Rayna saw the horrid sight like something out of a nightmare. A creature with limbs accustomed to heavier gravitational attraction sauntered into the hallway. Its limbs and solid compact figure were sheathed in shiny, jet-black space suit material. For an instant Rayna thought she could see Callom MacLaren grasped there.

"Surrender, or he dies," gritted the harsh voice. One plastic-clothed arm clenched round Jamie McCrimmon's neck. He struggled valiantly, but it was clear the force was impossible to resist, even in Titan's lesser gravity.

"I didn't think you took prisoners," said Rayna, narrowing her eyes. "You'd kill us all anyway."

"You possess intelligence, I see. Your speech is not that of a puny human."

"I'm not human, as you may have deduced," said Rayna, chattering to distract the Sergeant. That disruption stunner he wielded could scramble the Highlander's brains in an instant. An instant too long for even her superior reactions to wrest him free. Hazel eyes squinted and blinked as the arm tightened around his throat.

"Release the human and we'll talk," said Rayna. Suppressing stray emotion, she moved ever closer.

"You do not fear me, female?"

"Not particularly. Thought I respect a warrior's might."

"You speak like a glorified diplomat. Beware, I could soon tire of this verbal exchange."

"But it is so easy to hold a human by the neck. Clearly if your strength is far superior to his, you could overpower him in an instant."

"True. But the weak species must give way to the strong."

"You and I agree that his species is physically weaker. But it's hardly worth the waste of your effort to clutch him so. You have my cooperation, if you release hold of him."

"If you provide strategic information about this base, and its importance to Earth, I may consider your offer."

"Dinnae believe him, lass," Jamie croaked, his mouth opening and shutting like a gasping fish on land.

"If he dies, I don't talk," said Rayna, hand extended.

"I could easily kill you where you stand," said the officer.

"I've heard Sontarans are logically dedicated to the science of war. But the Genomyni also have fought their share of space battles. Our technology is at least a match for yours... dare I say?"

"I will admit that your planet has offered stern resistance against our might."

"I reckon my strength is not equal to yours," said Rayna. "But a gun is hardly an entertaining way of testing it. Being a scientist, I suggest an experiment. I challenge you to test your strength in comparison to my own. . . one on one."

"What, a civilian? Challenge the might of a Sontaran warrior? And a female?"

"Hiding behind preconceptions, are we?" she snapped. "I've not been insulted like this in years! So easy it is to assume a battle is won before you fight it. Where is the challenge in word

games. . . "

"I tire of this game," gritted the Sergeant. "I don't fear anything."

"Good. Then I demand the Rite of Satisfaction."

"Ordinarily that would be out of the question. But I cannot ignore tradition. Very well. This primitive is hardly strong enough to offer resistance . . . "

So saying, he hurled Jamie out from under his arm. With a sickening smack, Jamie tumbled right into the wall. Rayna winced as she saw the blood oozing from his nose. Only the gun trained on him kept him from springing to the defense of the planetary geologist.

Narrowing her eyes, she gripped her ice axe. The Sontaran sheathed his gun, then withdrew a small, six-inch rod. A touch to its middle, and it telescoped into a full length staff. "This should prove amusing. You really dare challenge me, female."

"I am not just at 'female,' sir. You would do well not to underestimate a gyn Genomyni. Even a geologist will fight, for the sake of a good cause."

"I am trained in Sontaran martial arts. So be very aware of what you're facing."

"A Genomyn is not easily dissuaded."

"Ye cannae mean this, lassie!" protested Jamie, pushing himself to sit. "He'll slaughter ye!"

"Silence, primitive," snapped the Sergeant. "One touch to just the right place will stun you where you lay, as effectively as a blaster. I will not be denied the pleasure of even this small exercise."

Two figures circled. Parentheses sandwiching ten feet of space, the geologist and the warrior hunched over. Hissing through a slit mouth, the Sergeant advanced first. To Jamie's astonishment the geologist blocked the blow, and parleyed it. She arced low with her axe, only to have him back away. Sergeant Stonnar whirled. Vertical, the staff end swung downwards.

Rayna blocked the blow with the shaft of her ax. For a tense moment, Stonnar pushed down. Groaning, the geologist genuflected on one bent knee. Then, with gritted teeth she pressed her back leg firmly into the ground. Beneath the shaft of her axe she levered herself upwards. How could she have such unusual strength? The Sontaran may have trained extensively, but she was smaller, and faster.

