The Course of True Love by Jayel

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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

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