by A. C. Katt
She finished her story lamely, “…wound up dumped in the street. I found a shelter and did the deal cold. They helped me get on my feet. They called my parents, who’d already declared me dead. They signed the certificate all made out, nice and neat, and bribed the coroner to let them bury an empty casket.” Anya let go and pulled Syn close for another hug.
“Damn,” Anya said, as she shook her head. “Goddamn, what did you do?” Syn shook her head.
“Jonesy, a social worker at the shelter saw to it that I had a DNA test and got a court order. I signed an agreement that, in return for living expenses, college, and a small settlement, I wouldn’t darken their door or file charges of abuse or fraud. I also insisted that they give me the things my grandma left me in her will.”
Syn’s mouth straightened in a hard line. “I stayed on at the shelter, went to Temple, and wound up with a degree in social work and clinical psychology. I ran the shelter, until all of this.”
“Sounds like you got it pretty much together. Why the fuss now?” Anya’s brow and the bridge of her nose crinkled in distaste.
“One of the bitches on board is the daughter of my father’s friend, the one who started it all. He told his family in confidence that I was a whore who attempted to seduce him. He warned them so that his own daughter wouldn’t be tainted in my company. The word spread here as well as home,” Syn finished, shrugging her shoulders. She gave Anya a long look, expecting to see rejection in her eyes.
Anya rose and held out her arms and Syn flew into them.
Anya stroked Syn’s hair. “That bitch is not going to get away with this. Don’t worry about her. I have a little pull around here. Jonal and Tonas are not happy if I’m not happy.”
And with that enigmatic statement, Anya’s face took on a whole new personality. She was scheming.
“Why? Why would you help me? Why would they?” Violet eyes filled with tears, staring at ice blue ones. She begged whatever gods there were that she understood what Anya said.
“Because I’m theirs; I’m also an empath. Don’t panic. I don’t read minds, I just sense feelings. It’s stronger now, since I mated. If you lied, I’d know.” Anya smiled.
“You are a cat person. Sarrans consider cats special. The cats protect us, ergo, we’re special. Besides, cats are picky. They don’t stay with bitches; they smell too much like dogs.”
Syn giggled in response; and the two Beasts jumped into their owners’ laps and purred. A tentative friendship and alliance forged…
The yeoman interrupted her reverie.
“I’m to take you through to the disembarkation area. As soon as you are processed, the princess and the admirals will meet up with you. May I carry the little beauty?”
Syn gave over Duchess’ basket and followed the yeoman down the corridor.
* * * *
Syn Sinclair and about four-thousand-five-hundred other women stood in long line upon disembarking from the Sarran Starship Brightstar. She held Duchess lightly in her arms, the basket at her feet. The women already claimed by their WarriorPairs were hustled through a separate line, presumably on their way to their new homes. Syn and the others snaked through a queue branching off to ten counters where the Sarran WarriorPairs processed paperwork, assigned housing, and checked the cargo bays to make sure each fem was reunited with her household goods. From Anya, Syn learned that Jonal and Tonas, Anya’s BondMates and the Admirals of the Brightstar Fleet, decided that the Earthen fems would be more comfortable with their possessions around them. Surprisingly, two cats made it up to the ship, her Duchess and Anya’s Tigger. In her less logical moments, she thought that both Duchess and Tigger put themselves in a position to make the trip. Something about those two felines together made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
After learning the extent of her cat’s intelligence and abilities, Syn wondered who took care of whom.
::I take care of you,:: Duchess replied with a sniff. Syn giggled, gave her white beauty a kiss on the nose, and leaned down to place her back in the basket.
The line moved quickly. It seemed to Syn that the line served the purpose of exposing the women to as many WarriorPairs as possible, as if they were on display. She thought the Sarrans used the queue to give the WarriorPairs who stayed planetside the opportunity to pick up the telepathic signal of a potential BondMate.
They stood in accordance with their assigned geographical boarding unit. She guessed that the Sarrans felt the Earthen fem would be more comfortable with those whose culture and mores most closely resembled their own. In her case, they got it dead wrong.
