Eternity Row

by neetha Napew

  “RrissVar and I served the Faction together. He is an honorable soldier who deserved better than to be slain by some disgruntled incompetents embittered by their own failure.”

  “Those failures you’re talking about would be the League soldiers, I hope.”

  He ignored that. “You have always been prone to act first and think later. It is not an attractive quality, but one I accept. That I think first and act later is equally unattractive to you. I ask only that you do the same and accept me as I am.”

  He had yet to get acquainted with some of my other unattractive qualities, but I let it slide.

  “I can do that.” I nodded and sipped some of what had to be the worst tea I’d ever made in my life. “That it?”

  “I was trying to protect her, as much as you were. The fact that I was rational and you were not makes no difference. My choice not to signal the Jorenians was the logical one, as you saw when they later arrived.”

  “Yep.” My fingers tightened around the server handle. “Rational. Logical. You’re right. Is that it?”

  He got to his feet and made a careless gesture. “Go ahead and vent. Doubtless you need to.”

  “Got me all figured out now, don’t you? That’s nice.” I set the server down carefully and folded my arms. “We’ve done some stupid things to each other in the past, Duncan. I admit, I’m as guilty of that as you are. We didn’t communicate well and we still have problems in that department.”

  He gave me an uncertain look. “And?”

  “And I’m your wife. I know we have a long way to go before we work out all the kinks of what constitutes us. We need to talk more about our different attitudes about parenting and protecting our child.”

  Now he seemed mesmerized. “You mean that?”

  I gave him a gentle smile. “Of course, I do. I love you. I love Marel. I want us to be a family. Can we do that, together?” I waited for his slow nod, and took a deep breath. “Excellent. I look forward to making that work.” He started to walk toward me, but I held up one hand and reached down for my server. “All I want to say is one more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  I threw the server at him, deliberately missing his head by an inch. It smashed into the far interior wall of our quarters and burst, sending a shower of terrible tea all over the deck and furniture.

  “I don’t care how many alien pals you’ve got wandering around this galaxy. Protecting our baby is more important than all of them. You think about that, because you’re a father now and you’re damned well going to act like one.” I was shouting, but no one ever said I was perfect.

  He stood his ground. “I did what I thought was best.”

  “It wasn’t. And here’s another little news flash for you, just so that we’re communicating openly and clearly: If you ever put our child at risk again like you did today, I won’t think twice. I’ll take her and I’ll leave you and you will never see us again.”

  Then he said what I didn’t expect at all. “I know you will.”

  It should have taken me aback, but my anger was boiling every other emotion I possessed. “Good. Now, I’m going to take a walk around the ship a few times and punch a couple of walls. You find a way to get these damn soldiers out of here, and do it fast.”

  I didn’t go back that night, but spent three miserable hours sleeping on the incredibly uncomfortable seating unit in the games room. A few crew members came in and out, but wisely left me alone. I went back to Medical for primary shift, feeling like a wrinkled rag, and caught a swift shower there before checking on my daughter, then going back to work.

  After all the fireworks, Squilyp had refused an exam, and I’d been too upset with Reever to argue with him. Now I made him hop onto an exam table and scanned his face.

  “You look about as good as I feel,” I muttered as I checked the condition of his ruptured gildrells. All but one were healing, and I applied a topical anesthetic to the one that had become slightly stiff and inflamed. “Have the girls been behaving?”

  He looked over at the isolation chamber, where Marel and Fasala were playing bentaka, a complicated Jorenian board game that was sort of like chess and Chinese checkers, with a little poker thrown in. “For the most part, yes. Marel seems incapable of sitting still for very long intervals.”

  “That’s her job.”

  As we performed rounds, I felt Squilyp giving me these speculative looks. Finally, I said, “What?”

  “Duncan was here earlier.” He handed me one of the League soldier’s charts. “He sat with Marel until he had to report for duty.”

