“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Suka’s hand flew to her mouth and she suppressed a giggle.
“Oh, call me Master then, if that’s easier for you.”
“In a weird way, it is. Master. I like that.”
“It’s a part of us,” he echoed, musing. “Yes. We can’t lop it off and carry on as normal. So the question remains. What are we going to do?”
“Sleep,” said Suka determinedly.
“As a short-term plan, it’s a good one.” He slid an arm around her, pulling her close, cradling her head beneath his chin, and on the silent, deserted planet, they were the two lone dreamers.
Chapter Five
On waking, Suka almost expected everything to be different. Paul would have changed his mind, have slept off the intensity of emotion and be insisting on a swift return and a blotting out of inconvenient feelings.
But, if anything, he seemed almost keener to retain the link than Suka was, kissing her eyelids until they opened, stroking her hair, whispering into her ear.
“Sleepyhead. We have a decision to make.”
She smiled into his hawkish face and impulsively pulled it down, her hand on the back of his neck, for a long, slow smooch.
“Can’t we put it off?” she whispered, coming up for air. Her whole body ached, stung, throbbed, but somehow she was ready for him again, her juices gathering between her legs.
“No,” he said sternly, tweaking her nose. “We can’t.”
“So.” She sat up with a deep sigh, then changed her mind, and moved around to lie on her hip. Much less painful. “Back to the ship, I suppose.”
“I suppose. I don’t know what I can do. I can ask to be relieved of command—”
“No! They would refuse anyway.”
“Well, the only other way is to synchronise leave and have at least a few weeks of the year to look forward to. But we’d have to keep it very quiet.”
Suka gazed dejectedly at his hand, flat on the bed in front of her.
“It’s not great. But I guess it’s the best we can hope for.”
He bent to kiss her, sweetly, regretfully, but firmly.
“That’s settled. That’s a plan. Come, then.”
They dressed—Paul rapidly, Suka with a great variety of winces and sucking in of cheeks—then they left the punishment suite, passing through the darkened room in which Suka had hidden earlier. Paul shone his communicator torch through the gloom, able to look closely at the fixtures and fittings now he was not chasing his errant ensign.
“This is the Hall of the Futures.” He spoke reverently, walking over to a computer console of some kind and running his hand over the apparatus. “Where the Paladians developed new technologies. Something they were extremely good at, by the way. This must be some kind of communications device. Shame there’s no power to watch it in action. Perhaps we could come back down with boosters.”
“I thought the Paladians were quite isolationist.”
“They were, to an extent. Neighbours didn’t approve of their lifestyle. Neighbours were prudes, essentially.”
“Like our civilisation.”
Paul turned and grinned. “Yes. Blundering along thinking they’re doing the right thing, invading people’s private space.”
“It’s a crying shame. Do you think it’ll ever change?”
“Probably. Not in our lifetime, though.”
Paul was frowning over another machine, tapping at various buttons with some of his tools.