Sven
She does not belong here. Oh, she is trying to fit in, in her tight jeans and little white tank top, but. . . I know she is not of the Academy, and she does not have the . . . toughness of this bar's other regulars. So . . . fresh meat is she here. Tiny, with a blonde ponytail and ocean blue eyes, she's a lost baby bird here. And the hungry cats are moving in for the kill; a sleazy looking drunk is approaching from one side, and from the other. . .oh no. Not those two. Lance McClain and Cliff Sheffield, two of my closest friends. . .and the two biggest Casanovas in our year. The little one would just be another conquest to them, and I cannot allow that. She is too exquisite to be wasted in such fashion, and so I abandon my drink and move to intercept them.
Lance sees me first. "Not now, Holgersson. Got business to take care of here." He tries to push by me with his usual cocky grin; Pidge would have more success moving Hunk.
"Not with her, you do not." I say it in my coldest tone, staying between him and the little one. "She is not going to be one of your conquests, Lance." My right hand snaps out and catches Sheffield by his collar. "Nor will she be yours, mate."
They both blink at me; typically, Lance finds his voice first. "You've GOT to be kidding, Viking. . . ." his voice trails off as he looks at me closer, then smiles slowly. "Well, why didn't you just SAY you saw her first? Come on, Cliff, plenty of other lovely ladies begging for us, and I'm not going to stand in the way of Holgersson finally getting laid!" The two laugh as they walk off, new prey already in their sights, and I turn my attention back to the little one, to find she's in trouble. . .
Romelle
It feels so good to be away from them, to finally slip the leash my father and my brother Avok hold so tightly. I just want to have some fun, to be able to breathe a little before I step into the marriage prison they have arranged for me. So I begged clothes from one of the embassy staffers, waited until Father and Avok were drunk senseless as usual, and slipped into the night. Just around the corner from our accommodations, I found a tavern full of people my age, all laughing and having a good time. It seemed like a place to have some fun, without giving myself away, so I slipped in and made my way to the bar. Five minutes later, I have a glass of a red wine far superior to anything we have on Pollux, and am trying to figure out what to do next when a hand drops on my shoulder.
"All alone, sugar? Why don't I keep you company?" A freckled face leers at me, looming into my personal space reeking of alcohol fumes. I automatically look for Roman, my personal guard, to deal with the unwanted attention, but. . I left him back at the embassy. While I'm trying to come up with a response, the drunk takes my silence for assent and moves closer, his hand groping at my breast. "Yeah, me and you c'n have some fun, blondie. . .have you screaming my name in no time. . ."
"Except dat de lady vas vaiting for me, and your pathetic, drunken, attempt at a pass is not velcome." The strangely accented voice behind me is cold, with enough intimidation in it to make even my father hesitate. I turn to see a tall young man, a bit older than me, with broad shoulders, hair so black I can see blue highlights in it, and deep blue eyes in a strikingly handsome face. That face is set in a dark scowl, but. . .there's something more there. Something that could be worth knowing.
The drunk isn't fazed by him. "You're late, you miss out, dude. Now, private conversation here, if you don't mind. . . " He turns his back to the newcomer, leering at me and bringing his hand back to my breast. Or at least trying to. The newcomer's hand locks around his arm, spinning him around. "What'sh your problem, buddy?"
"You are my problem. Und de lady's. I vill not ask you again to leaf." Impossibly, the scowl darkens, and I find myself backing up.
"'Scuse me, sugar. This'll only take a minute. . ." the drunk plants a disgusting kiss on me and spins to face my rescuer, swinging what looks like a vicious punch. Impossibly, the other man catches his fist and squeezes until I can hear bones cracking.
