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  One of the Nimbaza region's more violent storms passed through that night, and Bonnie was very glad she was safe inside her house when it hit. Knowing how deafening the sound of a heavy downpour could be when it pounded on the metal roof of the shed, she doubted that Lynx was getting much in the way of sleep on his first night. She listened for the sound of him pounding on the door, wondering if he might have been rethinking his decision to sleep out there, but the sound never came—or if it did, she couldn’t hear it.

  She needn’t have worried. With only half of what she’d given him, Lynx had put together the most comfortable bed he had ever slept on in his entire life. He was tired, having walked all the way from Nimbaza and then run to Bonnie's rescue. After binding her wounds, he’d been so angry that he had to do something to work off a little steam. Building the fence had been as much a mental exercise as a physical one; he’d come up with the idea almost immediately and had acted on it. He still didn’t quite understand why he’d been so angry with her. Even though he’d rarely been treated with kindness, he did understand the concept. He thought briefly about what else he could do to repay her, but exhaustion finally closed down his mind. He never even heard the thunder.

  Bonnie, however, slept fitfully. Perhaps it was from thinking about Cat and Leo—how friendly they were and how happy their wives seemed to be—and, most of all, how different they were from Lynx. She knew that there were wide variations in every species, but for some reason, his behavior just didn’t seem to fit.

  At last she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but Lynx was still on her mind even while she slept. In her dreams, she could see his eyes glowing with passion, could feel his warm hands on her body, could almost taste his soft, sensuous kisses…

  Bonnie awoke with a start, her lips tingling as though Lynx had actually kissed her. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered to herself. “He's not like Cat and Leo at all. I shouldn’t expect it of him.” But she couldn’t quite shake the notion that it wasn’t an unrealistic expectation. There was far more to him than met the eye.

  When Bonnie let Kipper out the next morning, Lynx was already feeding the enocks. Watching him through the window, she realized that while she had yet to tell him what his duties would be, he had already assumed many of them himself. He certainly wasn’t lazy, she decided, even if he was a little strange. Not to mention the fact that he had somehow managed to invade her dreams.

  Figuring that he probably didn’t want eggs again, Bonnie fixed some cold cereal with fruit instead. She wasn’t sure whether to call him or just wait for him to knock on the door, but when he didn’t show up by the time she’d finished her own, she decided to yell.

  Lynx heard the call and came promptly, though it never occurred to him that she would have called her dog the same way. He was used to that and hardly noticed. He did notice that she had at least called him by name, which was better than being referred to as “Boy” or “Slave,” as he had so often been called in the past. He put out of his mind the other names he’d been given—they didn’t apply to him any more than boy or slave did. When he reached the back door, Bonnie handed him his breakfast, which he took from her without a word.

  Thinking that Kipper would at least have wagged his tail, Bonnie watched Lynx through the window, hoping to find out whether he would eat what she’d given him or feed it to the chickens. What she saw made her stare in horror.

  Bonnie had never seen anyone eat so fast in her life; he wolfed down the cereal and then drank the juice in what seemed like one big gulp. It was no wonder he was so thin and didn’t care what she gave him to eat! He was practically starving! Bonnie stared blindly at him for a long moment and then sprang into action. After stuffing bread in the toaster, she called for him again.

  “I forgot to give you some toast,” she said, trying not to make it obvious that she’d been watching him. “I didn’t know if you liked butter or jelly, so I made it with both.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “It's market day, so after I pick whatever's ripe and gather the eggs, I’ve got to pack up and go into Nimbaza. I won’t be back until late, so when you get hungry, just help yourself to whatever you like. There's plenty of cheese and bread and fruit—and eggs, of course!”

  He nodded, his expression as neutral as ever. “The speeder does not function,” he said flatly.

  “Oh, I’ll walk,” she replied. “I’ve got a cart to carry everything in, so—”

  Lynx took a breath as though he was about to interrupt, but seemed to think better of it. He would not remind her again to think of the child she carried.

  “What were you going to say?” she asked.

