“Hmm. That’s a problem.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow in a way that would have made Poppy proud, were she there to see it. “What kind of problem?”

  Rhodes shrugged. “It’s…near Betelgeuse, so pretty far off course.”

  She simply could not help herself. “If I say that name three times, will it summon a trapped demonic ghost?”

  “Possibly?” The captain of her heart smiled at her, but the warmth of the smile faded nearly immediately. “You could try it. But what works in movies doesn’t always work in deep space. In this case, even if you said it three times we would still be so far off course we’d have to find another wormhole to get anywhere near where we want to go.”

  Oh, no, not another wormhole. Not so soon. They hadn’t had time for all the sex in ages, and Grace was getting fidgety. Space travel really was a disaster in a lot of ways. She swallowed hard, but there was no use in pretending she could be any sort of help at all with this particular problem. “I guess the Big Book of Planets, Outposts, and Rampant Galactic Curiosities doesn’t have anything in it that would help?”

  “Not really, although it does have a listing of all registered wormholes that are known to bring travelers anywhere close to the Pleiades. Gretel, do you have a more updated database?”

  IF I DID, SIR, YOU WOULD BE THE FIRST TO KNOW.

  The sigh he let out was so sad, so heartfelt, and so the opposite of the mescaline high that Grace knew in her heart that any remnants of that particular psychedelic experience had gone the same way as their chances of getting to Tyche-A, or to Neo Sybaris which, in Grace’s thoughts, had become the syphilis planet. At least that was a name she could remember.

  Once he was done sighing, Rhodes nodded in a definitive sort of way. “Well, then, I guess we’d better prepare for a long, long ride.”

  “Is there a reason we don’t want to stop at B-13 Pheme? Anything I ought to know about it?”

  Rhodes waved his hand in a waffling motion that did not leave trails of high hopes in its wake. “It’s all gossip and supposition there. Like slogging through mud.” He leaned closer, as if whispering had some innate power of its own. “It’s one of the failed experiment planets.”

  “Like…all soap opera hysterical backtalk all the time?” The notion put Grace into a fit of giggles, which tasted purple before circling their way around the walls of the ship. “I think we can do without that. Also, being stuck on a long, long ride through space with you is far from the worst fate I can imagine.”

  “You’re my heart.” Rhodes’s entire face crinkled into a smile so endearing Grace wanted to swallow it whole. Of course, that reminded her that she was pretty hungry, as usual. She had needs! She was human! Her body required all kinds of nourishment on all kinds of levels.

  There might be time for all the sex after all. But first, there was something else she wanted to do. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with food or with sex, or with having to sleep, pee, or otherwise demand attention. Except for one thing. Grace reached for her Lazy Daisy’s bag, which was conveniently intact, slung over the back of her first mate chair.

  Wow, she had a lot of crap in this bag. She set aside the old bubble gum wrappers, an emergency tampon, keys to the apartment she’d likely never be in again, a plastic comb, one small and one large box of paper clips, a tube of Pumpkin Pie ChapStick so old it had fossilized, a wet wipe, one solo sock she thought had gone missing from her laundry years ago, a travel sewing kit missing the plastic thimble, and a plethora of old receipts from The Bragging Bagel. She missed that place like burning, although Frying Burrito Bros wasn’t a terrible substitute. Besides, all the food there was voluntary, and that counted for something.

  There, finally, she came up with what she’d been looking for—oh, wow, that’s where her bra ended up—a small spiral notebook and her favorite fine-tipped Sharpie pen.

  Holding them up in triumph, she waved them at Rhodes.

  “Are you planning on attacking me with writing supplies?” He grinned so hard, she could feel the love pouring out of him in her direction.

  “We’ll save that for later.” Grace felt a light inside that had been diminished since she’d last needed a sense of purpose. “Unless you have objections, I, Grace Emily Robinson, formerly of California on Earth, am going to pen a letter to the Ouranian authorities requesting that they grant you a safe return to your home planet.” She had no idea how they’d actually send said letter, but hey, one step at a time.

