by neetha Napew
“Whenever I look at you, I think of this,” he whispered against my ear. “I think of being inside you, a part of you.” He buried his face in my hair. “I won’t let you go, Waenara.” He turned over, moving on top of me, pushing in deep. “I never will.”
The leisurely, gentle lovemaking turned into something fast and frantic, with clutching hands and eager mouths and straining bodies. He kept his promise and made me cry out, more than once, and caught the sound with his mouth as he took me.
“Duncan, please!” I arched my back as I hovered just on the brink, suspended between desperate need and mind-blowing pleasure. “I need...”
He moved faster, harder, working deeper with each thrust. “Come to me, beloved. Now, come to me now.”
The darkness exploded with a thousand unseen lights as I pulled his head down to me. As I fell into the cascading sensations, I kissed him with all the passion and longing he’d wrung out of me. His thoughts poured into my mind at the same time he came, and I rode to another peak on those twin sensations, holding him as tightly as I could, saying his name over and over.
Reever and I made love most of the night, and although we were both tired the next morning, I felt as if we’d healed a lot of old wounds. My only regret was knowing that I’d caused most of them.
“Good morning, Cherijo.” Alunthri was up and playing with the kittens when I dragged myself out to the kitchen. “Forgive me for overstaying my welcome last night.”
“Your welcome and staying privileges have no time limit.” As I smothered my yawns and prepared breakfast for all of us, I noticed my usually up-and-at-‘em daughter hadn’t made her usual early appearance. “Marel still asleep?”
“I down here, Mama.”
A glance under the table revealed my daughter feeding a bowl of her favorite creamed wheat to one of the kittens. “Hey, that’s supposed to go in your tummy, kiddo.”
She grinned at me. “Kiddy wikes id do.”
Reever came out of our room, which made our kid and the kitten emerge. He swung Marel up in his arms and endured a neck-wrenching hug. “Good morning, avasa. Did you sleep well?”
“Free good.”
He bent down to pick up the bowl of cereal. “How did this get under here?”
“I make did.”
I’d assumed Alunthri had prepared the cereal for her, and turned to measure the distance from the floor to the prep unit. Unless she’d grown two feet overnight, there was no way she could have gotten to the menu panel. “How?”
Marel giggled and hid her face against Reever’s tunic.
“Okay, be mysterious about it.” I went over and safeguarded the unit with a pass protective code. I didn’t mind Marel getting food, but she might accidentally spill something hot on herself while climbing up or down or however she’d gotten to the panel.
After breakfast, I dropped my daughter off at school and heard from one of the instructors that Xonea had confined Ilona Red Faun to quarters. No one was sure how he would deal with her stealing a launch and inadvertently causing the loss of two more.
“What usually happens?” I asked Marel’s teacher.
“I do not know, Healer.” She made a helpless gesture. “We do not steal things. We ask permission to use them instead.”
With that new worry on my mind, I reported for duty and went over the results of the post-sojourn physicals. In addition to all the trouble she was in, Ilona’s latest scans showed two distinct fetal outlines.
Dhreen and his girlfriend were having twins.
“Two of them.” I sat back in my chair at the console. “God help us.”
When I signaled the weaver with the news, she didn’t seem very interested in that, or the follow-up physical I’d scheduled for her. “I cannot report to Medical. I am told I must stay in my rooms.”
“The Captain will make an exception for a prenatal exam.” Although she’d brought it on herself, I felt a reluctant sympathy for her. I knew how boring it was to be confined to quarters. “Listen, Ilona, if you need anything, why don’t you-“
“Thank you, patcher. I am fine.” She abruptly terminated the signal.
Life on board the Sunlace settled back into its normal routine quickly enough, but I began to get the feeling it was a calm before a storm.
Alunthri began dropping by Medical more frequently to volunteer its services. Knowing the benefit hard work had in dispelling feelings of guilt, I gave the Chakacat several administrative tasks, including updating our database by downloading all our recent chart entries.
