He held the toy crushed against his chest. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but the lights had dimmed to evening levels by the time Sanah stood in the doorway and said his name.
He looked over. His wife was beautiful. It hit him every time he looked at her, the curves of her body and the tangle of fiery curls he loved seeing free around her pale face. But right now, dark circles made hollows around her sea-blue eyes, and her skin was too pale, the dusting of freckles across her cheeks standing out starkly. Sanah was exhausted.
You push yourself too hard, he admonished, crossing the small room in two quick strides to reach her side.
“If that were true, we’d know something by now.” Even her voice sounded flat. “If anything, I need to push harder. I only came back here to grab a quick nap and something to eat. Then I’m going back to the infirmary.”
She turned away from him, pulling back when he would have touched her. Dem stared, frowning. It was so unlike his Sanah that it took him a moment to process what had just happened.
He might not be an empath, but he was an expert at reading body language.
“You’re angry with me.”
“Of course not. I’m just tired.” But she didn’t look at him as she retrieved a nutritional bar from the emergency stash, and tore open the packet.
“That’s what you’re going to eat?” Those bars were meant for sustaining space travelers through long voyages. They technically provided all of the nutritional value a human body needed to survive, but that was the best that could be said about them. Nemesis might be the pirates’ flagship, but she docked often enough to have a constant supply of fresh food available. “Sanah.”
“What? This is the most efficient option, and I can’t afford to waste time.” She bit into the bar, chewing in an aggressive way that dared him to object.
You are angry. Why?
She glared at him. “Dem, you know telepathy isn’t my strongest Talent. I’m tired. Please speak out loud so I don’t have to drain my resources any further.”
He stared at her without speaking, his mind running through all of the possibilities. Their interaction for the past three days had involved only one thing: Tamari. He could come to only one conclusion.
“You blame me.”
“What?” Sanah jerked in surprise. “How can you say that?”
“Sanah, your body language, your tone, your actions all speak more loudly than your words.”
“I am angry at the situation, frustrated that I can’t find an answer. Not at you.”
“You won’t let me touch you.”
She stared at the half of nutritional bar left in her hand, saying nothing.
“You won’t even look at me.”
She looked up then, meeting his eyes. Hers were sheened with the moisture of unshed tears.
“Doc says we have to consider placing her in stasis.” Each word was spoken low, with a rough finality that chilled him. His little girl, cut off from them completely. Unable to touch her mind and reassure himself at any given moment that she still drew breath.
He’d been wrong. It wasn’t anger making Sanah stiff and unapproachable. It was fear, and shame.
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, not caring if the bar sandwiched between them stained his suit. She remained stiff and unyielding.
“Sanah, this is not your fault.”
“I know that.” The words sounded off, and he realized she was struggling not to cry.
“Do you? We’ve done everything we can, everything possible. We will continue to do so.” Calm logic was the best approach. “Why does Doc think stasis is necessary?”
“Because the medication he’s giving her is too powerful. She’s so young, and so small. Her pain was too great, so the usual dosage wasn’t strong enough. He can’t keep her on it long term, but if he doesn’t…”
“If he doesn’t, she wakes up screaming.”
“The tests are all negative. Nothing appears to be physically wrong with her. Nayla can’t find anything, and Treon says her Talent is developing as it should. The only anomaly is that her mind keeps searching, like she’s looking for comfort, but Doc says that’s normal when a Talented child is hurt. They reach for their parents instinctively.”
If placing Tama in stasis would save his daughter’s sanity, and possibly her life, there was no choice to be made. However much it might cut her parents to do it.
Dem pulled Sanah back against him as gently as he knew how, holding her in the circle of his arms. “I have sent for my brother,” he said carefully.
“Treon has already looked at Tama a dozen times. What more can he do?”
“Not Treon.”
Sanah had relaxed against him, but now she went completely rigid. “Why would you send for Reaper?”
“He is half Killer. I am only a quarter. He may be able to see more than I can.”
