had let her end of the conversation lapse into silence. "He's fine, True," Julia said, handing the obligingly docile tabby back to his adoring new mistress. "Why don't you take him and show him to Uly?"

"I want to see what Tara brought you," True insisted, cuddling her prize.

"It's a secret," Tara said with a smile, seeming to come back to life for a moment. "You'll see it soon enough, I think. Go on now, True-girl--you and Uly think of a name for that poor soul before you love him to death."

"*I'll* think of name," True demurred firmly. "This cat is mine--"

"You share, True," Tara ordered sharply, her blue eyes bright. "I didn't give him to you so you could lord it over Ulysses . . . " She seemed to notice the way both of them were staring at her, and she blushed. "Play nice," she finished, kissing the little girl's cheek as she hugged her--too tightly, Julia thought to herself.

"I will," True promised, looking wide-eyed at Julia over Tara's shoulder before returning the kiss and going out.

"Those two kids would fight over a clod of dirt if one had it and the other one didn't," Tara laughed when she was gone. "So tell me the truth, Doc--How are you?"

"Fine," Julia promised with a smile of her own.

"Really?" Tara persisted. "I know you were nervous about your first go-round as stork. Did everything go as planned?"

"Everything except the timing," Julia admitted with a laugh. "And the worst part is that now I can't be sure when to expect my own delivery--all the tests indicate that my original estimate should stand, but Bess was the same right up to the night Dare was born." She shrugged helplessly. "So who knows?"

Tara gave her a hug. "I wouldn't worry," she said, patting her stomach. "If this Valentine takes after her namesake, she'll be at least a week late." Her smile turned brittle as the life seemed to leave her eyes again.

"Tara, what is going on?" Julia asked bluntly. "Did something happen between you and Danziger?"

"Oh, who cares?" Tara answered, mock-impatient. "Come on and open your present."

"Tara . . . "

"Come on, damnit," she persisted, placing the box before the doctor with a flourish. "I about had to throw down and wrestle Adair to get this thing. The least you can do is open it."

Julia was still far from convinced, but after another wary look, she did as Tara asked, lifting the box's lid.

Underneath was a layer of tissue paper so old and delicate it felt powdery between her fingertips. And underneath the tissue was the most beautiful wedding gown she had ever seen, a frothy confection of ivory-colored linen and heavy Irish lace.

"Oh my God . . . ," Julia breathed, lifting the heavy garment from its container. "Oh Tara . . . "

"Careful," her friend warned with a grin. "If memory serves, that thing weighs a ton."

"You're right," Julia admitted with a laugh, standing to let the dress fall from her shoulders in a cascade of mellowed white. "It does . . . it's beautiful." She looked down and laughed again at the swell of her pregnancy asserting itself through the layers of lace. "But look--I can't possibly fit into this dress."

"Not today, no," Tara retorted. "But in a month or so?" She walked behind her and gathered her blonde hair into an improvised bun on the back of her head. "You'll be so beautiful Alonzo may drop dead from pride."

Julia turned and looked at her. "You're so sweet," she said. "You can be . . ."

"Yeah, and I can be the very devil," Tara retorted with a careless grin before she turned away. "Don't forget--Alonzo absolutely cannot see you in that thing before the wedding." She rummaged through the neat rows of a supply shelf until she found a day-after conception suppressor. "Val saw me in it at the rehearsal, and just look what happened to us," she finished, shooting the drug into the side of her neck.

"You had more than sixty years of happiness together," Julia pointed out gently, beginning to understand.

Tara laughed. "Yeah," she agreed, setting the dermablast aside. "You're damned skippy we did . . . And I guess that ought to be enough for anybody."

***

Ever since coming to this strange and wondrous new planet, Yale had stood his watches faithfully , accepting whatever shift he was offered without question. But tonight, he had been insistent. Tonight, come hell or high water, he was standing watch with Danziger.

"Devon was extremely upset this afternoon when she came back to camp," he began without preamble as soon as they were alone.

"Yeah, I imagine she would have been," the mechanic mumbled, concentrating on cleaning his magpro. "I was pretty upset myself."

"So she said," Yale conceded. "She told me a great deal about your conversation, as a matter of fact." He set his coffee mug aside with a pronounced clink of tin on stone. "What she didn't tell me, John, was why. Why has this happened? Why did you--"

"She didn't tell you because she doesn't know," Danziger interrupted, looking up angrily. "And she doesn't know because she wouldn't let me tell her. As usual, she wanted to tell me." He went back to his gun-cleaning with an obvious effort at control. "She wasn't interested in my reasons, Yale," he finished gruffly.

"I can certainly believe that's how it seemed," Yale answered slowly, understanding in spite of himself. He had watched Devon grow up--in many ways, he felt responsible for making her the woman she had become, and he was proud. But he knew how single-minded she could be, how focused on her own goals. That these goals were almost always altruistic didn't change the fact that when they were not, her focus was just as intense. "Listening has never been her strong suit," he continued. "Particularly when she's been hurt--"

"And I hurt her," Danziger finished. "I know that, Yale--you don't have to tell me. And you don't have to worry about going out of your way to make me feel bad about it . . . " He shoved the gun aside. "Believe me, I already feel a lot worse than you know."

