Tausson returned to his ship immediately. Chief Raleth would be among the new arrivals, and he would want a status report from both Tausson and Carterra. Meanwhile, Tausson expected the Chief to be bringing him a message from home -- a verdict on Tausson's request...

Carterra was in the conveyance chamber when Tausson arrived.

"When is he coming?" he asked, stepping down.

With a grim nod, she gestured to the already illuminating platform behind him. Tausson quickly stood at attention by her side.

"Not wasting any time, is he?" he mumbled.

"How is it going with the Americans," she asked as the Chief's red mechasuit, indicating his rank, began to come into focus before them.

"Slowly," he whispered. "You?"

"Same. He's not going to be happy."

Tausson took a deep breath, grateful that at least all of this activity was distracting him from thoughts of Miss Dawson. The feel of her body bumping against his had been almost too much, bringing back visions of the two women, and flashes of her smooth body bare beneath him...

He pushed the relentless images down and took another deep breath. Not only was he back on the Irral, where Aspri could monitor his biorhythms, but the Chief was on his doorstep. Getting caught lusting after a woman like a frenzied teenager was grounds for recall, let alone demotion.

Chief Raleth completed his conveyance. As Tausson stepped forward to welcome him, extending his fist and turning it over to show his open palm, the Chief, his bronze skin glittering in the bright lights, frowned and held up his hand.

"Save it," he said. "I've been watching the Earth waves, and things are not going well. What are you doing to prevent another Yarkinda?"

The name froze Tausson's tongue, and a glimmer of satisfaction in the Chief's eye revealed that he had been hoping for such a reaction.

"Chief Raleth," said Carterra, "we are following all of the prescribed scripts, and we anticipate full cooperation within the required schedule."

"Never mind the scripts," said the Chief. "Are you all mindless sludge, unable to think outside the mine? This race will be eradicated if you fail, and that is unacceptable." He glared at both of them to drive his point home. "Failure is unacceptable."

"Squad, Chief," Tausson and Carterra said in unison.

Appearing slightly mollified at their deference, he locked his eyes on Tausson. "Who are you dealing with? I haven't seen any waves with you and the American President side by side. That proof of solidarity is critical for winning over the public."

"President Freeland is traveling her country to personally bring the message of unity and urgency to her citizens. She selected her First -- they call it Chief of Staff -- Tierney Dawson as my point of contact."

His bronze lips -- almost brown -- curled into an even deeper frown. "According to the Culture Report, the Vice President is the next-highest ranking American, and he's been very vocal on the Earth waves in support of us and our mission. Why aren't you dealing with him?"

The mere thought of spending hours on end with that disingenuous sycophant made Tausson's skin brittle. "My impression is that Vice President Grant is too high ranking to deal with the detailed logistics required for coordinating the evacuation."

And I want to see Miss Dawson again.

Chief Raleth evaluated his answer, and Tausson's pulse quickened with fear. The few hours he had spent with Miss Dawson that morning had been a test of his control, and he'd passed. That moment in the cafeteria had been a fluke -- she'd simply caught him off guard by unexpectedly moving so close. He'd be more mindful in the future.

"I can understand that," the Chief finally answered. "Well, things better start moving along now that we're here. The cart is complete, adjusted to match your most recent specifications. I'll meet you aboard for inspection in twenty minutes."

"Squad, Chief," said Tausson, a weight lifting from his chest.

The Chief gave a sharp nod to both of them and touched his sleeve to convey back to his vessel.

"Chief," Tausson said, "have you heard from Control regarding my request?"

Chief Raleth paused. "Request?"

Though Tausson was certain the Chief knew exactly he was talking about, he clarified. "My reprieve from pairing. I requested to be without a mate for one cycle."

"Ah, yes, yes. Your request was rejected," he said without a trace of sympathy. "You should have known better to request it in the first place, with your background. You will select an Asteroid Mate and breed." He began tapping his sleeve again, and just before his form began to blur, he added, "You should be pleased. You're the only one who gets to choose."