He felt Sanah weighing this. “You think he could see what’s wrong with her?”
“I think it is the only thing we haven’t yet tried.” Dem spoke the words carefully, unwilling to offer Sanah false hope.
“Would he hurt her?”
It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Killers were driven by their Talent and inborn instincts to see death as the solution to almost any problem. But in this, at least, Dem could offer Sanah comfort. Reaper might be a Killer, but that wasn’t all he was.
“No.”
Sanah took a deep breath. “How can you be certain?”
“He is my brother.”
It wasn’t the first time Sanah had met Dem’s brother, Reaper, but she had yet to feel comfortable in the same room with him. Especially now, with her emotions so keyed around her daughter’s safety and survival.
Reaper and Dem didn’t look much alike. They’d had different fathers, so that was to be expected. Reaper’s skin tone was lighter, his frame leaner, but he had the same hard-edged angles to his face, and the same cold blue eyes. Like Dem, he wore his hair cut short, and he moved with a carefully controlled economy that she’d only seen in highly trained soldiers.
Unlike Dem, who held a permanent position aboard Nemesis as Security Chief, Reaper was often away, traveling the cosmos with his unit of elite dogs, doing whatever work Cannon or the Core council deemed necessary and suited to a man of his skills. Two of his dogs had come with him, both men keeping a respectful distance and standing against the wall just inside the infirmary. They were hard looking young men, but Sanah could feel their unsettled emotions. A child’s pain was something that touched most people deeply, but especially the pirates, to whom each and every child was precious.
Taking in a deep breath, Sanah looked back at Reaper. He hadn’t come over when he walked into the room; he just looked at Dem and nodded, a small acknowledgement that for most people would have been an impersonal greeting. For the brothers, Sanah knew it was the equivalent of an emotional display, like a hug or a hand-clasp.
When Reaper stepped toward the infirmary bed that held Tamari, Sanah made an involuntary movement forward. Dem’s hand on her arm stopped her.
Remember why he is here. Dem’s voice in her mind was a quiet balm to her nerves, and Sanah forced herself to relax.
She moved her gaze away from his brother and focused instead on Tamari. The infirmary bed was sized for adults. Tama looked impossibly small lying on it. The infirmary issue synth-cotton gown dwarfed her. But she looked peaceful, lying there, her dark curls framing her face. It was as if she’d just gone to sleep for the night. Attached to the bed was a stasis unit, ready to be implemented. Doc had already placed it before Sanah arrived this morning, and she was grateful, even as she resented its presence. Right now, she just hoped Reaper would find something that would prevent them from having to use it.
Nayla and Doc had quietly left them alone for this moment. Reaper’s dogs kept as still as possible, giving the illusion of privacy, at least. It felt like everyone held their collective breath as the seconds ticked by. Finally, Dem’s brot
her eased back from the bed. Sanah knew what he would say before the words left his mouth; she could feel Dem’s disappointment, and Reaper’s reluctance.
The words still cut her.
“All I see are a child’s usual vulnerabilities.”
Beside her, Dem bowed his head as he wrestled with the same emotions Sanah felt: denial, bitter disappointment, and a soul-wrenching despair. This had been their last hope.
“We have no choice,” Dem said woodenly. “We must place her in stasis.”
Tears flooded Sanah’s eyes as Dem pulled her against him.
Remember she’ll be safe from everything. No harm can come to her while in stasis.
I know. She had to choke out the words, even mentally. What Dem said was true, but it still felt like giving up. Not only would she be separated from her beautiful little girl, but finding out what was wrong with her became exponentially more difficult without the ability to observe symptoms progress. Not that they’d been able to observe much, anyway.
Dem stepped away and placed Tama’s favorite toy beside her on the bed, a battered stuffed cat Tama called Rasa. Watching him gently place the stuffed animal, and then stroke his daughter’s face with one light finger was almost too much for Sanah. She closed her eyes and told herself she had to wait to break down until this was done, and she and Dem were alone in their quarters.
