Chapter 4: One and One make Three; Three and Three make Nine

One and One make Three; Three and Three make Nine

Michael Hawthorne stood gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window of their guest suite, watching the two suns sink into the far horizon. He felt little warmth from either; one was large but pale yellow; the other was much smaller, a gleaming white disc. He had no idea how far either sun was from the planet, but compared to the blazing hot brilliance of Sol in his home system, he knew the Masi'shen suns were not only much farther from this planet in distance, but they were also much less intense. For that reason, this was an "ice planet." It was nothing less than a miracle that Dee'rah's people had evolved and overcome all obstacles to become one of the foremost space-faring races of the entire galaxy. But that was not his concern just now, except as a passing moment of intellectual curiosity.

He stretched himself, standing tall before the window. He was mostly unclothed but for a white fiber wrap around his waist that extended nearly to his knees. He dug his toes deeply into the lush carpet. He swung his outstretched arms over his head and nearly touched the fiber paneled ceiling, above. He lowered his arms, stretched them outward again, and swiveled himself in half circles from his hips. He loosened and worked his body. His muscles and joints felt stiff from weeks of confinement in the healing chamber, aboard the T'shu-niach, during their long voyage from Earth.

Michael had not yet seen himself in a mirror but, looking down at himself, at his chest, waist, arms and legs, he knew that he had undergone a profound transformation. His body no longer carried the scars of two wars, the Siple Island helicopter crash, or the Pahsimeroi Valley carnage on his body. His skin was smooth and unblemished. It was the skin of a fully mature male, firm and slightly textured. Despite his maturity, no hair remained anywhere on his body except for a mat of golden blonde hair on his head. His Scandinavian heritage had given him a fair complexion and blonde hair, but this was different. This hair was more golden than blonde, and it lay wavy and thick, close upon his head like a skullcap. There was not the least hint of male-pattern baldness despite his thirty-eight earth years age.

His face retained his original features: a high, proud forehead; prominently crested brows above his deep-set blue eyes; a narrow, sharply defined nose with broad nostrils; and a wide, generous mouth framed with full lips. His chin was a good feature: strong, square set, with a broad jaw. His head sat on a strong neck over square and generously muscled shoulders. He no longer showed the scars and disfigurements of his wounds from the Middle East wars.

He felt good. Better, in fact, than he could ever remember. He was not yet aware of it, but he had grown taller in the healing chamber. He had been a tall man, standing six feet, six inches. Now he towered a full seven feet and weighed 240 pounds, an almost slender weight given his new height.

He glowed with a golden radiance. He'd be a long, long time becoming accustomed to that, despite his time with Dee'rah and her parents, and the Masi'shen that he knew. All Masi'shen had a soft, golden glow.

He continued to gaze out of the window at the suns sinking into the far distance. He missed his love, his Dee'rah. There had been only a fleeting moment to embrace her, to hold her closely, and exchange whispered words of welcome and love. They were quick to share their profound appreciation that they were together, and would be together, for as long as they lived. But there had been too much haste, too few moments together, before she had slipped away from him. She went into the healing chamber, and would be confined there for several weeks. She, too, was undergoing a transformation. It was similar to his, but she would assume human qualities. When she emerged in several weeks time, they would be the most unique couple in the galaxy.