  “I love you fiercely.” Rhodes nodded, sat back in his chair, and thought a small lap desk into existence for her.

  Grace rested her elbow on it, feeling both very academic and very much at home.

  The thing about that particular notebook was that it was sort of magical, in Grace’s estimation. She’d used it as a type of diary from time to time, especially when she was desperate. A full 78% of the time, whatever she wrote down came to pass. Huh, her brain was really getting good at rationalizing percentages these days. It was more than residual Rhodes power, too; she’d been getting better at it even before he shared the magical inner workings of his universal knowledge with her, twice. Maybe it would be like that all the time now when he popped into her brain. She hoped so, even as she focus, Grace, focused herself into concentrating on this letter.

  Dear Ouranian Authorities, she wrote, then stuck the end of the pen in her mouth so she could think out all the thoughts necessary. Actually, she already knew that she wanted to threaten them into letting Rhodes—and herself, as part of the package—back onto the planet without any repercussions. After all, she’d hydra-sphinxed the OFSF foxes into leaving them alone. She wanted also to prove that Earth and by association Earthlings weren’t doomed or stupid, that they could evolve in ways Ouranians had stopped imagining. But because she was neither doomed nor stupid, she didn’t truly believe that threatening the entire Ouranian governing structure, or at least its law enforcement arm, was the way to go.

  Ouranians, as far as she could tell, were in love with the concept of intelligence. She’d just have to out-intelligence them.

  Aha. Now her brain was getting back on track.

  As you know,

  She crossed out know.

  Are well aware, Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter has been banned from returning to the planet he loves. The home he grew up in. The world he knows. As his frequency twin, formerly from the planet Earth in the Solar System and now his partner in eternity, I humbly request

  She crossed out humbly request.

  Demand that we be granted safe passage back to Ourania. We bring with us a great number of crystals aligned in vibration to Ourania’s core, under the working hypothesis that these crystals will help regenerate the fading potency of the core. I personally believe that infusing anything with new life is enough to spark an entire revolution. This has certainly been my experience since engaging with my frequency twin and life partner.

  Additionally, we bring gifts to you from around the galaxy, in the form of increased knowledge and no small proficiency with understanding the ever-evolving map of the universe.

  While we realize the Ouranian Fury Security Force holds a list of infractions allegedly committed by Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter, most of those have long since reached the statute of limitations in most civilized societies across the galaxy, per Egaleo and Moschato (ref The Big Book of Planets, Outposts, and Rampant Galactic Curiosities, 7th ed.). We therefore await the dismissal of all charges.

  In exchange for safe passage and access to the planet Ourania in the star cluster Pleiades, we will provide authorities with our crystals as well as with proof that the intangible qualities of finding one’s vibrational twin are in fact attainable, and bring more benefits than previously understood.

  We send this missive from the spacecraft OU-A394927PSI-9000, which has bonded as an entity in its own right to both Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter and to myself, Grace Emily Robinson of California on Earth, and which now bears galactic diplomatic plates per the government of Europa, Moon of Jupiter.

  There! She figured she had them between a rock and a hard place with the diplomatic plates business, at least.

  Sincerely, and with agape, Grace E. Robinson, on behalf of Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter who is too busy proving vibrational science fact to put pen to paper and write you himself. Also, he is poised to consent to accept your official apology as soon as it is proffered.

  “Proffered” was a pretty good word. She hadn’t used it much in her everyday Earth life, but it sounded official. Nodding to herself, she smiled and capped her Sharpie pen. When she looked up, Rhodes was watching her intently.

  “Here, read it.” She handed it over, eager to see his beautiful speed-reading brain at work now that time and space were no longer misbehaving and also, that they were bobbing along through the wormhole at speeds that weren’t making her want to lose the lunch she hadn’t eaten.

