“I would enjoy that very much. When?”

“Today? With the nights I’ve been putting in, they won’t begrudge me an afternoon off. That’s why I came over.” He held open the door and the sunlight streamed in. “It’s too nice a day, even for Tau Ceti, to waste stuck indoors.”

They spent the day in the nature preserve which had been Fiona’s favourite haunt. The imported trees, saplings when she left, were mature giants now, casting cool shade over the river path. Following her memory, Lunzie led Coromell to her and Fiona’s favourite place. The brief midday showers had soaked the ground and a heady smell of humus filled the air. In the crowns of the trees, they could hear the twitter of birdsong celebrating the lovely weather. Lunzie and Coromell ducked under the heavy boughs and clambered up the slope to a stone overhang. At one time in the planet’s geologic history, stone strata had met and collided, shifting one of them upward toward the surface so that a ledge projected out over the river.

“It’s good for sitting and thinking, and feeding the birds, if you happen to have any scraps of bread with you,” Lunzie said, half lying on the great slab of sun-warmed stone to peer down into the water at small shadows chasing each other down the stream. “Or the fishoids.”

Coromell patted his pockets. “Sorry. No bread. Perhaps next time.”

“It’s just as well. We’d be overrun with supplicants.”

He laughed, and settled next to her to watch the dappled water dance over the rocks. “I needed this. It’s been very hectic of late and I get to spend so little time in planetary atmosphere. My father has talked of no one else but you since he got here. He married late in life and doesn’t want me to make the same mistake. He’s lonely,” Coromell added, wistfully. “He’s been working on throwing us together.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Lunzie said, turning her head to smile at him. Coromell was an attractive man. He had to be on the far side of forty-five but he had a youthful skin and, out of his official surroundings, he displayed more enthusiasm than she supposed careworn or rank-conscious admirals usually did.

“Well, I wouldn’t either. I won’t lie to you,” he replied carefully. “But be warned, I can’t offer much in the way of commitments. I’m a career man. The Fleet is my life and I love it. Anything else would run second place.”

Lunzie shrugged, pulling pieces of moss off the rock and dropping them into the water to watch the ripples. “And I’m a wanderer, probably by nature as well as experience. If I hadn’t had a daughter, I’d never have been trying to earn Oh-Two money to join a colony. I enjoy travelling to new places, learning new things, and meeting new people. It would certainly be best not to make lifetime commitments. Nor very good for your reputation to have a time-lagged medic who’s suspected of being a Jonah appearing on your arm at Fleet functions.”

Coromell made a disgusted noise. “That doesn’t matter a raking shard to me. Father told me about the chatter going on behind your back on the Ban Sidhe. I should put those fools on report for making your journey harder with such asinine superstitious babbling.”

Lunzie laid a hand on his arm. “No, don’t. If they need shared fears and experiences as a crutch to help them handle daily crisis, leave it to them. They’ll grow out of it.” She smiled reassuringly, and he slumped back with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“As you wish. But we can still enjoy each other as long as we’re together, no?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I’m glad. Sure I can’t persuade you to join up?” Coromell asked in a half-humorous tone. “It’ll improve your reputation considerably to be a part of Fleet Intelligence. You could go places, meet new people and see new things while gathering information for us.”

“What? Is that a condition for seeing you?” Lunzie asked in mock outrage. “I have to join the navy?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No. But if that’s the only way I can get you to join up, maybe I’ll have the regulations altered,” he chuckled wryly. “Do stay on Tau Ceti for a while. I’m stationed here, flying a desk on this operation. I hope to persuade you to change your mind about the service. You could be a true asset to the Fleet. Stay for a while, please.”

Lunzie hesitated, considering. “I wouldn’t feel right hanging around waiting for you to get off work every day. I’d be useless.”

Coromell cleared his throat. “Didn’t you speak to the Medical Center about a job? You could be employed there, until you decide what to do. They, urn, called me to ask if your services were available. They seem to think you’re Fleet personnel already. You have other unsuspected valuable traits. You listen to my father, who would be so happy to spend time with you. At his age, there are so few people he can talk to.” Coromell looked wistfully hopeful, an expression at odds with both uniform and occupation.

