Mating Flight

by Mating Flight (lit)

  "I'm sorry," Sheleigh murmured to Lefair. "I had to know." Lefair nodded slightly.

  Sheleigh saw the outline of their residence through the transport glass. She sighed, feeling the tension inside her unwind a little.

  Once they were home, she directed Lefair into the kitchen. She didn't believe either of them would feel like eating, but she had to eat to sustain her pregnancy. Perhaps she could entice Lefair to at least drink something warm.

  Lefair leaned heavily against her. It slowed their pace, but Sheleigh didn't mind. She was tired. She felt like she carried huge blocks of melancholy and desolation. They pulled at her like heavier gravity, making her want to lie down. She had no compelling purpose today other than to see to Lefair's comfort.

  Sheleigh seated Lefair at the shiny kitchen table. She noted the pristine cleanliness in the kitchen. The cleaning staff had been here today.

  "Would you like some tea?" she asked Lefair.

  Lefair looked up with wounded eyes. "No, thank you."

  "I think you'll feel better with something warm in your stomach."

  "That won't help. It won't bring Kelfer back." Lefair's eyes welled. The tears quivered, waiting to fall.

  "No, nothing will do that. Will you drink a little juice and do it for me?" As Lefair stared at her through wasteland eyes in a strained face, Sheleigh begged. "Please." Lefair nodded.

  Sheleigh gave her a glass of juice, not too sweet or sour. She made herself a light meal with foods easily swallowed. The lump in her throat was growing. If it grew much more she wouldn't be able to swallow at all.

  Coaxing Lefair to drink helped Sheleigh manage her own meal. But when the dam inside her mother-in-law broke, she gave up all attempts at eating. She moved to Lefair's side of the table, gathering Lefair to her. Lefair's anguished sobs allowed her own to break free.

  There would never again be the dark, intense presence of her father-in-law in this home. He'd been stern but loving, powerful yet fair. He'd loved Lefair deeply. He'd loved his children almost as much. She'd hardly gotten to know him; she'd been robbed.

  Lefair's hands clawed at Sheleigh's back. Her weeping clawed at Sheleigh's heart like the raking talons of a raptor. The razor-sharp pain echoed her own grief.

  When Lefair's weeping lessened, Sheleigh walked them to her mother-in-law's bedroom. Sleep would help, if not sleep, lying down would help. But at the doorway Lefair balked.

  "I can't sleep here. He's not in there. He won't ever sleep there again." Fresh tears poured down her already wet cheeks.

  "Your memories are in there. Good memories. Loving memories. Why don't we try to find some of those?"

  Lefair looked startled, and then she glanced quickly into the room. She allowed Sheleigh to move her toward the bed, docilely allowed herself to be tucked in. Her tears dripped slowly down her cheeks and were absorbed into the pillow.

  "Cry all you want. I'll be in my room if you need me. Just call out my name and I'll come to you."

  Lefair nodded. Sheleigh moved slowly down the hall to her empty room. She stared at the bed she slept alone in every night. If Kleet died next, she wouldn't have as much as Lefair had. This room was barren of Kleet's presence: no memories, no scent, no belongings, no indentation in the pillow on the other side of the bed. A harsh sob stole from her lips. She had memories of two months of limited courtship and one month of marriage. She had no marriage now. Kleet had killed it just like the radicals had killed his father.

  Another sob escaped around the knuckle she stuffed against her mouth. Slowly she was losing what she'd gained. First Kleet's regard, then her father-in-law. She couldn't lose anything else, she couldn't stand it. Another sob broke loose, followed by a torrent of tears.

  Sheleigh climbed onto her lonely bed. She pulled the soft wool-like blanket around her shaking body. It didn't help ease the chill she felt inside her heart where she was lonely and sad.

  Bad things came in threes, the Earth saying went. A chill of fear ran through her. Not Kleet! Not Lefair. Not the babies! No, this agony was bad enough. Things had to get better on Avera. Kleet would make things better, wouldn't he?

