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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 08 Mar 2008 08:00:06 -0600
From: "Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@pendorwright.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Journal Entry 112 / 00741  Decanting Difficulties (MF)
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Date: Sat, 08 Mar 2008 11:10:01 -0500
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Decanting Difficulties
Anar, Narnya 14, 0741
When things don't go right, I get cranky. Sounds to me like a perfectly
normal, human reaction. "How long will she stay down?"

Derek checked a few displays. "Hal? I estimate four hours?"

"I agree," the AI responded. "Although with this new cross- genetic
design implementation such estimates are hard to confirm completely,
four hours seems a reasonable estimate."

"And the rest of the report?" I asked, testily.

"Ah," Derek replied, looking at his PADD. "She's clean of the amniotics
in her lungs. Upper GI tract seems to be most clogged, followed by the
lower. I vote let natural process take care of her. Most of it will
filter out through her kidneys eventually. It is reasonably digestible."

I nodded. "Okay, then." I rubbed my face with my hands, feeling
four-day-old stubble slide along my palms. "You would say that Vulpins
one and two are okay."

"I would."

I smiled. "Things are looking up. I scheduled three through ten to be
decanted the day after tomorrow, providing one and two seem viable when
they come to." I looked across the room where number two lay, sleeping
peacefully. "At least he didn't seem to be in any distress when we
pulled him out."

"No. I can't figure out why her respiratory activation gave her so much
trouble." Derek's brow knit together in puzzlement as he examined her
readouts. "I suggest we check the other eight right now, starting with
number six. He had some developmental trouble in the postfetal stage."

"What kind?"

"Lung trouble."

"Oh, Hell," I sighed. "Same as hers?"

"Could be worse. Let's go check now."

I nodded. "Lead the way, Doctor Placton."

            *            *            *

Two hours later Derek and I were sitting in the Pindam cafeteria, the
only two people on this airless ball of rock other than the Tleil
Century of Sapienter Vulpes scheduled to come out of their tanks during
the course of the next two weeks. We each had a glass of kfi in our
hands and were slowly drinking them down when the alarm klaxon went off.

"Ken! Derek!"

"Hal?"

"Medical, stat. You've got an emergency I can't control."

I was in a dead run for the medlab, charging down the halls unmindful of
the one-sixth gravity or the fact that there were several closed doors.
"She's up and moving, and I don't think she's fully sentient yet. You
two are much closer than any drone I could get to her."

I could hear Derek's feet behind me as we approached Med Lab. "You've
got trouble, Ken, she's just swallowed something I can't identify. It
came from the bathroom, I haven't got a camera there."

"Cleaning supplies?"

"I don't know."

"Great," I said, reaching out and grabbing one of the many recessed
handholds situated along the corridor, this one by the door to Medical.
I felt the tendons in my shoulder object, ignored them, released the
handhold as I came to a stop and palmed the doorlock.

The door opened and I looked inside. There was a loud, yowling screech
as something, the Vulpin, struck me at the side. I reacted with equal
violence, tempering it with the knowledge that she wasn't responsible
for her actions. Hair-trigger martial arts can be funny that way. I felt
pain along my left side, ignored it as blocked with the left, responded
with my right in a vicious grab that she dodged.

She took two blurringly fast steps backwards and then leapt at me. I
prepared to dodge when a high-pitched whine reached my ears from behind
me. The leap turned into a painfully slow fall as she slumped
unconscious in midair; In the one-fifth gravity she would hit her head
on the far wall. I jumped between her and the wall and took the brunt of
her velocity between her shoulders and my arms. "Ooof!"

"What happened?" Derek asked as I tried to clear my head from the impact
between the body and the wall.

"She woke up without us, I guess." I looked down and heard a strange
gurguling noise coming from her throat. "Go into the bathroom and find
out what she was going through in there!" I ordered immediately, picking
her up and dropping her on the platform she'd originally been lying on.
"Derek! She's having trouble breathing again!"

"It's worse than that," he said, running out of the bathroom. "She did
get into the cleaning supplies. I think she drank some sodium hydroxide.
I found it spilled over."

"Ohmifah," I said, ignoring the self-reference and grabbing hardware.
"Derek, get me some amniotics, now. If we flood her system we can
dilute."

He nodded and ran to get the equipment. She started convulsing, and I
started praying.