"I told you to leaf her alone. Now, are you going to valk avay quietly, or vill dis get ugly?" He's perfectly calm, but there's a dark menace in his tone that's unmistakable. Before things go any further, two more men come up, latching onto the drunk, apologizing frantically to "Commander Holgersson" before dragging their friend away. My rescuer, presumably Commander Holgersson, watches them leave, then turns to me with that dark scowl. I squeak in spite of myself and shrink away from him. "Are you all right, Miss?" I open my mouth to answer, but can't make the words come. All I can do is look up at him mutely, wondering what he's going to do next.
Sven
As the drunken idiot that is usually one of my classmates is hauled off by his friends, I turn to the little one, asking if she's all right. She's trembling, looking up at me with those big blue eyes as though she thinks I will eat her. It should not surprise me; she does not know me, and I know I'm very intimidating if I do not make an effort to be otherwise. Slowly I sit on the barstool next to her, keeping my hands in view and as much space between us as I can. "It's all right, I vill not harm you," I say softly. "My name is Sven; I chust did not vant you hurt. May I stay vit you, buy you anoder drink?"
Those blue eyes are still filled with uncertainty. "How do I know I can trust you? You could be anyone, just setting me up to take me yourself!"
"I could, but I am not," I sigh. "I chust graduated de Garrison Academy; I am not going to sabotage my career by assaulting young vomen in bars." I tap my wristcom, and show her my brand new ID as Commander Sven Holgersson. "I can tell you are accustomed to a. . . more elegant setting," I say softly, as she reads my ID. "Perhaps it vill help to show you dat. . I am not unfamiliar vit such."
A couple of taps, and my wristcom display brings up the ID that I only show in dire emergencies. The little one reads it carefully, then those blue eyes fly up to study my face. "You. . .your mother is a provincial governor here on Earth? Then why are you here, playing at being a common soldier?"
Lance has mocked me for that often enough that it no longer brings the anger it used to, and I can smile at the little one. "I play at nothing. My parents loved me enough to let me choose my own path, and it led me to the Academy and navigation training—" amongst other things, I think, "and they haf supported me de whole time I haf been here."
Something flickers across her face at that, but it's gone before I can read it. "It must be nice, to choose your own destiny. I must steal time where I may, to have the simplest amusements. . .Sven. You may call me.. . .Romelle. Just Romelle."
"A pleasure, Romelle." I bow over her hand as my grandmother drilled into me, lightly brushing my lips over the back of it. As I straighten, I see Romelle's drunken would-be suitor shaking his friends off and heading our way. With larger, drunker friends, presumably to hold me at bay. "Listen, I realize dat you do not know me at all, but. . .it is not safe here. May I valk you home?"
That look flickers across her face again, and she grabs my hand. "Please. . . it is not easy for me to get away from my family. I don't want to go home yet. Is there somewhere nearby we could go?"
She looks so desperate, I can scarcely tell her no. "Ja, there is a carnival down on the boardwalk we can go to."
"Carnival? Boardwalk? I do not know these things."
"Oh, den ve vill haf fun, lille." I stand up and hand her to her feet, nodding to the bartender to debit my Garrison account for my drink and hers. "I promise, dis vill be de best night of your life."
She looks up at me as we walk out. "What does that mean.. . .lille? I thought I was fluent in English, but I do not recognize that word."
To my surprise, I feel myself blush. "No, you vouldn't; it is not English. It is from Norvegian, my native language, und it means. . .little von. I will stop if you do not like it, but I tought it fit you."
Her blush matches mine. "No, I. . .like it. It is very. . .sweet. Thank you, Sven." Her smile dazzles me as we step into the street.
Romelle
Bright Goddess, what am I doing? I am Princess of Pollux, I go nowhere without a guard and one of my maids, yet. . . not 12 hours on this planet, and I'm going off alone, first to a bar, then out into the night with a stranger whose name I barely know. But. . .there's something about Sven, something that makes me instinctively trust him. He didn't have to intervene with the drunk that accosted me, but he did, and now. . as we walk down the street, he's as warm and attentive to me as the other young men I see are with their chosen ladies. I steal looks at him as we walk down the street, admiring the muscles that ripple under his black shirt and jeans as we walk. He glances over and catches me looking, giving me a smile that makes me blush down to my toes. Goddess, how can a man I just met give me such tingly feelings?