"Impressive. For a civilian, you fight passably," snarled Stonnar.

Jamie marveled at the gleam in Rayna Mariner's brown eyes. Almost primal anger sparkled there. Blow for blow she met Stonnar. Ice ax shaft crashed against the epaulette battle staff. Back and forth they traded their blows and parleys.

Until a fast jab slashed her cheek. Stonnar crashed the ice ax from her hands. The Jacobite winced along with her as he imagined that smarting sting she must be sensing in her bruised fingers. One good kick from the Sontaran sent her ax spinning twenty feet away.

"Submit now, and I may spare your life," Stonnar hissed.

"No . . . I won't give up . . . " huffed Rayna, planting her foot against his massive trunk and pushing him backwards.

"Your foolishness, Mantissan . . ." he laughed. Now recovered, Stonnar twisted the base of his staff. Spikes now protruded from each end. And he whirled the implement twice round his head like some demented majorette before bringing it level with one point towards the geologist. Red eyes gleamed as he jabbed the air inches before her. Rayna ducked as each swing arched closer. Jamie couldn't believe it. That sasanache monster was enjoying this!

Rolling over, Jamie pushed himself off the wall. His head spun. That blow still knocked the strength out of him. Yet he couldn't stand by and let her be beaten to death. She had no weapon. Instinctively he reached at his side, unsheathing his dirk. Stonnar was too close for him to throw it. Even if he could, where was the chink in the space armor?

From somewhere inside he channeled his anger. Now Stonnar's back faced him.

Creag au tuire! he cried, charging with his upraised dirk. Only to stab air foolishly as Stonnar whirled round too fast. Sharp pain erupted in the pit of his stomach.

However, the one-second delay was all Rayna needed. Clasping fists together, she pummeled the backs of Stonnar's knees. For a second he reeled, and struggled to regain balance. Lower Titan gravity had some impact.

Rayna reached for her ax unsuccessfully. Stonnar recovered at the last moment. From booted foot to booted foot Rayna shifted her weight. While she dodged Stonnar's blows, she had no chance to pick up the only weapon available. No weapon available, except for her own body, that is.

"Yaaah!" she screamed, and charged. Stonnar's surprise gave her enough time to grab hold of his staff.

Jamie huddled in a fetal position against one wall. He hugged his knees to his stomach. Angrily he cursed his paralysis. Through a red miasma Jamie saw them, wrestling the staff between them.

"Yield, Mantissan!"

"Never," she snapped. Something gave way, and the staff snapped into pieces in their combined grasps. Both flew backward with the inertia. With all her force she cannoned forwards and shoulder rammed him. Stonnar's hands went straight for her neck mere seconds later. Her small hands clutched at his wrists. "You Genomyni are one of the few races worth conquering," he said, triumphantly compressing her windpipe.

"Thanks, but not thanks," she gurgled. Bringing both arms above her head, she bashed her fists down on his forearms. Next she kicked savagely at his knees.

Snarling, he threw her off. She sailed nearly twenty feet away, crashing into the wall. Slowly she pushed up from the rocking floor. Lifting her head, she rolled up her eyes to stare at the Sontaran.

"So, it ends," leered Stonnar. He reached for his gun. "You fought well, Genomyn of Mantissa. But not well enough. Prepare to die."

"You'd kill me?" she growled, pushing hair out of her eyes. Without letting me fight to the death? With a gun?"

"You forget. In the Rite of Satisfaction, a Sontaran takes no prisoners. And in such personal challenges, I always fight to the death. You will have the honor of dying at the hands of Sergeant Stonnar, of the 21st Interstellar Assessment group."

Forgotten, Jamie realized he was only five feet from her. He could not move from where he lay. There was no time. Not for him.

"Jamie!" she cried. Then shouted something in a language Stonnar's lingua computer couldn't translate.

"Rayna!" he shouted, surprised. In his hands he still clutched his dirk. Equally strange phrases spouted from his lips as he suddenly understood.

Stonnar's eyes flicked from Highlander to geologist. He watched a gleaming object scoot across the floor. Desperately Jamie locked his arms around Stonnar's ankles before he could lunge. This time, the Sontaran toppled like a bowling pin.

