Fatal Error - Keith R. A. DeCandido [5]
“In the literal sense, I can. Our effectiveness and ability to contribute to society is greatly lessened without a bondmate, however,” 110 said easily enough. But then, this had been indoctrinated into all Bynars from the moment they emerged from their birthing chambers. “That is why we traditionally rebond.”
“But don’t you bond from birth? I mean, how can you—” Bart cut himself off. “I’m sorry, I’m being nosy.”
“There does not appear to be anything amiss with your nose.”
Chuckling, Bart said, “One of these days, they’ll design a universal translator that handles idioms. No, I mean I’m asking a lot of probing questions.”
“I do not object. In fact, I appreciate having someone to talk to. Perhaps you could advise me.”
“About what?”
“You are in a stable, loving relationship, yes?”
Bart smiled a bright smile. “Very much so, yeah.”
“What would you do if your bondmate died?”
Recoiling as if he had been slapped, Bart straightened in his chair. 110 realized he had committed a blunder—he tended to forget how little some aliens appreciated straightforward speech.
Reaching a hand forward, 110 said, “I am sorry if I have—given offense. I—”
Bart shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay, really. I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that question—though I guess I should’ve.” He took a sip of his coffee. “The honest truth is—I haven’t the first clue what I’d do. It’s funny; if you add it up mathematically, I’ve spent more of my time without a mate than with one. And we don’t even get to spend that much time together, what with Starfleet and all. But I tell you, I can’t imagine being alone.”
110 leaned forward. “Really? So you do understand! We—I had assumed that others did not comprehend or share our total devotion to each other.”
“Well, I can’t speak for other races, but—well, humans may not have bonded pairs on the same level as you guys, but we can get pretty silly about each other,” Bart said with a chuckle.
“Our experiences led us to think otherwise. Commander Gomez and Lieutenant Commander Duffy, for example.”
Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what the story is with those two.”
“But if something did happen to your mate, would you rebond? Find another to love?”
Blowing out a breath, Bart said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t looking for a relationship when we met, it just sort of . . . happened. So, I suppose it could happen again. But I doubt I’d be in any kind of rush to get involved with someone else—and I seriously doubt I could find anyone as wonderful.”
“The problem is—” 110 hesitated. What he was about to say would shock his fellow Bynars to their very cores. “I am not sure that I wish to rebond.”
Shrugging as he took another sip of coffee, Bart said, “So, don’t.”
“You do not understand—we must rebond.”
“Hold off, you just said it wasn’t necessary.”
“Biologically, it is not. Culturally is a different matter altogether. If I do not rebond, I will be considered an outcast from Bynar society. I will lose my name and be deleted from the master file. But the alternative is even more difficult for me to contemplate. Like you, I cannot imagine my life without 111. I would rather die than bond with another.”
Tensing somewhat, Bart said, “You’re not thinking about—”
Remembering that this was another subject about which humans were touchy, 110 quickly said, “No, I am not contemplating suicide.” This was not entirely truthful—110 had wanted very much to die with 111 at the end, rather than have to endure without her, but he hadn’t been given a choice. And now, truly, the idea of killing himself was not one he was comfortable with. But at the time . . .
He continued. “From the perspective of my people, if I do not rebond, I will be dead. I do not know if I am ready for that—but I also know I cannot bond with another, at least not now. I will not sully 111’s memory that way. That is why I wish your advice.”
Bart started to