As we walk, a breeze springs up, cool and smelling of the nearby ocean. In spite of myself and all my royal training, I can't help a shiver. Sven looks over at me, and an unreadable expression crosses his face. Next thing I know, he's unbuttoning his shirt and wrapping it around my shoulders, leaving himself in another black shirt with short sleeves that hugs his body almost indecently. I have to protest. "But . . . I can't take your shirt! YOU will be cold!"
Sven just laughs, a dark sound that makes me want to curl up with him. "Do not worry, lille Romelle. My homeland is bitterly cold; this is a warm spring night to me. I vill be fine." Reassured, I wrap his shirt tightly around me. It's made of a silk finer than any gown I have ever possessed, and carries not only the heat of his body, but a wonderfully intoxicating scent of fresh snow and pines. I inhale it deeply, and Sven looks at me with a soft smile that melts my insides. "Better, lille?" I nod, and he hesitantly takes my hand. "Come on; dere is a lot to see and do." That smile flashes again, encouraging me to walk with him into a dizzying whirl of lights, noise, and smells.
Sven
Min gud, I hardly recognize myself! First to approach a strange girl in a bar, then to take her out? Keith would lecture me on how this could be some sort of vague trap; Lance would just grin and say it was about time I got lucky. But. . . this is different, somehow. Romelle is different. She's got a sweetness, an innocence to her that blasts through all my defenses as if they aren't even there.
Her face lights up at the sight of the carnival; in spite of myself I think she is so cute I buy an entire roll of tickets, not caring about the cost. "Well, lille Romelle. . .what do you wish to do first?" Her gaze locks on the Ferris wheel, and she pulls me in that direction; tiny as she is, she nearly yanks me off my feet in her enthusiasm. Five minutes in line later, the attendant is helping her into a car; being a gentleman, I start to take the seat opposite, but Romelle grabs my hand and pulls me down beside her. "Please," she whispers, blushing. "I'm cold, and well. . .could we pretend we're. . . courting? Like some of the other couples I've seen?" I was raised to be a gentleman, but. . . I am only human. No chance I am saying no to THAT plea, and so I sit beside her, letting her nestle up against my side as the Ferris wheel lurches into motion.
As the car rises into the night sky, I point out the Academy, the spaceport, the old Golden Gate Bridge, and other interesting sights. Romelle slips her arm around me as she leans out, peering at the lights of San Francisco, and I find my own arm wrapping around her shoulders. Purely for safety, of course; I would never take advantage. Just as I do, we reach the top of the Ferris wheel, and the ride lurches to a swinging stop that has Romelle shrieking and clutching at me in fear. I have a sinking feeling about this, and my suspicions are confirmed when I look to the ground and see the carny waving two of his four arms at me. "Romelle, lille," I sigh, turning to her and putting my hands on her shoulders, "Do not be frightened; dere is noting wrong vit de ride."
Those incredible blue eyes blink up at me in confusion. "Then why did it stop so suddenly?"
"Because. . . because it is tradition for dating couples to kiss on top of a Ferris vheel, und de ride operator tinks ve are a couple." I can feel the blush burning my cheeks, and I can't look at her.
"Well," she says softly, "We can't argue with tradition, can we?" Before I can even ask what she's doing, her soft hands are buried in my hair, and she's pulled me down into a kiss that, for all its inexperience and innocence, sets my blood on fire and my heart racing.