Squilyp seemed to have a lot on his mind, too. When he wasn’t hopping around Medical trying to sterilize everything in sight, he was sniping at me, the residents, the interns, and the nursing staff. After a particularly nasty remark over the way I’d put together an instrument tray, I reminded him I’d already kicked his Omorr backside in a challenge and I’d be more than happy to repeat the exercise.
The Senior Healer had the grace to look a little ashamed. “Forgive me. The waiting seems intolerable.”
“Waiting for... ?” I trailed off, raising my brows.
He only shook his head and hopped off to clean something else.
I found out soon enough. The signal came down from Command one day while the Omorr was in the middle of routine surgery on one of the crew members who had complications from a previous knee injury.
“Inform the Senior Healer that the Omorr vessel Naquorekan has docked at launch bay four. His guests await his presence.”
Squilyp had guests? Since when?
I scrubbed and went into the surgical suite, and waited until the Omorr had powered down the laser before I told him the news. And watched the Senior Healer overturn an infuser rig and knock a setup tray to the deck.
“She’s here? Already? That’s wonderful.” He looked down at his patient. “No. That’s terrible. I can’t go.”
I held up my gloved hands. “I’ll take over for you.”
“Yes. No. I mean-“ He stopped and took a deep breath. “I must finish here, and prepare myself. Yes. That is what I should do.” He gave me an uncertain look. “I am anxious to make a good first impression. It is very important that I do that.”
I bit back a laugh. “Tell you what-I’ll go meet your friends while you finish. And change. You look like you’ve just murdered someone.”
He looked down over his mask at his blood-spattered scrubs. “Yes. I will finish here and I will don more appropriate garments.”
“One more thing-who are these friends of yours?”
“She is not a friend. She is Garphawayn of Cestes- Lady Cestes.”
I made a rolling gesture with my hand. “And this lady is... who?”
“My adorlee.” Under his mask, his gildrells writhed like a bunch of thin, white snakes. “My mail-order bride.”
I changed into a clean tunic and went down to launch bay four, feeling a little like an older sister determined to make sure the new addition to the family was worthy of her fiancé.
She’d better be wonderful. He deserves the best.
The Omorr passenger starshuttle Naquorekan, being too large to actually fit inside the bay, was docked outside. A sealed passenger ramp had been extended between the two interiors, and as I entered through the launch bay doors, I saw five Omorr hop out of it.
Xonea and a number of the Command crew were already on hand to welcome Squilyp’s guests, and the Captain made an elegant bow. “Welcome to the Sunlace. I am Xonea, of HouseClan Torin.” He introduced the other members of the crew, ending with me as I joined them. “May your stay with us be a pleasant one.”
“Pleasant is far too much to expect, Captain,” a high, rather querulous voice said. “I dare only hope for tolerable.”
The Omorr who spoke hopped forward with an abbreviated version of Squilyp’s natural bounce, all the while holding her spine so straight she seemed as tall as the much bigger Jorenians. Her lean form was encased in a feminine version of Squilyp’s native, one-legged garment. A long, sweeping cloak
hung from her narrow shoulders. Both were made from fabrics dyed with an eye-popping assortment of colors. The other Omorr in her party were less gaudily attired, and seemed a little older.
Chaperones, maybe?
From what I could see, there wasn’t much outer physical difference between the Omorr genders. Not that anyone would mistake the younger female for a male, given the number of personal ornaments she wore. An odd number of golden, feathery protrusions were all over the top of her dark pink skull, but I wasn’t sure if they were hers, or more embellishments. Cosmetics enhanced her round, dark eyes, and a number of her gildrells had tiny, sparkling rings on them.
One of the older, more conservatively attired Omorr bounced over to stand beside the first. She looked directly up at Xonea, her face stern as she gestured to the younger female. “This is the Lady Cestes, Garphawayn, here to negotiate a contract of marriage with Squilyp of Maftuda.”