Small fingertips closed round a bone handle. The Genomyn shouted in that same weird sounding language. Snarling again, Stonnar rolled over and kicked savagely at Jamie's chest. But not before Rayna lunged. Stonnar's last few seconds consisted of a sharp pain at the back of his neck. And the infinite sadness in a pair of brown eyes.

"I choose to live," she said quietly. Sweat and green Sontaran blood speckled her face.

"I believe this . . . belongs . . . to you," she gasped, withdrawing the dirk. Painfully she pulled herself on her arms to Jamie's side.

"How did ye ken . . . tha was the place?"

"The probic vent . . . their only vulnerable spot," she huffed. "It's where . . . they absorb their power. "

"Are ye . . . all right . . . lassie?" he huffed, placing one hand against his stomach. Head next to her knees, he lay on his right side, too pained to move.

"I should ask you," she said.

"That was a stupid thing t' do," he scolded. "He cuild ha' killed ye!"

"Looks like that from here. He could have broken your rib cage with just one kick," said Rayna. "You have a nasty couple of bruises."

"Och, I'm all right," he said. That trickle of blood crept from the corner of his mouth.

"We'll see about that," she muttered. Firmly she took his head and shoulders onto her knees. The geologist slowly dabbed at his blood with a bandanna. Such a soft touch from a person who'd fought off a Sontaran mere minutes before was surprising. Jamie was too weak to protest.

"By the way, thanks for letting me borrow this," she said. Carefully she cleaned the dirk's blade on the leg of her coveralls before she handed the weapon back to the Highlander.

"I cuildnae jest sit back and let him kill ye, lassie," he said, looking up into her glasses. In their convex surface he saw his image faintly mirrored. He did look worse for wear. "Even though ye were holding yair own. How' . . . "

"Like Sontarans, Genomyni are from a high gravity world. His strength's for load bearing, like mine. I knew I had a better chance than you. Even though you are a brave fighter, James."

"When I see a lass in danger, I cannae help but rescue her . . . "

"I'm hardly a lass," she laughed. "But I'm flattered, all the same."

"Whatever do ye maun?"

"That's not important. We gotta get you some first aid. Can you move?"

"Aye. Jest watch me," he gasped, slowly trying to sit up.

"But did he hurt ye at all?"

"Only winged me. Takes more than a punch drunk Sontaran to take me out."

Jamie felt confused. Most of the time he'd rushed to the rescue of some screaming woman or girl. Now the roles were reversed. Clearly she'd fought to save him. So he didn't know how to react. Such brazenness mixed with such sudden tenderness felt uncomfortable. Grasping her hand, he struggled to his feet. Just their fingers touched. As before, Jamie felt that strange tingling sensation shoot up his arm. Somehow the pain in his stomach was lessened.

Imbalances vexed him, in his adopted bunk. How could he thank her? Why was he so mixed up inside? Behind closed eyes he could see Victoria's china doll features sculpted from ivory flesh. He wouldn't dare to touch her hands with more than mere brotherly concern. Because of those strange shivers he'd felt when he'd met her in that house so long ago. Or glimpsed that painting above the mantelpiece of her mother.

Victoria was the image of her.

That geologist. Glasses blurred a pair of bright sparkling brown eyes. What made him feel weird when he was around her? Not afraid or uncomfortable. Not the weird that made his skin crawl and his stomach squirm. It was the type of weird sensation that pounded his heart faster, and tightened around his chest so he could hardly breathe.

How he sometimes felt when he saw a highly attractive lady. Was she bonnie? She was not unattractive. All sturdy and solid generous curves. A wee bit generous. Certainly far from fat. As she said the gravity on her world was greater than that of Earth. That'd explain the stockiness. After all, she was alien.

Alien, and approachable. Right bonnie enau. She never treated him like an idjit.

Again he turned over. Sleep seemed impossible. Slowly he sat up, and swung his legs round till he sat up. He didn't bother undressing before he slept. When he slept that was. What was keeping him awake? Call it a feeling. A feeling at the boundary between sleep and consciousness. What the Doctor would call intuition.