"I do believe you," Yale said. "I know how much you care for Devon, John, and that you would never intentionally cause her pain. That's why this is so hard for me to understand . . . "

"Yeah, well, it's hard for me, too," Danziger shot back. Then his expression softened. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm just never sure how to take you, Yale--are we having this conversation man to man, or am I defending myself to Devon's father?"

Yale smiled. "A little of both, I'm afraid," he admitted.

"I wanted to explain it to her," Danziger asserted. "That's what I was trying to do when she . . . Yale, you've spent a lot of time with Tara. Don't you see it?"

"See what?" Yale asked, mystified.

"See what's happening to her," Danziger answered, turning his gaze onto the fire. "The thing with her hands and her eyes . . . Unlike Devon, you were around when she and Val first showed up. None of us had a clue there was anything the least bit different about her until the thing with Magus, remember?"

"I remember," Yale conceded slowly.

"And Alonzo, he's known her for years--decades--and he'd never seen that glow until then, either," Danziger pointed out. "But now--when was the last time a day went by when one of us didn't see that happen? The least little thing that goes wrong can set it off--It's like she's constantly holding it in, like her natural state is some kind of blue fireball, and she's ready to go back." He poked at the burning wood with a stick, sending up a fountain of orange sparks into the dark. "That first time, with Magus, I was the one who went with her husband to find her," he went on without looking up. "She was dying, Yale--any idiot could see that. She looked like she was being irradiated from the inside out--Her whole body was glowing blue." He chuckled bitterly. "Scared the hell out of me--I almost shot her with this same magpro, just to put her out of her misery . . . "

"Which is why you and Val ended up in a fistfight," Yale said.

"Exactly . . . " He looked up at the stars as if searching for some better way to explain. "She was unconscious--delirious--he told me later that what probably had hurt her the most was the effort of pulling it all back in and keeping it there until she got out of range of the camp . . . " His eyes met Yale's. "The only way I know to explain it was that he called her back," he finished grimly. "She was somewhere else, Yale, but somehow he called her back to him, back to us. And because he did, you and I are sitting here having this conversation, and Uly and True are sleeping . . . " He looked away. "And Devon's in her tent, alive and well and cursing the day she ever heard tell of Tara Donahoe instead of rotting away to dust in a cryotube back on that damned ship."

"Yes," Yale answered, trying to express in that one simple syllable the depth of his understanding, the empathy he could feel in his blood. His own feelings were so similar--every time he looked at the strange, difficult young woman of whom they spoke, he too saw Devon's face, trapped in an unending sleep that was turning her to dust. "So you feel responsible for Tara," he went on cautiously. "You feel you owe her the protection she lost when she lost Val--"

"No," John answered, shaking his head emphatically. "No, Yale, I don't owe her any more than any of the rest of us do--Yes, her husband did mention to me that he'd feel easier in his mind leaving her if he knew I was going to watch out for her, but if that was all it was, I could have done it without sleeping with her."

Yale raised an eyebrow. "Indeed . . . "

"I love her," John asserted, the truth of his words alive in the sky-blue depths of his eyes. "Don't ask me how it happened--how does it ever happen? But every time I see her with that shanking VR gear on her head, every time I see her slipping further and further away from what's real, I don't think about what's going to happen to these stupid chips in our heads if she finally escapes or how it's going to affect Julia or Alonzo or even True. I think about me." He picked up his magpro again and got up from the fire. "I think about what's going to happen to me if she goes up in blue flame and I can't call her back."

***

"The best thing that happened today was that I finally, *finally* got my cat," True murmured into the microphone on her audio-journal, speaking softly so she wouldn't disturb the woman sleeping on the other side of the tent. "He's the most beautiful thing I ever saw--he has gray and black stripes, and white feet, and he's humongous. I named him Watusi II, after his clone-dad, and Tara and I have been calling him Tu-two for short, even though my dad says we're scarring him for life." She paused to plant three emphatic kisses on the cat's velvety head, which he accepted with a remarkable good grace, curling closer into her arms.

"He's going to mildew if you don't cut that out," her father whispered as he slipped quietly through the tent flap. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Too excited," she admitted with a grin. "Besides, I wanted to get everything down in my journal before I forgot it."

"I think you can remember until morning," he said firmly, taking the journal from her and tucking the blankets tighter around child and cat. "Now you and your vicious beast should get some rest."

"Okay," she agreed grudgingly, accepting his kiss. "Dad . . . is Tara okay?"

He didn't answer for a long moment, his attention focused on the lightly snoring lump across the room. "I think so," he said at last, getting up. "How long has she been wearing that gear?"

"She put it on right before she went to sleep," True answered softly. "But it shut off hours ago--I checked."

"Good," Danziger said, crouching down to remove the gear from the sleeping woman's head, making her grumble irritably in her sleep.

"Hey, dad?" True persisted. "Are you guys . . . ?" She paused. "Nothing . . ."

"Yeah, I think so," he answered, pulling an extra blanket from the neat bundle at his daughter's feet and settling on the floor beside Tara's air mattress. "Is that okay with you?"

"I don't know," True admitted sleepily, cuddling up to Tu-two with a yawn. "I guess we'll just have to see."

-The End-