Rejected.

As the Chief's figure disappeared, Carterra moved in front of Tausson and put her uncovered hands on either side of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I thought for sure they would approve. Your lineage is apparently more important than either of us believed."

She was trying to comfort him, but for some reason he again felt relief. Why would he be relieved? He'd been dreaming of his freedom for years -- no more invasive monitoring, no more nightly pairings even when neither mate had the energy, no more burden of rebuilding the Relican population. He'd gotten a taste of it this past year, since Carterra was confirmed to be gestating, although Aspri still insisted on observing his mechasuit readings since he was commander. But his time had been his own, and it had been a liberating experience, one he didn't want to end.

Now, however, he found that he welcomed the news, and it only took a moment to understand why.

"It's fine," he said, keeping his expression stoic. "Go ahead and continue your negotiations. I need to notify Miss Dawson of my delay. She was expecting me to return."

A spark lit in Carterra's eyes, but it was gone in an instant, and she smiled warmly at him, replacing her gloves.

"Squad, Commander."

Tausson waited until Carterra was out of the room before accessing communications through his mechasuit. A small square image of Tierney's office projected above his sleeve, creating a video interface between her phone and his transmitter.

Her phone must have been in that device -- a charger, she'd called it -- she kept on her desk, because he was looking straight at her breasts. They bounced a little as she speedily typed into that antiquated device they called a computer, and Tausson couldn't help hesitating before calling out.

"Miss Dawson?"

She stopped typing. "Hello?" came her nervous reply.

"Miss Dawson, it's Commander Corwin. Can you see me on your transmitter -- I mean phone?"

Her hand filled the screen, and Tausson lamented losing his perfect view. But then her face appeared -- her smooth skin, her red lips, those riveting dark eyes -- and he no longer regretted speaking up.

"Commander?"

"Miss Dawson, I must delay our meeting. Chief Commander Raleth of the Relican Squad Cosmic Vessel Nowhi demands that I examine the cart before your delegates inspect it. My deepest apologies." Looking at her, he truly was sorry.

He thought he saw a flash of disappointment, but it was gone so quickly, it could have just been a flicker in the video.

"I see. I have lots of calls to make anyway, so it's just as well. Can we schedule a time to meet tomorrow, though, to avoid any unexpected appearances?"

Her lips curled into a delightful smile, and Tausson once again thought of the two women, pressing their lips together. Did all Earth women enjoy such an activity? Or was it specific to women who desired other women? He'd have to research that further.

"What time is acceptable to you?"

She looked away, in the direction of her closet. Tausson wondered if she was planning on sleeping in her office again. He remembered how she'd looked that morning when she opened her door -- her hair, a cascade of rich, earthy brown, tumbling around her soft, beautiful face. It was the only time he'd seen her hair free and wild, and he liked to think that he was one of few who had seen it that way.

"I'll be here early," she said, "so we can do 8AM?"

Nearly three hours after sunrise was considered early? That seemed interminably late to him, but that was probably just because he wanted so much to see her again.

"I accept," he said.

"Sounds good. See you then. Oh, and Commander?"

She pursed her lips, appearing uncomfortable. His mind swirled with possibilities of what she could be about to say. "Yes?"

"With all due respect, our phones are designed to allow us the option of answering a call or not. I don't anticipate declining a phone call from you," she added quickly, "however, there may be some moments when I require privacy and am unable to answer for one reason or another. If you could program your..." She struggled for the right words. "...communication program to integrate that function, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Feeling rather deflated, Tausson said, "Squad, Miss Dawson."

Her eyes brightened, and she smiled as she said, "Thank you. You should probably let the rest of the Relicans know so we can avoid any unpleasant incidents. If the general public found out that you had the capability of spying on them with their own phones, they'd be even more trepidatious."

"I see. Goodbye, Miss Dawson."

"See you tomorrow, Commander."