They dropped Clementine off at home, but when Tierney went in to see her parents, Commander Corwin declined to go in, so she kept it quick. When she went back outside, the commander was standing on the front steps, staring at the darkening sky.

"Looking for home?" she asked, coming up beside him.

He kept his eyes upward. "Relica is not visible from your planet."

"Oh, right." When he didn't move or speak, she said, "I'm ready to go when you are."

With a deep breath, the commander turned to her with a solemn expression and asked, "Where to?"

She almost said the office, but between the grime and the blood and the sweat, she really needed to shower, and she'd run out of clean clothes in her overnight bag. She could just drive home, but the traffic at this time of day would be awful, and she'd just filth up her car. But she never brought people to her apartment. Ever.

"Your office?" he prompted.

A resounding no filled her ears, and she gave a long sigh. "I know I told Clem that you're not our personal transporter," she began, "and I really appreciate everything that you did today -- that you are doing, so if I'm taking advantage, please let me know."

He waited for her to explain, confusion and a trace of amusement in his eyes.

"Do you mind bringing me to my apartment so I can get cleaned up? Then we can go back to work and I'll drive myself home."

She almost hoped he'd say no, so he wouldn't discover what she tried so hard to keep hidden. But a small part of her wanted him to know who she really was, to see all of her.

"What are the coordinates?" he asked.

Her heart fluttered as she gave him the address, and as he entered the location into his suit, she moved beside him. Resting her head on his shoulder but facing away from him, she said, "Don't judge me too harshly."

He paused, his body going still. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Just... don't think too badly of me, when you see my place."

Crickets began to sing of the oncoming night. The commander's body felt cool against the hot summer air.

He didn't reply, but pressed a few more buttons, and once again the world around them fell away.

* * *

The air in her apartment was so stuffy, so stale, that Tausson thought for a moment that he had entered the wrong address. When studying the Culture Report, and anticipating his interactions with President Freeland specifically, he'd seen images of the typical American household, with abundant furniture, coverings for the floor, wall, and windows, and what the Report had labeled knick-knacks. What he saw in Miss Dawson's apartment, however, was far closer to the average Relican dwelling.

While it appeared to be an expansive setting, with many tall windows showcasing the city below, there was little furniture to speak of, other than a couch, a television, and a full-length mirror propped up against the wall. In the dimming light, he could see the bare counters in the kitchen, and a sour scent led him to believe that the food available wouldn't be edible.

"Most of my stuff is in my bedroom," said Miss Dawson, stepping away and running her hand over her loosely falling hair as she surveyed the space around them. "I spend a lot of my time at the office. It's a demanding job..." She trailed off, a touch of color blooming in her cheeks as she glanced at him, then quickly looked away.

"Well," she said, "I'll just be a few minutes." She gestured to the couch, identical to the one in her office. "Make yourself at home. But don't eat anything," she added quickly, "at least not anything in the fridge. All of that is probably bad. There might be some chips or something in the cabinets." Her cheeks flushed darker, red as rust, like a Relican sunset.

"Other than the lack of sustenance," he said, trying to understand why she would be embarrassed by her home, "I find your dwelling more than adequate."

She gave a tight laugh, but her eyes were relieved. "At least it's up to Relican standards. I'll be right back."

He watched her disappear into a short hallway, then stood by the bare windows, pondering the events of the day. The interviews with the Vice President had gone well, and he hoped the goodwill he'd engendered would outweigh the accidental killing.

Tausson cursed his stupidity. A stun bolt for a Relican was far too powerful for a human. He'd been distracted, thinking about Miss Dawson and her safety. What would Chief Raleth say? Would he be relieved of duty? The thought struck him cold. If he were no longer commander, he would have no reason to see Miss Dawson again. Unless...

The sound of water running reminded him of his own shower the night before, when he'd admitted to himself what he wanted -- who he wanted. But would she say yes? She'd all but admitted she was averse to the idea of Asteroid Mates. Yet, ever since they'd left to rescue her sister, she'd been different with him, warmer, more relaxed. Was it his imagination, or had her eyes burned with the same desire he felt?

His transmitter chirped, and a vice closed on his throat. Was it Chief Raleth? Had he heard already?

"Commander, transmit."

A wave of relief washed over him.

"Squad, First," he said.

"Just checking in on your estimated time of return."

"I'm still with Miss Dawson. I anticipate returning to the Irral within an hour."

"Squad. Any trouble near you? We saw the waves about the violence."