It meant that somewhere either ahead or behind her lurked Madeline Dixon-Howard, once a fellow resident of Philadelphia’s Main Line and a friend of Syn’s in a big sisterly sort of way. After the abuse began Maddy shunned her. When she ran away, her reputation became as tarnished as the family silver after the butler quit.
Maddy made it extremely uncomfortable for Syn on board, pointedly telling anyone who would listen that Syn was a fallen woman and worse still, a former prostitute. She couldn’t defend herself because in part, the accusation was true. She spotted Maddy about twenty yards in front of her. Syn possessed very sharp hearing, sharper still since surviving the plague. Unfortunately, she could hear the vitriol Maddy spouted.
“Yes, she does resemble a sluttish version of Marilyn Monroe with that platinum hair. Even in a prim navy suit, she can’t hide the fact she is a slut.”
The young woman next to Maddy attempted to change the subject but Maddy continued determinedly.
“She has violet eyes, can you believe that? I used to think she used contacts, but they’re real. Poor thing always was top heavy. In eighth grade, she wore a size thirty-two D, even though she is only five foot six, and she didn’t attempt to hide her pulchritude.” Syn imagined the vicious look in Maddy’s eyes.
Of course she had more to say, “She even wore cashmere sweaters, which called more attention to her figure. She had to wear one of those bras, you know—over shoulder boulder holders? No matter what she wore, she resembled white trash or a high-class hooker. Surely makes the case for what’s outside being a portent of what hides within.”
Syn closed her eyes, hoping that if she couldn’t see Maddy she would be unable to hear her. However, it seemed to Syn that the WarriorPairs in the line of Sarran men leered at her while listening to Maddy’s monologue.
“During the attack before landing, Admiral Jonal put her in charge of our section. He claimed her to be a friend of his bonded. I attempted to tell him what kind of trash he put in charge, but he had no time to listen. That association will be short lived once they find out she trolled as a street whore.”
Syn saw Maddy’s audience shrug their shoulders. Again Syn’s mind drifted to her night with Anya.
* * * *
::Why do you lead with your chin, Syn?:: Anya had asked. It was the first time she understood mind speech. Syn was startled.
“I don’t lead with my chin, princess, I state the obvious.”
“No, you neglect to say what makes you remarkable.”
“And that would be…”
“You have a PhD in clinical psychology specializing in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had access to the manifest. You graduated from Temple at the top of your class and received your PhD from the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy League School, last time I looked,” Anya answered with a smile.
“That just makes me a well-educated prostitute.”
“And being a physician makes me a well-educated bastard as Sister Edwana took great pains to remind me.” Anya linked her arms through Syn’s and they moved to sit on Syn’s bunk. As I said, I am an empath. I see you. You are tough on the outside, but soft and loving beneath the hard exterior.” Anya smiled.
“I’m embarrassed I came on so strong. I expect disdain, therefore I shoot before I get shot. For example, that hulk that brought you here…”
“TeZaron?”
“I suppose that’s his name. He v
isibly reacted to my presence. I felt like he lifted his nose as if he smelled something off. He was in such a hurry to leave, he didn’t even make you sure you were comfortable.” Tigger jumped up onto Anya’s bed.
“According to Jonal and Tonas, he is a Sarran Elder and traveling incognito. I don’t think he was happy to be outed.”
“He sure had a funny reaction to me.”
“They all have funny reactions to the Earthen fems as they refer to us. Half of them don’t know whether we are the best thing that happened to their planet since the tragedy or an inferior race destined to bring down their culture. Once they bond, however, they are loving, kind, and the most noble of men.” Tigger began to purr.
Anya explained the process of the bond, in so much as she could. From what the princess told her, the bond became metaphysical as well as temporal. It came with complete acceptance of all of your past and future. Syn didn’t know if she would be capable of dropping her shields or subjecting herself to the level of commitment that it would entail. Even if she could, she didn’t want to open herself to heartbreak. Despite what Anya claimed the bond could be, no man could overlook the fact that Syn lived with a pimp who trained her to become a whore.
