Read Online Serpent's Gift by A. C. Crispin, Deborah A. Marshall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. C. Crispin, Deborah A. Marshall
Ads: Link
Rodriguez.
By the time he was finished, class was over. Free at last! Serge hastily thrust his notes and computer link into his case, then plunged into the crowded corridor. Yesterday at about this time he'd escorted Heather to her room, and it would only be natural, he told himself, for him to stop by and see how she was doing.
40
He crossed his fingers that Hing would be there, too. Last night he'd barely slept at all. Memories had filled his mind, repeating over and over in a chaotic whirl of images. The first time he and Hing had met, at the Spiral Arm, the Academy's student hangout. The time that she'd done Lady Macbeth and he'd designed and constructed the scenery for the play. Their first kiss, backstage after opening night. Dates, walks in the botanical garden, trips in the shuttle up to StarBridge Station for dinner or a show, shopping together, the time he had won the low-gee gliding championship for the second year running and Hing had come running up to him as he'd stood clutching his trophy. ..
Most vividly of all, he recalled the first time they'd made love. Self-conscious about his hands, he'd been afraid to caress her skin or even touch her clothes to undress her, though he'd known that was what she wanted. It was his first time, and she had to have realized that--just as he'd been sure that it wasn't her first time.
As he'd hesitated, she had kissed him tenderly, solemnly, then gave him an impish grin and ostentatiously linked her fingers behind her neck. "No hands," she announced. "Anyone using hands loses the game."
"What game?" Serge asked, amused despite his apprehension.
"The one I just invented," she declared, leaning toward him. Slowly, hesitantly, Serge followed her example .. .
They hadn't been able to play the "game" long, but by the time they abandoned it, laughing and gasping, it hadn't mattered anymore. Things had been fine--better than fine. Wonderful. Serge had never felt so right, so in accord with the universe. It had been like playing perfect music ...
But step by step with the good times, the bad memories had kept pace, making him toss and turn; words he should have said, things he should have done, statements and accusations he would give anything to take back. He'd been a fool to let her go, to drive her away, a stupid, stupid fool, and that lesson, learned every night for the past six lonely months, was not one he could or would forget.
But yesterday, Hing had smiled at him, at first diffidently, then, when he'd escorted Heather to her room, with real warmth. And for the first time, he'd thought that maybe it didn't have to be over ... maybe, if he were patient, more willing to share, maybe he could get her back . . .
Maybe . ..
41
Checking his watch, Serge muttered a Heeyoon imprecation under his breath (roughly translated it meant: "may parasites torment thee in midsummer") because he was running late. Quantum Physics started in fifteen minutes, and the class was not one he could afford to cut. He quickened his stride until he was nearly running down the corridor.
Even though his official status at StarBridge Academy was Assistant Instructor, Serge still attended classes at the Academy-- though he'd stopped kidding himself over a year ago that he'd ever become an interrelator. He'd had to recognize that he simply didn't have the empathy, patience, and stability to live on an alien planet as a career diplomat. . . even though his language skills were excellent and his grades in the top five percent.
For one thing, the young man's Social Adjustment Index was too low, and for another, Doctor Blanket said he wasn't ready to take on an assignment. That had clinched it, because no would-be interrelator graduated from StarBridge until Doctor Blanket pronounced him, her, or seloz (the Mizari pronoun that was used for neuters) ready.
At first Serge had considered leaving the Academy, but there wasn't anything else he wanted to do. His parents had never forgiven him for not
By the time he was finished, class was over. Free at last! Serge hastily thrust his notes and computer link into his case, then plunged into the crowded corridor. Yesterday at about this time he'd escorted Heather to her room, and it would only be natural, he told himself, for him to stop by and see how she was doing.
40
He crossed his fingers that Hing would be there, too. Last night he'd barely slept at all. Memories had filled his mind, repeating over and over in a chaotic whirl of images. The first time he and Hing had met, at the Spiral Arm, the Academy's student hangout. The time that she'd done Lady Macbeth and he'd designed and constructed the scenery for the play. Their first kiss, backstage after opening night. Dates, walks in the botanical garden, trips in the shuttle up to StarBridge Station for dinner or a show, shopping together, the time he had won the low-gee gliding championship for the second year running and Hing had come running up to him as he'd stood clutching his trophy. ..
Most vividly of all, he recalled the first time they'd made love. Self-conscious about his hands, he'd been afraid to caress her skin or even touch her clothes to undress her, though he'd known that was what she wanted. It was his first time, and she had to have realized that--just as he'd been sure that it wasn't her first time.
As he'd hesitated, she had kissed him tenderly, solemnly, then gave him an impish grin and ostentatiously linked her fingers behind her neck. "No hands," she announced. "Anyone using hands loses the game."
"What game?" Serge asked, amused despite his apprehension.
"The one I just invented," she declared, leaning toward him. Slowly, hesitantly, Serge followed her example .. .
They hadn't been able to play the "game" long, but by the time they abandoned it, laughing and gasping, it hadn't mattered anymore. Things had been fine--better than fine. Wonderful. Serge had never felt so right, so in accord with the universe. It had been like playing perfect music ...
But step by step with the good times, the bad memories had kept pace, making him toss and turn; words he should have said, things he should have done, statements and accusations he would give anything to take back. He'd been a fool to let her go, to drive her away, a stupid, stupid fool, and that lesson, learned every night for the past six lonely months, was not one he could or would forget.
But yesterday, Hing had smiled at him, at first diffidently, then, when he'd escorted Heather to her room, with real warmth. And for the first time, he'd thought that maybe it didn't have to be over ... maybe, if he were patient, more willing to share, maybe he could get her back . . .
Maybe . ..
41
Checking his watch, Serge muttered a Heeyoon imprecation under his breath (roughly translated it meant: "may parasites torment thee in midsummer") because he was running late. Quantum Physics started in fifteen minutes, and the class was not one he could afford to cut. He quickened his stride until he was nearly running down the corridor.
Even though his official status at StarBridge Academy was Assistant Instructor, Serge still attended classes at the Academy-- though he'd stopped kidding himself over a year ago that he'd ever become an interrelator. He'd had to recognize that he simply didn't have the empathy, patience, and stability to live on an alien planet as a career diplomat. . . even though his language skills were excellent and his grades in the top five percent.
For one thing, the young man's Social Adjustment Index was too low, and for another, Doctor Blanket said he wasn't ready to take on an assignment. That had clinched it, because no would-be interrelator graduated from StarBridge until Doctor Blanket pronounced him, her, or seloz (the Mizari pronoun that was used for neuters) ready.
At first Serge had considered leaving the Academy, but there wasn't anything else he wanted to do. His parents had never forgiven him for not
Similar Books