Jamie swung round his feet and slipped off the top bunk. He felt his feet hit the solid floor. He slipped into his shirt, and quickly wrapped his length of plaid around his waist. It seemed difficult to find other clothing in the dark. Sock clad feet slipped into cuffed boots, and fingers grabbed his belt and weapon. Slowly he approached the door. It slid open with only a minor hum. "Thank goodness fer those modern devices," he muttered. As if there was anyone to wake up in here. Just where was the Doctor? He crept down the hallway, messing with the rest of his plad as he struggled to pin it to his shoulder. Only a few yards away he spotted a square rectangle of light painted on the far wall. The Doctor must still be awake at this late hour. Quietly he peered in.

A microscopic analyzer sat on a mica-topped lab bench. Such a mundane piece of furniture felt anachronistic in this ultramodern research base. Three prefabricated buildings were all that stood on Titan. And two of those were de-pressurized. Far underground were the generators and new expansion labs for the projected colony. To save power, the Doctor had switched off the oxygen exchange. Nothing could live down there. At least that's what he managed to understand of that high tech talk.

Faintly the luminescent panels hummed. Mingled with that sound was a rasping noise. Stepping inside, Jamie saw the source. That same mica topped lab bench had another piece of equipment alongside it. Head nestled in his folded arms, the Doctor lay half on the bench. All Jamie saw was the light shining off his straight black hair, because the Doctor's face was turned away from the door.

"You're becoming a regular piece o furniture here," he laughed inside his head. Smiling, he picked up a space blanket and draped it around the Doctor's shoulders.

"Sweet dreams, Doctor," Jamie whispered, before turning out the light. Strange, he thought, returning to his room. In the midst of danger existed small islands of peace. Like those times back in Scotland between skirmishes. Where he'd be sitting around a fire with the other people in his clan. Swapping songs and stories of the day's struggles.

The mothers brought out salted meat and biscuits. One or two men would be sharpening their weapons, or cleaning their muskets. And they'd softly sing to keep up their spirits. A sister might pour ale or wine into his pewter tankard.

He caught himself whistling one of the old tunes he used to pipe. How long had it been since he'd last played, he couldn't remember. No thanks to the Redcoats for his lack of a set of pipes. If he didn't practice, he'd get rusty. In the back of his mind he could hear his father drumming those lessons into his head all those years.

Two doors down he arrived at the lasses' room. Somewhere inside, Victoria and the geologist lass slept peacefully. At least he hoped so. In the past few months, Victoria had grown a lot. Still, she would scream at danger. But that was only natural. Wasn't it?

Ah well. If he couldn't sleep, he could look out for danger. Smoothing his kilt plaid under him, he sat on the cold steel floor next to their door. He folded his arms and settled down, only shivering a bit in the sterile recycled air.

His heart jumped when he heard a door slide open. Right next to him he heard footsteps. Ever so slowly he slipped his hand toward his sheath knife at his hip. Against his thigh he felt the shifting weight of a curved ankle. Someone almost tripped over him where he sat. Automatically he reached up with a cry of "Aha!" to grab whoever it was.

"By the stars!" cried an American-accented voice. "What are you doing?"

"Hoot mon!" he gasped, surprised. "I'm sorry . . . I thought ye were . . . "

"Never mind. Why are you sitting out in the hall here?"

"Er, jest keeping guard," he said.

He could see a brief flash of light across a pair of glasses. She stood in front of him now, crouched over. To support herself, she braced her hands against her thighs. "That's very sweet of you to be concerned, but the alarms aren't blaring this minute."

"Ye cannae be too sure with them, lass," he said. He was sure she could see his white shirtsleeves in the dim light. "I've dealt wi' those Sontaran monsters before, an they niver give up."

"Neither do you, I see. Playing the hero overtime, huh?"

"Er, I was worried about Victoria. She does get a wee bit frightened, sleeping in a strange place the first night."

"Let me guess. You couldn't sleep either, right?"

"No' really. It's jest a feeling I have. That things aren't right."

"You seen the Doctor lately?"

"Aye. He's got his head doon right in the middle o' that experiment thing he's been doin."

"Aren't you the one who's usually falling asleep right in the middle of something?"

"Aye, Tha's true . . . hey wait a minute!"

He stopped when he saw the flash of her white teeth. "You're ruining your reputation, James," she laughed. "That's what's not right."

"I suppose tis a wee bit strange," he said. "He's always complaining that only I can fall asleep right when a Dalek's plottin against us."

