by T M Roy
Kent groaned. “The motel. The towels. The guy that came with Lynn, he must have taken one. I should’ve—”
“We can’t think of everything.”
“Kent will be in trouble,” Povre said, fingering the thick bandage. She rested her head wearily on his shoulder.
“No, I don’t think so,” Ben said. “The FBI is going to be embarrassed. They’re going to make up some story about a drug bust. The military will claim some anti-terrorist training maneuvers. ETIS, the people who want to contact aliens, aren’t fanatics and they might visit Kent later, just asking questions, but I doubt it. Like I said, my friends flummoxed them before they got near the campus. We’ve still got a few loose ends, so we’re going to do something we rarely do. Muddle up the situation. Kent will be just fine.”
Kent caught Ben’s glance. Yeah, right. “Don’t worry about me, Povre.”
“Let’s get you changed. You have her jumpsuit, I hope, Kent?”
By the time Kent helped Povre into the clothing she’d worn on her arrival, the rain stopped. Like some heavenly hand reached out and turned off a faucet, it just ceased to flow. Without a word Ben lifted the plastic sheeting and hopped over the side. Kent followed. He reached to assist Povre, who insisted she was capable of standing and moving on her own. She did appear more energetic, but Kent wanted to keep her close for personal reasons.
The world atop Skinner’s Butte was eerily quiet. The only sounds were those of raindrops dripping from the trees. At perhaps a distance of twenty yards all around them, the rain continued.
Like the Red Sea parting, thought Kent, trembling. From being chilled and wet, from adrenaline letdown, from excitement and apprehension, he didn’t know. Maybe everything.
He had no idea what to expect. A huge mothership, causing snow. A blinding light leaving him with a sunburn. Tones singing a familiar pattern. None of that. All he had to do was yawn to pop his ears as the atmospheric pressure changed. And there, in the next blink a small craft, a sleek teardrop design no larger than a full sized van, hovered above the macadam surface of the parking lot for a few moments before settling gently.
Povre clutched him. He pulled her close, cupping her lovely face, wishing he could see her as beautifully blue as her nature intended instead of the artificial color he’d disguised her with.
“Povre, I’m sorry for what happened tonight with those agents. I wanted to kill them.” He swallowed a half-growl. “I still do.”
“Killing doesn’t solve ignorance,” she said, her voice catching. “I know not all humans are like that. I wish…”
He kissed her, ignoring the tears running down his face to hers. Ignoring the audience he sensed, not only Ben, but one other.
“You’d better go,” he whispered. “Have a doctor look at your shoulder.”
Povre brushed his tears aside, her fingers leaving the tiny shocks he’d become so familiar with in just three days.
“Povresle?” queried a new voice, one rough, husky. A stocky figure in a jumpsuit similar to hers.
Kent let her go, gave her a gentle little nudge. “Your dad’s waiting. Go to him.”
“H’renzek,” she gulped, and fled into the newcomer’s arms.
He couldn’t understand what they said to each other, but since lots of hugging and kissing was involved, it couldn’t be all bad. Then the one called H’renzek set her back a step, looked her up and down, and turned his head to send a deadly glare straight at Kent.
Whoa. Kent had to force himself to remain still and steady under that murderous gaze.
Povre clutched her father’s arm, talking quickly. H’renzek’s expression went from lethal to exasperated as he turned his head back to her.
His tone of voice, grumpy, stern, and Povre’s guilty reaction was enough of a translation. Ben chuckled.
This is it, thought Kent as Povre backed away from H’renzek and turned to them.
She went to Ben first.
“Thank you, Ben Goldberg.” She took his hands, brought them to her heart, then her lips. She then flung her arms around him.
“Safe journey, Povresle.”
“Kent.”
He swallowed. “Safe journey, Povre,” he said, his voice catching.
He reached for her, for the last time. Kissed her breathless.
“I love you. Be safe. Be happy. I’ll never forget you. Don’t forget me.”