  “How sweet.” I hummed under my breath as I studied the chart’s display. “There’s a buildup of fluid around the upper limb wound. We’d better have one of the nurses aspirate the joint before he goes edemic.”

  “Duncan said you were furious with him.”

  Now my husband was confiding in my boss. Since they were both male, they’d probably gang up on me or something.

  “Furious, no. I got all that out last night.” I noted my prognosis on the chart and handed it back to the Senior Healer. “Now I’m hovering an inch between leaving him and not leaving him. Let’s go see the girls.”

  Although they were low priority on the rounds schedule, seeing to Marel and Fasala went a long way toward soothing my frazzled temper. My daughter could barely contain herself long enough to sit on her berth so I could remove her patient gown.

  “You see kiddies, Mama?” She pointed to a small container in the corner of the room, where the abducted trio were napping, exhausted no doubt from playing with my kid. “Dey bedder now.” One hand latched on to the edge of my tunic as she scratched at her dressing with the other. “Off?”

  “What’s the matter with it, sweetie?” I tugged her hand away and checked the bandage adhesive to make sure it wasn’t irritating her skin. “This bothering you?”

  She nodded. “Off?”

  “Let me have a look first.” I carefully peeled back one edge of the dressing. Beneath it, what had been raw gashes were now rapidly shrinking rows of pink skin. I removed the bandage and examined it. On the inside of the dressing were a couple of scab fragments that Marel must have dislodged with her scratching.

  I glanced across the berth. “Squilyp, look at this.”

  He nodded, then scanned Marel’s torso and showed me the display. “Healed completely.”

  “Good news, baby, you don’t need this anymore.” I discarded the dressing, then helped her down from the berth. “You keep Fasala company for a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  The Omorr and I went into his office, and stood there in silence for a few seconds, before I dropped down in the chair and rubbed my aching head with my fingers.

  “It’s good she heals fast. Little kids are always scraping and bumping themselves, aren’t they?” I removed a syrinpress from my tunic pocket and toyed with the calibrator. “So she won’t ever have to suffer pain. Not for very long, anyway.”

  “You knew when you became pregnant the child would have an equal chance of inheriting your genetic characteristics as well as Duncan’s.” Squilyp touched my shoulder. “We will test her and determine exactly how she differs from a standard Terran.”

  “No, we won’t.” Sudden, hot rage flashed through me. “No tests. Erase the scan-erase all the scans. From this point on, we falsify her records.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary-“

  “Oh yeah? What happens if the League finds out my daughter has the same immune system as I do? You think they’re going to pass up the chance to capture the second-most valuable lab rat of all time?” I took Marel’s chart from the stack and set the controls to erase all records. “Nothing goes into the permanent database about her from here on out.”

  “Wait.” He reached for the chart, and did something to it. When he turned it around, I saw the patient name and information had been changed to that of a Jorenian child. “We’ll encode the real data behind the false readings. That w
ay, we can keep track of her development.”

  “Just what do you think she’s going to develop into?”

  “Someone wonderful.” He smiled. “Like her mother.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Rendezvous Round

  We must make the transfer quickly,” I heard my husband say as I walked into our quarters. Greeting me were my extremely nervous cats, two of the kittens and the delightful sight of Reever and RrissVar working together on our personal console.

  “Hello, Duncan. RrissVar, you can leave.”

  “I need him here,” my husband said.

  “For what, other than making the cats paranoid?”

  “We are in the midst of negotiations.” He turned back to the terminal.

  Knowing his concept of negotiations had been formed while serving as a slave to the lizards, I went over to have a look. On the screen was the image of a trader with a tattooed, dark face, similar to the mask Reever had used to disguise himself as Noarr on Catopsa. The trader was uttering something in his species’ whirring, tonal language, one my vocollar didn’t translate.

  “Let me guess.” I gestured to the screen. “Another of your friends.”

  Reever gave me a bland look and hit a few keys on the console. The trader’s language abruptly transi-tioned into stanTerran.

