"Graduation night, then the first time we got together after you managed to catch the satyr bug." She was not going to tell him about the impossible marriage and children . . . Letting amused irritation show in her voice, she went on, "Or would have, until you interrupted yourself. Interested in starting over?" "Any time," Odeon said with a chuckle. "Especially since it seems this is one I owe myself!" 16. Marriage Cortin lay awake, listening to Odeon's soft breathing and thinking. The dream had been almost pure wish fulfillment, a wish she'd both had and known was impossible since the day she'd met him. She'd never had the slightest interest in any of her schoolmates, or any marriage interest in the Enforcement men she'd met after Mike . . . but Special Ops men didn't marry, couldn't have children, so she'd settled for what they could have. The dispensation helped, no doubt about that, but it wasn't enough! Even if they couldn't have children, they ought to be able to have some sort of stable relationship--and the only way she could see of giving it to them was to have her new family structure accepted. In fact, everything seemed to hinge on that, from maintaining social stability--although in a new form--to the continued existence of humanity in the Systems. Good as it would be for the parents and the Kingdoms as a whole, though, it would be best for the children--and for Special Ops troops, giving the trooper a real home and the family he married into a second father/husband--or in her case and Piety's, mother/wife--and provider. A mostly-male marriage might be a bit much at times for the wife or wives, though, unless it did include troopers . . . Cortin felt briefly complacent at that; she could satisfy a shelter full of troopers without a bit of strain! Mike was right that God had been more than generous to her; even the attack had been only a prelude allowing her the increased pleasure men now gave her. It was too bad, in a way, that other women were limited to what she'd had before . . . but they couldn't know, any more than she had then, what they were missing. And they had something she no longer did: the hope, at least, of children. She couldn't help envying them that, the joys of home and family she'd never know. Still, she told herself sternly, she'd accepted that fact months ago, and without the consolations God had granted her since.