“You are very welcome, Lady Cestes.” Xonea stepped forward to give her a Jorenian kiss of welcome, thought better of it, and bowed instead.
“You may address me as Garphawayn.” Lady Cestes’s gildrells became straight white sticks as she looked around. “None of you are Omorr. This is completely unacceptable. Where is he? Lemesen, have we arrived on the correct vessel?”
“Mama?” My daughter appeared beside me and put her hand in mine. “Who dad parkwy wady?”
I picked her up and leaned close to whisper in her ear, ‘This is Squilyp’s friend. Her name is Lady Cestes.” I cleared my throat and took a few steps forward. “Um, excuse me, I have a message from Squilyp for you.”
“You do?” The female Omorr hopped down the line to inspect us, then reared her head back a bit. “Why is this infant here?”
“This is my daughter, Marel.” I kissed the top of her head. “She tends to pop up in unexpected places.”
“You allow children to run about this vessel, unsupervised? What sort of mother are you?” Squilyp’s intended didn’t wait for an answer, but sniffed in my face. “Children must be safeguarded by a proper care-giver. Something like this would never happen on Omorr.”
“We take care of our kids, too,” I replied, showing her some teeth. “It’s just sometimes we get distracted by visitors.”
“Your attention span wants improvement, then. Now, where is this adoren who sent for me? Has he not the simple decency to greet me upon my arrival?”
“Whad dad?” Marel asked her.
Garphawayn peered down at my daughter. “It speaks?”
“She speaks, yes.”
“It is impossible to tell the difference between your genders. You should wear markings on your garments.” To Marel, she said, “Of whom are you speaking, infant?”
“Whad dad ‘doren?”
“An adoren is an unmarried male who seeks to contract matrimony with an unmarried female.” The Omorr female seemed offended by my darling daughter’s wide grin. “Your name is Marel, infant?”
“Dad’s me.”
“I see. Someone”-she gave me another snotty look-“should instruct you on the proper behavior to use when greeting visitors for the first time. You are far too precocious.”
Marel cocked her head to one side. “Why?”
I closed my eyes briefly. Ms. Congeniality had no idea what she’d just set off.
Lady Cestes lifted a membrane and made an imperious gesture. “On my world, children also do not speak to adults unless they are spoken to.”
My kid rubbed the back of her hand across her nose, then asked, “Why?”
Garphawayn took a breath. “They are taught by their parents that such behavior is disruptive and inconsiderate.” Another haughty look came my way. “You should learn better manners as soon as possible.”
Marel gave her another, ingenious smile. “Why?”
Squilyp’s intended wasn’t going to give up easily. I had the feeling she liked having the last word. “Children are more presentable when they have had the opportunity to develop proper social skills.”
“Why?”
“Because without them, you display a lack of consideration for those who are older and superior to you.” The female Omorr held up one of her three arms, and flared her membrane. “Do not ask me to explain further.”
My daughter frowned. “Why not?”
“Do not ask-“
Xonea coughed, probably to cover a laugh, then said, “Forgive my ClanNiece, Garphawayn. Her curiosity is as endless as her mischief.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. You may be the commander of this vessel, but that does not give you the right to interrupt me.” As Xonea’s big hands clenched, Garphawayn turned to the other Omorr. “Lemesen, attend me. I would have your opinion on this pathetic state of affairs. Aside from the criminal lack of breeding and civility displayed by the adoren’s absence.”
The older female came over. “It does not appear as unfavorable as we feared, adorelee. They are an unmannerly lot, but seem otherwise agreeable.” She sent me a pitying look. “Certainly there is no competition apparent.”
I kept Marel on my hip and a smile pasted to my face. Squilyp, you owe me big time for this. “Right. Well, as you may know, Squilyp is our Senior Healer, and ship’s surgeon. He-“
Lemesen interrupted me with a titter, then said, “I assure you, Terran, there is no need to inform us of these details. We know everything about Squilyp of Maftuda.”