            *            *            *

Thirty hours later, I blinked into the darkened space of Medical.
Although Hal was a sufficient watcher, both Derek and I had agreed to
take up positions on either side of her bed, so we'd moved her platform
into slot number three and I'd taken two, he'd taken four.

The male half of the first two Tleils was also sleeping soundly
according to the readout I could see, but he wasn't in the room anymore.
Hal had assured me he'd alert me when he woke up even though he was in
P'nyssa and Loash's hands now. They were over in the secondary Medical
center, which had more privatized spaces and access to better
interactive materials.

I'm not sure what had woken me up. A sound, maybe, or a smell. I don't
usually come to full alertness like I had tonight, so I tried to figure
out exactly what had alerted me.

Then I heard a noise come from her bed. A shifting sound, like she was
moving again. It wasn't convulsions, or Hal would have awoken me. Fitful
sleep? Or was she coming around?

We had been lucky; she hadn't drunk all that much bleach and we had
gotten to her early. Between immediate medical attention and the new
generation of blood-borne biomechanicals, she had healed almost
completely before we'd even gone to sleep.

And then I heard a whimper. A painful sound. I got out of bed slowly and
walked over to where she lay on her side, tossing. I examined her in the
almost dark of Medical; the only lights came from displays over her bed
or scattered about the room. She was beautiful in ways I hadn't
anticipated. I'd almost built the Vulpin out of capitulation to a series
of articles asking, out of all the species I could have worked with, why
I hadn't worked with "man's best friend," namely, the dog?

Because dogs are nearly impossible to work with. Out of all the species
that I find attractive, dogs are very far down on my list and
genetically, dogs are a mess. I've even used some relevant parts of
their code in my own species, but on their own dogs are a disaster. So
much pressure has been put on them to rearrange their shape, from breeds
weighing under two kilos to breeds weighing over a hundred, that the
idea of actually trying to fit that mold to a sentient race drove me
buggy. I refused to go along.

But after examining foxes, I decided that there was at least on family
of canid I could work with. I may also end up examining the Lupus, or
wolf family, some day. But the Vulpins appeared to be easy to work with
as a genepool, so I decided to try them instead.

I ran into trouble when I decided to change my usual method of
engineering and instead attempted to build a unified new form of life
incorporating self-installing nanotech bridging across given
generations. As it is, earlier species have to have their nanotech
scavengers tuned externally and then installed after birth.

I reached down and stroked the side of her cheek with the back of my
hand, feeling the soft downy fur and following the curve where her snout
joined skull, smiling at my artwork and hoping, like I always did, that
this species didn't hate me for what I'd done. So far, none had.

I felt her move again, and I felt something come down on my hand. Her
paw. I smiled down at her and whispered, "Hi. What's your name?"

Her eyes opened, blinking and staring up at me. She was still holding my
hand to the side of her face. "Hi," I repeated. "Can you tell me your
name?"

"Rrrrr...." she growled, releasing my hand and shaking her head.
"Tarsha."

"Repeat it?" I asked.

"Tasha," she said, dropping the 'r' I had heard the first time.

"Again."

"Tasha," she sighed, sagging back against the cushion she lay on. "What
is... where... what... "

"Easy," I said softly. "Calm down. Do you remember anything before now?"

"As what?"

"Tasha... do you have any memories before right now?"

She stared up at me, her eyes concentrated. "No... wait... yes. I
remember being confused, and feeling bad, and you-- I fought you." She
started to scoot away from me. "Are you a... an enemy?"

"Tasha, do you have any enemies?" I asked.

She thought for a moment. "No. But why was I fighting you?"

"Because you were confused and sick. You tried to get some water and
drank bleach instead."

"Bleach. That's sodium hydroxide, a caustic agent."

"Yes."

"I can understand why I was sick then. Who are you?"

I sighed quietly. "My name is Kennet Shardik. Please, call me Ken. I'm
your... father."

She reached up and touched my face with one hand, caressing her own face
with the other. "I though families all were the same species."

"Not with me," I said softly. "When I have children, I make them in the
shapes I choose."

"So you... made me, instead of giving birth the way I thought it was
done." I nodded. "Why?"

"Why what? Why make you? Because I want children. Because the more
genetic types there are, the more disease-resistant you are as a whole.
And because your shape, your species' beauty is something wonderful that
the world was less without."

"How old am I?"

"About a day," I smiled. "Your... brother is being handled by my
coimelin, Dr. Traken."

"I have a brother?"