  Mmm. Tacos. If only they were nearer to the Pleiadean star system. But that could wait, because at the moment Rhodes was reading her words, and his eyes were softening so much as he did so that they were in danger of trickling into rivulets and running right off his face. As soon as he’d scanned and digested her intention—not in a narrativorous way, fortunately, because she didn’t want to have to write it out again—he gave her the most radiant and heartfelt smile. She actually felt it, deep inside her soul, wrapping itself around her heart.

  “You’re remarkable,” he said so softly Grace was sure his words were meant only for her ears and no one else’s—like that was actually possible on this ship. But she’d take it. “As soon as we’re within range, we’ll send it. All we need to do is type it into our outgoing message library. Either that, or ask Gretel to scan it for us.”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hand her words over to Gretel. After all this time, and after sharing all that brain space, and after keeping the secret about the image of Rhodes emblazoned on Gretel’s four-poster curtains private, she was pretty sure that if they didn’t trust one another now, they never would. But keying it in herself would really make it feel officially like something she’d done. Something she alone had made happen, if the authorities granted her demands and said “cool, Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter, welcome back with open arms and open hearts, we’ve really missed you all this time. Know you are valued.”

  Not being valued was something Grace knew a little about. It wasn’t a good feeling, ever, in her estimation. Rhodes had done so much for her in such a short period of time, she couldn’t wait to repay the favor. Reaching for the letter, she folded it in half and tucked it into her shirt. “I’ve got this.”

  She felt no small amount of satisfaction when he followed the motion with hunger in his eyes. It had been way too long since their last long, luxurious intimate vacation to the shores of whatever fantasy ocean they’d visited. Grace was nowhere near reaching the point of boredom during sex with Rhodes.

  Actually finding the keyboard entry on the console was easier than Grace had expected. The workings of the ship were almost starting to make sense to her. Nothing was as automatic yet as making coffee, but she typed each word with the sort of relish she usually reserved for ball park hot dogs. Oh, baseball. She wasn’t the world’s hugest fan by any stretch, but she did wonder what form sports might take out here in the dark depths of space.

  In the meantime, there were no more wormhole-based interruptions. Gretel floated along through the void with the occasional cheerful chirrup or other sound of binary-based satisfaction at a job well done. When Grace finished entering the letter and Rhodes had shown her how to queue it for sending once they were within some sort of range of transmissions to Ourania that wouldn’t take light-years, she sat back in her chair feeling hella pleased with herself.

  “Do you realize that since we left Ouranian airspace we’ve been bounced back and forth like a ball of gum in a machine, never knowing when the little metal door is going to open or whose hand we’ll fall into?” The realization didn’t fill her with nearly as much dread as it might have a few scant whatevers ago. She really was learning to take things one day at a time, go with the flow, and be open to whatever the universe handed them.

  “Are you still drunk on me?” Rhodes smiled, but behind it was something a little sad, a little urgent.

  “Dude, I am always and forever tripping on your fabulous presence.” She could say that now, because the mescaline might have worn off but she was still as high on him as ever. “I’m under the impression that we will never stop learning together and never stop having new experiences together. We won’t turn into that couple who snipe loudly from different rooms because we can’t stand the sight of each other.”

  A look of abject horror took up residence on Rhodes’s pretty, elastic, mobile Ouranian face. “Earth people do that?”

  “All the time.” Grace nodded. “I mean, there’s companionable silence, and then there’s just being sick of one another and punishing each other by not talking. Personally, I’m such a blabbermouth I can’t imagine doing the not-talking thing.” But she knew it. She’d done it. Usually when she was too chickenshit to end a relationship, or the other person was, but they both knew it was time. “Dude, make me a promise. If you ever get bored with me, tell me and drop me off at the nearest Frying Burrito Bros. I don’t ever want to be the thing that drags you down.”

