substitute for the thing she really wanted. And once it was over, she turned her head into the pillow and wept, crying as silently as she had climaxed, hating Rast sen Drenthan, and hating herself for what she’d allowed him to do to her.
----
There had been a formal reception on Syrinara, hosted by the planetary consul, to honor the new commander of the defense force. Strong wine had flowed — Syrinara had begun experimenting with hybridized Eridani grapes — and Rast found himself not quite as steady of head as he might have preferred. The woman who sat next to him at dinner laughed and flirted and made it quite clear that she’d be more than pleased to have him accompany her to her apartments afterward. So he’d gone, thinking in his half-drunken state that it would be a good chance to banish the ghost of Lira Jannholm forever. Surely a night spent in the arms of a Stacian woman should be enough to convince him of where his true interests lay.
But although he’d managed to rise to the occasion, he found his level of enthusiasm not quite what it should be. Oh, he performed well enough, but all he could think of was how different Lira had felt in his embrace, how different she had tasted. How the silk of her hair had trailed across his chest and set him throbbing all over again.
This woman — Rast couldn’t even recall her name — fell asleep soon afterward, and he eased himself out of bed and went to the windows, which functioned more as doors, opening onto a balcony that overlooked a moonlit garden. So unlike their home world, this first colony of Stacia. No, Syrinara had the stamp of Eridani all over it, from the architecture to the manner in which the gardens that surrounded the house had been planted. One might say the Eridanis were generous with their knowledge, but others complained they wanted to make everything over in their image.
In that endeavor they had met their match in the Gaians, who had also developed a cruder form of the subspace drive that allowed starships to travel the galaxy and which also permitted the wide-flung colonies that had sprung up in the centuries following those first thrusts toward the stars. The Gaians possessed their own advanced technologies, while the Stacians, he had to admit, had lagged far behind. This was not a popular viewpoint, and most Stacian histories emphasized his people’s resourcefulness in surviving after the meteor forever changed their planet’s climate. However, one couldn’t argue with the reality that living in caves and hunting by night did not exactly produce the correct conditions for developing computers and spaceships and mechanoids.
At any rate, Stacia did not want to lag behind, and so eagerly took the Eridani technology as it was given, unlike the Gaians, who tinkered with it as it pleased them. These days, most new starships were being built with the Gaian-engineered Gupta drives, which achieved speeds even the Eridanis hadn’t been able to manage. The irony that those drives also powered the Stacian cruisers which had headed off the Chlorae II colonists was not lost on Rast sen Drenthan.
“Why so wakeful?” came a throaty voice from behind him.
He turned to see the woman he had just bedded sitting upright, watching him. She had not bothered to cover her bare torso, and the smooth golden skin of her breasts was turned copper by the ruddy hue of Syrinara’s oversized moon.
Normally such a sight would have made him harden immediately, but now he only gazed at her with dispassion, wondering what sound he had made that had woken her. More of Lira Jannholm’s influence, he supposed, somehow making every other female seem to be a pale imitation of her.
“The moonlight,” he lied. “It’s very bright.”
“True,” she said, nodding. “Your first time on Syrinara?”
“Yes.” He paused, then added, “I believe I told you that at dinner.”
A hesitation of her own, and he had the sudden impression that this hadn’t been a chance
----
There had been a formal reception on Syrinara, hosted by the planetary consul, to honor the new commander of the defense force. Strong wine had flowed — Syrinara had begun experimenting with hybridized Eridani grapes — and Rast found himself not quite as steady of head as he might have preferred. The woman who sat next to him at dinner laughed and flirted and made it quite clear that she’d be more than pleased to have him accompany her to her apartments afterward. So he’d gone, thinking in his half-drunken state that it would be a good chance to banish the ghost of Lira Jannholm forever. Surely a night spent in the arms of a Stacian woman should be enough to convince him of where his true interests lay.
But although he’d managed to rise to the occasion, he found his level of enthusiasm not quite what it should be. Oh, he performed well enough, but all he could think of was how different Lira had felt in his embrace, how different she had tasted. How the silk of her hair had trailed across his chest and set him throbbing all over again.
This woman — Rast couldn’t even recall her name — fell asleep soon afterward, and he eased himself out of bed and went to the windows, which functioned more as doors, opening onto a balcony that overlooked a moonlit garden. So unlike their home world, this first colony of Stacia. No, Syrinara had the stamp of Eridani all over it, from the architecture to the manner in which the gardens that surrounded the house had been planted. One might say the Eridanis were generous with their knowledge, but others complained they wanted to make everything over in their image.
In that endeavor they had met their match in the Gaians, who had also developed a cruder form of the subspace drive that allowed starships to travel the galaxy and which also permitted the wide-flung colonies that had sprung up in the centuries following those first thrusts toward the stars. The Gaians possessed their own advanced technologies, while the Stacians, he had to admit, had lagged far behind. This was not a popular viewpoint, and most Stacian histories emphasized his people’s resourcefulness in surviving after the meteor forever changed their planet’s climate. However, one couldn’t argue with the reality that living in caves and hunting by night did not exactly produce the correct conditions for developing computers and spaceships and mechanoids.
At any rate, Stacia did not want to lag behind, and so eagerly took the Eridani technology as it was given, unlike the Gaians, who tinkered with it as it pleased them. These days, most new starships were being built with the Gaian-engineered Gupta drives, which achieved speeds even the Eridanis hadn’t been able to manage. The irony that those drives also powered the Stacian cruisers which had headed off the Chlorae II colonists was not lost on Rast sen Drenthan.
“Why so wakeful?” came a throaty voice from behind him.
He turned to see the woman he had just bedded sitting upright, watching him. She had not bothered to cover her bare torso, and the smooth golden skin of her breasts was turned copper by the ruddy hue of Syrinara’s oversized moon.
Normally such a sight would have made him harden immediately, but now he only gazed at her with dispassion, wondering what sound he had made that had woken her. More of Lira Jannholm’s influence, he supposed, somehow making every other female seem to be a pale imitation of her.
“The moonlight,” he lied. “It’s very bright.”
“True,” she said, nodding. “Your first time on Syrinara?”
“Yes.” He paused, then added, “I believe I told you that at dinner.”
A hesitation of her own, and he had the sudden impression that this hadn’t been a chance
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