"Yes, sort of. Tleils are made in pairs, one male, one female. Although
this isn't necessary or efficient-- a species that is female top-heavy
would be better off-- I tend to have some set ideas that, so far, have
worked out pretty well. He's the male first Vulpin."

She nodded, but I didn't feel her understanding yet. "Tasha," I said
softly. "You're in a state known as incorporation shock. You're spending
your first day alive, and you don't know how to handle it. Can you
understand that?"

She tilted her head slightly to the left, confused. "I think so."

"Just think so?"

"I think I understand what you're telling me, if you're telling me the
truth."

"You have no reason to doubt me. But that's about as good an answer as I
could have hoped for, under the circumstances." I heard a shuffling over
past both of us. She turned around to look. "Tasha, meet Derek. He
helped me with you."

"Hi," he said gently, reaching down to touch her hand. "I'm glad you're
all right. You had us worried there for a while."

She held his hand. "I'm glad you were worried for me. You are Derek.
Does this mean you're my father too, since you were here?"

Derek smiled over at me, then down at her. She was starting to look less
confrontational and more like a lost little girl. "No," he said gently.
"Because he's my father."

I smiled over at the Felinzi across the table from me. "No, I was father
to your great great grandfather. I'm not taking responsibility for you,
you rakeheart."

He smiled and reached out with his free hand to beep my nose. "Oh, come
on. You feel responsibility for everything, Ken, whether you say you
will or not."

"Yeah," I said, smiling down at Tasha. "So, are you ready to stand. Hal?
Is she ready to meet her brother?"

"Her brother has chosen the name Theodore. And yes, he is quite anxious
to meet his sister."

"Who was that?" Tasha asked.

"The AI. Check your memories."

"An AI is an artificial life form capable of emotion, feeling and
intuition, and is to be given the full accord and respect worthy of a
fellow sentient," she repeated dutifully from her memory.

"Pretty much," I replied, smiling. "Ready?"

"I think so," she replied, still bewildered. "There so much you want me
to try and take in at once."

"That's just because it's all new to you. Once you've been around for a
while, you start to fit into your surroundings, and they stop demanding
so much attention of you. You'll figure it out. Come on," I said,
reaching a hand out and lowering the protective bars on my side of the
bed. She nodded and I slowly eased her down from the bed to her feet.

"I can stand," she said.

"Yes you can," I replied, smiling. "Did you think you couldn't?"

"I didn't know until now," she replied unsteadily. "I guessed that I
could, but I didn't know."

"Well, what do you think?"

"It feels pretty strange," she admitted, smiling widely.

"You have a very beautiful smile," I told her softly. "Come, let's go
meet your brother." Derek and I led her down the hallway to Theo's room.
About halfway there she figured out skipping. At the end of the hallway
she learned, painfully, about stopping.

            *            *            *

The wind whipped through her fur, ruffling it and making it fly across
her body in strangely beautiful patterns that attracted my eye like
little else that day had. She stared across the great plain that receded
aspin from Marbletop range with eyes that spoke of great strength and
long trial. I wandered up behind her and hugged her tightly. "It's done
for you, Tasha. The others will take over now."

She reached up and placed her hand on mine, like she had the day she had
first awakened. "It was a long year, Father."

"I know, Tasha, but you did well. You did better than I could have asked
of anyone."

She sighed gently. "Only a hundred of us to start out with, and I had to
be responsible for them all."

"Only ten. You were supposed to reach one, then ten. The ten were
supposed to reach the hundred."

"But somehow they all kept coming back and asking me, Ken. There were
just so many questions, as if I had any more answers than they did."

"You did your best, Tasha, and you held it all together. I was
impressed. You did wonderfully." I slid my hands down her shoulders and
around her waist, holding her against me. She no longer fought me as she
had once, a year ago.

She patted my hands as I laced fingers about her waist. "Do you think
I'm still in IS?" she asked, turning to look at me.

"I'm not sure. It's not something I can really, objectively determine. I
wish I could, but it's something I just feel. I think in some ways you
are, but for the most part you've got it together."

She smiled. "Can we go somewhere, Ken. Just you and I?"

"Like where?"

"North Point. I like it there."

I blinked, considering. There were only two people who I thought even
know of North Point-- me, and Oenone. Actually, I'm sure there are many
many "North Points" scattered around Pendor, one for every local map and
town. But for us, Shardik Castle, North Point is just one place. One of
the two edges of MarbleTop ridge. "Sure, we can go," I said finally.
"How do you want to go?"

