by Wen Spencer
Paige glanced at the photo and instantly tears burned in her eyes. It was her cousin, Jack. "Oh god."
"He's one of your cousins?"
Paige held out the photo blindly. She didn't want to look at it again, see him so battered and dead. He'd been so strong and healthy last time she'd seen him. "It's Jack. He's Eraphie's older brother."
Mikhail took back the photo. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Paige nodded mutely. She didn't want to break down in front of these strangers. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision. "When you told us about the Lilianna, I assumed he was dead . . .but . . .but you keep hoping for a miracle."
"Yes, I know." Mikhail glanced toward the Svoboda, sitting like an odd gosling among the fishing boats. "I meant to say this earlier, but thank you for saving my brother. And please, don't be angry with him. Turk should have had the world on a silver platter, but that's not how it's been. He's had a hard life."
"He shouldn't have called my baby sister a slut."
"No, he shouldn't have." Mikhail considered for moment, obviously looking for something safe to say. All he came up with was, "He really shouldn't have."
Paige caught of sight of a large ship slowly moving toward Ya-ya's harbor entrance, attracting attention to a flock of pilot boats.
"What is it?" Mikhail asked.
She realized that she'd gasped. "It's a minotaur ship. It's probably the parents of our lost calves. We need to get back."
* * *
Paige tried to focus on the upcoming meeting with the minotaurs. They left Moldavsky and Coffee on the Yamaguchi, however, which meant that Turk met them at the Rosetta with a security detail. Nor was there time to stand and argue; the harbor authorities wouldn't want the minotaurs to come in under their own power and the minotaurs were probably not going to be patient about finding their children. As they cast off, Turk followed her like her own personal thunderstorm.
"If you're going to be like that, go away," she finally snapped at him. She didn't have time to dwell on his hurt feelings.
"I'm doing my job," Turk lowered his voice when he was angry, and it rumbled like distant thunder.
"No, you're not." She brushed past him to grab her boots out of her locker. She wished she had thought to impose some kind of ban to keep the Russians off of the Rosetta. The boat was just too tight of quarters to ignore him. "You're following me around like a hurt little boy, like I've done something wrong when you're the one with a problem."
"You lied to me."
"No I didn't." She pulled on her boots with the steel cleats fastened to the sole. The loud stomping she could achieve with the boots was satisfying in the mood she was in.
"You told me there were no other Reds onboard."
"And there weren't. My family wasn't born out of jars and we weren't raised in a crèche."
"Eraphie can fur over. Can you?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Can you?"
He wanted her to confess that she was some kind of monster.
"I will not dignify that with an answer." She stomped to her cabin to find her cap.
He followed close enough for her to almost feel his body heat. "Why can't you just tell me?"
"Because it's all a DNA crap shoot which of us can and can't. Where is the line of humanity? How many generations do we need to be away from the crèche before you get over your bigotry?"
"You didn't even give me a chance to—understand."
It didn't help that her cabin smelled like him. With his scent, it seemed to hold dangerous memories of being in his arms and happy. She snatched up her cap and turned to leave, but he filled the doorway, blocking her escape.
"I brought you on board my ship with my baby sisters and my little brother and my younger cousins. I was putting all their lives on the line. I didn't know shit about you except you were wearing Red combat armor." She slapped said armor hard enough that her hand stung. It made her angrier, and she was tempted to hit him harder, but it would probably only hurt her.
"And you couldn't tell by the time we got to Ya-ya that I wasn't raised in a crèche?"
"I could tell you're a bigoted shit." She gave him a shove, wondering if he was going to force her to fight with him. "You hate being adapted." He didn't back up enough for her to squeeze past, so she shoved him again. "You don't respect people that you think are adapted." She dropped her voice to mimic his deep growl, shoving him yet again. "Why didn't you tell me Ceri wasn't human? What the fuck difference would it make if she was a Blue or Red or Purple, for god's sake, except in your maggoty little brain?"
"Maggoty?" he rumbled dangerously, but he'd backed up enough that she could escape him.
"You're pissing me off." She stomped away from him. "Go away before I find nastier names to call you."
The idiot followed her. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"You left me!" She was losing it. Her volume was raising as his timbre dropped lower. "Before telling you could become an issue, you left! Why are we even having this discussion? As soon as you and your brother can track down Hardin, you're going away and never coming back."
"Did you think if I didn't know, I might stay?" He was reaching subsonic level.
"You've made it fairly clear that you were only staying with me because you were afraid to deal with Ya-ya on your own." The urge to add more hurtful things hit her and she locked her jaw against it. "Go away!"
"Can you fur over?" He pressed.
"Go away!" she shouted.
"You didn't tell me when you knew it was important to me. You knew. You knew and kept silent. If you had told me, I wouldn't have called Hillary a slut. I would have realized that Hillary would see Rabbit as a potential mate. I would have known what putting him with her would have ended up with. You totally blindsided me and then acted like I'm—zlody—the evil one."