  “I have already gathered the eggs,” he said, changing the subject.

  “The chicken eggs too? Well, that's great! If you’d give me a hand with the fruits and vegetables, I’ll get there quicker and maybe sell it all before it gets too late. Is there anything you need in town?”

  His expression was so blank, Bonnie wasn’t sure he’d even heard her, let alone understood what she’d asked, and when she began to explain, he just said, “No.”

  Bonnie could think of about a million things that he might need in town, but took him at his word. “Well,” she said doubtfully, “finish your breakfast then, and we’ll get started in the garden.”

  Lynx had never done any farm work before, but he was a quick study, and they had the crates full in no time, after which he loaded them onto the cart. The cart, which not only moved under its own power but also had the virtue of being refrigerated, was what had saved Bonnie when the speeder had finally died on her. Before, she’d always hitched it to the speeder and zoomed on into town, but the cart moved along nicely at a walking pace and, though she was pretty sure Kipper missed riding in the speeder, it served her well.

  As she set out, Bonnie's heart felt much lighter than it had in some time. It was a pleasant spring day, and she had plenty to sell; there might even be enough left over to pay Lynx a little bit after she paid her bills—and she had as many bills as anyone. The grain and sunflowers were her main source of income for the year, but the garden produce and the eggs were her cash crops, and now that she could get enock eggs without risking life and limb, she considered trying to trap more of them. Unfortunately, without a working speeder, she was unlikely to have much success.

  Bonnie's outlook on the future had improved considerably now that she had Lynx around to help. Before, she’d always dreaded trying to get those eggs every day and had been concerned about what she would do when the baby came. But now, she wasn’t worried, and it felt good.

  The hike to Nimbaza was about eight kilometers, and though Bonnie and Kipper made it in good time, it was getting hot when she set up her cart in the marketplace. As usual, the enock eggs were the first things to sell out. She saved two of them to trade for cheese and butter from her neighbor, Salan, whose father ran a dairy. Her friend, Zuannis, was a baker, and though she also traded for Bonnie's eggs, she preferred chicken eggs. “They are better for baking,” she had told Bonnie. “I would have to make too big a batch to use an enock egg—and have to charge too much for my bread!” There were several other people who raised cows, pigs, and chickens, but since Bonnie was the only one in the region who raised enocks, she pretty much had a corner on the market. People just couldn’t seem to get enough of those eggs, and she knew she could sell as many as her enocks could produce. She grudgingly admitted to herself that Sylor had been right about them being a good source of income. They had spotted several adult enocks eating the fallen fruit of an indigenous tree, and, knowing how much people delighted in finding the occasional egg, Sylor had gotten the idea to trap them. They tried several different ways before coming up with the speeder and net method, which had been risky, but effective. It took two people and a fast speeder, though—neither of which Bonnie had had since Sylor left.

  It was midmorning when the region's only two Norludians, Gerna and Hatul, approached her booth and touched every single thing Bonnie had set out— includin
g the eggs—with their strange sucker-tipped fingers before deciding what they wanted to buy, just as they always did. Jack had once warned her not to ask why they did that, just to let them do their thing and move on, but on this particular day, Bonnie was feeling adventurous.

  “Why do you do that, Gerna?” she asked curiously as they finished up their transaction. “I can understand wanting to see if the fruit is ripe, but why the eggs?”

  Laughing conspiratorially as she glanced at her mate, her bulbous eyes blinking rapidly, Gerna replied. “We only choose the things that affect us in a… sexual manner.”

  Since they were both quite thin, Bonnie was left to assume that there weren’t many fruits and vegetables that met their requirements. “And you feel this through your fingertips?” Shaking her head in bewilderment, she added, “I don’t get it.”

  “Perhaps if I touched you, you would understand,” Hatul said in his odd, piping voice. “Just a touch on your hand—”

  “Don’t let him do that!” a nearby voice called out.

