By Ellen Lindow
She first saw him in the strawberry fields that moment. Despite the fact that she had just broken off her latest relationship and was not interested in starting another, she found him attractive. After all, it was First Harvest, a hectic time of work and celebration on Loki when festival romances were common, brief and sometimes quite passionate. Along with almost all the teens from all over Alpha she had come to help with first harvest. Other harvests would be spread out over the season, but as the first of the large truck gardens began to produce the need for human laborers was acute. Thus the festival.
She was pushing a small cart along the row of berries. It was a backbreaking job and she wasn't used to this kind of labor. She finished filling a 5 litre flat and stood to carry it back to the beginning of a row. He looked up and winked at her from the next row. She felt a small tingle and grinned back at him. By the time she returned to the cart he was even with her. They reached for a large berry in the middle of the row and their fingers brushed. He quickly plucked the berry, but instead of putting in his flat he pressed it to her lips. Surprised, she took a bite. He finished off the berry and dropped the top on the ground.
"You're picking green ones."
"I am?"
"Not from around here, are you?"
She grinned. "You don't get asked to pick berries much on C-2."
"Oh, a spacefarer."
"You won't hold it against me?"
"I try to keep an open mind. You need to pick only the ripe ones. We'll pick this row again in a few days. They won't get ripe once you pick them."
She compared the flat she had just carried to the end of the row to the one on his cart. His berries were all richly red, with the seeds no more than dents in the full berries. Nearly half of hers had been green and kind of fuzzy. She glanced at him. "Are we allowed to eat some of them?"
"If you don't want to just sit here in the field and eat the whole flat, you haven't chosen the right ones."
His grin, a bit lopsided, but relaxed and easy was attractive and she was beginning to forget about the ache in her back and the bright sunshine. He nodded at their flats and the two of them returned to work, but suddenly it didn't seem like such a chore, and she was no longer thinking she would rather be anywhere but here. When he would find a particularly juicy berry he would feed it to her. When she commented on the sand he just laughed and told her it just added vital minerals to her diet. The day passed more quickly than she had thought it would.
That evening there was a fancy dress party on the hill. It was a perfect night with the temperature just right for revealing costumes and a starry sky above them. Strategically placed speakers played music that matched the setting so well that it must be a Kano composition although it was not one she recognized. When he appeared at her side in a brightly colored vest and matching mask she was glad she had opted for the wispy orange outfit and the sparkling body paint. He brought a bowl of ripe strawberries with him, and as he appeared at her elbow his first comment was, "They're well washed."
She helped herself, eyes twinkling. "I'm glad to hear it. Sand is too crunchy for my tastes."
"I'd like to know more about your tastes," he said suggestively. His eyes caught hers and the crowd around them seemed to vanish. Now there were only the two of them beneath the starry sky sharing a bowl of berries and verbally sparring.
"I haven't found out your name yet," he said.
"I haven't offered it. I thought that was the concept of fancy dress: remaining mysterious."
He eyed her costume. "You don't appear to be hiding too much."
"Only the important things. Why don't you give me a festival name?"
"Do you plan to vanish at midnight like Cinderella?"
"Only to reappear in the nearest field in the morning."
"I hope we draw the same field again."
"That would be acceptable." She began walking toward the cliff, to look out over the water.
"Only acceptable?"
"Perhaps more than that. You haven't named me yet."
"Oh, yes. I think "Danger" suits you."
She grinned, almost hungrily. "I like that. And your name?"
He leaned toward her conspiratorially. "I was named after an Ancestor, and prefer not to even think about my name. I like your idea of a festival name."
She could hear his use of a capital "A" and could sympathize. "How about Quake?"
"Any reason?"
She remembered the way she had felt when she first saw him in the field this morning, but was not willing to admit it. "Do you like it?"
They strolled along the side of the hill while he considered it. "Yes, I do. It goes well with Danger, don't you think?"
"We'll see," she said provocatively.
They danced with the rest of the crowd, played various games of chance and skill set up at booths around the grounds, helped themselves to the food tables and as the evening grew later strolled further away from the others. When he slid his hand under her blouse through the slits in the sides she didn't protest and his kiss seemed to produce fireworks. He guided her down the hill toward the lake and a more secluded area. She was beginning to find the First Harvest Festival much less tedious than she anticipated.
The young couple caught the eye of a pair of elderly gentlemen. One smiled and nudged the other. "Take a look over there."
"It appears that my pilot is having a better time than she thought she'd have," Preston Carter said with a smile.
"Remember that picture I showed you once? That Sal's mom took before I was ever even imagined, much less you?" Alex Koenig asked his nephew.
"Ah, of Grandma and Grandpa at a dance," Preston nodded. "They do bear quite a resemblance."
Alex chuckled. "Do you recognize the young man? Know his name?"
"I don't think I've ever met him. But he does look like the old pictures of Grandpa."
"He's one of Richard's great-great-grandsons. Through RJ. Spent his whole life here on Loki. You know how much RJ always hated Alpha."
"That incident with the airlock. I really don't see that Loki is any different during the off seasons."
"Me either. If I can't be outside, I'd rather be home. But Rob moved his whole family down here after his wife died. RJ was just a baby. I think his dislike of Alpha was more his father's paranoia than his own."
"But no less intense," Preston said, shaking his head. He was carelessly watching a group of young women slowly approaching with an appreciative gaze. One of the women was tall with deep dark skin, wearing a flowing caftan which had a gauzy pair of fairy wings attached. She looked much as his late wife Buffy had looked when they first met. Her dark hair was cornrowed in long braids down her back to below her waist. She winked at Preston, and he grinned back.
"Anyway, the boy's name is John Koenig," Alex said, also paying more attention to the girls than the young couple.
Preston laughed. "Oh my. She's going to hate that. She can't possibly know."
"I don't get the joke."
"She's one of my great-grandnieces, through Denys. Her name is Helena, and she hates being named after an Ancestor-- especially one she favors so strongly."
"He's the same way. At the moment, however, they do seem quite taken with each other."
Before either could comment further, the young woman with the fairy wings approached. "Pres! Where have you been, you naughty old thing? You promised that we would dance the night away."
"And we will, love." He turned to his uncle. "Gotta go-- hot date."
Alex rolled his eyes.
"Bring your friend, doesn't he dance too?" One of the other girls called.
"Tell her I'm too old, and you're a dead man, right where you stand," Alex threatened quietly.
"Nonsense. No one's too old on Festival Night. Come, it's time to join the party."
Two beautiful young women each took Alex's arm. He smiled at the one on his right arm. She had jet black hair, long and silky, as Dinah's had been. The night was young and there were a great many beautiful girls to dance with.
Ellen Lindow
May, 2000