by Kathryn Hoff
She paused for a moment, her face serious. “However, I’m afraid you suffer from another common effect of hybridization: You’re infertile. You cannot have children in the normal way. I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 16
Secrets and dreams
No children? Ever? I felt like I’d been slapped. Rachel tactfully looked away and busied herself with her instruments.
Tears filled my eyes. I had dreamed, as most girls do, of having a baby to care for, even though I wasn’t ready to have one yet. To suddenly learn it would never happen…
“Of course, you can always adopt a child.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
“Here,” she said briskly, “let me look at that graft. My, that looks nasty. The skin seal should have been changed days ago.” She peeled off the transparent seal, none too gently. Underneath, it was nasty-looking, the skin red and oozing, the puckered edges of the graft beginning to part from the skin around it.
“I’ve been stuck on the ship,” I mumbled. “I couldn’t exactly ask the Corridor Patrol to fix it, could I?”
“I also know something else,” she said, fiddling with swabs and ointment on the wound. “I know you’ve been hearing the voice from the relic.”
I snatched my arm away. “No. Your instruments can’t tell you that.”
“They can. Telepathic interaction stimulates a very specific area of the amygdala. Your brain shows that activity—not nearly as much as is evident in Balan, but still, it’s there.”
I said nothing. I felt like she was reading my mind.
She sighed. “Everyone has secrets, Patch. I don’t want to intrude, but it’s part of my job to understand the effect the relic may have on members of this expedition. There.” She smoothed a new skin seal over the wound. “That will heal better now. You’ll still need a permanent regraft.”
“Thanks.” The wound under the transparent seal still looked red and raw. I pulled my sleeve down to hide it.
“Patch, for the safety of all of us, I need to know what the voice has been telling you.”
I could think of no reason to keep it from her. “Home,” I said. “It wants—commands—us to take it home. It says that peace and joy are there.”
“And do you know where its home is? Feel drawn toward the Gloom?”
“No. When I asked it to show me, it asked for blood.”
She fiddled with her instruments. “The voice you hear, what do you think it is?”
I shrugged. “A spirit, I suppose.”
“Have you ever heard other spirits?”
I hesitated. “Are you going to make fun of me if I say yes?”
She smiled. “Not at all. I’m well aware that Gavorans have a long cultural history of spiritual communications.”
“Then yes. But the voice of the relic is different.”
Rachel asked me a lot of questions. How was the voice different? Where was I when I heard it? Had I ever touched the relic? Did I feel any need to feed it?
I answered everything I could—she seemed to know so much already, I couldn’t think of any reason not to.
Finally, Rachel sat back. “Who else knows you’ve been hearing the voice?”
“Only Kojo.”
She nodded. “You’re wise to keep it to yourself. And don’t trust what it tells you is true.”
Could a spirit lie? I glanced nervously at the vault lurking in a dark corner of the hold. “Will I end up like Balan? He’s so obsessed he barely eats anymore.”
“I don’t think you’re in danger. Balan’s physical contact with the artifact may have induced a particular vulnerability. None of the other full-blood Gavorans are experiencing his level of obsession, nor has anyone else claimed to know where Nakana is.”
I nodded, only slightly comforted.
She slipped medical sensors into place on my wrist and behind my ear. “You should wear these at all times. I promise, if I see any indication you’re being dangerously affected, I’ll let you know.”
She stared into the distance for a moment, tapping her fingers on the chair arm. “Patch, I’d like you to help me. Terrans don’t seem to hear the voice. Certainly, I don’t. You hear its communications, but you seem to have more resistance than the pure Gavorans. That could be valuable to me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Assist me when I examine the artifact, to let me know if anything I do is somehow harming it. I don’t want to have Balan or any of the other Gavorans so close to it. Would you be willing to help?”
I hesitated, thinking of Balan’s unquestioning belief. “I don’t know. I don’t trust it.”
“Good. That’s one reason you’d be the right person to assist.”
“Let me think about it,” I said.
When I left the hold, Kojo drew me aside. “You were in there a long time. What took you so long?”
“She’s interested in hybrids. And”—I looked down as if embarrassed—“I don’t get much chance to talk to a doctor about, well, women’s things.”
“Oh. I guess not. Sorry, I should have thought. You’re all right, then?”
I dredged up a smile. “Sure. I’m fine.”
As soon as he was gone, I practically ran to my cabin. I had barely closed and locked the door before my body shook with sobs I could no longer hold back.
No little baby of my own to hold, not ever. No orange-haired child to sit on my lap.
No children to teach about my ancestors. No descendants to light a candle in my name. No succeeding generations to call upon my spirit.
It would be as if I had never lived at all.
The weight of that knowledge crashed down on me, crushing my soul.
I pulled out the scrap of my mother’s scarf and held it, weeping as quietly as I could. Beloved ancestors, help me find the wisdom to choose what is best, the strength to do what I must, and the courage to face what may come. Mother, comfort me. Grandmother, send me a sign.
