by neetha Napew
“Comes from having a rep as the worst species to fool with.” I sighed. “Other than the standoff in Varallan, they haven’t been involved in any large-scale conflicts.”
And now they were blindly walking into the biggest one since the Hsktskt had obliterated the Nokkian Alliance. Could Reever and I really walk away from my adopted family right now?
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to discharge my daughter and take her to her father.” I picked up the pad and tucked it in my tunic pocket. “Reever was at the meeting, right?” Squilyp nodded. “Good. That should give us something new to argue about.”
I didn’t argue with Duncan in front of our kid- much as I was tempted-but left her in his care.
“Are you going back on duty?” he asked when I kissed Marel good-bye and promised to take her to visit Fasala tomorrow.
“No, I think I’d better go see Xonea. I need to finish those program inspections, and maybe while we’re sparring, I can talk to him about the Jado.” His reaction was subtle, but of the disapproving, glacial variety. Not a good time to tell him Xonea was mixed up with Qonja, I guessed. “They’re going to try to negotiate peace between the Hsktskt and the League, Duncan. I think they should know exactly whom they’re dealing with, and why they’re at war.”
“You are not responsible for Joseph Grey Veil’s actions on Fendigal XI.”
I noticed Marel was watching us both intently. “Sweetie, do me a favor and go check on the cats for me.” We’d moved Juliet and her litter into Marel’s room, and as soon as she went in, I confronted the very thing we’d been avoiding discussing. “You don’t care why I’m getting involved. You just don’t want me involved at all.”
“You already have too many emotional ties to these people.” He made it sound like an illness. “If you become entangled in these peace negotiations with Xonea and the Jado, it will only make it more difficult for us to leave when the time comes.”
“Xonea and the Jado didn’t put the recording drones in our quarters. Qonja did.” Before he could say anything, I shook my head. “I don’t know why yet, but go ahead and remove them.”
“The Captain doubtless ordered him to do it.”
The way his eyes glittered sent chills through me. “What is the problem between you and Xonea? It can’t be jealousy; whatever he felt for me in the past is over, and you know it.”
“He intrudes on our lives too often.”
“This from the man who has ticked me off more times than a yellow star has solar flares in one revolution.” I went to stand in front of him. “I thought we agreed to communicate better. So communicate.”
“I want you to stay out of these negotiations.” He got up fast, and showed a great deal more animation as he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t become involved in Xonea’s politics.”
“You are jealous.” I pulled back a little, but his arms were locked around me. “Duncan, he’s like a brother to me.”
“He means to change what you are.”
“Look, if it comes down to a choice between Xonea and the Torins, and you and Marel, I will personally pilot the shuttle we take off this ship. You have nothing to be worried about.”
“Then you will lose nothing by doing as I ask.”
I dodged the angry kiss he meant to give me, and jerked free. “How about my self-respect? That may take a few dents.”
“Do what you will then.” He strode out of our quarters.
Since I couldn’t face off with Xonea and expect my marriage to hold together, I decided to use the opportunity to combine one problem with another, and sent a signal to Qonja, inviting him to join me for a practice session.
My one-man fan club politely refused. “It would be inappropriate for me to spar with you, Healer.”
I didn’t argue with him, but only waited until he went off duty before I tracked him down. I took the precaution of arming myself before overriding his security code and opening the door panel to environome two.
Inside, the psych resident stood stripped to the waist, working out with Yarek Torin. Both of them were heavily armed, multibladed swords in both hands, and dancing around each other like soundless ghosts as they defended themselves against multiple attackers.
Multiple League and Hsktskt attackers.
I cleared my throat when there was a slight pause, and both men stopped in their tracks. Yarek groaned as he saw me, then sheathed both of his swords. Qonja swore under his breath and went to the panel to shut down the program.
“Healer.” Yarek tried to look nonchalant. “We were not expecting you to attend... my student’s demonstration.”
“Nice try, ClanCousin. You might want to head home and explain to your bondmate why she’s going to get a signal from me later.” I smiled and shook my head when he made as if to protest. With a quick bow, he hurried out of the environome.
Qonja, his back toward me, secured the door panel again.
I shrugged off my outer tunic. “Tell me who you are.”
“As I have said before, I am a psychiatric resident.” He turned and frowned as he watched me take out my goreu staff out and extend it. “What are you doing?”
“I may not know much about Joren, but I know plenty about those swords you and Yarek were swinging around. Multibladeds take years to master.” I whirled the black staff between my fingers, showing off a little. “Many, many years.”
“It is an exercise I am quite fond of.”
“That’s the thing, Qonja. Medical students don’t have time to become fond of anything but medicine. You seem to have missed a few things at Medtech, but here you are, an expert with a sword. Now, it seems to me if someone wanted to impersonate a medical student, he’d have to pick the kind who has no practical medical experience. Like a psychiatric student.” I tucked my staff under my arm and started toward him. “I’ll ask you one more time: Who are you?”
He put one sword aside, but held on to the other. “I cannot answer your questions.”
“You will before we leave this room.” I kept advancing.