Anya was now the highest ranking fem on planet since none of the Elders’ spouses survived the Zyptz attack. Since she became Syn’s friend, Maddy hated Syn even more.
Anya had shied away from the physical; the idea of bedding two men caused her great distress until she accepted her own desires. Syn saw no problem with the physical act of mating with two men; but she didn’t know if she could let her guard down long enough to permit the intense intimacy the bond required. She didn’t trust men and nothing in her experience gave her the slightest inclination to change her mind.
Back home in Philadelphia, after entering the shelter, she had little to do with men. When she attended the University of Pennsylvania, she shunned all of them except for her professors and the unavoidable discourse necessary to earn her masters, then doctorate in psychology. During the summers and after her graduation, she went home to the Women’s Retreat, the shelter that had rescued her from the street and worked to help others like herself overcome their pasts.
* * * *
As Syn’s mind traveled back to the present she noticed that Maddy’s audience looked a bit irritated when Maddy mentioned Syn to be a friend of Anya’s.
“They aren’t really friends you know,” Maddy continued. “Anya met Cynthia only because the Elder TeZaron put Anya with her the night before the hearing and he did that because they both owned cats. Disgusting creatures, cats, they make me sneeze.”
Syn didn’t dare go forward to defend herself. Even when Jonal, Tonas, and Anya all came to her rescue on a previous occasion when Maddy got mouthy, it didn’t matter. It seemed as if Maddy felt Syn to be a permanent pimple on her ass that Maddy was determined to pinch until Syn erupted and did something to prove her right. So far, Syn thwarted Maddy’s venomous mouth by not reacting to the vitriol, but she was nearing her breaking point.
The buzzing in her head that began on the Brightstar generated an unknown song and became louder and more painful. A tinny voice jabbered in her brain. She actually conversed with it occasionally, giving in to the compulsion to soothe…and now she was talking to the cat. Perhaps she did have the beginnings of a psychosis as an aftereffect of the plague.
Fuck, I need a cigarette. There was a stale pack and a lighter in her purse. She did not indulge herself on the ship because she was afraid of the consequences of an open flame in the enclosed atmosphere of Brightstar, but the pangs were strong. She rummaged in her purse for the lighter.
She shrugged philosophically. If she proved incapable of bonding, what was the worst that could happen? If that proved to be the case, she could settle in here and begin a private practice to help the Earthen women adjust to their new home, or, be sent back on the next ship. Either way, she and the Duchess would do just fine. Now if only Maddy would shut the hell up and this headache would go away!
Syn looked down at the hard packed dirt in front of the counters and noticed a pattern. A straight line snaked across the reception desks and to the end of the queue. It looked as if someone repacked the dirt after the depredations of the local equivalent of a mole. Some sort of black miasma hung over it, clinging to the ground. She thought it might be some sort of Sarran anomaly, yet it felt wrong.
* * * *
“Zadda, tell the driver to hurry up. Maddy is being horrible to Mommie again and Mommie feels very sad, she is hurting, burning, and smoke is coming out of her mouth. She needs us now, something is wrong with the dirt.”
Nafer’s small face screwed up, portending a storm of tears and temper. A true note of alarm rang in his offspring’s voice. Naffie almost screamed in his distraught state. Bron used the communicator.
::Zaron…::
::Bron?::
::I’m on my way in the PGT. However, something is wrong with Nafer. There is a fem from the Brightstar. He’s channeled into her psy.::
::How?::
::I don’t know. He has been babbling on for days about his “Mommie. What does this word signify?:: Bron was puzzled.
::Goddess, Bron, it means we have a fem on the ship. Nafer is going to knock her out, if he keeps on pushing.::
::Are you feeling anything resembling a BondStir? Something else though, he says something is wrong with the dirt.::
::I experienced a low level resonance on board that could have been a BondStir. But I ignored it. The blocks are still in place. The bond must be strong to penetrate the mind locks.::
::Nafer has no block and neither does the fem. Be prepared. Nafer’s psy is strong, but undisciplined. He is going to reach out as soon as we hit the field and we must act to soften the blow,:: Bron said in concern.
