Communion. Part 6

"Calm down, Eileen," Serba cuts off her tirade with a command. "I'm sure it wasn't intentional, and I don't think it caused any damage, however shocking it may have been. Your problem is you're jealous. It's time to grow up. Worry about the welfare of the jury for once."

In the distance we hear a zipper closing in on us from the direction of the main colony. As it comes over the trees I can see Madrin's strained face in the window. Please, all of you, I will be there in a moment. I think we need to talk, calmly, about whatever just happened.

Glim takes this time to re-don his shirt and sheathe his sword. Simple tasks give him a sense of order and stability. On the Stardust he would wash every day in precisely the same way. Glim uses ritual to channel his emotions and energy.

He would never yell at me for calling up supplies from the food porter in a different order, juice before caffe, toppings before toast. Nor would he remark if I set them out on the table in a haphazard manner. He would simply reorder each into its customary place, touching an item at a time, lips murmuring quietly.

I didn't find out until the end of the voyage that the order he imposed was an integral part of the Zehabi ritual of thanksgiving. And I only found out because I asked, not because he ever called me to task for my little game of disorder.

The zipper lands, and Madrin walks over, gravely concentrating on our jury. I feel slightly bewildered and guilty like an adolescent after she first learns to m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e.

"I think, perhaps, we should all sit. Homar," she notes the Calcedorn's unprecedented public appearance with no outward sign of shock, "are you comfortable enough to stay with us? Do you need anything in your present condition to remain here?"

"I am content at the moment. I imagine this morning's events overshadow even the occasion of my present exposure."

We follow Madrin over to a copse of MON's percasive orangish-leafed trees. We sit in a circle with Glim and me at opposite points of a diameter. Madrin settles on a large stone. We look for all the galaxy like a troop of campers about to hear a ghost story. "We had all heard the rumor, of course, that Jude and Glim were not only gifted telepaths, but also distinctive in their interaction with each other. But we were not warned of the effect this could have on the rest of our jury."

"Madrin," Glim answers, "this has never happened before. We do try to keep our physical contact within the constraints of a damping field, but we have touched, kissed, even been intimate on the rare occasion outside of it. In the past, neither we nor nearby telepaths have had this . . . reaction."

"It's the Pool," Elleen states.

"I don't know what caused it," I say. "But it was unexpected. Glim and I were ambushed as much as the rest of you."

"That being the case, I believe a certain amount of restraint would be prudent for now. Perhaps one of you is developing into a Monitor. For all our sakes, I think, for now, you two should cease all physical contact."

As Madrin p.r.o.nounces her verdict, I feel my dreams shred and float away on the wind. All reason for our self-imposed exodus, all hope for the freedom to build a new life is lost. I call to Tikki and run back into my cottage. Locking the door, I draw a near-scalding bath and sink into it crying. I hear knocking at the door and feel an occasional tentative Telen, but I ignore them all and sink into my tears and mist.

I wake to a tapping at the door. My eyes are swollen, and the sunlight paints the inside of my eyelids fire-red. Go away, I send, putting as much bite in my Telen as I can muster.

Never, comes the answer, warm and soothing in my mind. Glim. Jude.

I cannot answer.

Jude, please, we need to talk. I roll over onto Tikki who makes an unenthusiastic pillow; she mewls her complaint at me, then wriggles out and off the bed.

Jude, I know you're a wake. We need to talk. Things are not as bad as you think they are. Much has happened since you . . . left. Dear Glim, always the diplomat, when he isn't slicing and dicing.

I put on my robe, my d.a.m.ned MONean robe, and go to the door.

"What?" I cannot continue in mind speak. It only reminds me of how close we can no longer be. I stare at the slab of wood separating us and wonder how I could even go on separated permanently from Glim. This was not what we risked so much for. Maybe we should simply take off again in Stardust and cruise around until we die. For so long I never believed someone existed with whom I could share my life, from even before Discovery. How could lever survive happily without what Glim and I have shared?

"May I come in?"

For a moment I really consider just going back to bed alone and curling into a little ball. But this is Glim. Our shared history is powerful. The ostracism of not only our fellow jurors, but of all telepaths on Zehabus. The threats of the planer's most prominent anti-Tel group, SCM, Society for Closed Minds [or Sc.u.m as the Tels think of them]. Four and a half standard years locked together in a cell called Stardust. The dreams of the freedom to acknowledge, publicly, our feelings lot each other.