Romelle
Oh. Oh! THIS is what Catera and the other maids giggle about! I never understood the fuss over touching your lips to someone else's, but. . .Blessed Lady, do I understand now. Sven's lips are warm and firm against mine, and as we kiss, I can feel tingles all over my body. He resists at first, but then I feel him relax, pulling me closer, fingers going into my hair. His lips part, and his tongue darts across my lips, teasing them open. I can taste the alcohol he was drinking in the bar, and something else, something spicy and wonderful. Without realizing what I am doing, I move closer to him, hands wandering his tightly muscled chest, lingering where his heart beats wildly. I make a noise in my throat, wanting more of him, and suddenly he's gone. I open my eyes, bewildered and bereft, my heart pounding in my throat, to find him on the other side of the car, blushing and breathing hard. "I. . .I am sorry, lille," he says softly, not meeting my eyes. "Dat is not like me at all; I am not dat kind of man."
I reach over and touch his knee hesitantly. "I am not sorry. That was. . .the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced." The ride lurches back into life, and we descend to the ground. Sven helps me out, but touches me only as much as he absolutely has to. Still not looking at me, he suggests that we go and get something to eat at a nearby stand. Miserable, not understanding what I did so wrong, I follow him and wait while he orders for both of us.
Sven
Fuck, what is wrong with you, Holgersson? She is not some easy fling, and you are not Lance McClain, to hop in bed at the first provocation! I am no virgin, by any means, but neither do I usually act on my urges so quickly. And certainly not with someone so clearly virginal as Romelle. I get pizza and sodas for us, keeping my distance from her in an effort to cool myself down, then sit across the picnic table from her. Only then do I notice how her demeanor has changed. She sits huddled in on herself, looking away from me, as if she expects me to strike her. "Romelle? Lille, talk to me; are you all right?"
Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. "I am sorry I displeased you. I will leave, if you like."
"Displeased me? Lille, you have done no such ting, and I certainly do not vant you to leaf." I lean across the table and cover both of her hands with one of mine, using the other to make her look up at me. "I just. . ." I sigh. "I like you, very much, and I do not want to do tings you are not ready for. It takes no genius to know dat you haf no experience vit men, und in any event, I am not de sort of man who. . . forces himself on a voman de very first date."
"And if I told you I WANTED it?" she asks softly, blue eyes wide and lost. "Sven. . .when I return home, it will be to an arranged marriage, with someone I don't even know. You are the first man who has ever treated me with anything like kindness. Please. . ..." she puts a tiny hand on my arm, and the fire rages in my blood all over again. "Show me what it is to be loved by a man?"
Gud i himmeln, how has this girl gotten under my skin so quickly? My mind is screaming at me to remember how I was raised, that I have not known this girl two hours yet, that I never take a girl to my bed so very soon. But it is my heart that answers her, "Are you sure, Romelle? Your first time should be special, vit someone you love. I do not vant to take dat from you."
Romelle gives me a long look, then suddenly fists both hands in my t-shirt and pulls me to her. Before I can even think, she's kissing me with a passion that more than makes up for her inexperience. "I'm sure, Sven," she says huskily when we break apart. "I. . .want my first time with you."
No matter what my mother has taught me about being a gentleman, no matter what my Academy training says about avoiding entanglements, behind all that I am still but a 21 year old man. With the full complement of hormones. With a beautiful girl, that I am falling pretty hard for, all but begging me to take her to my bed. Faen, I am only human. "Vell den, lille," I answer softly, cupping her cheek in my hand, "Perhaps ve should go find somevhere private, ja?" She nods, wide-eyed, and I take her hand to walk out of the carnival. On the way out, I put the roll of tickets into the hands of a young man with two children clinging to his threadbare coat, not even stopping for his reaction.
As we walk slowly towards the apartment I share with Lance and Keith, I quietly watch the girl at my side. Such a mystery there; she carries herself with a refined air that speaks to me of breeding far above anything on Earth, yet she's shy, almost timid at the same time. Who are you, Romelle? And how have I fallen in love with you so quickly?