Qonja touched the symbol hanging from his vocollar. “You cannot mean this, Healer. Perhaps we can discuss-“
I flipped out my staff, planted one end, and used it to vault to his left. As I landed, I swept the planted end up and knocked the sword out of his hand. It clattered to the deck, several feet away.
He didn’t come after me, but I moved out of range anyway and entered the first of the attack patterns Wonlee had taught me. “Who are you and why were you sent here to watch me?”
Qonja ducked to avoid my staff, then grunted as I whirled the other end around and knocked the air out of his diaphragm. When he could breathe again, he wheezed, “Healer, stop.”
“Stop now?” I laughed. “I’m just warming up.”
He crouched over into a defense stance I’d seen Xonea use. “This serves no purpose.”
“It’s certainly making me feel better.” I tapped him on the cheek before he could jerk back, then blocked him from getting his arm up before tapping the other. “Come on, you’re better than this.”
His white eyes narrowed. “It is inappropriate for me to spar with you.”
“You keep saying that- why? Because you think you’re better? Faster? Oops.” I slammed my staff into his right knee, forcing him down on the other, then hefted my staff up over his head. “Maybe not quite so fast as you think you are. By the way, the wood used to make this goreu is so hard that the Esalmalin prefer it over some alloys.” I rested the end against the top of his head. “One good hit, and I can split your skull in half. Tell me who you are.”
“You will not kill me.”
“I won’t beat the information out of you.” I moved the end of the staff so I could tip his chin up. “However, I will protect the ones I love, and if that means killing you, I won’t even hesitate. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Then this session is over.”
I folded up my staff and walked out.
Or so Darea theorized over tea with me and Alunthri in the galley. We had taken to meeting there since her bondmate had accused me of betraying the HouseClan.
“Salo was not particularly impressed by the quality of the relay we received from Taercal Main Transport,” she said. “Their request for us to delay the sojourn for three rotations seemed rather unfriendly.” She offered me a slice of morningbread, which I refused. “My bondmate may exaggerate, as he has been very irritable of late...” Her hand moved in a discreet gesture meaning she wasn’t sure why.
I knew better. “Since I ruined our friendship?”
The Chakacat’s whiskers twitched. “Perhaps Salo needs some time to think through the situation.”
“What say you Terrans? ‘Don’t hold your breath’?” Darea shook her head. “He remains steadfast in his opinions, that much I will grant my bondmate.”
I decided to change the subject. “How is Hawk taking the news?”
“They sent no images of the surface, which disappointed him, but he found the physical appearance of our contact something of a comfort.”
The native Taercal must have had some of the features that Terran doctors had worked so hard to erase from Hawk’s face. “I hope these people are a little more open-minded than his mom’s side of the family.”
“Having two parents seems at times a disadvantage,” Alunthri put in. “Darea, has there been any word from the ship we are to meet at Oenrall?”
“The Jado have signaled several times, confirming their heading. Their ClanLeader knows Xonea and Salo from their service together during the territorial conflicts.” Darea watched Ilona Red Faun enter the galley, and inclined her head as the Terran girl gave her a wary glance. “If anyone can bring peace to the League and the Hsktskt, it is Teulon Jado.”
After our tea, I went to see Hawk and find out how he was coping with the prospect of meeting his father’s people.
The crossbreed welcomed me into his quarters, which had been cleared of most of the furnishings. A number of Ilona’s brightly patterned wool rugs hung on the wall panels, along with bundles of ceremonial corn and several huge, carved masks. Four intricately woven Jorenian yborra mats formed a square on the deck around an elaborate sand painting.
“Very authentic,” I said, foregoing a suggestion that he get some regular chairs. “The sojourn is tomorrow; any last-minute jitters?”
“Some. Have you seen the signal?”
He took me over to his terminal and pulled up the replay for me. A dark image appeared on the screen, a barely discernible humanoid face shrouded in darkness from all sides.
Hawk’s paternal species weren’t very handsome in a Terran sense, but the aquiline features and intense, all-black eyes were certainly startling. Evidently evolved from an avian life-form, the Taercal showed their genetic heritage with their dark-feathered derma, curved beak-mouths and, of course, their wings. The native on the screen had some sort of gilded ornaments stuck all over his, what I could see of them. The official’s grossly overweight body swelled to fill the screen.
“He’s a pretty big bird, isn’t he?” I leaned closer to hear the translator kick in.
“Star vessel Sunlace, This is Tadam Ortsac.” The Taercal sounded a bit nasal, but that could have come from the synthetic translator voice. His face emerged into the light a bit farther, and I saw small, irregularly spaced skin growths at the base of some of his feathers. “Our governing priest will allow a party of no more than ten to visit the surface of our world, in three rotations, for a period of twelve stanhours. No trade will take place during this interval, nor will any immigrants be accepted. Acknowledge your comprehension.”
You didn’t get much snottier than that. “Tadam certainly knows how to roll out the welcome mat, doesn’t he? Warts and all.”
“Salo assures me such reticence toward unexpected visitors is not uncommon among isolated worlds,” Hawk said quickly.