"No I can't fur over." She snapped. "My mother couldn't either; she was just half-Blue, so she died of hypothermia when my parent's boat went down. Orin and Charlene and Hillary can and they survived. But we had a baby brother that couldn't—just like me—and he died—just like I would have died if I'd been with them."
She turned away because if he'd looked relieved that she couldn't fur over, she would have hurt him, with both words and fists.
Orin came clambering down from the bridge. "It's Hoto's ship! Someone must have gotten a message through to him about his kids." He glanced toward Turk, and his eyes narrowed as he guessed what was going on. "We're almost to the peace docks." They were wood floating platforms that served as neutral ground outside of the city. "The pilot boats have corralled the minotaurs to the docks, but they're afraid that the minotaurs will plow their way in if a translator doesn't show up soon."
"I'm coming!" Paige bellowed.
* * *
Turk growled with annoyance as Paige turned away from him yet again. He said one thing out of surprise—she'd lied for days and days. She was painting him as a villain without even trying to understand what he'd gone through all his life at the hands of cat fanciers. Bringing in her parents' death was totally underhanded; it had nothing to do with lying to him and causing this mess.
Orin stepped in front of Turk, blocking his view of Paige. "Don't be such a hypocritical bastard. Just leave my sister alone."
"I asked if I was the only Red on board and she lied to me. You all lied to me."
"Well, if I'd known that you wouldn't dirty your hands with the likes of us, I would have told you. Saved my sister from a cat fancier."
Turk snarled and swung at Orin. The man ducked and danced backward.
"A cat fancier," Turk growled, "is a pervert that sleeps with Reds because he sees them as animals."
"Glad you know what you are." Orin taunted.
Turk leapt at the man. Maddeningly, the man sidestepped him and then dodged every swing that Turk threw at him. They circled in place.
"I'm not a cat fancier." Turk feigned a punch with his right and followed with a swing from his
left.
Orin ignored the feint and sidestepped away from the true blow. "You slept with the disgusting animal didn't you? That makes you a cat fancier."
Turk roared and attacked without reserve. He wanted to silence the filth coming out of the man's mouth. Maddeningly, Orin ducked and weaved, avoiding every blow.
He's only half Red, I should be able to hit him. Turk fell back, panting. How was Orin dodging his attacks? "Paige didn't tell me she was a Red."
Orin laughed. "We didn't want trouble. Crèche-raised Reds won't fight with humans."
"I'm not crèche-raised . . ."
"You're acting like it. My grandfather worked in a crèche. I know what went into engineering Red gene banks. They didn't add anything that wasn't human. There's no cat or lizard or fish in our genes. It's all human. Tweaked. But it's all human. That cat shit is nothing more than screwed up behavior training."
"I wasn't raised in a crèche," Turk growled. "I didn't go through behavior training."
"You got it somewhere. You're not as deeply etched as Rabbit. But when you were young and impressionable, someone rubbed your nose in that shit, telling you lies, until you believed them. And you know what's truly sad? By refusing to see the truth, you're letting those bastards keep your nose in shit. Bad cat! Bad cat! Shame on you for thinking you're human."
Turk lashed out and this time caught Orin fast by the throat. Turk felt a flash of triumph until he realized that there was no fear in Orin's eyes. The man looked at him the same way Mihkail would; trusting Turk not to hurt him. Their eyes were even the same shade of blue.
Had the man let him win? Orin had started the fight. And now he let Turk win. What was Orin trying to do?
"Why are you doing this?" Turk growled.
"Because my sister loves you, even though you're being a complete asshole. I figured this would go one of two ways. Either you get your head out of your butt or you'd kill me. And I trusted you not to kill me."
Turk let go of Orin. It hurt to think of Paige in love with him. Of what could have been—but only if they were two different people.
Orin shook his head, sighing at whatever showed on Turk's face. "Humans are all alone in that place you're from. All they seem to do is examine each other under a microscope to find differences. Why do they feel the need to say 'you're not like me?' We don't do that here, because we have the minotaurs and the civ and obiaan. If anything, we cling to each other and say 'thank God, you're human too.'"
* * *
Hoto was the bull from Midway. He stood a full nine feet tall and clocked in around eight hundred pounds. His coat was rust red and his horns and hooves gleaming jet-black. He wore a loincloth of cobalt blue, earrings at the tips of his jutting leaf-shaped ears, and steel shoes. The makeshift dock quaked as he stomped up it.
"Who is the mouth here? Who? Who?"
"I am mouth!" she shouted at him and gave an assertive stomp. "What's your rush? You so thirsty for beer?"
She was trying for ridiculous. Minotaurs liked broad humor, or perhaps, humans didn't understand them enough to get the finer points of their wit.