Romelle
I'm actually going to do this. I'm walking to a stranger's quarters, making awkward small talk, knowing he is going to take me to his bed and take my innocence. I should be terrified, should never have asked this of him. But. . . it's Sven. Gentle, sweet, Sven, who makes me feel things I have never felt before. I want to stay with him forever, but I know that cannot be. So, I will take what I can get.
He lets me into a modest suite, neat but not overly so, clearly in the process of being packed up. Suddenly shy, I sit on the edge of a squashy chair while he sits on a couch next to me. "Lille . . .you are sure of this? If you do not know, I will tell you; alvays for a voman, de first time hurts. I vill do all I can to make it hurt less, but. . .I cannot take de pain avay completely. I vant you to be sure dis is vhat you vant."
Nothing I did not know; the maids think I do not hear them gossip, but to hear Sven so concerned for me brings me to tears. "I'm sure, Sven. Please. . ." I reach out and put my hand on his thigh; I hear him take a ragged breath, then he takes my hand and stands, bringing me to my feet as well.
"All right. . .come den, kjaereste. . . sweetheart. Let me love you." He leads me down a short hall to three bedchambers in a semicircle and guides me into the one on the right, hanging a hat on the doorknob before closing and locking it. "For min housemates," he says softly at my curious look. "Dat is our signal dat ve do not vish to be disturbed." I nod nervously and sit on his bed; he sits next to me, taking my hands in his. "Any time you vish to stop, tell me, and I vill, Romelle," he tells me, looking deep into my eyes with his own wonderful blue ones. Then he leans into me and kisses me, soft and gentle, but at the same time there is a fierceness to it that takes my breath. As he kisses me, his hands slide down my shoulders, pushing my borrowed shirt off and scorching my skin where he touches me. As at the carnival, his tongue traces my lips, teasing them open before darting into my mouth. Hesitantly following his lead, I wrap my tongue around his, tasting the carnival food and alcohol and that intoxicating something that is just Sven. I hear him groan and start to pull back, afraid that I've hurt him somehow, but his arms come around me, pulling me close as he lays me back on the bed.
"You are amazing," he says as he breaks the kiss, breathing hard as I am, his blue eyes darker somehow. Slowly his hand comes up my side to cup and caress my breast through my top, and I gasp at the sensation. Incredibly, he laughs at my reaction and continues to play with me, giving little kisses to my neck and collarbone.
"Sven. . . please. . ." Bright Lady, he makes me feel so good. I. .. want. I don't know what I want, but I do know I want it. And somehow, Sven understands. Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he eases my tank top off, laying me bare as no man has ever seen. Instinctively, my hands come up to cover my breasts, but he captures them in his own.
"Easy, lille. Let me see how beautiful you are. . ." He tosses the top aside, then lies on top of me, kissing down my chest and. . . Goddess! I nearly come off the bed as he puts his mouth on my breast; dear heaven, that feels good. He looks up at me with a grin. "Oh, I like dat. . ." Where his hips are on top of mine, I feel a hard heat, pushing against me, and suddenly I panic, beating at his chest to get him off me.
Understanding lights up his eyes, and he rolls to my side. "Too fast am I going; forgive me. Vould it help. . . if I undressed and let you look first, kjaereste? Let you touch me until you are comfortable?" Shakily I nod, unable to speak, and he stands. The tight black shirt comes off first, revealing tanned skin taut over a strong but not overly-muscled body. I nod to him, almost impatient; fascinating as Sven's chest is, much as I want to stroke it, Polluxian fashion is such that a man's bare chest holds no fear for me. His eyes hold mine as his hands unfasten his jeans and push them off his slim hips, kicking them aside with the remainder of his clothing to stand nude before me. My eyes trail down his body, taking in the muscles that twitch with his ragged breathing, before coming to rest on. . . .Blessed Bright Lady, Guardian of the Stars. That is supposed to fit in me? His manhood stands away from his body, seemingly as big as one of the evergreens around our castle, pulsing with his heartbeat. Slowly he crawls onto the bed next to me, careful not to touch me, and lies on his back, hands beneath his head. "Look and touch all you vant, lille," he says in a strangely roughened voice. "I vant you to be comfortable vit dis, or ve do not continue."