"We can SDisk to Suvrahvain and fly from there. It shouldn't take more
than an hour."

"Okay," I said. "Do you want to pack up the supplies, since this appears
to be a day-long outing?"

She smiled and nodded. "Can I meet you at the hanger in twenty minutes?"

I glanced at my watch and nodded. "Of course."

            *            *            *

Marbletop gets its name because that's exactly what it is. Imagine, if
you can, a mountain range rising up from sea level, and then slicing it
cleanly off at around 30 meters, disposing of all that rock, and
polishing the exposed surface until it was nearly reflecting, and you'll
have Marbletop. At it's narrowest Marbletop ridge is six kilometers
wide, at it's widest it's about thirty. It runs nearly 25,000 kilometers
along the Vinyare coastline. Shardik Castle is nearer to the southern
edge than the northern.

The northern tip is called, of course, North Point. It's an apex point
that curls slightly outwards into the water, a spit of rock with no
beach around it. The ocean isn't that far away... 30 meters, to be
exact. It still seems like a long fall.

"So what are we doing here?" I asked her dubiously as I put my helmet
into the seat of my Solo IV flitter.

"I wanted to take you somewhere where we could be alone. To talk with
you, ask you questions."

I looked over her very round, reddish-gold eyes and smiled. "What's for
lunch?"

"Egg salad sandwiches. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" I asked. "I love the things." She laughed as I spread out the
blanket and handed me one. "So what are your questions?"

She finished chewing a mouthful of sandwich before answering. "Actually,
I have just one question." She rose and walked over to a spot about
fifteen meters from where we had set down. "What does this mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"This writing. I asked Dave about it and he said he was unaware it was
even here."

I stood up and walked over to see something I hadn't seen in centuries.
I smiled as I knelt to trace the letters with my hands. "You don't read
Anglic, do you?"

"No," she said, sighing. "I've barely learned how to speak it. It's a
very complicated language. What does it say?"

I traced the letters carved into the Marbletop again, remembering Oenone
say them.




    With no reference point there is no date To tell you exactly
    when I stand Upon this bleak and barren stone by sea And order
    life to commence in this land.

I looked over my shoulder to smile at her, and she stared down at me.
"It's one thing to terraform a planet and then drop the right kind of
bacteria everywhere. You program them with the right genetics and
everything should work out fine. It's quite another to have someone who
can program the ebb and flow of the very sea itself to ensure that those
bacteria have the best of everything they need to grow up into good
little mammals like you and me."

She nodded as I stood up, taking another bite from the sandwich I held
in my left hand. I took her hand and led her back to the blanket,
sitting down. "How long have those words been there?" she asked.

"Millions of years," I replied. "You forget I had a time machine once."

"No I didn't. Why aren't they worn away by the weather? North Point has
a very poor history for weather."

"Because Oenone said they won't." I smiled and shrugged. "Ask her."

"Nobody's heard from her in ages."

"I know. The rumors are flying. I saved her life once, but that was
probably enough, even for her. Someday soon I'll sail over to her home
and see if she's still around."

"How soon?"

"A few months," I smiled, looking over at her. "Tasha, can I ask you a
question now?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Of all the fems that I know, you are the most quiet, the most reserved,
the most... private. You never raise your voice above the gentlest of
volumes. You handle everyone who comes to you fairly and maturely, but
I've never seen you really have a strong relationship with anyone. Why?"

She ate quietly for a moment. "I don't know," she answered. "I just
haven't had the kind of time I'd need to dedicate to a relationship."

"What kind of time? They just happen, really."

"For you, they do. But I'm not so sure that could happen for me. I'd
want to spend a long time with someone, to learn about them. To study
them, almost."

"You've spent a lot of time studying me," I replied. "What kind of
conclusions have you drawn about me?"

"That you're fair and obstinate. That to prove to you that you're wrong
takes the facts and to ten decimal places. Once you've been proven
wrong, you take the countering argument to heart like a zealot. You're a
lousy chess player, a loving parent, and a good bedmate."

"Wait a second. What makes 'a good bedmate?'" I asked, suddenly curious
as to who could be talking about me that way.

"I don't know," she replied fairly. "I do know that most of the females
I've spoken with who have spent the night in bed with you told me the
experience was a positive one and that they'd like to repeat it."

"Did you ask them about me, or about that in specific?"

She smiled and glanced around. "Females talk about these things in
specific, Ken."

