by Viehl, S. L.
Marel woke up early, but said little to us as she had her morning meal and prepared for her day at school.
I did not like this silence, not when I had grown accustomed to the child’s bright, endless chatter. But Reever had suggested I let her have some time to adjust to the news of the expedition before I discussed it with her. Saying nothing made me feel as unhappy as the child, but I knew he was right.
We did not talk at all during the brief walk from our quarters to the school, but just before she entered her class Marel looked up at me.
The storm-dark color of her eyes told me she had not yet forgiven us for disappointing her. “Will I stay again with ClanUncle Salo and ClanAunt Darea while you are gone, Mama?”
“That is our wish.” I knelt down in front of her. “Marel, we love you, and we are very sorry that we hurt you. We should have told you first about the expedition. You are the most important person in our lives.”
“I want to be like the other kids here,” she told me. “They never have to be away from their families. Everyone stays together. That’s what kin does. If you and Daddy can’t be on Joren with me, then you should take me with you on the expedition.”
“We could,” I agreed. “But we will have much work to do, and this time there will be no other children on board the ship. I fear it would be very boring for you.”
“Then don’t go, Mama.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Stay here with me.”
I took her hands in mine. “An Iisleg woman cannot break a promise she makes, you know that.” When she nodded, I said, “When we return from this sojourn, I vow that Daddy and I will take you on a special trip. We won’t work or have meetings or be away from you. We will go only where you want to go, and only be where you want us to be.”
“I miss my friends at HouseClan Kalea. ClanLeader Jory said the next time I visited that she would teach me how to ride a t’lerue.” Clearly tempted, Marel bit her lower lip. “You promise, Mama?”
I pressed her hand to my heart. “I swear it.”
Marel flung her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. I held her until her teacher came to the entrance, and only then did I release her to join the class.
Reever stood waiting for me outside the pavilion. “Xonea signaled while you were out. He has gone ahead to check some of the engine work.”
“Perhaps he can have the Zamlon fix his monitoring drones, as well.” I went with Reever to the glidecar waiting at the end of the walking path. “I promised Marel that we would spend some time with her after the expedition. It is not enough, though. Soon we must decide how and where we are to live as a family.”
“We can discuss it during the sojourn.” Reever opened the passenger side of the vehicle for me. “For now, stop it.”
I glanced at him. “Stop what?”
“Worrying about our daughter, the expedition, the new bounty being offered, Xonea, and everything else in your head.” He buckled me into my harness. “We are together. Marel is safe. That is enough for now.”
I envied Reever that unwavering assurance, especially when I saw the glint from a tiny lens wink at me from a corner of the interior floor covering. As my husband went around to the other side of the vehicle, I bent down and swiftly yanked the monitoring drone out of the textured material.
“This should not take too long,” Reever said as he climbed in behind the control console. “Xonea has much to do to prepare for the sojourn.”
“Good.” I pocketed the drone. “So do I.”
On the trip to the Zamlon dock yards, Reever kept me distracted from my thoughts by reviewing the crew manifest for the expedition. Many of the most experienced flight officers among the Torin had been slated to accompany us, along with a full complement of skilled nurses to serve in medical, and combat-trained militia for security. I was a little surprised to discover my husband, not Xonea, had consulted with Xonal to handpick the crew.
“Are we going on a sojourn, or declaring war on the oKia?” I tried to joke.
“I prefer to be prepared.” Reever slowed outside a restricted area and presented our identifications to a Zamlon security officer.
Beyond the gated entry stood open framework enclosures built around a dozen massive star vessels in various stages of construction and repair. Surrounding them were smaller, sleeker scouts and launches perched on lifts or suspended from cranes. Zamlon shipbuilders swarmed around, over, and under the vessels as they worked on them. Drone transports glided back and forth from enormous storage structures as they hauled heavy loads of cargo and construction materials.