“Never,” she sobbed. Her eyes were so dry they didn’t even reflect light. Her fingers tightened on his sleeves as he set her back a step. “No.”
“You have to go, sweetheart. You’ll only die here. And that would make me very unhappy.” He kissed her forehead softly. “They’re waiting for you—and I don’t know how long we’re going to be safe here. Go.” He once more turned her back to her father.
The stocky Sirgel guided her toward the ship. With a very human-style swat on her backside, he sent her up the ramp. Other willing hands helped her inside, and a joyful voice said “Povre!” and Kent heard Povre respond “Jenn!”
Then H’renzek swung toward Kent, his gaze intense, sharp. For a moment Kent thought Povre’s father was going to haul off and punch him. Instead, the Sirgel held both his strong six-fingered blue hands out, palms turned upward.
Kent covered them with his. The alien’s grip closed with painful strength and the now-expected electric zinging was on a level subtly different from Povre’s. Then Kent tried not to react in surprise as H’renzek touched Kent’s clasped hands to his heart and then to his lips, the same way Povre had done with Ben.
Lowering his gaze to Kent’s knees, he inclined his head in a curiously formal, regal manner.
“Jasr’re ene.” The alien’s shaggy haired head came up. His features, rugged and male, were handsomely arranged on his triangular face. “I thank you for my daughter’s life and well being,” he said, his English thick but comprehensible.
“I want to go with her,” Kent said.
H’renzek let out a soft sigh. “This is impossible.”
“I love her.” Kent couldn’t believe his voice came out sounding so pitiful, but he couldn’t help it.
“Noticed fondness, I have,” responded the man with a wry grin. He released Kent’s hands. “I…am sorry.” He sounded genuinely sympathetic and his dark indigo eyes reflected the merest flashes of midnight blue under the street lamp lighting the parking area. “Take you we cannot. It is forbidden.”
“It amounts to abduction, Kent, and their laws forbid it. Even if it is of your own free will.” Ben covered for the Sirgel’s limited English.
“Abduction? That’s ridiculous!” Kent nipped back more hot words. Now wasn’t a good time to argue. “I understand.” But damn it, he didn’t. Or didn’t want to. “Don’t be too hard on her, H’renzek.”
The tough face softened. “I wish you well. Would more humans be like you, our people could be friends, allies.”
“I’ll pray for that day,” Kent said softly. “Safe journey, H’renzek.”
The Sirgel nodded, the light silvering flecks of gray in his shaggy black hair. He turned and went to his ship. And just as silently as it arrived, it was gone, and the rain pounded down on Kent and Ben.
Kent raised his face to the storm, letting the rain mix with his tears.
H’RENZEK'S WAYWARD DAUGHTER SPOKE little on the return to the ship. He personally dressed the long, shallow wound on her shoulder, a cut on her arm, and the small nicks on her long fingers. He shuddered when she said the humans’ dogs had attacked her. Flashes of his wife’s mutilated body rose before his eyes and he had to shut them tight. He crushed his daughter to his chest and thanked the Goddess she was whole, and beyond her scrapes, exhausted.
The official pronouncement of her penalties, for disobeying orders, breaking the rules, causing so much trouble, could wait. She knew what they’d be, so did everyone else. No sense in telling everyone what they knew already. Those aboard the ship, however, were glad and relieved to have her back.
H’renzek tucked her into
her sleeping cubicle as if she still was a small child, and sat near, holding her hand.
“I never told you how your mother died,” he said. “You never asked me.”
Povre’s fingers tightened over his. “I wanted to,” she said. “But every time a chance came—”
“I know,” said H’renzek. He’d turned her off, changed the subject, and said he had to go. For two decades, not counting any time spent in stasis. “Twenty-two waking years ago, on the world we designated R459—”
“I know that much, Father.”
“Hush.” His eyes burned, and he blinked to bring back the moisture. “This is the only way I can speak of it.” With his free hand he smoothed her hair.
“Your mother was part of a scientific surface team, just like you. And like you, the lure of natural beauty and prospect of discovery overcame caution. I was not the leader for her team.”