I laughed. "Actually, I think it's the subject that causes the
directness of the conversation."

"How so?"

"I think when we're talking about men, both sexes get very specific. I
feel comfortable talking about exactly what my male lovers do in bed,
but my female partners... I just like to say they're worthwhile."

She nodded. "There is a difference in the sexes."

"Of course there is. As much as there are certain differences between
different species. The catch being we're all sentient, so we all choose
the courses of action we take. I don't excuse anyone, of any species,
for being violent just because he's more capable as an individual of
violence than any other species."

She nodded. "We don't have interspecies violence. Why do you think that
is?"

I shrugged. "People's needs are met here. People are taught to respect
each other. Besides, there's always someplace to go to. We don't crowd
each other."

"Father?" she asked softly, reaching a slim hand to rest on my arm. "Do
you love me?"

"Tash... Of course I love you."

"You've never told me that before," she sighed, turning slowly to lay
back and place her head in my lap. She curled on her side on the
blanket.

I ran my hand gently along the curve of her jaw, touching her. She
murred softly, shifting a little. "I should say it more, then," I
replied. "You're very beautiful."

"Does that make you want to love me?" she asked softly. "I haven't
figured that part out yet."

I laughed as I stroked her fur. "Have you figured out what beauty is,
first?"

"No," she admitted. "I used to think there were definitions, but beauty
appears to be different from person to person. In the eye of the
beholder, I believe the phrase is."

"That's about it," I said. "To my eyes, you are very beautiful."

She murred softly. "You made me, Father, so of course you'd think I'm
beautiful."

"I don't know about that," I said, leaning over and kissing her cheek
lightly. "Some artists hate their work. Some artists create beautiful
work that they love at first and come to hate later."

She turned to look up at me, raising her head to kiss me back. "You
wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"Never," I whispered. She reached up and held my face in her hands,
holding me in place while we kissed, warmly, upon that picnic blanket
and that cold place by the sea.

I ran my fingers along her chest, feeling her fur slide under my
fingertips, my fingertips coming to rest at her nipples. She pushed up,
rolling me over, rolling on top of me, her muzzle running down my neck
until she was poking her muzzle down my shirt. "Don't tear the buttons,"
I laughed softly, ruffling the fur on top of her head.

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked, looking up to smile at me.

"Because I like this shirt."

"Good enough reason," she announced, slowly undoing each button as she
worked her way down, humming to herself canine fashion. She pulled the
tails out of my kilt and tossed it open, straddling my hips to run her
hands over my chest. "Skin is so fascinating," she said.

"You and Aaden. Always saying that."

"It is!" she insisted. "There's something so interesting about smooth,
hairless skin. The way fingers slide over it, the way lips can touch it.
Why do you like fur so much?"

"Good question, and the answer is 'I don't know.' I just enjoy the
feeling of it, the silky quality of it."

"Even of the heavier mustelakin?" she asked.

"Even then. They're fascinating, to use your word, in their own way." I
reached up to slowly stroke the fur along her thighs and up her hips. "I
love you, Tasha."

She smiled then and leaned over. "I love you, too, Father." She parted
her muzzle just enough to lick my cheek, then sat back up. She giggled
slightly, and a quick survey of my extremities revealed what had been so
funny; she'd sat down over my hips to find something poking her in the
rear.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, father, for a very natural reaction to a very natural
situation."

I laughed. "What's natural about this?"

"Everything," she replied, bending over to run her soft tongue over one
of my nipples. That familiar almost-choking sensation ran through my
throat, a curious phenomenon I'd actually had mapped once, but had
decided not to remove. I closed my eyes instead, laced my fingers behind
my head and let out a long, soft sigh. She nipped at my nipple softly,
and the sudden sensation made my back arch. "Careful," I said, smiling.

The wind had brought clouds overhead, and a sudden roar brought thunder,
and with it lightning, to our attention. "We should go," I said.

"No," she said, holding me down. "Please, Father... make love to me in
the rain."

"Are you crazy?" I said. "Tasha, we're the highest thing for miles
around. We've also got a better chance of attracting lightning than the
stone around us. We could get killed out here!"

"That's part of the excitement, Ken!" She was pulling at the cord
holding my kilt shut.

"You really want to make love like this?" I shouted as the winds began
to pick up faster and harder. Her fur ruffled where it was exposed,
flying about almost completely without control. Just then the rain began
falling.

