by H. E. Trent
Erin moved away from her desk, and began clanging in the kitchen Court knew was adjacent to her bedroom-slash-office. She might not have been able to see Court, but she could probably hear her, and Court needed to get that heavy thing off her chest.
Spit it out. “Erin, I’m pregnant.”
Erin ran wild-eyed back into view, sans coffee. “Say again?”
“Pregnant.”
“Does Pop need to get his shotgun and walk a guy down the aisle or do you have that taken care of already? I thought the guy they matched you with was off-planet for the time being.”
“Not that guy’s kid.” She crooked her thumb toward Murk. “It’s his.”
Erin’s jaw flapped wordlessly for a few beats. “I…”
“Yeah. That’s why I called you.”
“I…I really need that coffee. Just hold tight.” Erin popped away again, and as she fiddled in her kitchen, muttering something low and incomprehensible under her breath, Trigrian leaned in and whispered, “What do you think she can do for you?”
Court whispered back, “I just like to have people in the loop in case something goes wrong. It makes sense to tell someone you trust what’s happening so if you get in trouble later on, they have a good idea of why.”
“Ah.” He squatted beside her and fixed his gaze on the holographic display. He reached for a plant on Erin’s desk, but it was just air and electrons.
“That’s a philodendron of some sort,” Court said.
“Split-leaf philodendron,” Erin shouted. “Came from that big monster of a plant that used to be next to Granddad’s desk. He gave all us kids a piece.”
“He didn’t give me one.”
“Maybe he thought that was for the best.”
Court sighed and looked at Trigrian. “There’s just something about a houseplant that makes a place feel lived-in.”
“You could always get something in a pretty little ceramic pot,” Erin said. “Something plastic.”
“To collect dust and for Jerry to use as his next marking post. I don’t think so.”
Erin returned, coffee mug in hand, and sipped, looking from one man to the other yet again. She held up one finger, bidding them to wait. A minute or so later—after she’d likely drained half the contents of her cup—she put down her hand. “Okay. Start with the worst.”
“The worst is, assuming this child is viable, that I’ll get arrested for any number of crimes relating to intimate association with Jekhans.”
“If you’re pregnant, they’re not going to put you in pseudo-stasis to deport you to Earth, are they?”
Court hadn’t thought of that. That was absolutely something she wanted to avoid. No one had intentionally tested that, and she sure as shit didn’t want to be the guinea pig. No one knew if a fetus would be seriously harmed by a halt in growth at such a critical time.
“I guess the more likely scenario is that they’d either put me in detention or on house arrest. There really isn’t a history of this to go on, as far as I know. I can look into the records at work on Monday. There are very few Terran women in Buinet and on Jekh in general, so there may not be statistics.”
“Would they take the baby?” Erin asked.
Murk squeezed Court’s shoulder. It wasn’t a it’s all right squeeze, but a don’t let them squeeze. He probably didn’t mean for the clench to hurt, but it did.
Wincing, she lifted his fingers and looked back at him.
He stepped back and stuffed his hands into his pockets, remorse pulling at his features.
Easy, Murk. To Erin, she said, “I don’t know.”
“Uh-huh. I think they definitely would. They’d want to run tests or just keep him or her hidden so no one knows that inter-species procreation is possible.” She took another sip of coffee. “And none of our women will be tempted to get climb onto a Jekhan man and try to get some. Lord, give me strength,” she muttered, gazed locked on Trigrian.
At some point, Court would have to explain to her little sister that Trigrian was also off the market and that his condition was kind of Courtney’s fault.
“You’re so damned short,” Erin said.
Court glowered at her. “You’re not going to be slam-dunking on anyone’s basketball team anytime soon yourself, unless antigravity sneakers have been invented since my departure.”
“Stinkin’ leprechaun genes. Anyway, my point is that being so small-framed, you’re going to start showing fast. You’re going to pop out like a Butterball turkey timer and there isn’t a coat in existence that’ll hide that bump. You’re going to need to make plans now to transition out of your job. Just make it seem like you had a change in passions or something. Find something you can do at home, maybe, so you can minimize how much you’ll need to leave the house.”
“What the hell is that going to be? My moneymaking venture portfolio at the moment isn’t particularly diverse.” Court and her siblings had been hustling for extra money since they were kids, though. There’d been no time for hobbies, but she’d figure something out, as always.
“I’m going to have to give that some thought,” Court said. “If I don’t pay for this house outright, I have to prove income of a certain level.”
“Or else be deported.”
“Or married.”
“Yeah, let’s not fall back on that just yet.” Erin rubbed her chin. “Maybe me and the boys could swing the cash. We’ve got some money in savings.”
Court opened her mouth to rebut, but before she could get the words out, Erin said, “I’m not just being charitable. That piece of property you’re on might be very valuable in a few years, and it’d be available for us to use if any of us ever traveled to Jekh…which we may have to do to bail your ass out.”
