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has to offer.”
     
    They watched comedies in languages that she had to translate for Brin, but the jokes managed to cross species boundaries.
    When she found herself yawning, she glanced at the bedroom with trepidation.
    Brin sighed. “At your request, I did make you that sleeping gown.”
    “Fine. Okay. I just thought I would give you all the space you could want.”
    “The bed is just large enough for me length wise. You have seen the size of the capsule I was sleeping in. Rolling over is not an issue, and I would rather have you where I can find you.”
    She made a face.
    Brin looked at her with a serious expression. “Until we are anchored and I can provide a safe environment for you, I do not want you out of my sight.”
    She grimaced. “Isn’t that excessive?”
    “Whether you can access it or not, you are carrying a portion of the power of a dead world. You can carry it with you and learn to use it or be forced to use it. There are methods that are known to pull power out of you against your will, and this transitional time is the most vulnerable moment of your life.”
    He got to his feet and held out his hand. There was more order than request in his stance.
    Olena slapped her hand into his, and he pulled her to her feet. They entered the bedroom and she went to the folded pile of clothing and she selected her sleeping gown from the top of the pile. Since nudity wasn’t an issue after the day of fittings, she removed her top layers and slipped the gown on before she loosened her skirt and pulled off her boots.
    “You have a knack for changing without exposing much.”
    She glanced at him over her shoulder. “When I was growing up, I had a sister. We had to share a room, and it was better for my peace of mind to keep covered up while changing.”
    “What happened to her?”
    Olena blinked in shock that she had let that slip. “She was shot. She had a true enjoyment of the woods, and she was running through the foothills near our cabin when some poachers took a shot at what they thought was a deer. It wasn’t. She died on the way to the hospital.”
    “What happened to the poacher?”
    Olena made a face. “Nothing. He was considered punished enough by shooting his own daughter.”
    Brin came up behind her and placed his hands on her arms. Her new impulses wanted her to lean against him, but her self-sufficiency wanted to punch him in the abdomen. She settled for patting his left hand with her right.
    “So, that is why you are out here.”
    She shrugged. “My boss nagged me into it. I left home after the hearing and had to make my own way in the world. I ended up making whirligigs at a small shop in the valley.”
    “What is a whirligig?” His hands moved slowly on her arms.
    “It is a moving, wind-powered sculpture. It is a blend of gears and pulleys, blades and cups all moving as the wind blows.”
    Olena acknowledged that he was distracting her, and when he turned her in his arms and leaned down to kiss her softly, she also agreed that it was working.
    His skirt came off with a few sharp tugs, and he fell to the bed, taking her with him. They cuddled together and kissed softly as her mind cycled into a sleep pattern. As she curled against him, he held her with one hand on her back and another on her hips, pulling her tightly to his body.
    It was a strange night. She woke twice with her body heating rapidly, but Brin stroked her skin and eased his thigh between hers until she cooled and slept again.
    The morning arrived before she knew it.
     
    He used their sheets to make her a duffel bag and him another change of clothing. When he had her bag over his shoulder, he offered her his arm. “They are on their way into the space surrounding the station. They will be docked within the hour.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “They are my people. I can feel them. Well, they are mostly Lomit. The bloodline has diluted over the last few eons.” He shrugged. “They still know the language, so they