The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [136]
“You’re wrong, Shran.”
Jhamel’s voice was speaking inside his mind. He turned to see her looking toward him, her sightless eyes now open, but as blind as always. “You can be a hero when you want to be. It wasn’t that long ago that you helped me defeat the Romulans that first time. As well as my grief over Gareb’s death.”
“Just as you helped me lay the ghost of Talas to rest,” Shran thought back to her.
But he wasn’t interested at the moment in rehashing the past; he was already far too focused on the future. He moved closer to the bed, and took her pale hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asked aloud.
She smiled weakly, and spoke aloud as well in a voice that was hoarse from disuse. “Tired. Hungry. Relieved. Sad.” She turned her face toward his. “We have to stop meeting when one or the other of us is confined to a bed.”
Shran allowed a short laugh to escape his lips. Their attraction to each other had first sparked when she’d visited him while he’d been recovering from being impaled on an icicle and was troubled by the death of his beloved Talas, and she was still hoping beyond hope for the rescue of her doomed brother, Gareb. He had been lying in bed, and awakened to see her then. Later, when Jhamel was recuperating after having used the telepresence helmet in an effort to help her brother, he had watched over her as she slumbered in a different biobed, and had held her hand, just as he was doing now.
“I’m glad you’re well,” Shran said.
A troubled look crossed her face. “And Vishri and Shenar? How are they?”
“Resting comfortably,” Shran said, casting another glance in the direction of Jhamel’s bondmates.
“They’re only resting because their minds aren’t linked with yours,” Jhamel said inside his mind. “Lucky for them: the agitated state of your mind could wake a hibernating frost boar!”
“I’m sorry,” Shran said, even though he saw her smile, and felt her affectionate, unvocalized laughter. “I can leave if it will help you rest.” He started to pull his hand away.
“No, stay!” Jhamel said aloud, pulling his hand back to hers, though weakly. “I was only teasing.”
“I liked what you were thinking about Theras a few moments ago,” she told him with her mind. “Please forgive me for eavesdropping.”
He smiled gently. “I have no secrets from you, Jhamel,” he thought in reply. At least, he didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. How she felt, of course, would have to remain to be seen.
“The path Theras chose was agony for him,” Jhamel thought. “But he did it to save us, and ultimately, to preserve the essence of himself.”
“I think I understand that now,” Shran said aloud, his voice soft.
“I’m not certain you do,” Jhamel thought. “Even I don’t think I understood it until the very end. He provided a future for me… for us.”
“What do you mean?” Shran thought back to her.
“We spoke aboard the transport ship, Theras and I, mind to mind. He said that during the entire time of our… captivity, he studied you quite closely. Mentally, physically, emotionally.”
Shran was alarmed, and lapsed back into speaking aloud. “Why? For what purpose?”
“It is possible that he had some inkling of what was to come,” Jhamel said, opting to use her voice again, perhaps in an effort to calm Shran. “He sometimes had premonitions. Perhaps he even saw his own death coming.”
Shran shuddered. He’d certainly stared death in the face many times, and had come away stronger each time. But he didn’t know the hour of his death, and would never want to.
“In his last moments, he told me,” Jhamel said, moving very gently back inside his mind.
He looked down at her, aware that his antennae had been unconsciously mimicking the movements of hers. “Told you what?” he asked.
“You are a thaan. Your genetics are compatible with those