Page 41 of Master
But to have her again would risk hurting her, possibly even killing her.
Word from the Bardaga said that the Chieftain and our war chief Daicon took her friends as mates. Perhaps it was the human ritual of mating they completed, like those of the Vaktaire who took other species as mates. In the annals of our history, none but the Vaktaire survived the valakana. The ancient ritual calling out to the goddess Valana for blessing the claiming one’s true mate. The ritual held pain and danger. Many non-Vaktaire had died in the mating attempt.
That’s how I knew whatever this odd sensation squeezing my heart—it couldn't be the valakana. It didn’t hurt enough.
Why, then, was I so aggravated about it?
Clara released a lyrical sound, a mixture of shock and laughter as the vehicle—something Buck proudly called hisFord truck—bounced over a divot in the dirt road we traveled. Clara told me that while the conveyance did indeed look like this'Fordtruck'from Earth, trucks normally ran on something called tires rather than air propulsion.
Buck and Lula inhabited the truck's cab while Clara and I sat in the back, along with several baskets of vegetables. Thankfully, the predominance of farm goods occupied the small cart pulled behind us.
We'd left the farm a little after dawn, fortified by a delicious breakfast of ham, eggs, and something Clara called biscuits that were so light and fluffy I half expected them to float above the table.
Clara's thick, wavy blonde hair moved in the wind so that the strands appeared as shards of golden sunlight floating about her face. She'd worn a smile since we left the farm, and more than once, I'd caught her turning her face toward the dual suns and sighing.
Sweet Valana, she was beautiful!
My fingers rubbed the spot over my heart, noticing the deepening of the warmth that lay there. They say the goddess sees all. If the Valana knew what grew deep in my heart…. No, I couldn’t let that happen. To truly mate with Clara would risk causing her suffering, possibly death. I would do anything to spare her pain, even if it meant ignoriing my own desires.
The noise from riding in the open-air bed of the truck didn't allow for conversation, rendering the communication between me and Clara to one of gestures and expressions. It was easy to see she enjoyed herself, violet eyes darting across the landscape. It was good that she liked Tau Ceti—it would be her home.
Why did the thought make me want to punch something?
The truck slowed as we came through the trees, the white and blue clapboard buildings of the settlement rising in varying heights. Beside me, Clara rose to her knees, peering over the truck's rusted roof, a wide smile parting her perfect lips. She stared in awe for a moment, then her giggle rose above the sounds of engine and wind.
"Not what you expected? I shifted onto my knees beside her, staring more at her animated expression than the village.
"Not at all," Clara beamed. "It's so quaint and old-fashioned. It reminds me of Mayberry."
“Mayberry?” I’d heard the name from the videos our war chief Daicon favored but didn’t know the meaning.
“It’s a picture-perfect small town on.…” Her eyes went wide, and she bit her lip.
“Television,” I guessed, and Clara giggled. That spot in my chest grew warmer. I enjoyed making her laugh. I adored all her emotions, but her entire face glowed when she smiled.
Buck reduced speed as we entered the village, pausing now and then to greet pedestrians crossing the cobblestone street. The scent of baked goods reached my nose, and the truck turned as though beckoned by the smell. The vehicle pulled to a stop at the end of a street lined on either side with colorful awnings. Table after table held everything from small tools, apparel, baked goods, meat, and vegetables. The smells of metal, leather, and food amalgamated into a savory stew.
Almost every booth sported people milling about, some laying out their wares, some shopping. Next to where Buck parked the truck, a long table covered with a bright green awningsported a sign. Painted on a plain piece of wood, white lettering announced…Buck and Lula’s Farm.
I vaulted over the side of the truck, my feet hitting the ground just as Buck exited, followed by Lula.
“You've got the best booth on the street," Clara announced as I held my hands up to her. She didn't hesitate to step into my grip, her fingers resting on my forearms as I lifted her out. The spot on my chest grew warmer still.
“Our friend Bartholomeus always sets it up for us since we live so far out,” Lula said as she hefted a basket of vegetables.
“Let us help you,” Clara insisted, taking the basket from her.
For the next several minutes, Clara and I unloaded the truck and cart while Buck and Lula merchandised the table. I felt curious stares and more than once overheard the whispered question, 'Where did they come from?' asked of our hosts. Everyone seemed merely interested… and friendly. Several of the women introduced themselves, welcoming Clara to Tau Ceti. My stomach clenched painfully each time.
Once the truck and cart sat empty, I shifted to helping Buck arrange the heavier baskets and carry plants to a nearby greenhouse while Clara helped Lula wait on customers. When we returned a few minutes later, the smile that Clara had sported since we arrived in the hamlet had disappeared. Instead, she stood toward the back of the stall, eyes shifting over the crowd. I nearly broke into a run to get to her, concern hammering through me.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I placed a hand on her shoulder and felt the tenseness in her muscles slowly abate.
“Yeah,” Clara’s lips turned upward, but I wouldn’t call it a smile.
I followed the line of her gaze, but nothing stood out. A few people looked our way, but with only what I perceived as a mild curiosity.
"What's the matter, Clara?" I put a finger under her chin and tilted her gaze to mine. I’d only vowed not to touch her cunt or breasts, otherwise I didn’t seem to be able to keep my hands off her.