Hoto threw back his head in surprise, and then cocked it to one side to get a better look at her. "What? This little thing is mouth?" He towered over Paige as he peered down at her. "I surprised it can think!"
At a distance, you could mistake a minotaur for an animal. Close up, once you got over their sheer size, you could see the intelligence in their face. Hoto's mouth pulled to one side in annoyance, but humor flicked through his eyes. The humor was working.
"You not tall yourself!" Page shouted and stomped her foot. "You just calf! Where your bull, calf?"
Hoto roared out what passed as laughter among the minotaur, a loud braying noise that was deafening close up.
Unfortunately, any exchange of insult was always followed by ritual exchange of blows. She really hated this part. He casually cuffed her on the shoulder. She rolled back to soften the blow to something that wouldn't break her shoulder, but it still hurt like hell.
There was movement behind her and a snarl of frustrated anger. She glanced behind her to see Mikhail and Orin haul Turk back by his scruff.
"No!" Orin growled. "Stop him. Only the mouth can talk!"
"Stay." Mikhail snapped.
Apparently Turk didn't hate her totally. Somehow it only acted like diesel fuel thrown on the hot ember of hurt that been smoldering inside of her, pain at what couldn't be flared through her. Blinking away tears, she made a fist, and hauling back, put all that hurt into punching Hoto as hard as she could, as high as she could, which landed mid-belly.
The Minotaur brayed out laughter. "You hit like a calf, little mouth!"
"I'm a young bull. I will grow bigger."
"Oh yes, you will come to here." He tapped his chest and then tapped a point level with her head on his stomach. "Instead of here."
She laughed as if it was a joke. "Be careful. I might bite your ankle if you make me angry."
That made him laugh. "Ah, but I know your secret. You are smart. The little young bulls that cut out their own herds are the very clever ones. I will be on my guard around you."
Paige considered the Minotaur. If she could read ages right, Hoto was fairly young himself. Perhaps even small in terms of males. Calling him small would be probably be an insult, but she allowed. "Then I will have to be careful too—you are not old yourself."
Hoto brayed another laugh and then sobered. "Where are my calves, clever little mouth? Why do humans have our little ones?"
"We found them washed ashore, their boat ruined, and one of them very hurt. We brought them here so we could care for them."
"Which one?"
"The female Zo."
Hoto nodded. She couldn't tell if he was relieved by the news. It was possible that the little bull, Toeno was more valued as the only male. Or he might be more expendable, since one day he'd be Hoto's rival. Paige wasn't sure how minotaur viewed their children as they were always kept out of sight and silent.
"Let us go then and collect my calves."
* * *
The Baileys had warned Turk that the minotaurs were large and brutish. Somehow he'd forgotten. Part of it was because he could look down at the children. He'd expected the adults to be only slightly larger. The male that stomped down to meet Paige was huge. It was easily twice her size. One of its beefy arms was nearly equal to her whole mass. Its angry bellows were deafening. Paige's shouts—which had seemed annoyingly loud moments before—were like a mouse squeaking.
The two bellowing at each other was nearly comical until the minotaur hit her.
He nearly shot it. Without thinking, he started to raise his rifle.
"No!" Orin knocked the rifle out of his hands. "Stop him."
And then Mikhail had a hold of him too, and the two of them were hauling him backwards when he wasn't even aware he'd lunged forward.
"Only the mouth can talk!" Orin blocked his view of Paige.
"Stay." Mikhail got between him and the minotaur too.
"It hit her." Turk growled lowly.
"She's fine." Orin didn't even look to be sure. "This is how it works. They talk to one another. Hit each other. Drink some beer. Do business."
Turk realized his Reds were standing alert, looking to him for guidance. He forced himself to relax and watch the negotiations, flinching each time the bull hit her. Paige bellowed. She roared. The cleats on her boots gave an extra noise to her stomping. The bill of the cap that she wore sideways stuck out to one side, and she waved it like a horn, tossing her head. She thumped on the minotaur's chest to make a point, and somehow took the beating back. Each time she was hit, a jolt of fear would go through him. Fear that she wouldn't get back up.
Then finally, he realized that the blows weren't really connecting. Just like Orin when they'd fought, Paige was somehow judging when and where the hits would come and shifting a moment before they fell. As his fear lifted, he began to see the artistry in what she was doing. She wove all the
minotaur nuances into a complete cloth and vanished behind it. She became a minotaur.
Just like she had all the human nuances down pat.
Eventually, the bull, Paige and a harbor pilot headed up to the gangplank for the minotaur dredger be guided into the harbor so that minotaurs could be reunited with their children.
"Now what?" Turk growled, wanting to follow.
"We have a small flotilla of boats back to the harbor. Paige will stay with them, drinking beer and keeping the peace." Orin said.
* * *
The females with Hoto brought out the massive glass steins of beer. Hoto laughed as Paige struggled to lift the stein with both hands.