B00CH3ARG0 EBOK

by Christie Meierz

  A faint rustle of papers came over the comms. “You have your brief, Wallingsby.”

  * * *

  The shaking was starting again.

  In his office on Tau Ceti station, the Chairman looked once more at the high-resolution images in the file. Why are we risking so much? He glanced at the diplomatic dossier the Terosha had provided. This Sural had been in power for 200 years standard, at least – and four times he had become obviously younger, as had two of his advisors. The appalling, bug-like Terosha didn’t notice, or if they did, they hadn’t known what to make of it. This human did.

  Life extension was nothing surprising; lots of races had that in some form. It was also uninteresting, especially if those with enough experience and power to do something really useful ended up living on as decrepit, pitied… things.

  But rejuvenation – that was something else. It would cause riots across the Six Planets if people approaching the age of 150 or so heard of it. But they didn’t need to know. Now that Security had spotted the same key facial changes in Marianne Woolsey as they had in the Sural – they would get her back, and take her apart, molecule by molecule if necessary, to see what the Tolari had done to her. And he had no doubt the Sural had done something to keep his little human plaything around for a while. But the Macedonia was fully capable of getting the job done – or else conducting a punitive expedition that would turn the castles of Tolar into ash.

  From his desk, he took the double-sealed and verified strip of derm-patches and applied them beneath each collarbone and under both arms. The shaking eased, but at a cellular level, his body still knew.

  He needed a new life.

  * * *

  “Push!” Cena said.

  Marianne scowled. “I am pushing!” she yelled.

  “Harder.”

  “I can’t!”

  “You can,” the Sural murmured in her ear. “Lean back against me. Take my arms. Push with all your strength.”

  “AAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

  A guard flickered. “NOT NOW!” the Sural thundered at him.

  * * *

  Vidar regarded the display. The huge Earth Fleet command carrier was moving. The Sural refused to be distracted from the impending birth of the Marann’s child and gave no orders. He pondered what to do. The Sural might simply destroy it, he knew, but being only a guard, he had never been trained to kill.

  Eyes narrowing, he studied its trajectory as it turned toward Tolar. If he disabled its engines at the proper moment, momentum would carry it into the gravity well of the seventh planet, a colossal gas giant. The humans would have days before the ship’s orbit decayed enough to put its crew’s lives in danger. He nodded to himself as he prepared to disable them.

  The carrier continued its turn and engaged engines.

  * * *

  An outraged wail filled the air. Shaking, crying, and laughing all at one time, the Marann cupped the little face of her daughter as Cena placed the newborn on her stomach. It was, the apothecary thought gratefully, an uneventful birth.

  “Happy birthday,” Marianne whispered in English.

  The Sural glowed, seeming not to notice the tears trickling down his cheeks.

  Cena continued her work and directed an aide to clean up, as a nurse took the newborn to wrap her in a soft blanket and replace her in her mother’s arms. She sensed the infant reach for her mother’s bond to commune as she nursed. The Sural, his protective instincts ignited by the cloud of pheromones wreathing his bond-partner, wrapped his arms and his senses around them both.

  Ordering a nurse to monitor them, she helped her aide in the cleaning. The Sural did not seem inclined to move, and the Marann began to drowse, still leaning back against him, her newborn daughter snug against her breast. A servant placed a large, heavy bolster behind the Sural’s back, and he relaxed against it. Presently, all three slept.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Just past the midday meal, Marianne awoke, starving. She kissed the warm, sleeping bundle in her arms, wondering where the Sural had gone.

  Then she caught a good whiff of herself. Hungry though she was, she needed to bathe before she went anywhere. Leaving her daughter into the arms of the watchful nurse, she went into the bathing area. Emerging afterward much refreshed, she found the nurse insistent upon carrying the baby. “You may find the walk to be sufficient exercise, high one,” was all she would say.

  Marianne did have to admit she had a point, when she arrived in the refectory feeling like she’d run a race.

  Laura, sipping at some tea in the nearly empty room, was quick to appropriate the baby. “She’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Long, too. Going to be tall like Papa.”

  Marianne shrugged. Laura chuckled, turning her attention back to the newborn, murmuring soft nothings. The Sural arrived from wherever he’d been and detoured to drop a kiss on Marianne’s forehead.

  “I heard the first meal you eat after having a baby is fabulous,” Marianne said. “I have to say – it’s absolutely true.” She bit into a piece of fruit and closed her eyes in bliss.

  Laura looked up from the baby and smiled. “It was certainly true for me,” she said. Her eyes misted a little.

  Marianne put a gentle hand on her arm. “How are you, really? I don’t think anyone expected you to react to the blessing the way you did.”

  The other woman wrinkled her forehead in thought. “It’s not what I expected either. But the trick is cold.” She patted a pocket. “The icepacks help. They feel very good.”

  The Sural took his seat at the head of the high table and interrupted them. “It may be necessary to extend the interdict until Earth changes its course.”

  “You’re not going to get anywhere with Central Command as long as the Chairman is in power,” Laura said. “The man is mad.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “He is persistent.”