“Wait, what the hell are you doing?”
Everything froze. Sanah didn’t recognize the voice, but she felt Dem go icy cold as he turned toward Reaper’s dogs. One of them had stepped away from the wall, and was pointing to the stasis unit. He had shaggy hair in various shades of brown that looked like he hacked at it with a knife. Like all of the dogs Dem trained, he was at the peak of fitness and health, his body lean but well defined. He looked dangerous, but that feeling was completely dwarfed by the sudden presence of a Killer poised to act. Reaper not so subtly stepped between the man and his brother. He was tensed to act as well, but held back, eyeing them both with a watchful awareness.
Explain yourself, Jaxon. Dem’s voice sent a shiver through Sanah. There was a complete absence of tone that matched the utter lack of emotion within him. The Killer had completely taken over, and whether Jaxon realized it or not, he was a breath away from dying.
Sanah felt Jaxon’s shock like a wash of cold water down her neck. The man stared at Dem as complicated emotions wrestled within him. Outrage and surprise were joined by a lance of fear as he recognized just how close Dem was to killing him.
“Don’t you – I –” He stopped, taking a breath as he rallied. Sanah could feel him choosing his words with care. “I didn’t sense it at first, but as her father, I’m surprised you don’t. If you put her in stasis, her kith will die.”
No one moved, and the menace in the room didn’t abate. Jaxon looked around at each of them, his brow furrowed in confusion. His gaze landed on Reaper. “Boss. Please, listen to me. You can’t let them put that child into stasis.”
Why? Doc must take her off the pain medication, and her agony is too great to allow her to suffer.
Jaxon ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Sanah could feel his frustration, and an old, deep pain of his own. A well of grief so cavernous, it dizzied her to touch it, even for a moment. “Yeah, she’s in agony because you aren’t letting her bond.” He looked at Dem. “How can you deny your daughter that?”
Confusion and uncertainty pierced the cold of the Killer, and the icy feel in the room eased back slightly. But only slightly.
I don’t know what you are talking about. Explain. Dem’s mental voice sounded more like a threat than a request.
“Uh, sure. She’s part Hunter, right? Just like you. Like me. Hunter kids usually bond with their kith when they’re around nine or ten, but sometimes it happens earlier. That’s clearly what’s going on here. If a child rejects the bond, or something prevents it, the kith dies.” He hesitated. “It’s an agonizing process when it happens. Can’t you feel her reaching?”
What is kith?
This time, Jaxon’s shock was a slap in the face. Sanah had to blink and take several breaths to steady herself.
“How do you not know?” He looked at Dem, and then Reaper. “Did no one…what happened when the bond came for him?”
Reaper and Dem exchanged a long, silent look. Sanah could feel a whisper of conversation between them, but the words were private, behind the barrier of shields. Dem looked back at Jaxon.
I remember no bond.
“That shouldn’t be possible.” He held up his hands. “But okay, let’s just go with that. Your father never spoke of it? It’s very personal. We don’t talk about the kith with just anyone, but a father would have prepared his son.”
My father died when I was child.
“Who gave you your Hunter training?”
A sudden tension from both Dem and Reaper had Sanah moving to her husband’s side. She didn’t fear him, and whatever memories Jaxon was dredging up were not good ones. Dem glanced at her, and his hand curved around hers when she brushed against it.
“A man named Jabaht spent three years training Dem under private contract,” said Reaper. “He worked as a bounty hunter, but he was from the Hunter colony world. He was one of you.”
Jaxon looked grim. “An exile. Every Hunter knows of Jabaht. He was sentenced to death by the ruling families, but he escaped. I wouldn’t trust him to train anyone, much less a child.”
Dem and Reaper both stared at him. Neither of them felt any alarm at Jaxon’s words, but Sanah did.
“Escaped?” she said. “And a whole planet of Hunters didn’t track down this criminal?”
Jaxon shrugged. “We’re an insular people. If a hunting party happened across him, they would of course carry out the sentence. But once he left Tarsiss Prime, he wasn’t considered an immediate problem.”