Povre nodded.
H’renzek wanted to hold her the way he did when she was smaller, hold her and never let her go.
“You were watching me.” Her gaze dropped to the surface of her sleeping mat. “As I recall, no one else would,” she mumbled. “Too much trouble.”
He shook his head and placed a finger on her lips so he could continue. “The civilization,” he almost choked on the word, “of R459 was fairly close to the technical levels of the world below. Only, they knew for certain intelligent life existed beyond their solar system. They’d been visited long before we ever came. Unfortunately, the experience was horrible, and the people quickly decided anything foreign or alien, anything at all, was evil. The entire social structure centered on a xenophobic outlook. Natural aberrations and mutations among animals and plants—even among their own kind—on their world…all destroyed the instant they were spotted. We found out about this peculiarity too late, of course.”
He closed his eyes again. Open or closed, it didn’t matter or help. He kept seeing Silpova’s mutilated body and the expression of terrible pain and horror death left permanently etched on her delicate features. Looking at his daughter—her daughter—listening to her report earlier, made the memory all the more clear.
“Silpova went with a partner, a Folonar botanist, but left him and stumbled into a group of natives out hunting. Unlike the humans, the people of R459 do not resemble us so closely. Since we’d never visited that world before, we didn’t know what to expect…”
His daughter’s bandaged hands gripped his to the point of pain as he filled in all the details for her. It hurt to say it, hurt her to hear it—he could see that. He should have told her sooner.
He was glad that he could tell her now. He stayed at her side, holding her hand, stroking her hair, until she fell asleep. Leaning in, he kissed her temple and adjusted the covering, frowned over the rough brown-tinted fur that made her look so much like a dark skinned Folonar. One last detail before he left: a tiny biomonitor for her upper arm. Thank the Goddess this was over. She was safe.
~~
When Povre knew she was alone, she opened her eyes. She blinked and rubbed at them, trying to bring back the moisture. She remembered that day her father had described, remembered it well. How H’renzek had raced from camp and had not returned until much, much later. How he never told her anything but her mother had an accident, and had been killed. How he changed. Part of him had died that day, too.
She understood now, more than ever.
She reached for the tiny monitoring device, which would signal she needed medical attention with the slightest change in her heart rate, respiration, or temperature. After removing it, she gave in to the huge sobs she’d swallowed. Sobs for the pain she caused her father—for his unending grief over Silpova. And most especially for her loss.
When she, emotionally exhausted, finally fell asleep, all her dreams were of Kent.
* * * * *
“HAS PHYSICIAN VORZ CHECKED her yet?” The Kemmerian captain set aside the small computer pad with the morning reports and swiveled her eyestalks fully on H’renzek.
“Povre insists she’s fine. The stress exhausted her. Her chemical balance and mineral levels were upset and depleted more rapidly because of it.”
“It’s been twelve days, and she’s still not herself,” insisted the captain.
“She grew fond of the human male who helped her.”
The captain’s soft pink coloring deepened. “Fond? Fond?” Her tentacles rose toward her bulbous head. “Oh, so now you tell this part…are you sure fond is all? It makes perfect sense now. Of course, being a male, you can’t see the eyes in front of your face.” The captain’s long, flexible eyestalks lowered her milky orbs in front of her face in demonstration. “I see this all the time in the mammilian races, especially in Sirgel and Folonar.”
H’renzek held back his irritation. “I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”
“No, of course not. She acts like a female in love, H’renzek.”
“No! Povre cannot be in love. Surely she wouldn’t make that mistake. She was gone for only three days!”
“Mistake? Was it a mistake when you met Silpova, and five hours later were Life Mated?” She eyed him disapprovingly. “I know enough about Sirgels to know better, H’renzek. Your people hold the record for sighting in and falling in love with one’s life mate among any of the Affiliated Races. It is a known fact. Your daughter, Dr. Povresle, fell in love.”
“But he’s...human.”
The captain shrugged. “Not that different from your people, as far as I’m concerned.”