  Marianne looked from the Sural to Laura and back. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Earth sent a command carrier,” the Sural explained. “It stationed itself in the cometary belt while a diplomatic liner representing Central Command moved closer and demanded I return you to them. I refused and disabled the liner. A short while later, the warship left.”

  Marianne winced. “All this, while I was having the baby?”

  “Yes, beloved.”

  She sighed and kept eating.

  “Here,” Laura said, changing the subject. She carried the baby over to the Sural to lay her in his arms. “I know you want to hold her.”

  He smiled his thanks and gazed at the tiny infant, stroking her shock of black hair with a finger. “She resembles Kyza,” he murmured.

  “She should,” Marianne said. “They’re sisters.”

  Laura returned to her chair. “So what are you going to name the little beauty?”

  Marianne glanced at the Sural. “Rose.”

  The Sural smiled and opened his mouth to say something. Kyza and Thela interrupted him by stampeding into the refectory, late for their midday meal. They stopped short when they saw the bundle in his arms.

  “Father!” cried Thela. “Is that the Marann’s child?”

  “Yes, daughter,” he said. “Come look if you like, but be gentle.”

  Kyza and Thela crowded around him, cooing and giggling and peppering him with questions. “What did the Marann name her?” they asked. “Was she born this morning?” “How fast will she grow?” “When will she be big enough to walk?” “Will she be the Marann someday like Kyza will be the Suralia?”

  He answered their questions until their appetites eclipsed their interest, and they wandered over to the trenchers of food near the kitchens.

  Marianne felt a stab of hunger through her parental bond. Rose made a face. “She’s getting hungry.” Marianne eased herself out of her chair.

  The Sural glanced at the nurse, standing quietly nearby. “I will carry her to your quarters,” he offered, standing and proffering an elbow. Together they headed for the corridor, the nurse trailing behind them.<
br />
  Laura finished her tea. “I think I’ll take a walk in the garden. It’s nice and cool out there today, and that really does help.”

  “Stop by my quarters later if you like,” Marianne called over her shoulder. “I’ll tell the guards to expect you.”

  She turned and bumped into the Sural, who had stopped just outside the doorway. Storaas stood in the hall before him, one eyebrow raised, studying each of them in turn. His eyes moved from Marianne to Rose to the Sural and back.

  “You have something to say, old friend?” the Sural asked.

  Storaas clasped his hands behind his back. “You have a parental bond with this child.”

  The Sural went still, surprise running through him. He glanced at Rose and back at Marianne. She sensed him probing, and his eyes widened. He stared at Storaas.

  “The bond with the mother appears normal and healthy,” Storaas continued. “Astonishing. I have never seen this. Perhaps a result of being bonded to the mother and so intimately involved with the birth.”

  “Well,” said Marianne, “as much as I’d like to continue this discussion, I need to sit down, and Rose needs a feed.”

  She headed toward her quarters, pulling the Sural along with her, sensing Storaas’ gaze following them down the corridor. In her quarters, she made room on a low divan and snuggled into her beloved while she fed Rose. He wrapped his arms and his senses around them both.

  A guard flickered. Marianne groaned. “What do they want this time?”

  The Sural pulled out his tablet and studied it. He gave her a squeeze, stroked Rose’s hair with a gentle finger, and stood. “I must go,” he said. “The heir to Nevenar has arrived.”

  “Never let it be said that the Neven permits a little thing like the birth of a child to get in the way of trade.”

  “He does rarely miss an opportunity to gain advantage from distraction.”

  She snorted. “You’d better go.”

  “I will return as I can.” He strode out of the room, nodding to Storaas, who had appeared in the doorway.

  “Proctor!” she said. She put Rose on her shoulder to burp. “Have a seat.”

  “High one,” he murmured, sitting in a low chair near her. “I congratulate you. Your daughter is beautiful.”

  “Your son is pretty handsome himself, from what I’ve seen of Cena’s fetal scans.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “He is not my son. He is Cena’s heir.”

  “Yes, well. We’ll just have to disagree about that.”

  “You retain some human notions.”

  “Of course I do.” She beamed a smug grin. “Be there when he is born. You will find it worth the experience.”

  He shook his head again. “You would better serve your friend if you discouraged her from me.”

  “I will never do that. No.”

  “High one, she only becomes more entwined.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “I will go into the dark before many more years pass, and she will be more grieved than is necessary.”

  “Then don’t die!” she exclaimed. “Everyone wants you to live except you.”

  Rose squeaked a protest at the vehemence. Marianne took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

  “I have lived too long already,” Storaas said, after a moment. “There is no longer anything worth living for that I have not already done.”

  “You’ve never bonded.”

  He fell silent.

  “Proctor, take the Jorann’s blessing, and bond with Cena, and be with her when her son is born. I guarantee, you’ll find it worth living for.”

  “We neither of us have heirs,” he said. “We are ineligible to bond.”

  “Then ask the Sural’s permission. I doubt he’d deny you anything that kept you with us.”

  He set his jaw. “I cannot do that to her. My death would tear her in half.”

