Editing And Not To Yield

<span style="color:#800000">''' ''(Many thanks to Jay for spotting Christian for me. Thanks, Jay!--Maer)'' '''</span>
<br><br>


An excerpt from ''Peripatetica'', by M. K. Sebastien, Engr. ret.


'''Sunday, 18 Feb 2520'''<br>
'''Somewhere on the heights,'''<br>
'''Brisbane, Meridian'''<br>
'''Blue Sun (Qing Long) system'''<br>
'''23:45hrs, local time'''<br><br>


&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It was winter by the traditional calendar but our antipodal location on Meridian had us enjoying midsummer weather.  And looking at the night-shrouded mountains around us, I reckoned it a good thing.  Driving our Gator at a snail’s pace was onerous but at least we were doing it on dry ground instead of up to our axles in snow and mud, as we would have been had the season been colder and wetter.  And given our elevation, the temperature was temperate and cool and for once wearing my vest wasn’t the sweaty chore it usually was.  So it was that I retired for the night in the Gator cab.  Nika and Rick opted to camp out in the tents Christian had arranged for us, but I preferred to put something a bit more substantial than canvas between me and the wildlife roaming the forest. <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To say nothing of my crewmates.  I wanted privacy so I could think. <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I checked the safety on my pistol, unsnapping the catch strap for a quicker draw, and settled back into the cushy bench seat with a sigh.   I had my music player plugged into the console and a favorite tune whispered from the cab’s speakers and outside, the crickets added a countermelody to the music.  All I needed was a drink and I’d be set.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Can I offer the lady a nightcap?”  Christian asked as he stuck his head in.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You actually brought booze?” I turned the volume down and took my booted feet off the dashboard.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I’m afraid not.  It just seemed the thing to say when intruding on another’s solitude.  But I brought tea.”  He eased into the cab balancing two cups of tea.  Steam told me it was hot, and I caught the strong scent of mint.  I took the cup he gave me and quirked a grin at him.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You think of everything, as usual,” I said as he’d closed the door and settled beside me. “Thank you.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“The stars are beautiful tonight.  Why not come outside?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And get eaten alive by bears?”  I sipped the tea and breathed in the mint. “I’ll pass, thanks.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“City girl,” he teased and ruffled my hair.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Who you callin’ ‘city girl’, city girl?” I teased right back and poked him.  <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We sipped our tea and listened to the night noise through the open windows.   The setting reminded me of another midsummer’s night in another man’s company and of the blanket we’d shared under the stars.  I recalled the scent of pine needles and the campfire and cooking…and wished desperately for Mike, now missing over a year without a single word to tell me if he still lived.  To say I was worried was an understatement and the message I’d cadged from the online boards—''Salisbury, Brothers come home if you are able.  The wheat is ripe for harvest.''—did little to ease my misgivings.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That it was a coded message, I had no doubt, just as I knew it wasn’t meant for me.  But given what Mike had told me of his days at the monastery and of what I’d gleaned when I’d been there, I seriously doubted that wheat was the reason the Brothers were being called home. Was Mike among them now?  I could patch through a discreet message to the Abbot and inquire, but should I?  Blue Sun was Quarantined and I knew that cargo and people weren’t the only things under hard scrutiny going in or out—communications would be monitored by the Feds and I had no wish to blow an op in the making. <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Mike was wherever Mike was, doing whatever Mike was doing and I was stuck at the opposite end of the Universe from the one point that could give me a clue as to either.  It made me crazy and it made me miss him, an ache of the head and the heart that ground away at me.  I’d told no one yet about the message I’d found, not being entirely sure what good it would do.  The unresolved matter with Mike weighed on me but I put a good face on it, hoping to keep the others free of my personal problems.  It was the reason I’d sought the solitude of the Gator over sharing a tent with Nika and I had hoped I’d hidden it well enough to avoid notice.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I should have known better.<br>  
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christian was adept at reading people and I realized my dwelling on Mike was unkind to the man who had shown me uncommon kindness in the past six months.  And though we were no longer bed partners, I still felt a fondness for Christian and my conscience nudged me to give him more than silence over our tea.  I took his hand and squeezed it.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Do you think we’ll find him?” I asked, meaning the reason for our trip into the heights above Brisbane.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Perhaps,” Christian said, squeezing my hand back.  “Sometimes people disappear because they’ve been taken.  And sometimes they disappear because they don’t want to be found.”  <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Are we talking about the same guy?” I asked, because I wanted to be sure.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Are we?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I asked first.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“There are a lot of people lost in the Verse, Rina.”  <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christian’s thumb stroked my inner wrist, setting delicious currents up my arm.  It was a distraction I didn’t want and I turned my hand in his, grabbing his fingers to still their caress. <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Just give me a straight answer.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Then stop asking crooked questions.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nothing crooked about it.  I asked if you thought we’d find Fong.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Worry over Fong is not why you crawled in here.”<br>	