“Once they find out you’re one of their own, they’ll probably be much more congenial.” I couldn’t knock on wood three times-everything around us was alloy or plas. “Did your grandparents ever tell you what your father’s name is? It would make it easier tracking him down.”
“They used his name often, when praying to the gods to cure my afflictions and curse Father to eternity in the void.” Hawk’s expression became slightly bitter. “He is called Fen Yillut.”
“Have we been granted access to the planetary database? Maybe you could give him a call, warn him his prodigal son is about to show up?”
“The Captain already requested permission, which was denied.”
A paranoid species couldn’t be expected to hand the keys to their planetary mainframe to an unknown ship in orbit, but still, there were other ways. The Taercal attitude was starting to match the Terran’s for outright hostility.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him. Now, why don’t you let me take a look at those wings one more time? You’ll likely be in the air most of the time while we’re down there.”
Hawk agreed to an impromptu exam, which revealed him in excellent shape. Hours of flying in the largest launch bay had strengthened the twin feathered appendages sprouting from his spine to the point of prime condition. As I scanned his musculature, I noticed the face in the center of the sand painting.
“That looks like Rico,” I said, nodding toward the visage.
“It is.” His mouth turned down as he studied it. “I should have a sing to guide his spirit to the next life, but I have not been able to bring myself to do it.”
As hataali to my brother’s underground crossbreed tribe on Terra, Hawk had regularly performed healing ceremonials. The “sings” were elaborate rituals involving special songs, foods, and sand paintings, and sometimes lasted for days. I had a feeling bad memories were making him procrastinate-the last time Hawk had been with my brother, Jericho had nearly beaten him to death with his fists.
On the other hand, maybe the memories were more painful than simply bad. Hawk had loved my brother so much he would have let Rico beat him to death, to prove it. Kao’s smiling face popped into my mind, oddly enough, until I realized why. I had loved Xonea’s brother, and yet had killed him trying to save him. In a way, Hawk had done the same. “You still miss him, don’t you?”
“With each breath I take.”
“I know how it feels, but I still don’t understand why. Jericho may not have started out as a monster, but he sure got there fast. Why did you stay with him?”
“You know the traditions of our people. Homosexuality remains a stigma among the tribes.” He went over and knelt beside the painting. One of his strong hands reached out and touched the image he’d created. “Yet Rico never feared the love of another man. He welcomed it.”
I didn’t have such a starry-eyed view. “Rico would have mated with a snake, if it had served his purpose.” I saw the brief flicker of pain cross Hawk’s face, and knelt beside him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to trample on your feelings. I know you loved him. I wish things could have been different.”
“It is done now. I must look beyond, not behind.” He turned to me. “When I left Terra, I decided I would never hide what I am again. Here”-he touched one of his wings-“and here”-he touched his chest-“yet what if the Taercal have such stigmas?”
“We’ll deal with it. You know you don’t have to stay with them, Hawk. You have a home here.” And if Reever and I stopped bickering long enough to take our kid and leave the ship, Hawk could certainly come along.
“I know, but I wish- I would so very much like to remain with my father’s people.” He inspected the sand painting again, then reached out and swept his han
d over my brother’s image. Rico’s, face dissolved into a scramble of flower petals and sand. “I cannot dwell in my memories forever.”
“Then let’s wait and see what’s down there.” I patted the top of his right wing. “It’s probably such an outright nirvana that they have to beat immigrants away with a stick.”
Twenty-eight hours later, I decided the stick wouldn’t be required. Whatever universal powers responsible for creating nirvanas had bypassed Taerca completely.
From the air, Taerca looked a little spooky. I’m sure Reever would have pointed out the bountiful vegetation, and how lucky the inhabitants were that it paved the continental basins and framed the snowcaps of round-topped mountains. Lots of veggies and veggie-eaters to supply food.
Yet something about the planet spooked me. Random topographical patterns, I thought as I looked down at the surface, should not resemble heaps of skulls rising out of muck.
Planetary sweeps indicated the Taercal were the most highly developed species on the planet, and occupied areas of mountainous tundra high above the valleys and plains. Their cities weren’t highly populated, and located far apart from each other.
“So how many people live in this place again?” I asked Reever.
“Our sweeps picked up three hundred and forty-two individual readings within the capital city.” He raised a brow. “You did not review the pre-sojourn data again.”
“I wanted to be surprised.” For a city that was twenty kilometers across, three hundred and forty-two wasn’t much. “How big are they?”
“Aside from their wingspans, their physical size is comparable to ours.” Reever checked his wristcom. “It could be that the natives spend much of the time in the air. Like the Meridae.”
“Uh-huh.” I frowned as Xonea began to descend, and the city seemed to expand below us.
A high, glassy stone wall with outward-curving white spikes on it encompassed the place, and served as a notice to “Stay Out!” better than anything I’d ever seen. Someone had painted a strange, purplish pattern on the polished stones. Inside the city, dozens of black structures rose high above the wall, but they didn’t resemble any buildings I’d ever seen. They looked more like openmouthed muzzles with protruding teeth.