I knew the Jorenians drew on forms from nature to design their star vessels; the Sunlace resembled the spi raling shell of a sea creature. Now I saw other, strangely compelling vessel designs that ranged from a cluster of falling stars to the closed petals of an enormous flower.
One ship in particular stood out from the others; a twin-hulled vessel only partially completed but already a magnet for the eye. Made of some dark golden alloy, the ship had an unusual amount of large viewer panels and double launch bays large enough to hold twenty or thirty smaller scout vessels. I had seen the remains of thousands of vessels during my years on Akkabarr, yet none of them even remotely resembled the design of this ship.
“Is that golden runner some sort of troop transport?” I asked my husband as we left the glidecar and walked to the Sunlace.
Reever paused to study it. “It’s not carrying enough weapons.” He saw the two launch bays. “It’s designed primarily to transport smaller vessels, but far more than the crew and passengers would ever need.” He tilted his head. “Those containment sections appear to be made to hold a separate type of atmosphere.”
“They hold water,” a low, pleasant voice said as a Jorenian in heavy welding gear joined us. “The crew are mostly ’Zangian aquatics. The ship itself will serve as an orbital base ship for planetary biorescue missions.”
The Jorenian removed his headgear, revealing a bald, dark green head and friendly white-within-white eyes.
“You must be the Kalean shipbuilder,” I guessed.
“Nalek Kalea,” he said, grinning to show strong, white Jorenian teeth as he made a warm gesture of greeting. “You two are the little comet’s parents, Jarn and Duncan.”
“We are.” I raised my brow. “Little comet?”
“Our pet name for your ClanDaughter,” Nalek said. “Never have I met a child as small, fast, shining, or determined as Marel.”
Nalek exchanged more formal greetings with Reever before escorting us to the Sunlace’s dock.
“Preparations for launch are nearly complete,” the Kalean told us after introducing his project manager. “The ship should ready to return to orbit before the end of the week.”
“I understood you to be a ship designer,” I said, eye ing some unfamiliar exterior changes on the vessel. “Why are you involved with the work on the Sunlace?”
“Captain Torin requested modifications be made to the weapons systems. Here, I will show you.” Nalek brought us to the starboard weapons array, and indicated some unfamiliar fittings and emitters. “Here the defense cannons have been modified. They can now deliver both pulse bursts and displacer ordnance.”
“Jorenians don’t use displacer technology,” I said, more confused now. “Only the Hsktskt do.”
“Pulse weapons are more precise, but displacer charges do more damage,” Nalek explained. “Captain Torin was quite specific about fitting the ship to deliver both.”
I spotted the Jorenian in question walking toward us. “Was he?”
Xonea offered a brief greeting before speaking to Nalek about an engine modification. At last he looked at me. “You will wish to go on board and inspect the medical bay.”
“I intend to,” I said. “But first I would like to know why you’ve had the ship’s weapons array refitted to deliver displacer ordnance.”
“We have received reports of recent attacks on ships traveling throughout the quadrant,” Xonea said, “carried out by a small band of mercenar
ies. Their success is due to a new technology that shielded their ships against standard League pulse weaponry.”
“Surely we can outrun some raiders,” I said.
“Several vessels that were attacked by these mercenaries have been brought to the docks for repairs,” Nalek said. “From what the captains tell us, the attackers come out of nowhere to disable their engines, perform intensive remote scans, and vanish again.”
“What sort of intensive scans?” Reever asked.
The shipbuilder made an uncertain gesture. “Nothing our equipment can identify, but they’re powerful. They scan the entire ship, access all the databases, and then leave.”
“Slavers used the same tactic on captured vessels,” my husband said. “They board them and use the readings from remote scans to locate what they want.”
I glanced at Reever, and my heart tightened. “Or who.”
He nodded, and then told the Jorenians, “The mercenaries are most likely bounty hunters scanning the ships for Terran life signs. They’re looking for me and Jarn.”
