Shalia's Diary Book 11

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Shalia's Diary Book 11 Page 12

by Tracy St. John


  I have my lifemates, the men I’ve chosen to devote my heart to for eternity. I love Seot, Cifa, and Larten and refuse to regret anything.

  But what was I writing about? Oh, my visit with Katrina. I kind of got sidetracked there for a moment.

  Once we caught up with all the latest, Katrina asked, “What brings you here, besides my stunning good looks and irresistible personality?”

  “A cause. Specifically, the egg donor program.”

  “Ah, you’re coming to the source of your hybrid baby-making needs.” Katrina grinned. “At least I can hope to help you. Candy’s campaign to alter the clanning laws goes against everything the Matara Complex stands for.”

  “Big conflict of interest,” I agreed. Katrina is supposed to encourage traditional clanships, not rally against them. Fortunately, Candy understands and has agreed to not ask for anything that would put our friend in an uncomfortable position.

  “Between you, me, and these four walls, I agree that love should be allowed to be love, whatever form and number of participants it takes.”

  I laughed, remembering Katrina’s salons on the Pussy ‘Porter. “Proven time and again.”

  “What would you ask me to do for your project?”

  I outlined my request to give a presentation to the lottery Mataras. “I’m still putting together the presentation—hell, I haven’t really started it yet. But I’m going to move on it in the next few days. It will be a vid, live presentation, and answering questions. I might even have a guest or two, in a panel-type forum.”

  “Sounds great. Let me go through the schedule and determine what would work best for you and us. I can tell you up front that Fourthday and Seventhday of each week tends to have the most women sticking to the complex. Give me a target on the calendar. I’ll check to verify where you’ll have less chance of vying against scheduled classes.”

  “Fourthday and Seventhday, huh?”

  Katrina grinned. “On Fourthday, everybody is recovering from the Kalquorian equivalent of the weekend. Seventhday, they’re getting impatient for the next weekend, but nothing is going on yet. Any entertainment will do.”

  “Even without jobs, they’re excited for the weekend?” I laughed to think Earthers had such a Pavlovian response.

  “Well, the men are more available, and the entertainments are better then.”

  I could understand it, when she put it that way. “Let me line up what needs to be done, and I’ll let you know the time period. I wanted to make sure it would be acceptable to campaign on your turf.”

  “I’ll doublecheck with my supervisors, but I can’t see a problem.”

  We gabbed for a little longer, laughing as friends do about anything and everything. It was good to spend a while with Katrina. She was correct; we were due for girl time with Candy and Anrel. We made our plans and hugged again before I went back to my regular job and left Katrina to hers.

  February 15

  I hit a wall today. Between therapy, the stress of launching the new cruise ship and my department, Candy’s clan campaign, and trying to pull together a presentation for my foundation, I fizzled right the hell out. Life overall is great, but today, I mentally felt like toast.

  I’m not the one to play the lady of leisure in my day-to-day life. But once in a blue moon? I’ll be honest; I thought about running off and hiding today. Maybe take Anrel to the beach and play as if we didn’t have a care in the world. If I hadn’t had an appointment with Dr. Cafir this morning, I’d have done it.

  Somehow, I couldn’t settle in and do real work today. I was utterly pathetic, though I tried my best. I sat at my desk and looked through applications for the staff positions I hadn’t hired yet. Couldn’t make it happen. I attempted to come up with a second run of promos for the new ship. Even the news the Imperial Clan had booked a cruise didn’t spur me to move my ass. I used company time in the hopes of outlining my first presentation for my foundation. No dice on that front either.

  I finally gave up. Maybe a beach trip with Anrel was out of the question, given that my therapy appointment was coming up within the hour, but I figured I could do something afterward. A bit of fun I hadn’t done before, a jaunt that didn’t have duty attached to it. Just to clear my head and let me start fresh. A reset button.

  I puzzled over that until my gaze happened to fall on the grouping of small vid-stills I keep on my desk. Gorgeous portraits of my clanmates and Anrel smiled at me, warming my heart. Anrel was with Candy once more, letting childcare trainees learn what was working by laughing and what didn’t by whining. Cifa was in his office, marshalling the troops who would be taking care of the royals while they cruised next month. Not a good time to drop in on him by any means. Seot would be at work, and his door was always open. The memory of my last visit to his office gave me evil thoughts. I seriously considered another drop-in.

  Then I looked at Larten’s picture. It occurred to me that I’d never visited my Nobek at work. I heard the stories, almost nightly, of young Nobek trainees who were too stupid to live and the trouble they got themselves into. Larten talked like his job was one endless slapstick comedy. No way the kids, between sixteen and twenty-five, could truly be that bad. If they were, a visit would be hilarious. If they weren’t, I’d still be able to see Larten. That made it entirely worthwhile.

  If I was allowed on training camp grounds. I commed my Nobek to find out.