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Kryszan family stood beside the funeral pyre before sunset the next day. Averan tradition said sunsets were for endings, sunrises for beginnings. It had been another gloriously sunny day, as most were, despite the gloomy atmosphere in the Kryszan home.

  Kleet spent the day at work, spearheading the search for the radicals, or so Sheleigh assumed. She hadn't heard him come home the night before, and he'd been gone again by the time she awoke. He'd left a note about the time and place for the pyre, nothing else. The note wasn't even addressed to her.

  He stood on the other side of Lefair, as was proper. The widow was to be buffered by the new Avatier and his mate. But Sheleigh wished Kleet could have stood by her. She glanced at him again, savoring his dark looks. He was paler than usual with brackets around his mouth. He stood erect, his back ramrod straight. Strangers might mistake his posture for pride, but she knew better. He hadn't grieved yet. He still hadn't grieved for the loss of the ability to fly. What must he feel like with all that grief bottled up inside? Was he like a pressure cooker ready to explode? Was that why he had to stand so straight?

  Humans would not expect a man to grieve outwardly. They would expect him to be strong. She didn't know what Averan expectations were for a man, and this one was now Avatier. It wasn't right that anyone should think less of him if he showed how he felt over the loss of a beloved father.

  She was constrained from offering him comfort because he'd made himself unapproachable. She should have done something to end their estrangement before this tragedy happened. Then she could have offered her support in his time of need. Damn it, why had she just accepted the division between them? Why had she thought he'd work through it on his own?

  The director of the ceremony, an older, austere gentleman, presented the burning torch to Lefair. She moved forward to the pyre as the white Averan sun sank to the horizon. The sky turned the roseate red of dying twilight while the sun's long fingers tried to hold on to the sky. Lefair laid the torch to the bier. She was outlined against the red sky as the fire flamed up to create a different fiery backdrop.

  The sun slowly withdrew from the world, dragging the deepening violet hues behind it. The fire leaped up, ravenous to consume its precious tinder in time for him to follow the sun into another realm. The sparks danced high above the flames, highlighting the wetness on Lefair's face as she returned to her family.

  The inferno rose higher, buffeting the onlookers with heat. Sheleigh's face felt feverish and tight. Beads of perspiration formed at her hairline.

  Night crept over the sky, sweeping the last vestiges of sunlight down over the edge of the world. The era of Kelfer went with it. Superheated flames had lost their ferocity. Thus muted, Sheleigh saw the stars shining through the firmament above. Life went on. There was nothing left of the old Avatier and a lifetime of rule but ashes. His plans and his ideals might live on, but they'd have Kleet's focus now.

  When only red embers remained, Kleet escorted her and Lefair to the family transport. Sheleigh could not help one look back as she climbed in. The pyre was empty. Kelfer's spirit had gone to be with the sun. She sat down facing forward, because that was the only direction Avera could go from here.

  In the morning she dressed for work. Ciarri would spend the day with Lefair, freeing Sheleigh to seek a return to normalcy. She was surprised to see Kleet in the kitchen with a cup of hot stimulant. There was a slight darkening, like bruising, under his eyes.

  "I thought you'd have left by now." She chose her tone carefully as she selected something light to eat. She poured a cup of the steaming stimulant.

  "I waited for you. I need to speak to you."

  Her heart raced. Maybe he thought it was time for reconciliation, too. "What about?" She slid onto the padded bench across from him.

  "Not here. Come to my office with me."

  Her
heart plummeted. The bread in her mouth tasted like sawdust. He wanted to discuss business or government. "All right." She washed down her mouthful. It was the only way she could swallow it. "Did you sleep?"

  "Some. What about you?"

  "More than that." She crumbled her bread. "Have you made progress in finding the people responsible?"

  "I can't discuss that here." He looked over her shoulder towards the doorway and back. He meant where Lefair might overhear.

  "Your mother is still able to fulfill the duties of an Avatier's mate. I don't know if I can."

  "I don't think very many people expect you to. Although few will expect mother to, either."

  She was stung by his comment. "What do people expect me to do?"