Nalek thought about it. “If they’re only interested in finding two Terrans, it will not be difficult on a ship crewed mainly by Jorenians.”
“I have had Nalek increase the sensitivity of our ship-to-ship proximity alarms,” Xonea said. “As soon as they transition anywhere within one hundred thousand kim of the Sunlace, we will know and take action.”
“It would be better to make them think there are no Terrans on board,” my husband said, and turned to Nalek. “When I piloted a slave runner, we adjusted the external reflectors to shield the crew by constantly projecting Rilken life signs. All it required was a portable simulator and some creative circuit bypasses.”
Nalek grimaced. “A clever ploy. No slaver would attack a Rilken ship, not even if they were desperate.”
Reever nodded. “Perhaps the same can be done by adjusting the Sunlace’s buffer grid to use the dimensional simulators to alter my and Jarn’s life signs to read as Jorenian as the rest of the crew.”
Nalek slowly smiled. “With some very improper rigging, yes, I think it possible.” He glanced at me and Xonea. “May I borrow your bondmate for a few minutes?”
I agreed, and waited until the men boarded the ship before I spoke to my ClanBrother. “Did you get my message last night?”
He stiffened. “I received no signal from you.”
“It wasn’t a signal. At least, not after I destroyed all the drones you planted in our quarters. But you needn’t worry. I saved one that I found this morning.” I took from my pocket the monitoring drone I had found in the vehicle. “Here, let me repeat the message.” I dropped the drone on the ground between us and crushed it under my footgear.
My ClanBrother looked away from the ruined device, but said nothing.
“I don’t care that you dislike me, Xonea,” I advised him, “and out of my regard for our mutual kin I’ve tolerated your pathetic attempts to spy on me and Reever. But lying to my child? That seems excessive, even for you.”
Now he glared at me. “Jorenians do not lie.”
“I know you were the one who told Marel that we would be making a home here on Joren,” I snapped. “Neither Reever nor I have ever agreed to do so. No one else would be so cruel.”
“You are a member of the Ruling Council. A ClanDaughter of the Torin,” he reminded me. “Joren is your home.”
“Last night I resigned from the council,” I told him, and enjoyed the jolt of shock that crossed his stern face.
“You cannot resign without my approval,” Xonea finally said. “I will petition the council to have you reinstated.”
“On what grounds will you file the petition on my behalf? Mental instability due to the effects of the amnesia?” I made my smile icy and sweet. “That was the reason I gave for my resignation.”
Xonea stepped closer. “You think you have prevailed over me? I am still your closest blood kin. As such, I can call off the expedition. I can revoke your privileges as a citizen. I can even have you committed to a psychiatric facility for as long as I think appropriate.”
“If I remain a member of HouseClan Torin. I can think of several ways to provoke an act of repudiation. Threatening to kill a ClanBrother before our kin, for example, would serve quite well.” The words hung between us for a time. Then I said, “If that is what it will take to put an end to your harassment of me and my family, Xonea, I will do it.”
“You would destroy the honor of my ClanBrother Kao, of my kin, simply to thwart me?” Horror filled his eyes. “You are mad.”
“No more than someone who would rather see me imprisoned than allow me my freedom,” I shot back. “You are no better than the bounty hunters or the League. Or Cherijo’s father.”
Xonea turned his back on me with a jerky motion and stared out at the horizon. After a long silence, he said, “So now the path changes.”
I recalled what I had learned of Jorenian philosophy, and made the correct response. “So, too, must the traveler.”
“You will not withdraw your resignation from the council?” He watched me shake my head. “Neither would she. Cherijo did not believe in half measures or surrender. She fought unto the end.”
“So will I,” I promised him.
I saw Reever and Nalek emerge from the ship and start toward us. “How will it be, then, Captain?”
Xonea picked up the pieces of the drone and put them in his tunic pocket. “You have your freedom, Healer.”