She sat next to him. Folding her knees before her, she clasped hands around them. For a while they remained there in silence. Such silence made Jamie's skin crawl. For all her self composure, the geologist was probably just as worried as he. Jamie glanced down his chest at the ruffles on his wide collared shirt. Strangely all white fabric appeared a ghostly purple. The Doctor called it black light.

"I hope the Doctor figures out jest what's going on with that carbon stuff. I for one dinnae see what it has t' do wi' the disappearing people here."

"He's checking for a time slip. If the carbon doesn't match other carbon in the right experiment, he'll know something's wrong."

He could tell she was struggling. Carefully she tried not to insult his intelligence while at the same time using words he could understand. Again he drew his dirk, carefully laying it across his lap. Somehow it reassured him that this adventure was really not a daft dream. Wrapping fingers around its handle literally gave him a grip on reality.

"I'm no used t' having a lass rescue me," he said suddenly.

"Is that what's been bothering you?" she asked him.

"Aye."

"You did come to my aid when he disarmed me. And you thought of my safety when I was about to fight him . . . "

"If he wasnae so bleedin' strong . . . "

"You did your best. It's not your fault that they're from a high gravity planet."

"I hate not bein able t' fight . . . "

"In the future, women are no longer helpless. It's hard to get used to. Seeing a woman save herself when you the man sits helpless."

"I let him jest cuff me aside. I had nowt the strength to fight him."

"Courage and spirit are strengths. That's what you have in abundance, James Robert McCrimmon, and it's what counts the most."

Jamie shivered with pleasure as she grasped his shoulder. He kept forgetting these future lasses were used to taking care of themselves. Somehow that made life difficult for him. So often he tried to understand. But it wasn't always easy.

"Shall I give the young hero a kiss as a reward for his bravery? Against death-defying odds?"

Was she making fun of him? At first Jamie wasn't sure. A second later he felt hot breath against his cheek, followed by a brief gentle caress lasting a fraction of a second. Fingers gently gripped the swath of plaid near his shoulder. Gladly, he found his suspicion was wrong. He swallowed, and licked his lips.

"Not many human males would leap to a rescue of someone they hardly know, unless they are extremely physically attracted by the female . . . "

"Ht' doesn't matter. I'd rescue a lass even if she's far past her prime," he began. But then put his hand over his mouth in fear that he had said something rude.

Impulsively he grasped her hand. She didn't pull hers away. Instead she squeezed his in return. "Och, I'm sorry. I didnae mean t' say it quite that way..."

"That's okay, James," she said, amused. "Such chivalry, in one so young. It's a real shame to see so little of it."

"There's no many lasses like ye tha' I've met," he said. "Strong and together on the outside. Some having the hate 'n fear in each word. But yer no angry. Jest sad. As if ye'd seen things a lass shuildnae see, and ye dinnae lash out at others in spite of it."

"I understand you've met women who fit that description?"

"Aye. They'd get angry if I open a door for 'em."

"Some women think a man-- opening doors and such--is being sexist. That being equal means that you treat everyone the same. That's true to some extent. But they forget that women and men are different. Having the two sexes goes beyond just what you look like and act. It's one aspect of being human. To deny the difference is to deny being human. They have made strides."

"So ye dinnae mind if a fellow opens a door for ye, eh?"

"To me, he's being a gentleman. That's part of your culture, and I respect it."

Conversation drifted as they compared notes on their experiences. Here was somebody who understood where he came from. Someone who spoke Gaelic. Who didn't ridicule him for his culture. Not that the lasses he'd rescued from time to time did. What made her intriguing? He couldn't put a finger on it. It was then he realized half the conversation had been in his language and he'd not quite realized it till the sudden silence. Still she'd kept hold of his hand. With his other hand he kept his knife ready for any unexpected intruder.

"There's one thing I've been wondering," he said.

"Which is?"

"How do ye ken ma tongue? Were ye ever in Scotland?"

"A while ago," said Rayna. Now she tucked her right ankle under her bent left knee, resting the right leg on the floor. "Back where I met MacLaren. When we traveled together, he taught me a good amount. That was our deal. I take him on the grand tour, and he teaches me his language and all I need to know about Earth history."

"The way ye speak it I'd thought ye were a true Scot yoursel."