  "Go to the human research group, I suppose. You're a human. You spend your day with humans."

  "I'm researching Averans, not spending time with humans. If Averans want to help us do the research, I'll be glad to spend my day with both species."

  "That would surprise a lot of people," he murmured into his cup.

  "What?" Her blood heated with anger. It was the first real warmth she'd felt inside in two days. "The work I'm doing is important. It's going to be invaluable someday when Avera joins the rest of USP to help other species understand you. But you must not think it's important. You said I could continue my work after you claimed me as your mate. That must have been a lie, too." He jerked, his eyes widening, but she didn't care. "Just another lie." She heard the bitterness in her tone.

  "Things change ..."

  Sheleigh interrupted. "I'm finished eating if you're ready to go."

  He looked from her crumbled breakfast to her set face, and then nodded. She rose and cleared away her breakfast things, fuming as she did it. Would every promise he'd ever made to her be broken? Would every dream she'd built about the two of them become a mirage easily dispelled? Would every hope become another disillusionment?

  She rode silently in the transport. She didn't look at him or the passing landmarks on the short trip. She kept her head lowered and stared at the hands clenched over her rounding abdomen. Regrets roiled like snakes in her belly, making her fear that breakfast would not stay down. Could any relationship be a worse failure than hers and Kleet's?

  It was one of the guards who helped her alight from the transport, not Kleet. Kleet was the aloof, untouchable Avatier at the moment. She followed him down to the Avatier's office, noting the attentiveness of the guards as they moved. Their actions rubbed on her like sandpaper across nerve endings. Weapons everywhere. Weapons to maim and kill. Bullyboys to isolate the Avatier from the people. If Kleet was separated from common people, what kind of decisions would come out of that vacuum? Surely not good ones.

  If the radicals couldn't affect change the way they wanted to, would they redouble their efforts? Would Avera become a police state or worse, a war zone? She wouldn't stay here if it came to that. She'd take her children and run back to Earth. She'd take Lefair ... No, Lefair wouldn't leave. Sheleigh didn't really want to leave Kleet, either. It was the violence she wanted to escape. She wasn't afraid so much for herself, but of losing more of the people she loved.

  Kleet closed the door of Kelfer's old office. He reached into his shirt and withdrew a scrap of paper, which he handed to her. She raised an eyebrow questioningly before looking at it.

  "What do you make of it, Shel?"

  Her eyes dropped to the paper. She grew cold inside as she read the words. She could read Averan writing now. Meet me in the archive room at 11:30. I need to speak to you privately about Kleet. Sheleigh. Her heart thudded heavily. Did he think ...?

  "I didn't write this."

  "I know. The handwriting is different from yours."

  Rage and disappointment roared through her. "You checked? You actually believed I would be party to murdering Kelfer? That's what you think of me?" Her voice had risen to nearly a shout at the end.

  "It appeared quite damning ..."

  "I'm alien, too. Therefore, I must be capable of such foul acts of treachery." Her voice dripped venom.

  "I said I know you're innocent."

  "Now. You know it now after someone else proved me innocent. You couldn't just believe that the woman who's your mate is innocent." Bitter disillusionment came crashing down on her. The room grew colorless. It seemed to take more effort to breathe. Her chest hurt. She stepped away from the source of her disillusionment, letting the cursed paper drop between them.

  Kleet stooped to pick it up. It was more important to him than she was. "I have work to do." She reached for the door handle.

  "Someone wanted to blame you for the Avatier's death." The words sounded like they were wrenched from his throat. "Someone wanted doubt cast on you."

  "They succeeded wildly."

  He overrode her comment. "Someone who doesn't know that we're mate-bound."

  "Then someone is correct," she flung at him like a dart. "What you thought was unbreakable is no longer so. That bond was built on love and the potential for love. It wasn't meant to withstand separation and mistrust. It'll be gone soon, then so will I. Who will you accuse when I'm gone? Will you look to the troublemakers who were here long before I arrived? Or will you think the guilty parties left when the humans did?