  “-I will want guarantees filed before one of them steps foot on my vessel.”

  “You shall have whatever you require,” RrissVar said.

  I nodded toward the screen. “You’re sending the lizards off with him?”

  “No. The others will go with them.”

  Personally I’d be happy to see the back of all the League soldiers, but the trader would have to rendezvous with the Sunlace in order to off-load them. “What if they’ve got contacts with the League? Or the local mercenaries?”

  “Niat-Nuom’dain do not trade information. Only goods.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked, and he arched a brow. Of course, he probably knew every spy within a million light-years. “Right. How did you get RrissVar out of detainment?” Given Xonea’s decree that both the Hsk-tskt and the League soldiers would be detained until he could unload them on the first suitable planet we came to, the lizard should have still been in the brig.

  “I requested permission.”

  The Niat-Nuom’dain addressed him once more. “We will transport the League soldiers to the closest outpost. The price is forty thousand stancredits.”

  I cut the audio feed on the console. “That’s highway robbery.”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, but where are you going to get that kind of currency?” I frowned as I realized just how poor Reever and I were. All our needs were met by the Jorenians, so credits simply hadn’t been a priority with us. “I doubt Xonea will finance our little venture.”

  RrissVar tossed something on the console. Something small and green and glittery. “This will satisfy the trader’s transport fee.”

  I picked the gem up and studied it. It was a perfect sphere, the center of which had an odd, bewitching glow that seemed to intensify at my touch. “Nice sparkly. What is it?”

  “A verdant pearl from a Rabbat bivalve.”

  I rolled it over my palm. “And this is worth forty thousand stancredits?”

  “Twice that.” RrissVar took a pouch from his tunic and opened it. Inside were at least a hundred more green pearls. “Make the counteroffer, HalaVar.”

  The trader’s eyes lit up at the sight of the gem, and he quickly agreed to Reever’s terms. My husband arranged a rendezvous point and terminated the signal.

  I wasn’t quite satisfied with the whole deal, though. “Why would you pay the League soldiers’ transport fee, Centuron?”

  RrissVar replaced the pouch. “It will satisfy my blood-debt to your mate.”

  Reever had saved the Hsktskt’s life yesterday, so that made sense. Until I saw my husband’s expression. “What?”

  “We must signal the other trader in privacy.”

  I sat back in my chair. “You want me to leave?”

  The Hsktskt’s lower eyelids slid up. “It would be best.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “Excuse me, but I think the fact that I saved your big green tails entitles me to a little trust here.”

  Reever’s mouth curled on one side. “It is best you know nothing of this transaction. This trader handles living beings.”

  Slavers. They were going to contact slavers. “Well, I certainly know how to take a hint.” I stomped out of our quarters.

  When I entered Command, Xonea barely spared me a glance. “Has Reever been successful?”

  “If you mean in getting rid of our unwanted cargo, he’s found transport for them.” I couldn’t exactly tell the Captain Reever was calling his old buddies, the slave traders. However much I was tempted to do just that.

  My ClanBrother frowned. “Your bondmate plays dangerous games.”

  “Tell me about it.” I thought of how furious Salo had been, added my husband’s penchant for dealing with the scum of the universe to the mix, and sighed. “But it’s better than letting them stay on the ship. One more incident and you know we’ll end up with a variety of viscera strung over every door panel. It’ll drive the sanitation crews nuts.”

  Xonea set aside the data pad he was working on. “Are you here to defend your bondmate to me, Cherijo? It is not necessary.”

  If only he knew. I’d been mentally rehearsing what I wanted to say, but actually getting the words out was much tougher. “Xonea, is there a difference between loyalty to the HouseClan and loyalty to one’s Chosen?”

  “Not for Jorenians. They are one and the same.”

  “So no one has ever messed up and been loyal to one over the other.”

  “One’s Chosen always belongs to the HouseClan.”

