Stolen Dreams (14 page)

 

Gabriel stroked her
cheek.
"Considering the position we were in when I awoke, I will assume I did
not force myself on you this time."

 

She couldn't meet his
eyes, but she shook her head. "No, I ... I believe it was I who took you.
I'm afraid I don't remember."

 

Gabriel couldn't resist a small
joke. "Doesn't say much for either one of us, does it?"

 

Shara
made a face at him and sat up. With a quick scan of the tent, she
located their discarded jumpers and tossed his onto his lap. "I don't
see any humor in this situation."

 

"No, I don't suppose you
would."
As they both dressed, he suddenly became angry. Very angry. And he
wasn't going to put up with her bad humor or unreasonableness another
minute! "You know something? You're right. There's nothing funny about
this situation at all. But it's not my fault, and I'm sick and tired of
you treating me like it is!"

 

Shara turned on him in shock. "I
never said this was your fault!"

 

"Hah!"
Her denial fueled his frustration. "Every time I get near you, you
flinch away; every look you give me is suspicious. Drek, woman! You
touched my mind. You know I don't have the power to manipulate you."

 

"Then
who is doing it?" she shouted back at him. "What's happening to me?"

 

"I
certainly don't know, but losing your temper isn't the way to figure it
out!"

 

Breathing
heavily, they both glared at each other for several seconds as if
deciding whether to escalate their fight to physical blows.

 

Belatedly,
the perverse humor in this situation struck Shara and she quelled the
urge to laugh. "I never lose my temper," she stated as seriously as
possible.

 

He noted her attempt to smother a smile and felt his
anger slip away as quickly as it had come upon him. "Neither do I. Shall we find someone else to
blame for our loss of reason as well as our bodily control?"

 

Now
she felt foolish. She hated these quicksilver mood changes she had been
going through, but without understanding the cause, she didn't know how
to control them. "I'm open to suggestions."

 

He was relieved to
hear
that, though he wondered just how open she'd remain. "I told you I had
only seen these symptoms one time before. Until you were stricken, I
was certain it couldn't be the same problem, but now I think we may
have to consider the possibility."

 

When he hesitated, Shara
assumed the worst. "Is it ... incurable?"

 

"Not normally.
Before I explain, please understand, I'm only guessing. I could be
completely wrong."

 

Growing more impatient by the second, Shara
insisted, "Just tell me and get it over with."

 

"The
man I referred to was a Noronian also. The joining ceremony with his
chosen mate-to-be was scheduled to take place in a short time. She had
to make a brief business trip and was delayed in returning. By the
third day of her absence, his mating fever became so intense, he
descended into a deep coma."

 

Like every Noronian, Shara had
been
taught that she had someone destined to be her mate. When Noronians'
mating time arrived, usually about halfway through their lives, and the
two people found each other, they would be stricken with the mating
fever. Normally the couple realized they were meant for each other
right away and joined so that the fever had little or no chance to be
bothersome. The formal
joining was physical, mental, and spiritual, as their minds became one
in two bodies and their souls joined for all eternity.

 

Gabriel
was
waiting for Shara to draw her own conclusions, but she needed more
input. "What were his symptoms?" she asked, hoping his answer would
differ from what she expected him to say.

 

"High fever,
itching, red
corneas, violent body tremors, and finally the coma. During all of it,
his body remained in an aroused condition. He would become violent if
anyone tried to touch him. His mate-to-be returned, coupled with him,
and he had a miraculous recovery."

 

"It can't be the same," she
stated firmly, shaking her head.

 

He
shrugged. "You're the scientist. Consider the facts. We're both
Noronian; your Terran ancestry is recessive. I'm a male. You're a
female. The symptoms we are both suffering are most definitely those of
the mating fever, and we are relieved by coupling . . . whether we
remember doing it or not. Even the first time seemed somewhat
mind-stealing, especially when you had so vehemently denied any desire
to couple with me before."

 

"No. No! It can't be. There is no
way we
could be destined for each other. We weren't instantly drawn together
by a strong physical attraction. When my father first saw my mother,
even though she was an Outerworlder and forbidden to him, he knew.
Nothing could keep him from being with her. And my mother had had
dreams of him long before she arrived in Innerworld. She recognized him
as the man from her dreams the moment she saw him. You and I don't even
like each other half the time. It's impossible."           
 

 

"I
agree. It's absolutely impossible. I shouldn't reach my mating age for
another thirty or forty years, and you're even younger than I am."

 

Shara
frowned. "When my parents joined, they were almost the same ages we are
now, as were my father's parents. I'm afraid age is not a valid
negative in my case. There is a possibility that my time could have
come, but instead of being with my intended mate—"

 

"Wrong. It
doesn't work that way and you know it. Only one's true soulmate should
be able to put out the fire for someone in the throes of the mating
fever."

 

"But only one's true soulmate should be able to
trigger it
to begin with. Do you honestly believe I am yours?" His automatic
expression of dismay added a bit more acid to her caustic speech. "Of
course you don't. No more than I believe you could be mine. When I find
my mate, I'll know it's him the moment our eyes meet. When he puts his
hand on mine, I'll feel tingles of electricity run up my arm. We'll
have everything in common, and he'll love me, unconditionally, for
myself. Not because I'm a mixed-breed, or who my father is, or what I
can do for him!"

 

Though
he couldn't quite understand his
reaction to
her little speech, he felt that he had been insulted. "Your conception
of finding a mate sounds very romantic and if that's the way it's
supposed to be, I'm sure it will happen for you. I have a few
preconceived notions of my own. If I am destined to have a mate, she
would have to be an experienced traveler, have a mild disposition, a
good sense of humor, and a rational, mature attitude about physical
contact—none of which characteristics describes
you."             
 