"Yes!" she laughed, almost maniacally, as she tore my kilt off and left
my boots on. A strange combination, but her fervor was infectious and
when she bent over to kiss me I kissed her back, the heat and light of
her passion reverberating through me.

I was losing control fast, my hands swirling over the loose-fitting
sweater she wore, tearing at the clasp that held her skirt on. The
weather was hot today, and the rain, with the lightning, was becoming
hotter. The sweater came free; only weight of water from the burgeoning
downpour kept it from flying away from the hillside and down to the sea.
Her skirt was gone just as quickly.

Her muzzle pressed against my mouth, now that we were both virtually
naked. Her tongue pressed against my lips, and my tongue attacked hers
in kind. We rolled over on the blanket, the rain coming down in sheets.
A white slice of lightning crackled seaward to my right as she pressed
herself to me, grinding her crotch against mine.

I snarled and reached up, pulling her down on top of me and rolling her
over; a split-second of thought made me slide my hand under her head as
we rolled onto the slick stone surface of Marbletop, her furry back
pressed against the polished surface. I slid my erection into her
without pause, feeling her matted fur and slickened body under me as we
began to fuck each other with abandon. Her claws raked along my sides,
not quite tearing skin, and I looked down into her face to find her
panting along with me, squinting rain from her eyes.

"Enough!" she shouted, throwing her wait to turn me over onto my back.
She was on top, grinding her hips against my pubic bone. I grabbed her
hands; she used my hands for support as stroked herself up and down
along my shaft forcefully, never letting up. I was getting close, and I
tried to tell her so, but she didn't hear me over the crackle of
lightning so close it made the hair on my arms and the fur on her face
stand on edge. The air around us sizzled with ozone as I heard her let
loose a howl of pleasure and I came along with her, shooting my come
into her body with such force I barely knew where to begin even thinking
about it.

The rain kept coming down, even harder than before, as she collapsed on
top of me, holding herself up by her arms to stare down at me, her eyes
still wild. "You okay, Tasha?"

"That was great!" she snarled down at me. Her hips kept grinding against
mine, my shrinking erection threatening to slide out of her with every
rotation. "You were great!"

"I'm glad you think so, but we're either going to die of electrocution
or pneumonia before we get back home!"

She laughed. "What a way to go, though. You're right; let's go!" She
rolled over to the side and shielded her eyes from the falling spray and
rain. "Get the picnic gear! Should we dress?"

"Will it do us any good?" I asked.

"Probably not!" she shouted back as another thunderclap exploded
overhead. We collected our clothes, tossed them into the blanket,
bundled it all into a sack and threw it into my Solo.

We got home in one piece; once the forcefield is up a Solo is pretty
indestructible. It was coming down even harder at the Castle than it had
been at North Point. After drying off, I made my way up to the first
floor and a room mislabeled Mission Control to take a look at the map.
Tasha found me after a few minutes. I heard her coming; she sneezed.
"Getting that cold I warned you about?"

"Either that or I've just got lots of water of my nose."

"Always possible," I said, handing her a warm cup of tea. "Take a look.
The winds are getting up around 80 klicks. I've ordered Dave to lower
the Castle into the lagoon-locks, to get the protection from the bowl.
It's going to be ugly. Aaden's not going to like it; summer gales tear
up his gardens a lot."

Tasha nodded and wrapped her arms around me from the back. "I don't
think I'll ever understand you, Father," she sighed softly. "At least,
not as much as P'nyssa or Aaden or Ress do. But I want you to know that
I love you, and I understand how much you love me, too."

I turned around to face her; she was wearing a white terrycloth robe
with a big, fuzzy hood that I found surprisingly appealing. "All you
have to know," I said softly, "is that, whether I need you now or not,
whether I want you now or not, whether I'm even paying attention to you
now or not... no matter how distracted, no matter how disinterested I
seem to be-- when you need me, I'll be there. I'll do my damnedest for
you."

She hugged me tight and rested her head on my shoulder. "I know. And
that's all you need to say." I hugged her back, running my hand along
the back of her head, holding her to me like the daughter she was and
the lover she had become.

----------------------
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik 
and Related Tales.

The entire archive of stories can be found at:
http://www.pendorwright.com/journals

Copyright 1993 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.
Distributed under the Creative Commons License BY-ND-NC/1.0
Some Rights Reserved. 

Elf's latest stories are available in paperback!  Buy 
the genderbending novel _Sterlings_, available
now from http://stores.lulu.com/elfsternberg

--

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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