The concern in her voice relaxed him, grounded him. Working side by side in such close quarters had fostered a bond between the two of them that was rare among mates. They cared about each other, and enjoyed each other's company. He didn't like lying to her.

"There was no violence near the Capitol Building, as far as I'm aware," he said.

"I'm glad. Safe return."

"End transmit, First."

Another soft chirp told him the line was closed.

The room around him brightened, and he spun around to see Miss Dawson, her avalanche of hair hanging wet around her shoulders, wearing a brightly colored dress that went down to her knees and appeared far more casual than the other outfits he'd seen on her.

"No need to stand around in the dark," she said with a smirk. Running a towel down her hair, she added, "Your language is so beautiful. I wish I could understand it, so you didn't always have to use that emotionless translator."

Almost too stunned by her beauty to speak, he said, "I can have Elic send you a word list."

She seemed disappointed by his answer, but said, "That would be great." Going into her kitchen, she started opening and closing cabinets. "Did you find anything to eat?"

"I didn't look."

She pulled out a box. "Here are some protein bars. Wanna take a look?"

"That is unnecessary," he said, lingering by the windows. "I will eat on the Irral."

"Oh come on. You helped me save my sister from who knows what end. The least I can do is give you a probably stale, potentially expired snack bar." She smiled back at him, and he moved toward her, drawn to her light.

"I'll probably end up having one of those too," she said, still searching her cabinets. "Oh -- here's some canned corn. This is shaping up to be a true meal!"

Setting the can beside the box, she looked up at him, and her smile disappeared. "You didn't tell me you were hurt."

Tausson touched his hand to his forehead, where one of the humans had grazed him with his blade. The blood was nearly dry, and he barely felt it.

"It is minor."

She reached up to touch his face, but then they both recoiled. "Sorry," she said. "I forgot about the no touching rule."

Tausson gently grabbed her retreating wrist. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away.

"Miss Dawson..." The words were in his mind, in his heart, but he couldn't get them to form on his lips. Would she say yes?

"We're back to Miss Dawson, now?" she said softly, with a playful smile. "I was Tierney back in Chicago."

Still holding her wrist, he could feel her pulse quickening. He rubbed her soft, beating vein with his gloved thumb, and ached to feel it against his own skin.

"Tierney," he whispered, an echo of when he had dreamt of touching her. "There's a question I want to ask you."

Her cheeks flushed, and he traced the bloom with his other hand. Her eyes fluttered and she leaned into his touch. His seed organ pressed against his shield, reaching for her.

"Yes?" she breathed, her dusky eyes on his lips.

His chest burned, his desires and his fears fusing together, splitting apart, staggering him with their intensity. He'd never felt this way before. He didn't even have a name for how he felt for this woman.

Hardly daring to breathe, he asked, "Will you be my Asteroid Mate?"

Her head jerked out of his palm, and her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

The tenderness of the moment was slipping away, and Tausson tried desperately to win it back. "My Asteroid Mate. My pair."

"Your mate." She laughed harshly, drawing her arm out of his grasp. "That's what you think of me?"

"Why is it such an insult to you?" he asked. "Asteroid Mates are --"

"They're revered in your culture. Yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Then why are you so angry?"

She started to speak, then cut herself off, storming out of the kitchen.

Tausson stood stunned, trying to determine what he'd done wrong. "Most Asteroid Mates are selected by Control," he explained, hoping to make her understand. "They're matched by physical compatibility alone and hardly see each other."

He moved to stand beside her by the windows. She didn't turn to face him. "But as First Contact Commander, I have a choice. I can choose my mate." He slid in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "I choose you, if you'll have me."

Her jaw was set as she searched his eyes. "What exactly does it mean?" she asked. "Being an Asteroid Mate?"

"You're a hero of our people, a beacon of hope for the population." 

She held up her hand to stop him. "I don't want the spin. What do I do, if I'm your mate?"

His heart -- and his organ -- leapt at the hope that she was considering it. He tried to tame the grin that was sneaking into his lips. "We would see each other every day for our pairing. Because I'm a vessel commander, you would remain on my ship, maybe continuing to serve as liaison between our two peoples, until gestation is confirmed by the monitors."

"Monitors?"

"Monitors are those tasked with ensuring that each pairing is successful. Aspri is the monitor on the Irral, and he would track our health during our daily pairing."

The prospect of feeling Tierney's naked body every day made his organ swell. He almost reached down to caress it, needing to ease the ache, but he resisted.

Tierney was clearly having a different reaction to her role as mate. Her face was getting angrier with every word. "During? He watches us have sex?"