“Including his unfortunate choice of occupation.” Garphawayn didn’t seem to think anything was funny. “I cannot fathom why he would desire a position here, either. I see nothing of merit about this vessel, except for its size, which is of exceedingly vulgar dimensions. The exterior design reminds me of a certain soil-boring parasite we regularly exterminate on Omorr. And all this blue about... are these beings color-blind?”
The Captain leveled a look at Garphawayn that would have sent half the warriors on the ship running for cover. “The Sunlace has traveled extensively through hundreds of civilized systems. It has safely conveyed and protected my HouseClan for over three decades, and is the envy of the Jorenian fleet.”
Garphawayn drew herself up like a hissing snake. “Then apparently the Jorenian fleet has as little taste as you do.”
“Urn, about Squilyp.” I stepped between the two. “He would have been here, except he’s in the middle of an operation. As soon as he finishes with his patient, he’ll be on his way to meet you.”
“Indeed? How long does this operation take?”
“Another hour at the most.”
“I must loiter here for another hour until it is convenient for the adoren to make an appearance? Among all these impertinent savages? This is too impolite to be endured.” The younger female gave me the once-over. “Why does Squilyp of Maftuda entrust his messages to you? Are you his personal valet?”
“I’m beginning to feel like it,” I admitted.
Xonea put a hand on my shoulder. “Healer Cherijo is one of the physician surgeons who works with the Senior Healer.”
“He should have sent his representative,” Lemesen said, sounding very righteous.
“Another oversight on his part. We shall have to make do with this underling.” Lady Cestes fingered one of her many ornaments and studied the deck overhead. “I am fatigued and hungry. Spending too many days in space is tiring, particularly when I am called upon to stand and wait on an unmannerly laggard who thinks himself a proper adoren, yet sends enormous barbarians and inattentive stuntlings to stand in his place.”
“Barbarians?” The tips of Xonea’s claws appeared. “Stuntlings?”
I nudged my ClanBrother with a discreet elbow. “Like the lady said, she’s fatigued. And obviously has had no contact with Jorenians prior to today. I’m sure with a little time we’ll all get to know and become accustomed to each other.” God, I was becoming such a consummate liar.
Xonea retracted his claws and somehow produced a strained smile. “Allow me the pleasure of showing you and your party to your quarters.” His tone indicated e
xtended torture would have been preferable.
“I think not, sir.” The female Omorr somehow stared down her flat nose at the Jorenian towering two feet over her. “You are too large, too loud, and too blue. I dislike being in close proximity with beings of improper size and coloring.”
“Then you’re not going to be very happy on this ship,” I muttered under my breath, before adding in a louder tone, “I’ll take you.” As I saw the skin over his cheekbones darken, I handed Marel to Xonea. “Go with your ClanUncle, sweetheart.” I gestured to the door panel leading to the main corridor. “Follow me, if you would, Lady Cestes.”
“You may address me as Garphawayn,” she said as she led the procession out of the launch bay. “On my world, only social equals address each other by formal title.”
I had a couple of things I would have liked to call her. “Good to know.”
We didn’t make it to the Omorr’s assigned quarters. Not surprising-by the time we’d worked our way through two levels, Garphawayn had managed to insult every crew member she met on the way. And she refused to use the gyrlifts, despite my repeated advice that it would speed things up.
“They look far too flimsy to be trusted with my person.”
“I promise, they’re very safe-
She plucked at the line of her cloak. “When I require your assurances, Terran, I will ask for them.”
“When you want to leave, be sure and mention that, too.” I wanted to pop a few bottles of champagne.
“Greetings,” one of the engineers passing us said, and stopped to offer the usual Jorenian warm welcome. “You are Omorr, like our Senior Healer.”
“So these barbarians do have functioning mental organs,” Garphawayn observed aloud. “I was convinced when I looked in their eyes I could see the back of their skulls.”
Another pair of Torins working on one of the corridor panels paused long enough to say hello and be insulted over their choice of garments.