  Bonnie looked up to see Zuannis heading toward her, waving her arms in protest, her colorful robes billowing out behind her. Zuannis was a Twilana, and, as such, was tall, bald-headed, and had a nose like the snout of a rhino—horn and all. Twilanas were one of the few species Bonnie had ever encountered whose males were much more attractive, and smaller, than their females. Their style of dress didn’t seem to be gender specific, and Bonnie had made the mistake of thinking that Zuannis was a male when they first met. Zuannis had a good sense of humor and didn’t make a fuss, but her husband had been less forgiving, pointing out that he wasn’t the one wearing the earrings. “He’ll… well… you don’t want to know what he’ll do if he sucks onto your skin with one of those things!”

  “I’ve been hearing that from Jack for ages,” Bonnie grumbled. “Why won’t anyone tell me? Everyone else seems to know, but no one will talk about it! Is it really that disgusting?” Then she remembered what Gerna had said about touching the fruit and looked back at Hatul. There was a decidedly mischievous glint in his big, round eyes as he pursed his fishlike lips and smooched at her.

  “Hatul,” Bonnie said teasingly. “You wouldn’t be trying to get off on me while your wife was watching, would you?”

  “She likes it,” Hatul said, extending his fingers. “Just one little touch…”

  Gerna didn’t protest, but looked on encouragingly. Zuannis, however, took Bonnie's arm and pulled her out of reach.

  “She might not mind it,” Zuannis said, “—but it grosses me out.”

  “Aw, Zuannis, you’re no fun at all,” Bonnie said, laughing. “Sorry, Hatul!”

  Hatul kissed his fingertips and waggled them at her. “Until the next market day, my pretty one!”

  Zuannis and Bonnie watched as the pair moved on to another stall. “They are the strangest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life,” Zuannis remarked. “Just plain weird.”

  “Is it my imagination, or did you just interrupt the closest thing to sex I’ve had since, well… probably since I got pregnant?” Bonnie inquired dryly.

  “I don’t think you would have gotten much out of it,” Zuannis said, “but he would have come all over himself.”

  Since Norludians didn’t wear clothing, this would have been noticeable. However, never having seen any obvious genitalia on either of the Norludians, Bonnie wouldn’t have known where to look for it. “All over his… what?” she prompted her friend.

  A pained expression contorted Zuannis’ already bizarre features. “His face, Bonnie,” she replied. “Their tongues are their, um, sex organ—ever notice him flicking it at you? They use those sucker fingers to hold on while they fuck your—”

  “Okay,” Bonnie said, holding up a hand. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  Zuannis smiled and looked at Bonnie appraisingly. “So, how are you?”

  “Fine, Bonnie replied. “Drummond finally sent me some help.”

  “And?”

  “He's… a little… different.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he's Zetithian—you know, like Cat and Leo? But—”

  “And you said you haven’t had sex since when?” Zuannis asked incredulously.

  Bonnie wasn’t sure just what this had to do with Lynx. “Sylor left a good while back, Zuannis,” she said witheringly. “You know that.”

  “And this guy has been working for you for how long?”

  “Just a few days.” Bonnie stared at Zuannis curiously, still not sure what she was getting at.

  “Older man, is he?” Zuannis suggested, rubbing a finger on her horn, much like a Terran might tap their chin when perplexed.

  “No,” Bonnie replied. “I’m guessing he's a little younger than Cat and Leo. They aren’t that old.”

  Zuannis nodded. “Zetithians don’t age as quickly as humans do,” she said informatively. With a curious tilt of her odd head, she went on to ask, “Is he… attractive?”

  “Well, he might be if he smiled more and put on a little weight,” Bonnie admitted, not even wanting to admit to herself that she considered Lynx to be quite handsome. “He's not nearly as friendly as Cat or Leo— though maybe it's just me he doesn’t like.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Zuannis remarked. “Everyone seems to like you.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Bonnie said doubtfully, “but Lynx is… different. He was all set to get a job in the mines, but wound up working for me instead—which he doesn’t seem very happy about. And I get the distinct impression that it isn’t just me; he doesn’t like women in general—didn’t want to work for one, anyway.”