  “My definition of love doesn’t work that way,” he said so softly Grace almost missed it. “You asked if there was some version of marriage or a promise of forever in Ouranian society. Most couples there form a sort of casual, non-binding relationship with one another. They’re a little like pizza: great together at first, but then when the pepperoni gets cold, it’s greasy and nowhere near as delicious.”

  Oh, wow, she missed pizza. Grace’s stomach growled out loud. But she got exactly what he was saying with that description.

  “So they stay together until it’s not so delicious, then find someone else to heat their seat, or float their boat, or trick their mind into thinking they’re The One.” Rhodes reached for her hands, taking them both into his. “But you and me, Grace—we’re destined. We have the same frequency. That opens up entire worlds of emotional freshness that most Ouranians never achieve. We’ll be the envy of my world, if they ever let me back onto its surface. We are proof that the old mythologies are science fact rather than science fiction. We will prove them completely wrong when anyone says it’s impossible. That the odds might be one in a million or even less likely, but if you search and search and don’t give up, you will find your heart’s desire and perfect evolutionary match, and the original Atlanteans knew how it worked. They were not casual in their relationships. The world was smaller then, and vibrations less diffuse and complex, but they bonded for life.” He squeezed her hands gently, but the power of his passion flowed freely between them. “Like you and me.”

  Holy wow. A statement like that would have scared Earthling Grace into fleeing. Just like she’d done when she was sixteen and left home, determinedly throwing away the shackles of a family she’d always felt had done exactly what Rhodes described—only loved its pizza toppings while they were sizzling hot. But Space Traveler Grace devoured the responsibility that came with forever. Only a small part of that was because she was in a vast stellar field of the unknown. Most of it—at least 93.75%—was because she felt so attached to Rhodes that he was the very air she breathed. She couldn’t imagine being apart from her frequency twin, now that she’d found him. “We are like the planets revolving around the sun together.” She squeezed his hands in turn. “From the first minute we touched, you opened my mind to that possibility. Because face it, no sane Earth girl in her formerly right mind would give everything up for the stranger she met at speed dating, no matter how adorable he was, without doing a whole lot more research on his background. But you showed me in about ten minutes that the universe held so much more potential than I ever imagined, and like an addict, I keep wanting more of it. So yes, Rhodes the Fourteenth of Demeter—and I still want to hear about the thirteen other Rhodeses of Demeter who came before you—I am still completely drunk on you.”

  It was true now that she didn’t automatically orgasm every time he touched her, so maybe they were getting used to each other a little bit. But it was equally true that their experiences went far beyond that now. Each time they’d had all the sex, her brain had expanded more and more, including other things beyond the simply—oh, oh, oh, he’d just sent her the most amazing sexual high she’d ever—oh, holy wow, it filled her with so much love, so much satisfaction, it was Prince’s Raspberry Beret in molten lava form flowing through her nerve endings.

  “Yeah,” she panted, flushing. “We’re still good. I’m so glad I gave you consent for forever.” Grace squirmed a little in her seat, not caring about the sensors, not caring about anything except the fluttering in her veins and heart and brain, the utter love she felt for the Sexiest Man Alive, and the realization that she didn’t care anymore if they spoke aloud or in each other’s brains because they were already so wrapped up in each other that it just didn’t matter.

  “I think we’ve started merging.” Grace purred, readjusted in her seat, and couldn’t stop grinning. “Because I love you, and I still want that forever thing with you. My very own space renegade.”

  Rhodes laughed, and his own face had a special glow to it. She knew what that meant—she’d sent him his own Cap’n Crunch or whatever term her brain wanted to assign to their ever-expanding repertoire of sexual satisfaction. One of these days, they’d have to try old-fashioned physical sex to see how it compared. But only if there was a condom shop in the dark deepness of space, because bonded or not, Grace did not want to become pregnant should they be evolutionarily compatible along those lines.

  So she changed the subject. “You said this wormhole is going to spit us out near Betelgeuse, right? Where’s that, in relation to everything else?”

 

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