  I held up my left hand and studied the silver band engraved with alien symbols. “Not always.”

  “The House is greater than any one of its Clan. Even one whose Chosen does not belong to Joren.” He got up and came around the desk. “Allow me to be ClanBrother instead of Captain now. What say you tell me what is troubling you?”

  “Qonja. He’s here on orders to watch me, or study me, or something. You know why. You’d have to know-you’re in charge.” When he stiffened, I clenched my hand into a fist. “Tell me why, or I’m getting off the ship at Taerca with Reever and Marel.”

  Xonea looked away. “I cannot.”

  “That’s what Qonja said. I didn’t think you’d do the same, ClanBrother, but I was wrong.” I squared my shoulders. “I’ll start packing.”

  He seemed stunned by that. “Cherijo, you cannot leave us.”

  “Watch me.”

  That was when a signal came in over his console. “Captain. Trader vessel Eniad requesting permission to dock and load transport passengers.”

  Off-loading the League and Hsktskt soldiers went remarkably fast and without complication. Reever and his lizard friend arranged for the slaver vessel to dock with the Sunlace first, and I ran a quick exam on each of the reptilian soldiers after they reported to the launch bay.

  RrissVar stood in silence as I lectured him on how to take care of his leg wound, and gave him a pack of medical supplies for himself and his men. “Change the dressings twice a day for the next week, and don’t skip your dose of antibiotics, unless you want to try to re-grow that limb.”

  “Thank you for providing aid, physician.” He nodded to Reever, then followed his men toward the remarkably bland-looking shuttle.

  Xonea had come down to watch over the transfer, and now came to stand beside me. “I do not recognize the design of the transport. Who are these traders?”

  I twisted the ring on my finger absently. “Friends of Duncan’s.”

  The Captain gave my husband a thoughtful look. Reever and RrissVar clasped arms, and spoke in low tones just before the big reptile boarded the shuttle. “Indeed.”

  The second trader docked about an hour after the Hsktskt
left. The League soldiers were not as quiet, or polite, as we sent them off with the Niat-Nuom’dain, nor was Xonea pleased to see me hand over a pouch containing the verdant pearl RrissVar had lent us.

  “They should finance their own passage,” my Clan-Brother muttered.

  I put my arm through his and guided him away from the second trader shuttle. “Let’s just get them off the ship, huh?”

  All the fireworks done with, the crew settled back into their normal routines. I noticed Salo making a distinct effort to avoid me, but left that situation alone. If our friendship was ever going to heal, it needed time without a lot of poking and prodding at it.

  We were two rotations from reaching Taerca when the Captain called an unscheduled staff meeting. I covered Medical so Squilyp could attend, and got back to work on our hypercellular experiment, prepping the cloned Jorenian liver for testing.

  The staff meeting was short, and the Senior Healer called me into his office as soon as he returned. He handed me a data pad with a copy of a direct relay from Joren.

  “The Captain received this earlier today. Read it.”

  I skimmed through the text, then set the pad down on the edge of his desk. “Joren intends to mediate peace for the League and the Hsktskt? Talk about a complete three-sixty.”

  “It gets better.” Squilyp sat down and rubbed a membrane over his eyes. “We’ve been ordered to rendezvous with the CloudWalk, HouseClan Jado’s ship. The Jado ClanLeader wants to be briefed on all the events that led up to the Varallan conflict with the Hsk-tskt and the League before they initiate peace talks.”

  “In other words, my life story.” I sat down and propped my chin on my fist. Had my ClanBrother somehow arranged this to keep me on the ship? No, even I wasn’t important enough for an entire species to reverse their political stance during an intergalactic conflict. “What does Xonea think about all this?”

  “The Captain believes in aggressive defense, as you well know. Cherijo, I don’t believe the Jado or anyone on the Council fully understands the danger to Joren. In matters of interstellar war, these people are remarkably overconfident. I would say, even naive.”