  Zuannis's big, brown eyes widened, and she drew herself up to her full height. “Uh-uh,” she said with a decisive shake of her head. “Couldn’t be a Zetithian! Must be something that just looks like one.”

  “Well, he said he was—and it was on his immigration chip, too, according to Drummond.”

  Zuannis shook her head again. “There's something wrong with him then.” Zuannis then turned to examine the dried plums as she spoke and picked up a bag to put them in. “I’ll take these,” she said, handing her purchase to Bonnie. “You can stop by my shop later for your bread.”

  Bonnie stared up at her tall friend in surprise. “You’re just going to leave it at that?”

  “It’ll be better if you don’t know everything,” Zuannis said with a firm nod, “especially since he's not… right.”

  “Great!” Bonnie said with a twinge of amusement. “Something else no one will tell me about.”

  “Believe me, it's for the best,” Zuannis assured her.

  Bonnie didn’t think so, but Zuannis was notoriously stubborn. Bonnie was surprised she’d actually told her about Hatul's sticky fingers—but perhaps it was only to make sure she never let him touch her.

  “Well, thanks, Zuannis,” she said, bowing to the inevitable. “How's Joachen?”

  “Fine,” Zuannis replied. “Still feeling a bit touchy about that last fight we had.”

  Bonnie nodded. Joachen was touchy about a lot of things. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Zuannis agreed. “He's such a horny little devil. Never can stay standoffish for long.” Zuannis laughed, her big earrings jangling. “I can’t stay mad at him for long, either. He's such a handsome little thing.”

  Bonnie didn’t exactly share Zuannis's opinion of her husband, and after nodding in a noncommittal fashion, thought it best to change the subject altogether. “Seen Vladen around?” Bonnie asked. “He said he might be here to give me another checkup.” As the regional physician, Vladen covered a wide territory, and while he could always be reached by comlink—day or night—he was sometimes a hard man to catch in person.

  “Don’t think so,” Zuannis replied, “but when you do see him, you should have him run a scan on your Zetithian. Might find out why he's behaving so strangely.”

  Bonnie wasn’t sure that Lynx's attitude was the result of a
medical condition. “It's probably normal for him,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, Vladen has to have run one on him already—immigration requirements, you know.”

  “I suppose so,” Zuannis sighed. “Well, too bad about that.” Shaking her head sadly, she lumbered off with a regretful wave, leaving Bonnie to wonder just what in the world she’d been talking about.

  Drummond came by later—to buy enock eggs, he said, but Bonnie was pretty sure he only wanted to see how she was doing with her new man.

  Feigning disappointment that she had nothing left to sell but chicken eggs, he commented, “That boy I sent you ever show up?”

  “He's back at the farm,” Bonnie replied. “And thanks for sending him. He's already been a big help.”

  “Said much yet?”

  “No, you were right about him not being talkative— he's not particularly friendly, either.”

  “Well, if he gives you any trouble, you know who to complain to,” Drummond said heartily. “Just say the word, and I’ll zap his ass all the way back to that backwater world he came from.”

  “And what backwater world would that be?” asked Bonnie. “He hasn’t told me anything, and the way he acts, I don’t think I’ll ever ask.”

  “Place called Paemay,” Drummond replied. “One of those worlds where the natives wouldn’t have come up with space flight capability on their own, but they did have money—mostly from mining diamonds, I hear. Some technology, of course, but primitive customs—he was a slave, after all. Not many places hold with that sort of crap anymore, but how a Zetithian would wind up there beats the shit out of me. Though Cat did tell me once that a bunch of guys in his unit were sold as slaves after the war, which is how he knew Leo. Wouldn’t be surprised if they knew this one, too.”

  “Well, Cat and Leo must have had it a lot better than he did,” Bonnie said roundly, “because Lynx has got some very strange ways! He's very shy and secretive, and he certainly didn’t want to work for me. But like I said, he's already made a big difference at the farm. He probably won’t stay on once the mines start hiring again, but I’ll hang onto him as long as I can.”