Six
Reever and I left the rest of the preparations for the expedition in the capable hands of the crew, and spent the remaining time we had on Joren with Marel. I knew we had not banished all her worries over the coming separation, but neither of us wished to distress her further by referring to it or trying to explain all the important reasons we had to go.
Instead we did what we had had precious little time to do: enjoyed each day together as a family, taking her on outings, playing all of her favorite games, and accompanying her to the Torin’s evening gatherings. After several days of having our undivided affection and attention, Marel regained most of her natural, sunny happiness, and seemed to forget that we were soon to leave her again.
A reminder came when Nalek Kalea signaled Duncan early one morning to request his presence at the docks to inspect some interior modification on the Sunlace.
“I would send someone else, but no one understands the specifications as well as I do,” he told me. “I will return in a few hours.”
We had been late returning from last night’s gathering, and the child was still sleeping, so I saw no harm in it. “If Marel wakes before you come back, I will take her down to the shore.” I kissed him. “But don’t be too long.”
Soon after that our daughter did wake, and grew petulant as soon as she realized her father had left. “You and Daddy said we would go to see the new baby t’lerue today. ClanAunt Darea says they are just starting to lope.”
“We will,” I told her. “But first I would like to walk down to the water. You said that you would show me where to find the prettiest shells.”
She pouted. “You don’t like shells, Mama. The first time you saw my collection, you asked me why I was keeping jars of skeletons in my room.”
I suppressed a wince. I had been vaguely horrified to find Marel collecting the remains of deceased crustaceans, until Duncan had explained that they were considered by many species as ornamental objects.
“There are no seas or sea creatures on Akkabarr, so I did not know the proper term for them.” That much was true. “I like them well enough.” That wasn’t.
Marel saw right through me. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be mad about Daddy being gone.”
“I am a healer, and I may be called upon to treat patients with exoskeletons,” I said, keeping my tone firm. “Learning more about them could help me with my work.” If I ever went to a sea world and had to rescue mollusks.
That seemed to placate her. “All right. But I want to take s
ome string so I can make a necklace for Daddy.”
“Of course.” I squashed the unappealing image of Reever wearing a loop of tiny skeletons around his neck. At least she hadn’t wanted to make one for me. “I know he will love it.”
HouseClan Torin’s territory was known as Marine province, and for good reason. The distance from the pavilion to the shoreline was less than a mile, an easy walk from our quarters. Yet by the time we reached the dark, golden sands of the beach, Marel’s enthusiasm had dimmed again.
“Here we are.” I ignored her unhappy expression and took her hand, leading her up to the top of a dune to look across the seemingly endless stretch of amber sand forming a pretty fringe on the purple waters. “Where should we start searching?” I pointed to a promising-looking cluster of small dead bodies. “There?”
“No, those are too old. They’re all bleached out from the sun.” She sat down at my feet and rested her chin against her knees. “I don’t want any shells.”
I sat down beside her. “We could build dwellings of sand. You could sculpt a Terran castle for me, and I could make . . . a jlorra enclosure.”
Her face turned up. “Mama, let Daddy go alone on the sojourn. Nothing bad will happen if you stay here with me.”
If Xonea had made Marel think that I was in danger by going on the expedition, this time I’d smash more than a couple of recording drones. “Why do you think something bad will happen?”
“My dreams.” She ducked her head. “I have them almost every night now, and they’re really awful. In the dreams I see you go away, and you never come back.”
“You are not dreaming; you are remembering what happened after we visited Oenrall.” I put my arm around her. “That was when I was taken from you and Daddy, and I didn’t come back. Daddy had to find me.”
“No, it’s not about the time when I was a baby. It’s different,” she insisted. “In my dreams you’re wearing your blades under your tunic, and there is a little purple flower in your hair. You hug me and kiss me good-bye, and then I never see you again.”
“Well, I know what to do about that,” I said. “I promise you, I will never hug you again.”