I owe him more than shutting him out, even now when those dreams are lost. With or without the dream, I love him. "Of course," I capitulate.

I lead him into the kitchen, and we sit at the small table across from each other. My eyes are gritty and my teeth fuzzy. Neither of us speaks.

Glim looks concerned and worried. I want to hold him, and my thoughts come full circle to why we're sitting here on opposite sides of the table rather than holding each other. Finally, "So, what has been decided for us now?" And how can we fight it?

"No, it's our decision, yours and mine. Madrin and I discussed this, rather heatedly at times, for most of the night. I don't think she realized how strongly this would affect us. The entire jury realizes, now, how much we share.

But it's possible that we pose some kind of danger or at the very least some serious distraction, if this happens again. So we compromised."

"How?" I ask, wondering what we have lost.

"To begin with, no physical contact outside an enhanced 'lectro-Mon."

"Enhanced how?"

Glim opens his fist and reveals a disrupter. "I've already installed one in my cottage. This is for yours. If you agree."

"But we've never disturbed anyone when we're under a 'lectro-Mon. Why do we need the disrupter?" I protest.

"It's the least Madrin will accept." Glim shrugs. Intellectually, I can understand the condition. Disrupter fields are effective, and most damping fields are installed in the bedroom where they are convenient to privacy and intimacy, if not limiting to spontaneity.

"What else?"

"Madrin will communicate with the closest Inst.i.tute to notify them that she wants Test us. She thinks that one or both of us may be developing into Monitors. She is confident that the Inst.i.tute will transmit any materials she needs.

"I have some misgivings; she may be trained as a telepist," Glim says, "but she is not a Monitor herself. I wonder if she is qualified to Test us. I guess we'll find out. I can't imagine that I'm a Monitor, though; if I gambled, my bet would be on you."

"What else?" More testing. I've spent more years in a school environment than anywhere else. First as a child, then a navigator, then a juror, now this. When shall I be free of tests?

"We work with the others on some experiments to learn more about the Ellysians."

Glim smiles and spreads his palms. "That's the deal."

"You love to negotiate, don't you," I say. "It's a good thing that it's one of your talents."

"I enjoy it most when the goals are worthy. Now, how would you like to take advantage of some of my other talents?"

With Glim's gaze on me, I become aware of how rumpled I must look. "At least let me rinse my mouth first. There's no telling what life forms are thriving in there."

"Ever the delicate flower," Glim laughs. "Since you've made it so enticing, why don't you just meet me 'neath the 'lectro-Mon?"

A slow grin gets the better of me. "Deal, but I'm not responsible for the condition of your clothes if you're not out of them by the time I get there."

In the bathroom, I rinse my mouth and wash my face. I hear a click and snap as Glim inserts the disrupter into the 'lectro-Mon. Then the rustle of his clothing. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror, eyes puffy with purplish circles under them. The last time I looked this unrested was right before we left Zehabus when Glim and I received a matched set of death threats from Sc.u.m. That was the moment that finalized our decision to come to MON.

Before I was Discovered, I had a steady life, not many highs, but certainly not many lows either. Life was an even journey.

After Discovery, the regularity of my existence was destroyed. After three months of training and therapy with mult.i.tudinous telepists, I was thrown into the most prestigious Court system this side of the galaxy, and trapped in the middle of a juridie melodrama. Murder, armed robbery, piracy, hate crimes. For the first time in my life I wondered about the depravity of sentient life.

Into this mind stepped Glim. Breeding from a long line of rich on Kelgar, he seemed to resonate in my mind even during the first case that we deliberated together. When we first broke taboo and touched-fingertip-to-fingertip, the result was electric. Never before had I anything of any account to lose. But having such a thing now, especially one as taboo as our relationship, I cannot help but fear losing it. And with that fear comes the knowledge that I will pay any price to keep it.

Maybe living alone together in the Stardust isn't such a bad alternative. Once we rate out the possibility of sunlight, fresh air, and unconstricted movement, a diet of love seems all we could possibly need.

Glim is waiting for me when I get to the bedroom. The soft yellow glow of the 'lectro-Mon bathes him and the room around him with an ethereal light. His nearly hairless chest, solid and chiseled, seems to float above the edge of the covers.