::Did he give you a description?::
::Only some babble about milk, cookies, someone named Marilyn Monroe and petting something in front of a tube. He’s almost hysterical because she has smoke coming out of her mouth. Does this make sense to you?::
::Some…Hurry Bron, I need you.::
::I need you too, my Dragon…::
Bron sat up straighter in the seat. “Hilnut, we are going to teleport the PGT discreetly onto the field. I believe we will be needed sooner rather than later.”
“Yes, Elder, immediately.”
Bron turned to Nafer and with a stern face said, “I did all I can; now you must settle back and wait like a true Warrior instead of a spoiled offspring.”
“Yes, Zadda.” Nafer stopped whining, but still fidgeted.
Bron closed his eyes in concentration. He and his Dragon needed to do something about Nafer’s lack of discipline. They lost complete control of the situation after Nara returned to the Goddess.
* * * *
Anya stood with impatience as Jonal, Tonas, and TeZaron waited for the people on Brightstar to disembark. She worried over Tonas’ leg, still encased in a semi-hard cast, the outline of which showed through the loose trews. As the Admirals of the Sarran Fleet, it remained their duty to see that the two dead Warriors and those wounded in the Zyptz attack were attended to first and to dismiss their crew for leave before they could make a formal report to the Elder Council. TeZaron, an Elder himself, and senior member of the council, stayed to bear witness. A council PGT pulled up onto the landing field. The door swung open and a boy came barreling onto the runway.
To Anya’s surprise, the stern countenance of the Elder broke into a huge smile as he knelt and opened his arms. The child ran straight to him.
“Poppie, Poppie, you’re finally home!”
A distinguished gentleman in his late thirties followed the child, escorted by two security officers. TeZaron stood with fire flashing in his eyes as the Warrior came directly to his side. Anya could see that the other man shed tears of joy from his deep golden orbs.
“Watch it, Pa Mici, or Tonas and I might be tempted to slug an Elder.”
“I’m surprised. I didn’
t think TeZaron knew how to smile. He seemed to me to be a very cold man.”
Jonal raised his eyebrow.
“TeZaron and TeBron dealt with great tragedy from an early age. Appointed to the Elder Council during Zyptz war, they took charge of strategy and tactics. With the peace, they looked forward to the easy governance of Sarran. Instead, the Zyptz brought us the virus and TeZaron and TeBron coped with the aftermath while engaged in their private grief for their fem, unborn bebe, and fempring. Although they are both in their mid-thirties, they carried the weight of this world now for ten years,” Jonal concluded.
“I see. The burden aged them both. They look older than their years.”
“The responsibility for the fleet lay heavy on our shoulders; so much more so must be the responsibility for the entire civilization. Yet they fought for the survival of the Sarran race with fortitude and courage. I hope they find a fem among the Earthen women. They deserve to be as blessed as we are.”
Tonas bent over and kissed Anya at the juncture of her upper and lower lip. Anya smiled back, counting her blessings.
“Our offspring has regained his exuberance, I see,” TeZaron remarked.
Anya barely glimpsed TeBron, and their son, Nafer. As soon as her mind formed his name, the child turned to her with his hands extended upward. Anya, a trained pediatrician, picked him up right on cue. He was an armful. She knew his age from her bonded, but he looked at least four inches taller than an Earthen six-year-old child and a good twenty pounds heavier.
“You are Anya. You are my Mommie’s friend and you are going to have a fempring. My Mommie likes you.”
“Who is your Mommie?” Anya asked gently. Although his body belied his age when measured against an Earthen child, his actions were akin to his years.
Anya watched as TeZaron raised an eyebrow at TeBron. She felt a mental poke and suddenly the small voice jumped into her head. ::You know my Mommie, she has a beautiful beast with long white hair; but Zadda and Poppie don’t see her yet. It’s the shield. Mommie will fix it. She’s a mind healer; I don’t know your word.::