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You got something you wanna ask, ask.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Why are you avoiding me?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“''What?''”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Now who’s answering with a question?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I’m not.  I just don’t know what the hell you mean by that.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You asked me for help and I gave it, and then entirely at your suggestion I might add, we took it to its ultimate conclusion. We slept together for two weeks before you decided you’d been helped enough. I thought we’d parted friends afterward, but lately you’ve been distant, as if everything we’d accomplished in the past six months never happened. <br> 
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Now, it could be due to a number of things.”  Christian counted off the points on his fingers. “One, you’re having a crisis of conscience over everything and you’re feeling guilty.  Two, you feel I’m partly responsible for your current distress or…Three, it’s something else but because it’s a personal issue it’s a good chance it involves Mike.  Because four, when it comes to the personal, it all eventually comes back to him.  Because he’s the only one you really trust.”   Christian sighed and leaned in, saying softly, “I told you I would never hurt you, Rina.  And though I never asked it of you, I had hoped you’d do the same for me.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He kissed me slowly on the lips, trailing his fingertips down my throat and I opened at the touch of his tongue.  I tasted tea and mint on him and felt my blood quicken.  I sank my hand in his hair when he came up for air and held his face from mine lest he kiss me again.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Do you want to grapple?  Or do you want to talk?” I husked.  “Choose, because I can’t do both.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Christian chuckled and flopped back against the seat and I realized what he’d just done.  Irritated and appalled at how easily he’d played me, I swatted him in the gut.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''Nothing like a good kiss to loosen your tongue.  Or other things.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Let’s talk,” he said, choosing. <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“What do you want to know?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re brooding. Why?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I told him.  About the message, about my deepening doubts as to Mike’s continued existence, of how I hated my wavering certitude.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked me after I’d finished.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Don’t joke.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I’m not. What’s the worst that could happen?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Mike’s dead.”  I hated saying it, hated giving the Universe even that much of an inch.  Tempt her, and the bitch would take it and run with it.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And?” Christian prompted.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“What do you mean, ''‘and’''?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Will the Universe stop spinning?  Will the suns implode?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No,” I scowled, knowing where he was going with this. “I’ll just wish they had.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And if he’s been dead all this time?  What then?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“''Seriously?''”  No, not liking the direction one bit. “What the hell do you think?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’d mourn him.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“More than,” I said from the bottom of my toes. “More than you could possibly imagine.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“But would it kill you?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Only the best part of me.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Not at all.”  Christian leaned in close again but made no move to touch me. “You’re not the same person you were a year ago.  You’ll hurt, yes, and deeply, yes, but you’ll move on.  You’re already moving. You’ve taken a lover, if briefly, and that’s a major component of building another life without him.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Excuse me, Christian, but I already have a life without him, thank you. I don’t need another one.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Yes, you do. You need the one that has him never coming back.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I sat and stared out the window and listened to the crickets for a long moment.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Stop putting your life on hold for him, Rina,” he said.  “It’s one thing to cherish someone’s memory, it’s quite another to martyr yourself over it.  Don’t let sentiment blind you to the truth.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And what truth is that?” <br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''Never let sentiment cloud your judgment'', Mike had said to me years ago.  It rankled, deeply, to hear Christian saying it now.<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re in love with the memory of Mike, rather than the reality of him. Given what the Feds did to him, he may never again be the same man you fell in love with.  Is it fair to hold him to that?  Is it healthy to chain yourself to it?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“''You think I haven’t already thought of that?''”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I don’t know what to think.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Liar.  I’ve never seen you without an opinion on anything.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“True.  But we aren’t talking about me.  Stick to the subject.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If the point of the exercise it to make me bleed, you’ve done it.” He did.  I was cut to the quick and bleeding buckets.  “You win, Christian.  Game over.  Satisfied?”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“No.”<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;''Buckets and buckets.''<br>
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“The point was to make you think outside the box you put yourself in.” Christian leaned in and this time he did touch me.  He pulled me gently into his arms and said into my hair. “You know that saying, ‘I must be cruel to be kind’.”<br>

<br><br>
<span style="color:#800000">''' ''For those who may be interested, the title came from [["Ulysses" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson|"Ulysses"]], by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.--Maer)'' '''</span>

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