 

He
noticed how she bristled at his words, but he continued before she
could start another argument. "Personally, I hope I never find a mate.
Not only do I prefer a solitary life, I am adamantly opposed to
altering my lifestyle or my career to satisfy another person's comforts
or interests. I've spent half my life running away from having people
inside my head. The last thing in the universe I want is to join with a
female who would become a permanent fixture in my mind."

 

"Good,"
Shara said stiffly, telling herself his negative opinion of her
character didn't matter in the slightest. "We're in agreement, then.
Whatever this is, it cannot be the actual mating fever, but a
simulation of it. The only thing I can figure is that something
happened during the time-hop that affected our bodies' metabolisms,
triggering the same symptoms as we would have experienced during our
mating time, and because we were physically touching at that moment, we
each became the target of the other's, um . . ."

 

"Desire?" he
finished for her, then tried to respond in the same clinical manner she
had used. "Continuing with that assumption, perhaps there's a logical
reason why the fever is reaching a peak while one or both of us is
unconscious. Neither one of us is willing to accept the fact that we
are destined to be mates. Though I have demonstrated a desire to couple
with you, you firmly rejected my advances . . . with one notable
exception." He paused to see if she would blush for him. She did, and
he considerately held back his knowing grin. At least whatever caused
the sparks of hostility between them had vanished.

 

"I would
never consciously force you to satisfy that desire.
Therefore, let me suggest another possibility that should at least be
considered. Although we do not accept this situation as the genuine
mating fever, our souls may not share our attitude on the subject.
Those entities may have taken it out of our hands by forcing us
together without our conscious-participation."

 

Shara held up
both
hands in protest. "I cannot accept that theory. I do not believe for
one moment that a spiritual power has taken over our minds and bodies
to force us to ... to ... have sexual relations against our will. For
that matter, it could be some alien being that we picked up during the
time-hop who's getting a vicarious thrill through us."

 

Though
she
was clearly upset and perfectly serious, Gabriel couldn't stop himself
from laughing. "At the very least we should be allowed to enjoy
ourselves while we're performing!"

 

"Very funny."

 

"I'm
sorry. This
situation seems to have put me in a peculiar mood. However, I do have
another, more constructive thought. If this is a simulation of the
mating fever and it was caused by the time-hop, another might take it
away again."

 

"I certainly hope so. I don't care to repeat the
last two nights indefinitely."

 

"Nor do I. What do you suggest,
madame scientist?"

 

Shara
pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to analytically separate her
feelings from the facts of their dilemma. "The only permanent cure to
the mating fever is to be joined. That solution is obviously
unacceptable. We are also agreed that the fever may disappear during
another time-hop. If not, it can surely be dealt with medically once we
return to our own time. Therefore, all we need is a temporary cure for
the symptoms."

 

"Which, as we have already discovered
firsthand, is coupling. Agreed?"

 

Shara took a deep breath.
"Yes, agreed."

 

"Since
I have made it quite clear that I have no objection to sharing my body
with you, it is up to you to set aside whatever personal resentments
you're harboring and be reasonable—"

 

"I am not unreasonable,
nor do I resent you . . . precisely. Just because my attitude toward
intimacy differs from yours—"

 

"Enough.
There is no need for further debate on the matter. I am attempting to
look at our problem in a purely scientific manner." Perhaps it was a
remnant from the fever, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to
maintain a serious expression. "We both need our wits about us to get
through whatever lies ahead. And if that means it becomes necessary
from time to time to satisfy our . . . biological urges ... I can only
recommend that we do so. As efficiently as possible, of course."

 

She
saw a twinkle in his eye and suspected he was secretly delighted that
she was being coerced into agreeing to the one thing she most wanted to
avoid. Under the circumstances, however, she had no logical rebuttal.

 

When
she made no reply, he took her hand in his and shook it in a very
businesslike manner. "It's agreed, then. I will expect you to tell me
when you need me to accommodate you, and I will do the same. Before the
fever becomes a hindrance or steals our consciousness."

 

Without
looking at him directly, she gave him a brief
nod, despite the fact that she had no idea where she would ever find
the nerve to ask him for such a favor if such a need arose again.

 

Gabriel
lifted her chin. "Did you get any sleep?"

 

"Not unless you
count my blackout. You?"

 

"Enough. If you require a nap, I can—"

 

"No.
Thank you. I keep thinking about the cataclysm. I'm sure that has to be
the event that pulled us here; we could even be sitting in the area
where the asteroid hit. In which case, we might not have the ten
seconds we'd need to escape."

 

Gabriel rubbed his jaw. "I was
thinking the same thing. Do you want to try to return?"

 

"Give
me one more hour .. . and some light. If I can't come up with anything
better, we'll reverse the hop we did."

 

Gabriel
fixed them a meal, recovered the barriers from outside, and stowed
everything in his satchel except the tent, while Shara went through
Lantana's notes and examined the tempometer one last time.

 

"I
don't believe it!" she exclaimed. "It was so simple, I completely
overlooked it."

 

"What?" Gabriel asked, instantly catching her
excitement.

 

"What's the difference between ten thousand and a
million?"

 

He angled his head at her. "Nine hundred ninety
thousand?"

 

"No.
Two zeros! Lantana didn't come out and state it anywhere, but there are
references I should have picked up on. He worked with a base of a
hundred. Instead of one year equals one, one year equals one hundred."
She was astounded that she could have missed something so easy.
Gabriel's suggestion
that spiritual forces were involved in what was happening to them came
back to her. Perhaps the same force had prevented her from seeing the
obvious until she and Gabriel had come to an agreement of sorts. Again,
she firmly rejected that possibility.

 

"I can have the tent
dismantled and packed in sixty seconds. If you hold the heater orb in
front of the tempometer, it should stay warm enough until I'm done."