  “So you are entwined with her.”

  Storaas stared.

  She gave him a smug grin. “Gotcha,” she said in English.

  He snorted. “I must think.”

  “You do that.” She tried to give him another smug grin, but found herself caught by a huge yawn. She grinned again, but this time she felt sheepish. “I think I should take a nap.”

  “Of course, high one,” he said, rising from his chair. “I understand you had a strenuous morning.”

  “Good luck, Proctor,” she called as she headed for her sleeping mat with the somnolent Rose.

  * * *

  Rose woke Marianne, fussing and hungry. A nurse whisked her away as the Sural slipped under the blanket and nestled against Marianne’s back.

  “Beloved,” she said sleepily. The nurse returned Rose, clean and dry and making unhappy sounds, her tiny mouth trying to latch on to anything that touched it. She guided Rose and winced at the first strong pulls.

  The Sural rumbled a soft chuckle. “She has my appetite,” he said.

  Marianne swiveled her head to eye him over her shoulder. “How do you know it’s not my appetite, hmm?” she asked in an arch tone.

  His expression was smug. “Cena also inherited something of me, or so Storaas says.”

  “He would know.” They were silent, Marianne half-asleep as Rose nursed. When the sucking slowed, she sat up to burp her. “Doesn’t it embarrass you to speak of your own daughter’s ... appetites ... that way?”

  “Should it?” he asked. “She is not my daughter, she is her mother’s heir. Thela is more a daughter to me than my head apothecary is, though I fathered the one and not the other.”

  Rose uttered a soft bubble. Marianne lay back down facing the Sural and offered the other side. She drowsed as Rose suckled.

  “Beloved—” she began.

  “Yes?” He stroked Rose’s head with the backs of his fingers.

  “Would you grant Storaas and Cena permission for an early bonding if they requested it?”

  His eyes shot to hers. “Why do you ask?” He lifted himself to one elbow.

  “I shook him, I think. Cornered him into realizing he’s entwined with her. I told him I didn’t think you’d deny him permission to bond with Cena, or anything else that kept him with us.”

  The Sural gave her a brilliant smile and a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I doubt he would ask – he is much too traditional – but I would gladly grant them permission if he did.”

  She smiled and sat up to bubble Rose again. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  “He made me what I am and asked nothing in return. I would give him anything he asked if it were in my power, but he asks only for work.”

  “What happened to make lose him interest in life?” she asked, and lay down again facing him, Rose quiet and alert between them.

  “He will know if I tell you.”

  “How could he?”

  “You would change toward him.”

  Marianne pursed her lips. “It wouldn’t change anything. You know how much I care about him.”

  The Sural studied her for a moment. “He was entwined with the Suralia my grandmother.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He’s not—”

  “No, he is not what you would call my grandfather. But the Suralia did offer to mother his heir.”

  “Were they bonded?”

  He shook his head. “They had planned to bond when Storaas declared his heir.”

  Marianne hardly dared to ask. “What … happened?”

  “Grandmother traveled away from the stronghold when she was heavy with child, the day Parania invaded. Storaas and I were with her, and the Paran sent most of his guard after us in an attempt to assassinate me. The attack triggered me, but I was unable to protect her. She walked into the dark, taking the child with her.”

  “Oh my God,” she said softly, in English.

  “She kept her honor, but it broke Storaas. His interest in life followed her into the dark.”

  “And he has no heir.”

  “No. He never again made the request of an
y woman. Truthfully, he did not request it of my grandmother. She offered out of love. He has since refused every request made of him to father an heir, until Cena asked.” He grinned. “You captured his choice in the matter.”

  “Me?” she asked, blinking. “What did I do?”

  “You asked before witnesses if he would honor her request. He was forced to choose between granting her request or humiliating her, and he cares too much for her to do the latter.”

  Marianne buried her face in one hand. If he’d said no... “Cena could have been hurt, and it would have been my fault.”

  “No, beloved. He would not have humiliated her. It was well done of you, even if unknowingly.”

  Marianne frowned. “If he can refuse all requests, why can’t you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am the Sural.”

  She snorted.

  He ignored the snort and continued, “I believe Cena reminds him of his lost Suralia. There is no physical resemblance, but she has something of my grandmother’s spirit.” He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling. “I was very glad to see him take an interest in her. I had hoped it would light a spark of life in him. Perhaps it has.”

  They were quiet for a time. Rose drifted into sleep.

  “Look what we made,” Marianne said in a soft voice, a sudden surge of delight bringing a huge smile to her face.

  He stroked her cheek. “There is the smile that captured me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The next morning, Marianne did her best to be unreadable when Cena came to her quarters to examine her. The apothecary was pensive and distracted as she studied her readouts.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him too much,” Marianne said.

  Cena glanced up and smiled. “Your ability to read others is improving.”

  Marianne shrugged. “It’s not hard to know what’s on your mind right now.” She sensed a stab of grief run through the apothecary, suppressed almost before she could notice it. “Cena ...”

  Cena gave a rueful smile and changed the subject. “How is Rose eating?”