Perhaps we were too far from Gavoran sectors for Mother or Grandmother to come to me, but this ship had been Papa’s home and I was sure his spirit lingered near. Papa, please speak to me. Send me a word of comfort.
But no comforting family spirit came.
I’d never felt so alone. I’d lost my mother, lost my father. My own brother had betrayed me. Now I’d lost my children before ever conceiving them.
I couldn’t stop weeping, so I stopped trying. I just let go, sobbing into my pillow in the darkness of my cabin.
Home.
The relic’s voice intruded. Insistent, unfeeling for my grief.
Quiet, I told it, angrily. You’re no help. You offer no comfort or sympathy, no advice or strength.
Peace and joy await.
Rachel had said the voice was not to be trusted. I sent a thought to the relic: I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying.
Home. Peace.
If the bloodstone really came from the Sages, I had even more reason to distrust it. Hadn’t the Sages decreed that my clan’s destiny was to serve the upper castes? Slavery, passed from mother to child for generation after generation. Meek submission, promoted by aristo priests in the name of religion and long-dead aliens.
I felt the burn of righteous anger, and with it, defiance.
I’d prayed in vain for comfort. Now rage gave me what prayer had not. Papa used to laugh in times of trouble, defying the universe. Well, if my mother’s spirituality couldn’t help me, maybe my father’s rogue nature could.
I took a deep breath and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
All right, bloodstone. You promise peace and joy, but you take blood. Let’s see what you really are.
I went to tell Rachel I would help her.
The next morning, I joined Rachel in the hold again. At her direction, I uncrated and installed another piece of equipment, an isolation chamber. It had a large, transparent box, with its own air supply and robotic arms to manipulate whatever was inside.
She looked over the empty box. “L
ovely. We’re ready to begin. I’m going to remove the artifact from the vault and place it in the chamber.”
“Outside its case?” I said uneasily. “Jamila said the metal of the case acts like an insulator.”
“Yes, but it must be done. Perhaps only for a short time.” Frowning, she glanced at the sensors on my wrist and head and checked the instruments.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” She fiddled with the console. “I’m just having some trouble calibrating for the background fields. The engines must be interfering.”
I tried to keep my gaze from wandering toward the bulkhead that hid the core of the synthreactor.
Finally, she seemed ready to begin. “Are you hearing the voice now?”
“Not a voice, but I know it’s there.”
She went to the com node. “Balan? I’m going to examine the relic now. Let me know immediately of any stress on the relic’s inhabitant.” She checked her instruments. “The readings from your sensors are coming through well. All set? Lovely.”
I stood up to open the vault. “No, no, my dear. I have the combinations. You sit quietly and let me know if there’s any reaction from the artifact.”
Rachel dictated her actions into the record as she proceeded. “Opening vault now.” She checked her instruments. “Opening case.”
Home. The voice ramped louder. The numbers on her various monitors flickered higher, but they meant nothing to me.
“Blood,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“It senses your blood. It kind of reached toward you.”
She stayed in front of the open case for a full minute, observing the artifact without touching it.
“Stay seated, Patch,” she said.
I hadn’t realized I was standing. I sat again.
“It knows you are there,” came Balan’s voice.
“Is it stressed?” Rachel asked.
“No.” Balan sounded amused. “It is not interested in you.”
“Thank you.” She waited another few seconds, and then laid her gloved hand briefly on the stone, then withdrew it.
“Nothing,” I said.
She nodded. With a swift movement, she lifted the relic from the case and placed it into the isolation chamber. She sealed the chamber and scanned the readouts.
“No change,” I said.
“I see Nakana,” Balan said. “I can see its location, in a double-star system within a cloud. I must be closer, to learn its exact location.”
Rachel looked at me. I shook my head. I saw nothing, heard nothing except the same whining to go home, peace and joy. Some insecure part of my mind wondered if I wasn’t good enough, if my mixed race or low caste made me unworthy for an important revelation.
I shook myself. Let the Sage worshippers follow the damn thing; why should I care if I wasn’t called?
Rachel ran a handheld scanner over the metal panels lining the empty case. She nodded as if satisfied, then sat where she could watch the isolation unit and its readings.
Minutes passed. I grew drowsy and allowed my eyes to close.
It was a pleasant dream, of a world of humid warmth under a greenish sky. Vegetation abounded. Beasts grazed peacefully. They were huge and hairy, warm, wandering lumps whose backs scarcely showed above the tall grasses that fed them.
Home.
There were clicks and snaps. I opened my eyes in time to see Rachel close the case’s lid over the relic. She returned the case to the vault and locked the door.
“Balan? Is all well?” she asked.
“The voice has faded. You have locked it away again.”
“That’s right. I’ve finished the scans for today.” She turned to me. “And you, Patch? All well?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“You received a telepathic communication,” she said. “Tell me about it, please.”
“It was just a dream.” She clearly expected more. “Of a world with a green sky, with lots of plants and grazing animals. Very peaceful.”
“I see.”
“Home,” I said, remembering. “I felt that this place was home. Do you think the world I saw is Nakana?”