  "You're right, Kleet. Outsiders don't belong on Avera. They can't possibly fit in when they're the focus of accusation and mistrust. You Averans are pitiful, crouching in fear. How many more people will die before you learn not to fear what's different?"

  Kleet's face was stony and had lost some of its color. "You're not Averan. You don't know how we feel. We have every right to be afraid." He snarled his words through clenched teeth.

  "The massacre happened hundreds of years ago. What have you done lately?" She hurled her words at him to hurt him like he'd hurt her. He counted her with the Averans when it was convenient, otherwise, she was alien.

  His eyes sparked. A muscle worked in his cheek. "You can return to your work. I'll find out who tried to blame you, even though you don't care."

  It was another slap and dismissal. She could barely see the door through the red haze, but she didn't stop until she stood on the landing pad. The hot Averan sun didn't begin to compare to the volcanic rage she felt inside. That swine. That pigheaded swine.

  During the short flight to the human offices, she seethed inside like heaving seas in a hurricane. When she departed the transport the guards began to disembark too.

  "Don't get out," she ordered.

  The captain looked confused. "My lady?"

  "I don't want you here today. Go guard the Avatier."

  "We have orders ..."

  "I'm countermanding those orders. I'm not going to be imprisoned in a fortress today."

  "But the radicals haven't been caught yet."

  "Screw the radicals. If they want to come here and kill me, let them try. I welcome the fight."

  "You could be hurt, or worse."

  "In your opinion, would that really be a loss to Avera?"

  His face worked, while he was caught off guard without a ready answer. The squad was silent, one looked away. Finally he had an answer. "You carry the heirs."

  She let out her breath. "That's my only value. The health of the heirs depends on my health. Well, my health depends on having peace for a day. I need you to go."

  He looked to his fellows, who shrugged and shook their heads. They climbed back into the transport. It lifted and flew away. Her last view of the captain showed a troubled face.

  Her sudden freedom was actually a letdown. Her anger evaporated in the deafening silence that followed the transport's departure. In the vacuum the anger left was a cold nothingness. She shivered in the hot sun. She raised her face to the clear blue sky, looking for home and the warmth that was love. She couldn't see home from here, not through the opaque blueness of this alien sky. She felt desolate inside, except for the pain in her heart that throbbed with its beating. Unloved, unloved, unloved, it thudded its tattoo. She tried to
reach out to her parents to feel their love, to her siblings, relatives and friends. But the distance was too great to feel those types of love. There was another love supposedly closer, but she didn't feel capable of turning to it now.

  The sound of a step behind her frightened her. She spun to face the possible threat. Sarnia moved to her side while she attempted to calm her racing heart.

  "I knew you'd arrived. I wondered why you didn't come downstairs. I was concerned. Are you all right?"

  Sheleigh looked up at the sky once again. "Do you think God can reach us here?"

  "They say He's everywhere."

  "I don't think He's here. This is a place even time forgot."

  "You're melancholy today. Perhaps it's too soon to return to work. Maybe you should go back home."

  "I have no home. I built pipedreams here. Now reality's intruded. I can't see my parent's home. I can't see my home on Earth. Nothing exists for me."

  "What about your husband?"

  Sheleigh looked at Sarnia to see concern on the other woman's face. "He no longer exists. The Avatier took his place."

  "Things will get better. The old Avatier's only been dead a few days. You and your husband need time to adjust."

  "My mate bond is unraveling. There's not much left."

  Sarnia gasped. "Mates don't become unbonded!"

  "They do on Avera when two species are involved."

  "You've got to fight for your marriage, Sheleigh. You love him. Do whatever you have to do to keep him."

  "I have no marriage. I haven't had one since the accident."

  Sarnia's indrawn breath was audible. "No, it can't be true. I saw the two of you together. That man wanted you for his mate."

  "Things change. I think I'll be returning to Earth with you when you go home."

  "What about the children?" Sarnia nodded to Sheleigh's belly.

  "They're part human. Maybe it's best if they come with me. They don't tolerate differences here."