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  "Michael."

  Again, Mike gave no response. She knelt next to him. She so wanted to gather him up in her arms and comfort him, but she knew the pain it would cause, so she held back. Again, her hand reached out and stroked his hair gently. Quietly, almost to herself, she began to speak.

  "Oh Michael, what have I gotten you into," she said almost in a whisper. "If I hadn't been such a stubborn fool, none of this would have happened." She looked at his broad shoulders and smooth skin. "I never will forget how you looked as you stood in front of me to keep them from hitting me, or the pain in your eyes as they beat you. I so wish I could have done something to stop them." She tried to hold back the tears, but they began to flow despite her efforts. "All these years I've spent making friends and I don't think any of them would have done what you did." She sniffed quietly and then smiled down at him. "If anyone had said that I'd be spending the night sleeping in the same room with you I would have laughed. But right now, I don't know anyone else I would rather be with. If I weren't such a fake, I'd have realized all this by now. Maybe it's not too late." She bent down and kissed him lightly on the head. "Sleep well Michael. Get well for me," she said. Then she quietly got up and moved to her bed. The weariness was taking its toll and she felt each movement deep in her bones, but for some reason she didn't feel sleepy. She lay on top of the sheets and stared with teary eyes at the ceiling.

  In the other bed, Mike lay still. Facing away from Jo, his eyes were open, and a tear dropped from one of them onto his pillow.

  Aboard the Lexington, Captain Dickson was getting more and more anxious. He clearly didn't like sitting on the sidelines while other people did all the work. Yet he was forced to wait until the two leaders made their plans. Already his crew had witnessed a number of atrocities against the people of the planet by Levid and his crew. Something had to give.

  He was quietly reading some history about the wars in the early 20th century and was surprised that in a number of occasions small parties made a much larger impact than major forces. In particular, during the Second World War in the Philippines, guerilla forces constantly kept Japanese troops at bay through quick, incisive moves. Suddenly a light seemingly started shining in his head. I wonder, he thought. Pressing his call button he said, "Dickson to Lieutenant Hadaie."

  “Hadaie here, Captain," came the reply.

  "Could you come to my cabin for a moment?" Dickson asked.

  "On my way, sir."

  Dickson sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. Slowly a smile appeared on his face as his plan formed. In a moment, there was a buzz at the door.

  "Come."

  Hadaie entered the room and stood in front of the Captain's desk. "May I be of assistance, sir?"

  "You most certainly can, Lieutenant," the Captain said. "You are familiar with the situation on the planet, of course?"

  "Of course, sir."

  "I have been reading of the use of guerilla warfare in various wars through the centuries and I think there may be a way to slow our Mister Levid down somewhat," he said. "What I'd like for you to do is use your imagination to find ways to interrupt Levid's efforts. Sabotage his plans, make him misstep, and in general gum up his works. I'd like you to give him a few black eyes without him knowing who did it, or better yet, with him believing them to be accidents. Do you think you can do that?" Dickson asked with a grin.

  "I believe so sir,” Hadaie said. "We are monitoring his movements and transmissions. There may be some ways to interfere without detection," he said.

  "Good. I will leave what you do to your discretion, but please let me know what is going on. I may like to watch," the Captain said.

  "Yes, sir,” Hadaie said, turning to leave. He exited the Captain's cabin and went to his own. It was a Spartan existence he had chosen aboard ship. The bulkheads of his cabin were bare and gray. Even his furniture coverings were what some would consider drab. But this was perfect to Hadaie. Bright colors and decorations took the mind away from its work. He even resisted sleep so that his mind could perform additional mental tasks. Stopping at the food dispenser, he punched in a code and a drink soon appeared in the receptacle. He took the time to take a sip and then went to work. Sitting before his computer console, he placed his hands on the top, allowing his fingers to rest against it. Almost immediately, the viewscreen began to fill with images, even though Hadaie’s eyes had closed. Not once did his hands move, but the computer began operating at lightning speed. First came the reports of radio transmissions between Levid and the planet. In his mind, he even studied the transmissions between the Amad Por and the shuttles. His attention was drawn not to voice transmissions, but to a data link between all the shuttles, the ground stations, and the Amad Por. After a few more minutes of study, Hadaie had a plan.

  It was the rustling that finally roused Jo from her sleep. She wearily opened her eyes to see the light streaming into the room onto the sheets below her head. It was so pretty, she thought - the light early in the morning. The way it made everything look so clean. A hand touching her shoulder interrupted her thoughts.

  "Jo?" Mike called as he gently touched her.

  She turned suddenly and her eyes focused on the apparition that stood before her. There was Mike, bandages still clinging to his body. His back had seen the worst of the punishment, but his front half also had its share. Despite that, there were large areas un-bandaged, and in this case, he was struggling to cover them with a sheet.

  Mike looked like a poor excuse for a mummy. It was as if an Egyptian embalmer had gone to lunch and left him only half done. The rest of his naked body was open to inspection. Mike had taken the sheet and pulled it around his waist like a large towel. But the fine cloth was giving him trouble because it nearly refused to stay where it was supposed to and it was only draped in place. His right hand grasped the place where the sheet was supposed to hold together, the folds exposing some of his hips and thighs. The other hand was on his hip when he stood up.