Court rolled her eyes. “God, you sound like Owen. I’ve never needed bailing out, and I’m getting annoyed at having to constantly remind you two of that. Anyway, if you do decide to relocate, the house is certainly big enough to hold all of you numbskulls. Five bedrooms and a finished basement.”
Erin whistled low. “Me and my plant could be very happy in that basement.”
“Don’t bother coming unless you want to be treated like a faceless piece of meat. I cancelled my match, by the way, after I found out.”
“Has the unlucky guy heard yet?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not like he’s sent me so much as a voicemail since I’ve been on-planet, so he certainly couldn’t expect to swoop in and get close the moment he returned. He had to expect he’d have to court me, at least a little.”
Erin pushed up one dark eyebrow and scoffed. “You’re on a planet with a bunch of coddled, dissatisfied beta males with alpha ambitions you think that joker was going to take the time to court you?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Sissy. Here I was thinking you were smart. You’re growing soft, I guess. Maybe space travel addled your brain. I feel sorry for that baby. He or she is going to have a nincompoop for a mommy.”
Court ground her teeth and twiddled her thumbs. “You done?”
“No.” Erin laughed a little more and wiped faux tears from the corners of her eyes for emphasis. “Now I’m done. Really. Exit plan. Make one. That’s what Granddad would tell you, and if I were you, I’d try to book private transport and return to Earth after the baby is born. That would probably be safer for the both of you.”
“You’re assuming the baby could pass as human.”
Murk gave her a poke to the shoulder.
She ignored him.
Erin shrugged. “I dunno. Your coloring may neutralize the red. I mean, he’s not that red. Looks like the typical sunburned blond.”
“Erin, none of them look like the talking heads on the news would have you believe. A little ruddier, but the spectrum kind of becomes normal to see after a while.”
“Because you’ve been seeing so many of them? Shame, shame. Look at you, you just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
“I’m a McGarry. I attract trouble, and I don’t even have
any new information about Granddad to show for it. Was Owen able to come up with anything?”
“No, not about Granddad, but he did have some data for you about…” Erin cut her gaze to the men again. “Um, that other thing you wanted me to look into.”
“The police issue?”
“Yeah.”
“Honey, I seriously doubt the police give a shit. I have my suspicions that they’re turning a blind eye to the drug trade and to the sex slave shit, too.”
Trig squeezed her wrist. “What are you talking about?”
“I was asking around to find out where your women have been disappearing to. All the clues point to them being sold off world. My brother and I hoped we could gather some evidence to disseminate back on Earth so people would know what’s going on here.”
His eyes went round and mouth fell open. “My little sisters…”
The sharp pang in Court’s chest made her rub her heart and force herself to breathe normally. She hadn’t been breathing deeply—hadn’t all afternoon. “I don’t know if that’s what happened to them, Trigrian. I haven’t seen what my brother found out yet. For all we know, they could be in hiding somewhere, and perfectly safe.”
His flinch suggested that he knew better than that, and Court did, too.
She didn’t want him to worry, though, about something out of his control. She was already worrying enough for all of them.
He put his head on her lap, sobbing, and she rubbed the side of his head and stared at Erin who looked on wordlessly, wringing her hands.
Yeah, Sissy, we’ve got a mess here.
After a minute, Erin drummed her fingernails against the sides of her coffee mug and found Court’s gaze. “I can send you what Owen sent me a copy of,” Erin said, “but I don’t know what good the information will do. None of the records he could find about official transactions were so clear about what traders were hauling. Many of them got grandfathered in under the old shipping policies that said they only needed to state the category of what they were shipping, and not itemize everything specifically.”
“So, they could have a cargo hold filled with women and only have to list that they’re carrying…”
“Livestock,” Erin said dryly. “Apparently there’s a little bit of legitimate trade of cattle and horses in that part of space. Nobody ever double-checks the cargo.”
Court nodded slowly then slipped a finger beneath her hair elastic to loosen it before returning her hand to the side of Trigrian’s face. He wasn’t sobbing openly—hadn’t been since Murk had knelt beside him—but still sniffling.
“I’ll do some asking around and see if I can get some of the natives to talk to me,” Court said. “Maybe they can give me some names.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Erin asked. “A trip to Earth in the near future is out of the question and you’ve got to find gainful employment. You were recruited as a cop, and since you’re no longer in the registry, people may wonder if you’re worth being kept there.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to—”
“You could take up farming,” Trigrian said quietly.
Erin leaned forward to see him, but the camera couldn’t see through the desk. “Did you miss that earlier part of the conversation about how our grandfather wouldn’t even trust her with a philodendron cutting?”
“I think I know what he’s getting at,” Court said. “I wouldn’t really be farming. I’d just be living on a farm. Trigrian has one, and as a Terran, I could claim the land. They wouldn’t deport me if I were earning an income from farming. People need food.”
She tipped Trigrian’s chin up so she could see his eyes. “It’s far, right?”
He nodded, and the glow of realization seemed to settle into his features. He could go home. “Yes, quite far.”