H’renzek’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what this means, Captain.”
“Oh yes, my old friend, I do. It’s my job to know.” Her voice darkened with sympathy. “Poor Povre. She is so young to go through her life alone.” Her colors rippled in the Kemmerian equivalent of a sigh. “You met this male?”
H’renzek nodded. “He seemed…honest.”
“I see.” The pause before her next question suggested some difficulty in asking it. “About Povre, did he show any—?”
H’renzek’s hands clenched into fists. “Feelings? I suppose. He appeared distressed. He wanted to come with her.”
The Kemmerian made a sound of sympathy. “The poor boy.”
H’renzek looked her directly in the eyes. “The Folonar say most humans find another to love after a time.” Am I trying to convince her? Or myself?
“Think, Commander. He must be unique. The people on the planet below, for the most part, have displayed consistent and significant difficulty accepting relationships even between different appearing people of their same species.”
She stopped right there, although H’renzek guessed she wanted to voice more personal opinions about the more dominant societies below.
“This individual, however, fell in love with another species. He looked beyond her surface, just as she did his. Based on past record of the humans, this is unusual. Despite Povre’s horrible experience with those—” The Kemmerian paused again, scrambling for a tactful term, no doubt.
By her mottling and tone of voice, H’renzek knew she felt about as diplomatic as he did over that incident. Her position as Ship’s Captain, however, demanded she make the effort.
“With those others,” she decided at last. “His action gives me hope for their future.”
“Povre still cannot say enough good things about him.” For the first time, he considered the deep consequences of this discussion. If Povre were indeed in love, her life would be as lonely as his since Silpova died. “It can’t be so,” he said softly. “Impossible.”
One of the Kemmerian’s tentacles reached and caressed H’renzek’s cheek. “No parent likes to admit their offspring will be deprived of a partner.”
H’renzek pulled away from the touch. “He couldn’t come. We couldn’t take him.”
Since his words were more question than statement, the captain agreed. “No. Against all policy. Unfortunately, it will just have to be a result of her poor judge—disregard of orders. In which case I
would say she punished herself.” The Kemmerian leaned close. “But talk to her. Find out for certain. Perhaps it was merely a deep fondness, and this will pass.”
* * * * *
“HEY, POVRE, I BROUGHT you some lege’an. Your favorite.” Jenn slid the plate with the steaming vegetable concoction, along with a beaker of tea, near her friend’s elbow. Although she had just eaten, the aroma made Jenn’s mouth water.
“Jenn, how thoughful. Thank you.”
Jenn watched as Povre glanced at the colorful, tempting array, leaned closer for an appreciative sniff. Jenn had prepared the dish herself, and had taken the time to artistically arrange the steamed, spiced vegetables with some, hard, flat wafers made from ground miv seeds and a crunchy leaf as a garnish.
“This plant grows on the planet,” said Povre, sending Jenn a smile as she fingered the crunchy leaf.
“What do they call it?”
“I don’t know. I wish I remembered to ask. Kent would have liked to know we grow some of their plants for food because they adapt so well to the growing conditions on the ship.”
“Well…eat it before it gets cold.”
Jenn fretted as her best friend dawdled, taking another sniff, snitching a tiny piece of a leaf. Povre’s appetite for normal food had eluded her. And Jenn was gettiing worred. She’d caught Povre snacking on the alien plant cuttings and vegetable samples destined for study, and that couldn’t continue. Someone was sure to ask why all the samples were disappearing.
Then Povre made a strange gulping sound. Before Jenn could say anything, her friend pushed herself back from the workstation, flung herself from her chair, and nearly bowled over a Lazorta technician in her haste to reach the head.
“Povre?”
“Povre run, all times,” grumbled the bruised Lazorta. Like any other member of its race, the voice rumbled as if from a deep cave. “If not run to heave, run to eliminate.”
“Eliminate what? From what I’ve seen, and what H’renzek tells me, she’s hardly eating anything at all!” Jenn marched to the door. “Povre!”