Her last protests evaporated. How well she understood old Admiral Coromell’s dilemma. “All right. None of the current prospects at the spaceport appeal to me. But that’s not why I’m staying. I’m enjoying myself.”

“I like you. Dr. Lunzie.”

“I like you, too. Admiral Coromell.” She squeezed his hand, and they sat together quietly for a while, simply enjoying the brook’s quiet murmur and the sound of birdsong in the warmth of the afternoon.

Thereafter, they spent time together whenever possible. Coromell’s favourite idea of a relaxing afternoon was a stroll or a few hours listening to music or watching a classical event on Tri-D. They shared their music and literature libraries, and discussed their favourites. Lunzie enjoyed being with him. He was frequently tense when they met, but relaxed quickly once he had put the day behind him. Their relationship was different from the one she had had with Tee. Coromell expected her to offer opinions, and held to his own even if they differed. He was perfectly polite, as was appropriate to an officer and a gentleman, but he could be very stubborn. Even when they got into a knock-down-drag-out argument, Lunzie found it refreshing after Tee’s selfless deferral to her tastes. Coromell trusted her with his honest views, and expected the same in return.

Coromell’s schedule was irregular. When pirates had been sighted, he would be swamped with reports that had to be analysed to the last detail. He had other duties which had not yet been reassigned to an officer of lesser rank that could keep him at the complex for four or five shifts on end. Lunzie, not wishing to take a permanent job yet, found herself with time on her hands that not even her Discipline training could use up.

Coromell knew that she had passed through the Adept stage of Discipline. At his urging, and with his personal recommendation to the group master, she joined a classified course in advanced Discipline taught in a gymnasium deep in the FSP complex.

There were two or three other pupils in the meditation sessions, but no names were ever exchanged, so she had no idea who they were. Her guess that they were upper echelon officers in the Fleet or senior diplomats was never verified or disproved. The master instructed them in fascinating types of mind control that built on early techniques accessible even to the first-level students. Using Discipline to heighten the senses to listen and follow the development of a subject’s trance state, one could plant detailed posthypnotic suggestions. The shortened form of trance induction was amazing in its simplicity.

“This would be a terrific help in field surgery,” Lunzie pointed out at the end of one private session. “I could persuade a patient to ignore poor physical conditions and remain calm.”

“Your patient would still have to trust you. A strong will can counteract any attempt at suggestion, as you know, as can panic,” the master warned her, gazing into her eyes. “Do not consider this a weapon, but rather a tool. The Council of Adepts would not be pleased. You are not merely a student-probationer any more.”

Lunzie opened her mouth to protest that she would never do such a thing, but closed it again. He must have known of cases in which students had tried to rely upon this single technique to control an enemy, only to fail, perhaps at the cost of their lives. Then she smiled. Perhaps the technique worked too well and she had to learn to apply it correctly and with a fine discrimination for its use.

One delightful change which had occurred while she was in her second bout of cold sleep was that coffee had had a renaissance. On a fine afternoon following her workout, Lunzie came back from the spaceport and programmed a pot of coffee from the synth unit. The formula the synthesisers poured out had no caffeine, but it smelled oily and rich and wonderful, and tasted just like she remembered the real brew. There was even real coffee available occasionally in the food shops, an expensive treat in which, with her credit balance of back pay, she could afford to revel. She wondered if Satia Somileaux back on the Descartes Platform would ever try any.

The message light on her com-unit was blinking. Lunzie wandered over to it with a hot cup in her hands and hit the recall control. Coromell’s face appeared on the screen.

“I’m sorry to ask on such short notice, Lunzie, but do you have a formal outfit? I’m expected to appear at a Delegate’s Ball tonight at 2000 hours and your company would make it considerably less tedious an affair, I will be in the office until 1700 hours, awaiting your reply.” The image blinked off.