"I guess I can say it's one of the few places on your world where I felt remotely at home."

"What's it like... in the future? Scotland I maun."

"Still beautiful," she said. "At least in 1978 it is where my friend lived. Do you ever get homesick?"

"Of course I do. But it's great running aboot in the TARDIS, when it works that is. We niver know where we'll end up. Of course it's the wee things outside that sometimes make the problems."

"Exactly. What fascinating geological sights you must see," she breathed. "But never knowing what to expect. That's the problem. At least for some of the Doctor's friends."

All he could say in agreement was a mere sound. Slowly he released her hand. He liked adventure. But how about Victoria? How was she coping? Jamie was almost afraid to ask her sometimes. Was she really happy, uprooted from home and family? Facing the answer was difficult, and Jamie pushed the question to the back of his mind for now.

"Do ye ever get homesick? Fer yuir ain world?"

"I can't even remember what it looks like sometimes," she said, laughing softly once again. Now she sat with her arms folded across her bosom. He noticed the large loose vest she wore, with the dozens of pockets. "All glass, plastic and steel, I'd guess. There's not much planet left there to look at. Except that which isn't covered with dessert or city. It's not much. But I guess . . . I do sometimes miss the friends I make along the way. Being a geologist, you can't stay in one place for long."

"The Doctor was telling me aboot yair people. He said the Time Lords were ruling over ye..."

Anger crept into her face. "Yes. Like the British did to you Scots. Genomyni were given the secrets of prolonging their lives. Regenerating even. Some of my people, if deemed fortunate enough, could even attend the Celestial Academy. But we refused to 'cheat death' by changing our appearances. We refused to abide by their silly laws and rigid social heirarchy. But what could we do against beings so powerful as they..."

"I'm sorry," Jamie said softly. "I didnae mean t' make ye sad, lass."

"It's all right. You of all people would understand my society the best..."

Underneath, the cold seeped into them where they sat. It felt awfully harsh to Jamie all of a sudden, despite the wool he wore. Convinced there was no immediate danger, he slipped his dirk back into its holster. Once more he slipped the rest of his plaid over his shoulder, securing his bandoleer strap.

"Well, I suppose I should turn in," Rayna Mariner said. "Wouldn't want Victoria to feel like her roomie had deserted her."

Before she could rise, Jamie McCrimmon had beat her to it. "Here, let me give ye a hand."

"Thank you," she said, extending her hand to him. He helped her the rest of the way up. "How about you? Feel tired yet?"

"I'm thinkin I'd better stay out here," he said with a toss of his head. "Jest in case. Ye or Victoria need anything. Or if the Doctor wakes up."

"Time travelers need some rest. I hope you get some . . . "

Gently he seized her hand. Raising it to his lips, he kissed it. She wasn't wearing those gloves with the fingers cut off. "You too, lass," he said softly. Faintly the light traced her long brown hair. Usually she had it pulled back into that fancy braid. Minute flashes suggested her glasses perched on that upturned nose. Only slightly did her skin begin to gracefully crease from middle age. What was middle age to her? If she were like the Doctor? He had thought she wasn't a Time Lord, but when he'd asked the Doctor about them, all he got was a hasty explanation. At least he thought she wasn't one.

Jamie recalled the sadness in the Doctor's normally twinkling blue eyes. Let's see. The Doctor said the Genomyni were also influenced in the same time period. Unlike the Minyans, they didn't blow themselves to kingdom come. They'd coped with the new technology. And developed their own TARDIS's. But the Time Lords saw them as a threat. So they kept their planet under strict supervision. A permanent colony of Time Lords existed on Genonmus. Some select members of the Genomyn race could even attend the the Celestial Academy.

At the Celestial Academy, in a kind a ceremony. That's how a Time Lord was made. At least, that's what the Doctor said. Something about passing through a gateway that changed their bodies forever. A magical spell perhaps?

Jamie had asked him again how he could look like that man they met in the future. Back with that horrible Sontaran business.

"He's me, Jamie. Or who I will be in the future."

"And who will I be?"

"Oh, Jamie, really," the Doctor sighed, rolling those eyes.

And that beautiful young woman who'd been traveling with him. She was bonnie, all right. Not much older than he. Peri was her name. With the same accent as this geologist lassie.