"Having an observer makes certain each pair follows protocol."

She let out an angry breath and began pacing the long space. "And this happens every day, whether we want to or not?"

Another tug against his shield made him wonder if it would ever be possible not to want to pair with her. "Consistency is the fastest way to achieve results. Exceptions are obviously made for illness."

"How nice," she muttered, still pacing.

Why was she still so upset? She had seemed so interested in him before, so affectionate.

"And then what?" she asked, fuming.

Tausson didn't want to continue. This stage was essentially the end of their partnership, and even he wasn't looking forward to it. "Once you start gestating, our pairings would cease, but there's no reason for you to leave the ship, at least until the embryo is nearly to term."

"And then?" Her voice was like an icy wind. 

"And then the offspring would be raised on Lota by caretakers. You would remain with me so we could pair again to produce a second."

"Uh-huh." She didn't seem at all pleased that their pairing would recommence.

"And then... you would return to your replacement planet and assist in raising both offspring." He couldn't help the sorrow that laced his words. He might be able to put off his next pairing while she was still on the Irral, but he would most certainly be forced to pair with another mate after that.

As if reading his thoughts, Tierney finally stopped walking and stood facing him. "What about you? Would you stay with me?"

He tried to think of a way. He knew he couldn't request a reprieve, since the Chief had made it clear that wasn't an option for him. Keeping a child on his vessel was unheard of -- there were no caretakers, no nursery, and it was simply too dangerous. He could forego his command, but even that was unlikely to prevent him from being paired, considering his lineage.

Her eyes hardened, reading the answer in his face. He said it anyway.

"No." 

Tierney erupted with fury. "And that's what you want for me? For us? Being forced to have sex every day in front of a doctor, and then you abandon me? That sounds like fun to you?"

The distance between them was too much. He crossed the room to be near her, but even then he could feel her drifting away. "I want you. I want to be with you." He reached for her, but she stepped back.

"No, you want my uterus." She started pacing again.

He searched for a way to convince her that it was more than that.

"We would still work together, side by side. We would see each other at mealtimes, during meetings, and we could try to get your lodge located near mine, to increase the likelihood of chance encounters."

"Separate rooms? We don't even live together?"

"In the same lodge?" The idea had never even crossed Tausson's mind. "That could lead to unmonitored pairings."

"God forbid."

"We could request additional pairing sessions, if that's what you want."

"What I want?" She gave another cruel laugh. "None of this is what I want."

"But -- but it's an honor," he stammered, clinging to the only thing he knew to be true.

"That might be the line you give these women," she spat, "but I'm not so easily deceived." She strode over to him, her eyes ablaze. "I've worked hard to get where I am, dealing with jerks and perverts who look at me and only see my ass or my tits; they almost convinced me that my body was all I had to offer. But Nelle helped me realize my true potential. I'm worth more than simply serving as a runway for your sperm. I'm worth more than being put out to pasture while you're off exploring the universe. I deserve more than that -- much more."

She deserved more than being an Asteroid Mate? What more was there? What else could he give her? 

"You could request permanent placement on the Irral, and leave the offspring with caretakers," he said, thinking that was the problem. "But my next pairing cycle --" He smiled as fresh hope dawned on him. "I could submit a request that my next cycle be with you instead of a new mate. I've heard of that occurring with particularly efficient pairs."

Instead of the hope that flared in him, horror passed over Tierney's face. "New mate? So after you're done with me you just move on to someone else?"

The answer was obvious. She looked at him with revulsion. "Can't you see how twisted that is? Why I wouldn't want that?"

Why was he feeling guilty? There was no need for him to feel guilty. If anyone was acting shamefully, it was her. She mocked and insulted his way of life, saying outright that she was superior to the women who were ensuring the survival of the Relican race. He had misjudged her. He had fallen victim to his lust, as the parables forewarned.

Embarrassed, confused, betrayed, he sought protection in his own anger.

"So you refuse?" he growled. "You would refuse the highest honor I can give you?"

"Get this through your thick silver skull," she cried, "there is no honor in this for me! I do not want to be your mate!"

Her words echoed in the barren room. Tausson thought he saw a flicker of regret in her eyes, but it was too late. She'd made her feelings crystal clear.

"Very well," he rumbled. "Shall I return you to your office?"

"It's fine," she said, her face hard and unrevealing once again. "I'll take the bus tomorrow."

Without another word, Tausson called up his conveyance protocol and left this world behind him.