  Jo burst out laughing. She lay back in her bed and the laughter simply poured out, her body thrashing in the bed with each convulsive gasp of breath. None of this made Mike feel any better. He had always been self-conscious about his appearance, and being naked in a room with a girl who was laughing at what she saw didn’t help his ego. He stood up straight and glared at her. This only made his sheet unravel even more and forced him to quickly grab at it to try and keep his dignity.

  "This isn't funny," he said while struggling with the sheet.

  "Yes it is!" she called out between giggles.

  "Look, what did you do with my clothes?" he asked sternly. Mike couldn't remember much from the previous day. All he knew is that he hurt much less than he had.

  "Oh," she said mockingly. "You aren't wearing..." she said as she started to reach forward toward his bare legs.

  Mike jumped back and said, “Come on now, I woke up and was lying in the bed like this. Trust me. I'm not playing around."

  "Well you better hold onto that sheet or you'll give away the show."

  Mike sighed. This wasn't going well. But he looked down at the bandages hanging off him and the temporary covering he was holding and started to smile and giggle some as well.

  "It's really not funny," he said.

  Jo started calming down. She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and said, "Yes it is. You were so out of it that you didn't even know about us putting the bandages on you."

  Mike stopped laughing when he remembered them taking his clothes off and rubbing in the ointment. He gave Jo a sly look. "You didn't look did you?"

  Jo wasn't going to let him off the hook. "Oh it was a major event!"

  "Oh yea, right!" Mike said in mock despair.

  Jo sat up and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. No, Rokka and Shala cleaned you up and bandaged you. Your clothes were rags. That stuff she put on you knocked you out. Your privacy is secure. I didn't even help them get you to bed." As she looked him over, she noticed that the swelling on his face was almost totally g
one. She gave him a hard look and decided it was very pleasant indeed.

  Mike looked around the room. There was nothing around to dress in except the sheet. "Well, I can't go around all day like this."

  They both turned to look as Rokka came trudging up the stairs. As his head cleared the top of the steps he smiled and held up some clothes. "Ahhh. I see you are awake. I brought you some clothes. They belonged to our son. I believe they should fit."

  He placed the clothing on the side of Mike's bed. "You look much better this morning. Mama's medicine works good, I think."

  "Thank you. For the help and the clothes," Mike said.

  Rokka smiled and motioned to Jo. "Come now Miss Jo. Help us set the table while he gets dressed," he said. "Mike, do not take off the bandages. Mama will do it after breakfast."

  Jo got up from the bed and brushed off her clothes. It was then that Mike realized she had slept in her clothes last night. He wondered how late she had been awake. He watched her join Rokka and move toward the stairs. She looked back at him and smiled. "Have fun," she said with a wink. Then she and Rokka went down the stairs.

  When Mike appeared in the kitchen he looked much more like himself. But the loose fitting shorts and shirt looked definitely out of place. The shorts came up high on his waist, actually just under the ribcage. If he had worn them like the dress on Earth, the shorts would have hung below his knees. Mike had a look that displayed his anguish. He was going to have to wear this stuff all the time.

  Jo started to laugh again. But Rokka and Shala nodded approvingly. To them he looked just fine. Mike watched Jo laugh and started staring at her again.

  "What's so funny?"

  Jo stifled her laughter and coughed out. "Oh nothing. You should see yourself in a mirror."

  Mike then grinned. "That bad?"

  "Uh huh," she nodded.

  Shala grunted at Jo. "Stop that," she said. "Come in and sit yourself. You look very good this morning. Doesn't he, Papa?"

  "Yes he does, Mama. Come and eat. I know you must be hungry."

  Mike sat carefully in the only other chair at the table. "I sure am," he said eyeing the food before him. He looked down at his plate and saw some sort of eggs, a type of meat and a hot cereal similar to grits. There was also some sort of fruit. It looked like something his grandparents would fix for him when he was young.

  "It's like a Southern breakfast," he said.

  Rokka smiled at him. "It is some of the better things we have. Mama fix special."

  Mike picked up what looked like a fork and began to eat the food carefully at first, then with gusto as he found the taste appealing. He was surprised at the flavor. Everything was very tasty. "This is delicious," he said between mouthfuls.

  Jo watched him eat. He was very tasteful in the way he was eating. Not wolfing his food down like most of her friends, but very mannered and considerate of the people eating with him. Shala was already putting more food on his plate. One thing Shala loved was cooking for young men who appreciated it.

  "She's getting you fattened up for some work today," Jo joked.

  Shala waived her finger. With a smile she said, "Not this morning. After lunch. One more dose of medicine and you can work then. It is very important not to stretch the old wounds too much before then," she said from experience.

  Jo looked at her in disbelief. "Well they can't have healed that much."

  Shala grinned at her. "You will see."

  The rest of the breakfast was spent talking about small things - the garden, Rokka's work, his experiments, Shala's medical knowledge. For a few minutes they even talked about how beautiful Jo's music was and how they had never heard music like that where they came from. Throughout the conversation, Mike and Jo joined in with interest, asking questions and adding their own experiences. Jo continued to be amazed at the many things she and Mike had in common. Mike kept looking over at Jo and watching her smile. He found he could look at that smile all day long. It made him feel better.