  “I recognize this frequency, you delicious woman,” Larten growled for a greeting. “Tell me something that will make me forget I’m in the company of the third-most worthless hides in the universe.”

  “Third-most? What a rousing compliment for your boys,” I laughed. “How did they get so lucky?”

  “It’s the youngest group, the sixteen-to-twenty-year-olds. The two older bunches are worse.”

  “I’d have thought they’d be better as they mature.”

  “No, the older ones think they’re better and have learned everything. These younger kids understand they’re fools and don’t pretend otherwise.”

  I laughed. He was speaking loudly, letting me know he was letting his trainees listen in. “I can’t believe they are that bad, my Nobek. Is there any chance I could come and inspect them for myself?”

  The delighted surprise in Larten’s tone caused me to grin bigger than ever. “Please do. Your presence might keep the worst of their stupidity in check.”

  “I have my appointment with Dr. Cafir first, and then I’ll head out there.”

  “I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

  I was glad he sounded so pleased that I would be visiting. My clan never makes me feel as if my presence is taken for granted. I am a lucky gal.

  But first, therapy. I would have much rather gone straight to Larten and skipped that altogether. It was tempting. I’d been doing so well with my clan, experiencing only twinges here and there of darker moods. Yet I didn’t want my fear of abandonment to gain any traction ever again. I let my staff know I wouldn’t be back today and headed to the headshrinker.

  It was my therapy session, not Hina’s, so I was surprised she and Dr. Conyod were waiting for me with Dr. Cafir. “Hi. Nice to see you,” I said as I recovered from amazement.

  “I’m glad to see you too,” Hina told me as her therapist bowed.

  “Hina wondered if she might return the favor of you helping her. She’d like to sit in on your session in the hopes that some of her experience as a clanmate will aid you.”

  I considered. “That’s nice of you. Do you have history with feeling as if you could be abandoned?”

  Hina frowned a little. “I suppose in a manner of speaking I might. I’ve never had a parent leave me, as you’ve dealt with. Or losing people I counted on, beyond my daughters.” She offered a sad smile. “I guess the closest I can come to what you’ve experienced is coping with the large age difference between me and my clan.”

  “Oh. I thought they looked a bit older. Well, a lot older,” I amended, not wanting to infer Hina might be of an advanced
age. “Don’t tell them I said that.”

  Hina snickered for a moment before sobering. “Our generational differences have often made me feel isolated from them.”

  “Typical for arranged marriages between established clans and our few Mataras,” Conyod confirmed.

  “Oh, that’s right,” I remembered. “Most of the Kalquorian Mataras don’t clan for love.”

  “But we do often fall for our mates as we become familiar with them,” Hina said. “Such is my case. I’m doted on, adored. I still often feel misunderstood, even condescended to. That’s why I felt perhaps I potentially have support to offer you as you try to find your way.”

  “I can understand that. Sure, I’m willing to hear your take on some of the things I’m going through.”

  We sat down. Before my formal therapy began, I caught Hina up on the latest with the egg donor program. “I’m trying to pull together my presentation to the women at the Matara Complex now,” I said.

  “Tell me if I might be able help. Before I stopped working due to the depression following my daughters’ deaths, I was a motivational speaker.” Hina snorted. “Isn’t it sad that the life coach couldn’t motivate herself?”

  A light bulb went off in my head. “You’re used to giving presentations and speeches? Hina, that’s perfect for what I’m trying to do. I realize talking to others about your experiences would be excruciating, but would you consider it? Hearing about the heartbreak of losing your daughters could make all the difference to those Earthers who could donate.”

  Hina gave me a startled expression. It had apparently never occurred to her that she might take part in my plans for the foundation. “Oh. Well.” She looked to Conyod for help.

  Fearing I’d overstepped, I rushed to say, “No need to answer right away unless you know it’s going to do you harm. In that case, don’t hesitate to say no. I’d never ask you to put yourself through that kind of torture on my account.”

  “It’s not that—I mean, do you believe they’d respond to a Kalquorian woman?”

  “Earthers have all had to go through a lot of loss in the last couple of years,” I reminded her. “Armageddon took family and home from us. We Earthers understand that kind of pain, though maybe not your specific level of it. Your story would resonate with my people and encourage them to help Kalquorian women.”

  She nodded, her face brightening. She turned to Conyod. “What do you think, Doctor?”

  He considered. “If Shalia is correct, finding such support and understanding would go a long way to bring some relief from your losses. Using the pain you’ve endured to help other women might offer meaning to your experience.”

  Hina took a deep breath. “I’d like that. For my babies’ deaths to lead to something beautiful. To bring hope to those who feel they have none.” She turned to me and smiled. “Let me know when you need me to speak. I will be ready.”

  I could have hugged her. “Thank you! I have no doubt you’ll make a huge difference to the foundation. In fact, since you’ve had firsthand experience, I’d be thrilled if you’d consider being on our board.”