Rachel pressed me for everything I remembered about the dream. Big animals, moving about, eating plants. Green plants, tall like grass or grain. No water visible, but a feeling of humidity and warmth. The animals had thick fur or hair, or some covering like that. But it was warm there, definitely warm.
“And a feeling of satisfaction and well-being,” I said. “I can see why the relic—or spirit or creature, whatever it is—wants to go back there. A paradise, really.”
“And where is this paradise?”
I had no idea.
CHAPTER 17
Spirits and angels
Balan came to the salon for dinner, his eyes shining, his fingers twitching. “Dr. Fiori, now that you’ve examined the bloodstone, I insist on being allowed access. I must speak to Suriel.”
We were mid-way through the series of long jumps, and everyone should have been well rested. His fevered agitation made me lose my appetite.
Lyden’s eyes widened. “Suriel?”
“I asked what I should call the soul within the relic. The name Suriel came to my mind.”
Grim paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “There’s somebody inside it? He must be damn small. Maybe he’s like the genie in the lamp.”
To Mya’s questioning look, Kojo said, “That’s an ancient Terran tale about a spirit trapped in a small container. When someone rubbed the lamp, the genie would come out in a puff of smoke and grant wishes.”
“So Terrans do venerate spirits?” Mya asked shyly. “I thought Terrans had no religion.”
“That’s not true at all,” Grim replied. “We have hundreds of religions.”
“That is the same as no religion.” Balan’s fork clattered to his plate and he pushed away his uneaten dinner. “Even Terrans have myths of angels that serve the deity. Why can you not accept that Suriel is such a servant?”
“An angel,” Kojo said in a flat tone. Grim snorted.
With exaggerated politeness, Jamila said, “Evergreen University is neutral on the angel question.”
Balan turned to Lyden and complained in Gavoran, “The Terrans mock the Sages.”
Rachel spoke soothingly. “We don’t want to denigrate your belief, we’re simply trying to understand something that we don’t experience.”
Lyden looked around imperiously. “I pity you, all of you, who are blind to truth. Nakana encompasses something much more important than technological advances. There we shall find the means to restore all our peoples to the harmony and peace the blessed Sages intended for us!”
The three Gav religious scholars looked rapturous, and even Danto’s face was grave rather than his usual sneer. He said, “I will do everything necessary to ensure the success of this mission.”
Mya gazed at him in admiration.
“I’m sure we all want the same thing,” Jamila said, despite all evidence to the contrary.
“I just sail the ship,” Kojo said cheerfully. “You pay me to take you to Nakana, then I’ll take you to Nakana.”
Feeling unsettled, I went to the engine room to talk to the one person I could usually count on to make me feel better.
“Busy?” I asked.
Archer was dangling a string for Tinker. “Hardly. These long jumps are boring.”
He held his sensor-ringed wrist next to mine. “Look, matching bracelets. You know, where I come from, we’d have matching rings, too. Since we’re married.” He looked at me sidelong.
I laughed. “Rings are impractical. But I’m glad Rachel is monitoring us—especially Balan.”
“Hmm.” Archer concentrated on enticing Tinker into another pounce. “I liked Rachel. She seemed to know all about me and didn’t act like there’s something wrong with me.”
“She was like that with me, too. She even told me things about myself I didn’t know.” I
blinked as sadness washed over me.
He looked up. “What’s wrong, Patch?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing to worry about.” But I couldn’t stop my lip from quivering and my eyes from filling with tears. I turned my head away.
Archer awkwardly put an arm around me. “Tell me about it. After all, we’re married now.”
I blotted my eyes on my sleeve. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just that Rachel told me…I can’t have babies.”
Archer stopped jittering for a moment. “Babies? You want to have a baby?”
“Well, not right now, idiot. It’s just that I always assumed I would have children someday. I was disappointed to learn that I…I can’t.” Misery washed over me so strongly I could barely get the last words out.
He peered at me anxiously. “You can adopt. There must be lots of babies who need parents.”
I scooped up Tinker. She allowed me to cuddle her for two seconds before she twisted out of my arms and stalked off. “Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe I don’t need to be bogged down by a family. I can just concentrate on business, and not worry about other things, right?”
Archer’s face bore a combination of sadness and disappointment. “Sure. Business.” Shoulders slumped, he turned to check a pinging readout.
“Don’t you want to hear about the passengers?” I began to chatter, telling him about Balan’s book, Lyden’s religious fervor, and Mya’s devotion to Lyden. “They’re all obsessed with the relic—all the Gavs say they hear it talking to them.” I watched Archer’s face to see if he would scorn their belief, but he just looked thoughtful.
“What do they think it is?” he asked.
“Balan says there’s an angel named Suriel who lives inside it. Kojo says it’s like an ancient Earth spirit that granted wishes.”
He brushed that aside. “Not a spirit. Not if it feeds. But it somehow survived five thousand years without food or water.” Both feet tapped to a rhythm only Archer could hear. “Spores can do that. Fungi. Some animals like frogs and fish can survive months, even years in a dormant state when their habitat freezes or dries up.”