Directly opposite from each other they now stood before the doorway. "Good night, Jamie," she said, a smile warm on her face. Slight amusement twinkled those mature eyes. It wasn't often she called him by the familiar. Most of the time she called him James.

Small fingertips caressed his cheek. She leaned forwards. Only briefly did she plant the answer to his previous gesture there. Kissing a woman on her hand was daring enough for him. She must be answering with a gesture equivalent, in this time, to his own eighteenth-century boldness.

Against his sense of what was proper conduct, he grasped her shoulder as she turned to enter the room. The top of her soft hair came just beneath his nose. "Er . . . Rayna," he said, coughing out the choking in his throat. As if he had something to say to her before he lost his nerve.

"What's the matter?" she asked, hesitating. Concerned brown eyes fixed into his gaze.

Summoning all courage, he leaned forwards. Slipped his shaking hand, cuffed with the antique ruffled sleeve, under her chin. He felt like he was reaching out to touch a wild mare. How would the horse react? Long ago he'd reached out to pet a draft horse captured from a British soldier. That beast had whinnied sharply, baring its teeth at his slightest touch.

Even more briefly than she just had done, he touched his own lips to her cheek. All his shaking uneasiness he squeezed into that caress before pulling away.

"So young, and innocent you are," she sighed. He felt her dark eyes trace the lines of his young face through the gloom. Infinite sadness, like the look in the Doctor's eyes glistened there in her puzzled frown. Those eyes seemed to have that same remote intensity as his.

Simultaneously they moved together. Hands rested on opposite cheeks, caressing the smoothness. In the space of those few seconds he felt his knees shaking beneath the warm wool of his plaid. Respective noses brushed past each other.

"Sweet as the morning," she breathed, as he pulled away to catch his breath. Trembling, he only dared clutch her waist with his slender pale hands. "Are you all right? I guess I overdo things . . . "

"Dinnae be daft," he laughed. Once more he felt the softness of her long hair as he immersed his fingers in it. On both sides of his chest her hands slid up to fold just at the back of his head. Beneath her right hand she gripped that fold of tartan draped over his right shoulder, yet again. Even her touch through his shirt sent jolts through him. All he had to do was lean forward to kiss again.

"Why are you shaking so?" she asked, that same concern in her voice. "Have you never kissed a woman before?"

Jamie felt he had to answer. For a moment he felt angry she'd ask such a thing. But he remembered she was older than he. Probably had all sorts of experiences he'd not yet had.

"Don't be ashamed. I understand the hesitation," she whispered. "I feel it as well."

"Ye do nau?"

"Yes. All the feelings one cannot express. But you must calm down, or I shall be nervous too."

So saying, she gently smoothed a hand over his chest now, rhythmically up to his shoulder. Once there, the strong hand squeezed the tense knots out of his neck muscles. Just wrapping her in his white sleeved arms seemed a pleasure. So strong and sturdy she was. Much stronger than he, a mere man barely no longer a lad.

Pushing glasses up onto her forehead, she kissed him once more. He felt her hot breath in his mouth for the first time, and marveled in its sweetness. Kissing with an open mouth was a very alien experience. Something he'd seen briefly in odd situations. When he'd glimpse a last desperate embrace betwixt a lad and a lass before a battle.

"Whist," he gasped. It wasn't the force of the caress. That had been gentle. Rather the intensity wiped the breath from his lungs. All he could do was to take it as it came, like feeling the ememy's strength in battle. As she had done, he let instinct fall over his actions. Till the feelings that churned inside of him exploded into action.

"You're going to be a heartbreaker with a kiss like that," she said, as he took a breather.

"Really nau?" he asked, feeling silly for a moment. He was glad she couldn't see the blood pounding his face strawberry red. Almost as red as the wool in his McClaren tartan.

"I cannot tell a lie," she smiled. "You're spoiling me with all this attention."

"Nau wha's the matter wi that?" he grinned, at last enjoying the strange new sensations rushing through his veins. His heart pounded right against her chest. Now he wasn't frightened to enfold her in strong, muscled arms. Soft firmness pressed close to his chest and knees. Strange garment she was wearing. Overalls, she called them. All one piece from waist to hip.

"Are ye thinking what I think yer thinking?"

"I didn't think you were psychic," she said, feigning puzzlement. Short sighted eyes now tracked back and forth since she'd removed her thick glasses.