  Hina promised to think it over. She appeared radiant at the opportunity to turn her tragedy into something constructive. I guess I’m not the only person who needed a cause to involve herself in.

  I was in quite the chipper mood as I left therapy an hour later. I headed to the training camp about twenty minutes inland, chauffeured once again. We’re supposed to buy me my own little shuttle tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. It feels ridiculously snooty to be piloted everywhere.

  I commed ahead. My timing couldn’t have been better. I was scheduled to land during a break between Larten’s last two classes, so he didn’t need another trainer to cover for him while he met me on the landing bay. It was terrific to see him waiting for me as soon as I stepped off the shuttle.

  Similar to Seot and Cifa, Larten has no problem with public displays of affection. I received an extremely warm welcome from my Nobek before he ushered me to his knife-fighting class.

  “I’ll give you a tour of the camp later,” he promised. “My next session starts in a few minutes, so there’s no time right now.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me to come if I’m going to be an imposition,” I reprimanded. “I’m not here to make your life difficult.”

  “You couldn’t do that if you tried,” he assured me. “I’m delighted you wanted to visit me at work.” He held my hand all the way to his fight studio. It reminded me of the training rooms I’d practiced in on board the Pussy ‘Porter.

  We arrived seconds before a group of two dozen young, savage-seeming Nobeks stormed in. Young, but still big and hulking. They wore those ridiculously tiny shorts I’d viewed soldiers and fleet crew train in. On such young guys—I thought they might be mere teenagers—I was considerably less than excited to observe them wearing so little. Apparently, I’m not cut out to be a cougar.

  I was a surprise to them, however. They stopped short to notice me standing at the front of the class next to Larten. Eyes grew large.

  Larten snorted, his expression filling with derision. “Your sight does not deceive you. She is what is commonly referred to as a female. My female, so if you look at her wrong, I’ll cut your eyes out.”

  Heads bowed respectfully, so that their long, black hair fell forward. I thought I saw the gleam of eyes peeking at me through those mops of hair. I smirked, letting them know I wasn’t to be messed with whether Larten warned them or not.

  My Nobek was in agreement. He handed me a knife. “Then again, perhaps my Matara will take care of any disrespect herself. Observe.”

  We parried, much as we do at home now that Larten has taken over my training. There was no showboating. We went at it as we usually do, me with an actual blade and Larten with a non-lethal fake knife. I took him seriously though, remembering too many instances where I had needed to defend myself. It served me well, allowing me to nick him about half a dozen times before he called a halt after ‘stabbing’ me in the stomach. He’s so damned fast.

  Yet the kids watching us were wide-eyed with appreciation, telling me I’d done pretty okay against their instructor.

  Larten eyed them, his gaze cold. “Most Mataras are not trained to defend themselves. They will look to you to keep them safe. Earther Mataras face many dangers when they’re not on Kalquor. Mine learned to defend herself because of all the trouble she faced outside of the Empire.”

  He paced back and forth, warming to his subject. “Even here on our home planet, the women might find themselves in peril. There is a Dramok my Matara met while still on Earth. He developed an unhealthy obsession with her, to the point where he has abandoned his clan. Now he is on his way here to try and claim her.”

  The youngsters exchanged horrified glances. A few growls sounded.

  Larten responded with a slight smile, pleased with the response. “That’s right. Even here, we must be ready to stand and protect our clanmates. Danger lurks everywhere. You are the force that keeps safe those entrusted to you. This is why we fight.”

  Heads nodded, their gazes burning.

  “This is why we train.”

  Muscles tensed. Fists clenched.

  “This is why we must eternally be ready to die in the defense of those who shelter behind our strength.”

  Snarls. Growls. The hair on the back of my neck rose at the animal sounds.

  “Show my lifemate how we take care of our Mataras. How we fight for them.”

  The boys squared off. Their nonlethal practice knives, able to do little more than scratch, flashed. They went at each other with a will, whether because Larten had actually incited anger or because they wanted to show off, I wasn’t sure. I found it to be an impressive display, though I thought my own abilities were a touch more advanced than theirs. That had me feeling pretty good about myself.

  I guess Larten did too. Before walking around to comment on his students’ form and technique, he leaned close to whisper to me, “I should have
you show up every day. The young shits are taking it seriously for a change.”

  “If I did that, you wouldn’t have such entertaining stories to tell at dinner.”

  Larten chuckled and went around the room to give one-on-one instruction to each of his trainees. For all the threats he makes at home about turning the kids into Tragoom loincloths and throw rugs, he’s actually quite patient. Maybe it was because these were among the youngest of his students. Sure, he delivered a smack here and there to the back of the boys’ heads when he thought they weren’t doing as well as they could have, but only when he thought they weren’t trying their best. If somebody struggled with a particular technique, Larten took plenty of time to go over it with him. He didn’t belittle any them over mistakes they committed through inexperience. He gave compliments when they were earned. My Nobek was tough but fair.

 

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