She looked back at Erin. “I could claim the land back for Trigrian. I have a good excuse. No one would question me. The only issue would be in protecting the property. If people think a woman is living there alone, they might try to muscle in.”
“You’re a good shot,” Erin said. “And you’ve got those two, right?”
Trigrian squeezed her wrist. “We could do it. We’ll figure something out.”
“I need to think about this,” Court said. “I mean, relocating to the farm sounds like a good fix in theory, but there’s got to be some pitfalls I’m not considering.”
“Just tell me what you need and where to send it,” Erin said. “I know shipping is going to take half a year to get there, assuming I can get a cargo slot on the next outbound shuttle.”
“I—we’ll make a list to send over on this channel. I don’t want my message being intercepted, so you might have to do some extra work to get it open.”
“I’m sure Owen will be able to crack the encryption, no matter what you do. So, who can I tell? Mom? Dad?”
“No!” Court cringed and rubbed her eyes. Fuck. Their parents would worry too much. They had tried to discourage her from even making the trip. “I guess you can tell the boys, but hold off on telling Mom and Dad anything until I’m settled. If we’re going to go, we’re probably going to go soon.”
“Keep me informed, or I will jump on the first freighter heading that way even if I have to stow away as livestock, so help me.”
Court put up her hands in concession. “I promise.”
They disconnected, and Court ran the bit of software her brother had given her before her trip and erased the record of the call on her end, as Erin was likely doing on hers.
Then she turned to Murk.
His expression was unreadable. A blank, where she’d been so accustomed to a grin or smirk.
“You’re mad at me,” she said. “Why?”
He just walked away.
Trigrian squeezed her wrist, and whispered, “You’ll have to be careful with what you say around him. Jekhan men, particularly ones in the state Murk is in, are…protective over their children.”
“He looked at me like I was a threat.”
“And he’ll consider you one if you speak about separating him from his child. You spoke of going to Earth.”
“I wouldn’t intentionally keep him from his kid.”
“Just be careful with what you say.”
“All right.”
A smile spanned his lips for the first time in days, and her heart felt a little lighter for it. She hated seeing him so broken up, and God knew he had every right to be with everything that had happened to him. “I’m eager to see my farm.”
If he was going to keep smiling like that, she would be eager to get him there.
“We need to figure out how to get there. Need some time.”
He put a hand against her belly and rubbed tenderly. “We have a little. Now we just need a plan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At the glimpse of movement behind the front windows’ blinds the following afternoon, Murk moved slowly to the office and switched on the holographic screen to watch the feed from the security cameras.
Sometimes, the movement was merely caused by a technician outside checking the electric and water meters, and with the deadbolts installed, there were no chances of anyone easily unlocking the doors. Still, having people on the property when Courtney wasn’t home made him uneasy. He could barely make out a face, as the trespasser had his hood pulled tight around his head, but he could tell the trespasser didn’t have benign intentions. The would-be intruder pressed against the window glass as if to test the locks before moving on to the next.
Murk walked quietly to the kitchen, where Trig sat at the table poring over a large paper map detailing routes to the rural sectors.
Trig set down his ruler and mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
Murk took his hand and led him to the office. He reoriented the camera’s view and found the trespasser still lurking, now at the side of the house—on the other side of the wall where the staircase was positioned.
&nbs
p; Had they been Jekhans dealing with a Jekhan intruder, their options would have been simpler—they’d either dispatch the man themselves or call emergency services for assistance. But they were Jekhans dealing with a probable human man. They couldn’t call anyone, and couldn’t really open the doors to talk to him without giving themselves away. All they could do was sit there impotently and hope that whoever it was didn’t try something stupid like breaking a window.
“Could we call Courtney?” Trig asked.
Murk grimaced. They likely could contact her through the house’s com system, but she may not have been in a position to take the call.
Trig nudged him. “Look. He’s moving away.” He panned the camera toward the man’s retreating back and they watched him leave through the back gate.
“What do you think he was after?”
Murk shrugged. He didn’t want to speculate. Guessing was a dangerous thing, given the climate. He could have been after anything from some valuable baubles to sell to…well. To Courtney herself.
She was irreplaceable, and not simply because she was bearing his child.
He didn’t realize his hands had clenched into fists until the sharp sting of his nails against his palms registered in his brain.
Trig took Murk’s hands, unballed them, and lifted them to his lips. His kissed each palm and massaged the white crescents Murk’s nails had left.
“Why don’t you go take a hot bath?” Trig suggested. “Unwind for a while. No use worrying about things beyond our control.”
Murk didn’t want a bath. He wanted to act. To do something to ensure their safety instead of sitting around like lame renta birds. He could protect them. He was used to keeping Trig out of harm’s way, so if that person came back again he’d just—
Trig kissed his hands yet again. “Stay with me,” he whispered. “Don’t go getting lost in your own head when I’m standing right here in front of you.”
Murk groaned. Right. He still didn’t want a bath, but he wouldn’t mind a little comfort. He pressed his hands to Trig’s cheeks and traced along his jaw.
His pretty boy. Always so tolerant of him. So agreeable.