  As Jo began to clear away the dishes, Shala got her ointment down again. Mike sat on his chair facing the back and took off his shirt to reveal the myriad of bandages still clinging to him. Shala gently took the end of the first bandage and pulled it slowly away.

  The skin was almost perfectly healed. There was only a slight red mark to indicate where the deeper cuts were. What's more, there was no scarring. His skin was clean and fresh. Shala smiled down at her work. The second bandage was removed and the skin was as good as new. In a few moments, Mike's back was completely revealed. Except for the reddish marks, there was no sign that he had been savaged.

  Jo stared at Mike in disbelief. "How did you do that?" she asked Shala.

  Rokka patted her arm. "Mama has been healing people for many years. She knows what she is doing."

  Shala smiled at her husband, then turned to Mike. "You are a strong and healthy young man. Don't need much more help from me," she said. Then she turned to Jo and held out the ointment jar. "Here. Rub ointment on wounds again. We will get new bandages," she said taking Rokka's arm and pulling him out of the room.

  Jo opened the jar and poured the ointment on Mike's back as she had seen Shala do the previous day. She paid particular attention to the still red lines that crossed his back.

  "You know, I almost can't feel where I was hit," Mike said as she worked.

  "You should see it from my side. Michael, you almost can't tell that you were ever hurt!"

  "Must be good stuff."

  Jo thought about it a minute. "You know, we don't even have things like this in our medical books."

  Mike winced as she hit a particular sore spot. She stopped immediately. "I sure felt that," he said.

  Jo particularly remembered the spot as one of the places where she had seen the white of his bones. She couldn't believe that it was recovered with skin so fast. "It's still very red. I'm sorry I hurt you."

  "No, no," Mike exclaimed. "It feels very good. Thanks Jo."

  He sat still while he felt her hands gently rubbing the ointment into his back. Occasionally he would look over and watch her work. Their eyes would meet and she would smile again. When the time came, he turned around and she applied the ointment to his ribs and across his chest. When she got down toward his stomach, he began to get a little nervous. Jo saw the look on his face.

  My God, the man is modest, she thought. If it had been Tom or Rob, they would have already taken their clothes off in anticipation. But Michael was actually concerned that I might see something, or worse, touch something by accident. The realization made her stop.

  "I'll let you put the ointment on the scars under your pants," she said with a smile.

  Mike looked at her and sighed. "The story of my life...." he said. But the look in his eyes was relief.

  Jo played along with him. She shoved his shoulder and handed him the jar. "For that you can do your legs too."

  They were both giggling when Rokka and Shala came in with the bandages. She handed some to Jo and said, "Now put these on over the top of the scars. We will remove at lunch, and then you can go out," she said to Mike.

  Mike touched her arm. "Thank you Shala. I really appreciate what you've done."

  "Ahhh. Do not mention. Now. You stay in house while we get some work done. Come Jo," she said leading her out the door. All three left the back door and headed out toward the garden.

  "Don't overtax yourself," Jo called to him.

  Mike called back, "Yea right."

  Alone in the house, Mike began to explore the downstairs. It was a very neat house. Everything was in its place. It was also very cozy, well lived in. From the old books and papers lining the shelves to the spotless floors, the house felt like home. Mike stood in the parlor drinking in the sights, sounds and smells. Then he noticed the door ajar to one side.

  It was the music room. He stepped in and noticed the spot where one of the violin-like instruments had been moved on top of a shelf on what looked like a piano built into one wall. He could see the slight ou
tline of dust where it had been moved, and rightly guessed that Jo had already given a little concert for Shala and Rokka. He silently wished he had been able to hear it.

  Mike then looked at the piano. It seemed to have a keyboard on a short shelf before entering the wall itself. As he looked deeper, there were some small doors on the wall that opened to reveal strings. It seemed the instrument filled almost the whole wall. He lifted the cover sticking out of the wall and was very surprised to see a keyboard almost exactly like one on Earth. He ran his fingers across the keys and then pressed several to hear the tone. He pressed middle “C.” It was badly out of tune and the tone was a step or two down from what he was used to. Mike then lifted the lid on the small shelf that opened a larger portion of the wall over the keyboard and looked inside. There before him were the strings, hammers and mutes that he knew from his youth. Also, attached to one side, was a long handled tool. A smile crossed his face as he picked up the tool and attached it to the peg on one of the strings. Now this should be a nice surprise, he thought. With patience and a good ear, he began to retune the old strings that had not been struck in so long a time. In a little over an hour he was finished, and he sat down to enjoy the results.

  Chapter 10

  Surprises

  Captain Dickson walked on the bridge after a good night's sleep, feeling refreshed and invigorated. The first person he saw was Hadaie standing intently at the scanner station. As Dickson approached, he saw that all of the ship's scanners were turned toward the Amad Por. Even the shuttle's pictures and sensors were tied into Hadaie’s console. Dickson watched for a moment over Hadaie’s shoulder. "Anything of interest, Lieutenant?" he asked.