“For you!” Sanah might not know the details of Dem’s training with this man, but she was going to find out.
Jaxon held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa. That was before my time. I mean, I’ve heard the stories, of course, but Jabaht was already an exile before I was born.”
Sanah. Dem’s voice in her mind calmed her. Tamari must be our focus.
Of course. But she would remember this for another time. She looked back at Jaxon. “So what do we need to do to help Tama? What is this kith bond you keep talking about?”
Jaxon looked uncomfortable, but Sanah could feel his desire to make them understand.
“This isn’t something we share with outsiders. But given the circumstances…When we claimed Tarsiss Prime as our own, it was one of only two worlds that didn’t require terraforming to make it habitable. It had indigenous species already, and the original Hunters who settled it were fiercely drawn to that particular planet. They fought for the right to colonize it, literally.” He paused, and Sanah frowned, thinking of what she knew of the pirates’ history.
I thought the original pirates all worked together when they escaped the Commonwealth? She sent her question to Dem privately, not wishing to interrupt the flow of Jaxon’s account. Her husband glanced at her with a hint of amusement.
The Talented were veteran soldiers turned pirate. Do you think we were without conflict? Even then, our hierarchy of power was based on strength and ability. The Hunters may not be as deadly as Killers, but their Talent is not to be taken lightly. They are a fearsome adversary. They claimed Tarsiss Prime as their own, and none who stood against them survived.
Jaxon had continued speaking, and Sanah focused back on his words.
“Eventually, it became obvious why we felt so drawn to that world. The indigenous life forms weren’t human, but they weren’t all dumb animals, either. Some of them, called kith, have psychic gifts of their own. They form tight, symbiotic bonds across species. These bonded pairs help each other survive. Help each other hunt, protect their families or packs, and so on. When we arrived, our Talent was close enough to theirs that we became viable partners.” He stopped talking, and Sanah f
elt that well of old pain return. His voice was rough when he spoke again. “We were too stupid to understand when the first pairings happened. Hunters rejected the kith, and the kith died. Something about their mental ability needs that psychic connection to survive. By the time we figured it out, it was almost too late.”
The silence stretched on long enough for Sanah to prompt him. “Too late?”
Jaxon met her eyes, and she could tell the connection helped ease some of his discomfort.
“The Hunters almost started a fresh war on their new home world. Lucky for them, the kith were forgiving. They figured out no one was listening. They’d been trying to communicate, but getting past our shields and the language barrier was proving more difficult than anyone anticipated. They were the ones who figured out how to communicate with us.” His eyes looked bleak. “The Hunters didn’t even try; they just killed any kith who got too close.” He shook his head. “It’s a great shame in our history now.”
Sanah processed all of this. She had a feeling Jaxon was skipping a lot of detail in favor of getting them the information they needed. The scientist in her was fascinated; she wanted desperately to be able to study what he was talking about. Cross-species psychic communication? Bonded pairs? Were these kith as intelligent as humans? More intelligent? The mother in her had to push all of this aside. She had only one question that truly mattered.
“How does this help Tamari?”
Jaxon looked at the bed where her daughter lay, then back at Dem and Sanah.
“I feel her mind reaching; she’s trying to bond with one of the kith, but we’re so far from the home world here, it’s too far to make the connection. Hunter children go on a special journey to find their kith.”
Sanah frowned. “I don’t understand. Tama’s never been to your world. How do the kith even know she exists?”
Jaxon made a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know what to tell you. The kith know. The journey and bond are considered both psychic and spiritual. Since we settled their world, they’ve embraced us, welcomed us to their…network, I guess you’d say. We’re connected. All Hunters are born with a deep connection to the kith and the home world. It’s one of the reasons we leave it so rarely. Tama isn’t the first hunter born away from Tarsiss to be bonded; but usually parents recognize the signs and get their children home.”
Romancing the Stars: 8 Short Stories of Galactic Romance and Adventure Page 6