Riaan

               

“You all will stay with us tonight,” Kellam insisted.  “I have no intention of feeding you and turning you out with nowhere to go. Unless your home is nearby, of course, then off with you!” he shouted with a laugh. Oil lamps placed every 10 meters or so received attention from a fellow with a long lighter tool walking from lamp to lamp. They didn’t help much, but would keep a person from falling off the edge of a road into a gully.

               They had only taken a few minutes to reach Kellam’s home road. Jon had enjoyed the walk in the crisp evening air. Samuels and Laskin smiled and strolled behind the two older men, discussing something between them. The home was nestled atop a knoll covered with a grove of trees. On each side of the home road, a slight uphill climb, it appeared that a variety of different plants and bushes grew in neat rows. In the dusk it was difficult to tell what they were growing, but the plotting indicated food crops, maybe herbs, and animal fodder.

               A young boy maybe 8 earth years of age came running down the road from the house. “Papa,” he shouted, calling to Kellam. He carried an oil lantern and came to a quick stop in front of the party.

               “Berrigaan, I’ve missed you my boy!”

               “Mama said you were bringing home friends!”

               “Yes, these are the people I wrote about.”  Everyone stood where the boy had met them. Dusk had given way to nightfall and the only light in the sky was one of the moons, the other two being dark. “Berrigaan, these are the Jons,” he said. “This is Jon, Laurel, and Laskin. Jons,” he said turning to them, “my son, Berrigaan.”

               “The pleasure is all ours,” Archer said but remembered the handshake was not customary, and instead nodded at the young man. He was a miniature version of Kellam but with dark hair and eyes. The ridges on each side of his forehead seemed more pronounced in proportion to his size than the adults’ ridges.

               “Mama’s prepared a pheasant pie and all kinds of vegetables with nectar and tea! I was afraid you might never get here!”

               The small group chattered lightly for the final few steps to the home. From outside the fragrance of onions, poultry, and greens lured them closer to the door. Kellam burst in followed by Berrigaan, and then the party of strangers. Kellam took no time in finding his wife and kissing her. She was petite compared to Kellam.

               Berrigaan bounced off to the kitchen leaving the adults to their adult activities. The home was lit with oil lamps; dozens and dozens of books lined the shelves along the wall nearest the door.

               “My Sweet, these are the new friends I told you about,” Kellam said, pulling his wife around to where the trio stood just inside the door. Her face was kind, intelligent, and inquisitive. Unlike Kellam, she was like the boy – fair skinned with nearly black hair and liquid brown eyes. Jon blinked a couple times, and took a second look at her gentle face, her shoulders, her hair, and swallowed hard.

               “This is my dear wife, Berrigaan’s mother, Riaan.” 

Catastrophe

               Archer knew immediately who stood before him arm in arm with his friend, Kellam. The gentle waves in her hair, the heart shaped outline of her lips, it all caressed and slapped him at the same time. Did she remember him? Did Kellam see the light in his eyes that would give away his feelings, the feelings he had for his friend’s wife? He felt invisible, as if everyone else in the room could see right through him, read his thoughts, hear his heart pounding.

               “It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you,” Jon said quietly, looking down just enough to avoid eye contact with Riaan. “This is Samuels, and Laskin,” he introduced, looking at his crew, maintaining perfect composure as if a phaser were held to his head. Indeed, it might very well have been. No one shook hands, of course, but heads nodded politely all around.

               “The Jons,” Kellam added and turned to the officers. Archer stepped back out of the way of Kellam’s friendly cuff on the shoulder with his fist but it wasn’t back quite far enough. “I think they are ready for real cooking by a country woman,” he told Riaan, and he touched her cheek gently with one finger.

               “Everyone come and sit down, the meal isn’t ready just yet. I’ll fetch some tea.” Riaan hesitated for half a second and looked Jon straight in the eye, then turned to go to the kitchen. He was the only one who knew. She hadn’t recognized him. He wasn’t sure if he should be hurt or relieved. He stepped into the main room where Samuels and Laskin had taken seating on handmade furniture. Archer joined them and focused his attention on the conversation best he could. He heard words but they just kind of floated around the room, not really making any sense.

               Riaan was as beautiful that moment as the first time he saw her pointing a small cross bow at him. Her hair was shorter, past her shoulders but not to her waist, and was still as black as the feathers of a raven. Her dress was long but more exotic, with heavy golden fibers designed like flowers and birds woven into the pale heather fabric.  But nothing else caught his attention as did the curiosity expressed in her eyes.

               “ – you think, Jon?” came words out of nowhere. He looked at Kellam, nodded, and focused on the conversation.  “Maybe three or four annuals, but I hope not that long.”

               “At the rate the reactors are being built, I don’t think it will take more than one and you’ll all be lit up, cooking and pumping water from the wells with electricity,” Laskin added.

               “I have no need for that,” Riaan called from the kitchen. She carried in a tray with a decanter and several ceramic drinking vessels. “Berrigaan,” she called towards the other end of the home while setting the tray on a low table in the center of the room.  Jon wasn’t sure if the slight fragrance of jasmine was the tea or Riaan as she passed by.

               Laskin suddenly looked at Archer. They sat side by side on the bench; Archer felt Laskin’s gaze but didn’t acknowledge it. 

               “Are you alright, sir?  Um, Jon?”  Archer looked at the crewman who had been trained as a medic, a first responder, a nurse, and a psychologist.  The man should be an officer, Archer thought to himself.  Then he nodded, still unable to get words out for the moment. What had tipped him off? Archer drew a deep breath and pulled himself back into an admiral.