"It's no exactly proper... I ken, but it's the only way I..." he said, then stopped himself. All he dared do was gently grip her upper arms in his hands while he took a step backwards. Under his fingers he felt her shirt material, almost the same fabric as his own.

"I understand your hesitation, James. I'm sorry if I'm confusing you, or something."

"Whatever do ye maun?"

"I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want..."

"Hush nau," he said. "I wasnae blaming you, lassie. I jest didnae think it proper of me t' carry on like this so soon..."

I maun... we only jest met the other day."

"You things are moving too fast?" she said with a hint of sad amusement.

"I maun, we only jest met th other day. But, mebbe since this is the future, and ye lassies do things differently here..."

"You think that I'm thinking this affection... is payment for me saving your life back in the duel?"

"Aye, tis that. Well, sort of."

"You desire much more than just repaying a debt of honor, lad," she soothed, gently laying her hand on his chest. "I can feel it in you."

"How is it ye seem t' know what I'm thinkin... at times?"

"It's a matter of observing. The way you move, the way you stand. Speaks volumes. And now you seem as if you're ashamed."

"Then what wuild I be ashamed of?" he asked, pressing his hand overtop hers.

"Attraction to the opposite sex is not a crime. Even if it's another species of intelligent life. Your affection is a sincere complement. I am touched."

"How can ye separate feeling from action?"

"I don't. I comprehend. Everyone needs warmth and contact. A few brief shining moments of affection and bonding are required to Genomyni as well."

"I really want to... ye ken," he said softly. Placing at hand at the small of her back, he drew her closer again.

"Nothing would suit me better now," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "The question is, do you feel comfortable? If it's 'no,' than I will push no further. Demand no more than you're willing to give. That's all anyone should ask."

"But..."

"Am I always in the habit of desiring to have..." she started, then shifted to older phraseology. "I mean... lay with... handsome young men I've just met? No. The impulse is there. But how many times do you, a human male--I mean a man-- charge ahead with a desire?"

"Only if it seems right, or is a cause worth fightin' for..."

"Like Victoria for example. You desire her, and probably daydream you and she are together, more than friends."

"Yes... but how did ye..."

"I know people. Can't help but observe them like I observe the volcanoes and landslides that happen around me. It's normal male behavior to dream like that. But something obviously keeps you from satisfying that desire, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It's no right. At least something inside ma head tells me so. Call it mah conscience."

"That's how it is with me, too. I must be very careful with how I proceed with other species. I am afraid that anything beyond passionate kissing and embracing would hurt a human."

"I wuildnae mind, if this was the only time . . ."

"Yes. But I could seriously hurt you, if you and I well...."

At first Jamie thought she feared hurting his feelings. If one night of passion would seriously scar him. Instead, he took her words more literally. "Ye maun tha ye'd injure me... wi' yuir strength... from the heavier gravity, ye say..."

"Yes. Although, young males who are physically fit--human males reach their peak at age seventeen-- might be able to keep up."

"Mm. But a McCrimmon's hardly near a weakling. I may be young mahsel..."

"Definitely not. You might be able to withstand. But I don't want to hurt you..."

"Let's worry about tha bit if an when we come to it, okay," he suggested, steadying his shaking hand. "Else all this talking's fair near giving me a headache..."

"If its meant to happen it will..." she said.

"If a cause is worth fightin' for," he repeated.

"Otherwise Id'..."

No more words were exchanged as he stifled off the rest of her sentence. Maybe that famous piper's embouchure improved his lip caress technique. That giddy intoxication spread over alien and human alike. He wrapped her in an embrace that would have suffocated a normal human. All in his sudden desire, he latched tightly onto her to express himself in this new way. Her scent, her warm skin, all aspects of her he suddenly wanted closer than ever before.

"What the hey," she whispered.

More and more he leaned against her, as she stood on her tip-toes to reach him. Felt his chest caressing her bosom. Reaching one hand back she accidentally broke the infrared circuit to the door. His long fingers clasped the once freed hand, and interlaced.

So intent was the kiss that he hardly felt the shock as he pitched forwards into darkness. All the time he'd pressed her up against the sliding door to his adopted quarters in his new found eagerness to explore "makeing out". Geologist and highland Scot vanished behind the hum of an electronic door.