Your Planet or Mine? by Susan Grant Page B

geeky curiosity rose to the surface. “Why isn’t your armor torn?”
    “It was at the time of impact. But it sealed over the wound to protect it, as it’s supposed to do.”
    He cleaned the wound using some ointment. Then he squeezed the contents of a different tube over the wound and massaged it in. Her stomach rolled. “You must have incredible pain tolerance.”
    “Not really. The armor injected enough painkillers to keep it under control.”
    Not magic, Jana thought, but almost as good.
    “But I am sore—” he winced “—on the inside.”
    “Internal injuries?” she asked weakly.
    “My biosigns didn’t show evidence of internal bleeding. But that was before I lost the artificial intelligence in my suit.” He pulled a handful of something out of his tool kit. Several silver squares sat in his palm, each no bigger than a ladybug. “Little robots. They’re mechanical. They don’t emit a signal or pulse that the REEF can detect.” He spilled them onto his stomach. “Good in a pinch, they’re programmed to stitch closed a wound.”
    The tiny robots crawled over to the laceration, making snail trails in the ointment. Nausea welled up in her throat and she had to avert her eyes. “Won’t it hurt?”
    “They excrete a painkiller as they go. It’s long-lasting, too. The ointment will speed the knitting of my skin. A couple of your Earth days and I’ll be healed.”
    With almost undetectable clicking noises, the little robots set to work stitching closed Cavin’s wound. Jana felt the blood roaring in her ears. The next thing she knew, Cavin had pulled her onto the couch next to him. He’d already stretched something that resembled skin over the ugly wound, hiding it. “Did I pass out?” she asked.
    “Almost. I see why you chose politics over medicine.”
    “Most people do at some point.”
    He laughed. Smiling, Jana let her head fall onto his shoulder. It reminded her of when they’d fallen to the ground exhausted and laughing after attempting to fly in tandem. Twenty-three years had meant nothing; she was as comfortable with him now as she was when she was nine. There were no words to describe his effect on her: a soul-deep contentment, a feeling of having arrived home whenever he took her in his arms. It seemed right somehow, having “Peter” back, as if with his reappearance something in her life had finally fallen into place.
    Was she crazy? If sheltering aliens, stealing cars, speeding, evading arrest and lying to law enforcement officers was “falling into place” then surely it was the wrong place!
    But she could enjoy being with him, couldn’t she? Until she figured out what to do about him. Jana pulled on the hem of his shirt to smooth it over the bandage. “When you healed me that night, the night you left, I thought it was magic.”
    “I let you think that. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    Their eyes met, and her heart did its usual flip. “It still feels like magic, being with you,” she whispered shyly.
    His green gaze intensified so swiftly that it felt as though all the air had left the room. “Ah, Squee,” he whispered. His fingertip traced her hairline from her cheekbone down to her jaw. “So many nights, I thought of you. When I was still a boy, those thoughts were innocent. But as I grew older, and you grew into a woman in my mind, those thoughts became increasingly carnal.”
    Carnal …just the way he uttered the word should be illegal.
    “In my mind, I’ve made love to you so many times. Thought of you in my arms, in my bed…” He leaned closer, hesitated, then closed the rest of the distance between them. His thumb brushed across her lips, parting them, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled her close, pressing his cheek to hers. His skin was hot, his beard sharp. A shudder ran through her and she imagined his entire body pressed against hers, skin to hot skin. “Sometimes you’d be with me on the ship, in my