My hands shake as I sit up and trail my fingers across his chest and flat stomach, both of which jerk under my touch as he sucks in a sharp breath. Startled, I pull my hands back and look to Sven uncertainly. "Go on, kjaereste," he says softly. "You are not hurting me; to be honest, I like your touch, very much. Please, do not stop. . ." Reassured, I continue my exploration, hesitantly wrapping my hand around the thick shaft at the center of his body. I can feel his pulse in it, beating frantically, and the heat from it nearly burns my hand. I stroke it experimentally, bringing my other hand up to cup the roundness hanging beneath it, and am rewarded by Sven's body going stiff as he hisses what sounds like a prayer in his own language. "Gud i himmeln. . . that feels so good, lille. More. . ." He puts his hand on mine, moving it to grip him tighter, rocking his hips into my strokes. Guided by some instinct, I lean over to kiss the tip of his member, and dart my tongue out to swirl around the head. Sven arches up and cries out; before I can do or say anything, my mouth is filled with an incredibly thick, salty fluid that makes me gag before I reflexively swallow it. "Are you all right, Romelle? I am so very sorry. . ." Sven is propped on his elbows, watching me worriedly. "I did not intend for that to happen so soon. . . I just. . ." He blushes; it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. "I. . .have desired you, since first I saw you in de bar, und den your touch felt so vonderful. . .I came before I knew vhat I vas doing."
I swallow again, finding myself liking the taste and wanting more. "I'm fine; what WAS that, Sven?"
Blushing harder, he tells me of what he calls an "orgasm" or "coming", of how a person's touch can make you feel good, then better and better until it is like an explosion in your skin. "And for a man, kjaereste. . .de fluid you tasted is part of that. Vhen a man makes love to a voman, if. . .precautions are not taken, if de time is right, dat fluid inside her is vhat gives her a child." He's sitting up now, and cups my face in his hands, kissing me gently. "You vere. . . fantastik. May I please you as you pleased me?"
I nod, strangely excited to experience what he says his touch will bring to me, and he kisses me again, laying me back against his pillow. Slowly he skims his hand over my skin, my stomach fluttering at the roughness of his callused hands as he kneads and caresses my breasts. "That's nice," I say softly, and he grins at me before kissing his way down from my lips to my collarbone to take my breast in his mouth as he did before. And Goddess, what he does. . . I can't lay still, I squirm with a need I can't name, feeling a fire build between my legs. Sven glances up at me, and brings a hand up to slowly unfasten my jeans, working his fingers down to touch where no hand but mine has ever been. "OH! Sven!" I gasp, rocking against him. Goddess, this feels. . .delicious, and I want more. He chuckles and kisses me before moving to kneel at my feet, easing my jeans and panties down and off. I blush and reflexively start to curl away from him, hiding my nudity, but he stops me with those hands on my hips.
"So beautiful. . . let me look, kjaereste. Let me touch. . ." His fingers deftly part my legs, moving up my thighs to stroke me. . .I gasp as his touch sparks something in me, and I writhe helplessly, calling his name again and again as he works. Then. . . Sweet Lady, he. . . puts his mouth on me there, and. . .the world explodes. I hear myself scream his name, and the world goes black.
When I come back to my senses, Sven is sitting on the side of the bed, eyes worried, wiping my face with a cool cloth. "Tank God," he breathes when he sees my eyes open. "You had me vorried, kjaereste. Are you all right?"
"I. . . I think so. . ." I sit up slowly, Sven's strong hand at my back supporting me. "That was. .. is it always like that? And it didn't hurt!"
He's fighting not to laugh at me, I can tell. "Romelle, lille. . . ve haf not yet made luf. I haf pleasured you, as you haf me, but. . .dere is more. Do you still vant to go on? Ve can stop here, and dere vill be no pain."
"I told you. . . I want you to make love to me, I don't care if it hurts. Please, Sven? I want to know ALL of it!" I look up at him, shyly begging, and his face softens. Gently he eases me back down, shifting to sit on his heels between my spread legs, his member pointing to my center.
"Take a breath, elskede, beloved," he says softly as he moves forward. "I will be as gentle as I can." I follow his instructions, absently filing the new endearment to ask about later, and feel a pressure between my legs that quickly builds to an uncomfortable ache. "Easy," he whispers, that strain in his voice again. "Almost there. . ." He captures my mouth in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around me as a sudden sharp pain blooms in my center. I can't help it; I scream, and Sven freezes. "Sh. . . sh. . ." He rains tiny kisses over my face and neck, taking my tears as they fall. "Romelle, lille, elskede. . .I am so sorry. . . breathe for me, the pain vill pass. . .I love you. . ."
I lay still in his arms, listening to his whispered words, and soon, as he promised, the pain eases, leaving a need in its wake. I whimper and move beneath him; understanding, he starts to move himself, matching his movements to mine, still kissing me gently and calling soft endearments. I thought what he did with his hands and mouth was amazing. . . this I have no words for, but to dig my nails into his back and scream his name. Repeatedly. He calls mine in answer, moving faster and faster in me. All too soon, the fireworks burst beneath my skin, driving me up against his body before dropping me to the bed, limp and spent. Sven thrusts a few more times, then cries out, burying himself deep inside me and freezing for a few minutes before falling beside me, his arms still wrapped around me.
I feel. .. .sore, in a good way, and tired, so very tired. I can't help a yawn; Sven smiles at it, kisses me as it ends, and pulls the covers over us. "Sleep, lille Romelle; I vill vake you early enough to take you home." I know I should not stay, that Father and Avok will be looking for me soon, but. . . I'm so tired, and Sven's arms and body feel SO good around me. As I snuggle into him and fade into sleep, I feel him drop a kiss on top of my head and drowsily whisper, "I love you, Romelle. Alvays. Sleep vell."
Sven
Some time in the predawn darkness, I wake to the sound of my com softly beeping, and an unfamiliar presence in my bed. Memory quickly asserts itself, and I smile at the memory of what Romelle and I did in the night. Min gud, for all her inexperience, never have I had so incredible a lover. I want to stay with her, always, and resolve to figure out how to do just that later today. In the meantime. . . a glance at my com shows a Priority One recall; I have to report in 30 minutes. Swearing softly, I ease out of a still-sleeping Romelle's arms and head for the bathroom; ten minutes later, I'm showered and in uniform, leaving her a note that I'll be back as soon as I can, asking her to stay, before slipping out of the apartment and heading for Garrison headquarters.
It looks like they've called in every officer and cadet available in the Northern Hemisphere! The parade ground is packed with people; I soon find my own section and stand with Keith and Lance as Marshal Graham walks to the front of the formation, flanked by two angry looking men in togas, one about the Marshal's age with white hair and beard, the other younger, about my age, with flaming red hair. They take up silent positions behind Graham as he calls us to attention and begins to speak. "The gentlemen behind me are King Cova and Crown Prince Avok of Planet Pollux; they are here with their daughter and sister for the galactic Peace Summit. This morning, they awoke to find the princess missing, and have come to us for assistance in locating her. A recent hologram of her is being downloaded to each of your coms as we speak." Mine beeps as he finishes speaking, and I absently call up the image. As it comes to life, I freeze in horror, staring. Lance and Keith both notice, and turn to ask what's wrong, but I can't answer. I don't dare. The missing princess of Pollux? I know her as Romelle, and she is asleep in my bed, in a room still filled with the heady scent of our lovemaking.