Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  “No fool,” Rak agreed, off-vid. “She gets it from my side of the family.”

  That cracked us all up. When everybody stopped laughing, I prodded, “So?”

  “We clanned a Matara,” Bitev told me. “A wonderful, wonderful woman named Joelle.”

  “Congratulations,” I said, stunned. I’d expected such a terrific bunch of men to land a lady who would appreciate them, but I was startled they’d clanned so quickly. “Where’s the lucky woman?”

  “On her way to Kalquor,” Nayun said. His smile faltered. “She left a week ago. We miss her though we speak once a day. That’s what I meant about making sacrifices.”

  Rak walked into view. “It was too dangerous for Joelle to remain here. We had to do what was best for her and you, my daughter. Do not be too hard on your Imdiko father when all he did was watch out for you.”

  Bitev added, “We asked Joelle to check on you once she reaches Kalquor. She’s excited to meet you. I hope that is acceptable to you?”

  “Well, of course. I was hoping to give my approval before you up and got yourselves clanned.” I was only half-teasing. “Sneaky dads.”

  They grinned at me. “She makes us very happy,” Nayun said.

  “I guess that will have to be enough for me.” I cocked an eyebrow at them. I saw an opening to gain retribution for my dads clanning a woman behind my back. “Are you planning to give me little brothers and sisters? Ooh, a whole bunch of Shalias! I can teach them all I know about getting into trouble. Won’t that be fun?”

  “Joelle is too old for having babes, thank the ancestors.” Nayun winked at me. “I would not trade you for any other child, my daughter, but you are aging this old man quickly.”

  Rak scowled. “Please find yourself a caring clan, my daughter. Then allow us to give our approval.” His expression had that distinctive no man is good enough for my daughter look.

  Bitev added, “Don’t waste time before vetting your candidates. The two years you have will pass faster than you think.”

  “But there’s no rush if I have the baby,” I said. “The mother of a Kalquorian citizen doesn’t have to leave the empire.”

  Nayun’s shoulders drooped as Bitev and Rak exchanged a dark look. Yep, they were exasperated dads. I got myself a terrific bunch to adopt me. They may not be getting it right, but they care...and here I am, weepy again.

  Nayun said, “Who the hell told you? Damn it, Shalia, don’t shut yourself off from what could be a perfect match by waiting for Clan Dusa to come home and claim you.”

  “It could be many years before they return to Kalquor,” Bitev reminded me. “Years your child will not have fathers to depend on.”

  “I never said I was waiting for Dusa’s clan to make me their Matara,” I pointed out. “I just believe it’s important they see their kid.”

  “It may not be theirs,” Nayun said, trying to be severe and failing at it.

  “It’s not theirs,” Rak interjected. “He or she belongs to the fathers you choose for it. No other men.”

  Bitev agreed. “It’s our custom, my daughter. Having another clan intruding on yours is a disastrous course. How confusing would it be for the babe?”

  “Let Dusa, Esak, and Weln go, Shalia.” Nayun spoke gently. “It hurts. You don’t understand the reasons yet. But it’s best for them, you, and your child.”

  They were advising me as well as they could. Kalquorian men are a bunch of well-meaning, macho jerks who we Earther women will have to fix. They are exasperating, but I love this particular trio too much to take offense.

  I managed a conciliatory smile. “You offer a reasonable case for it. I have plenty to consider.”

  “You’ll com when you decide?” Nayun asked.

  “I’ll tell you first.” I blew the group a kiss. “Thanks for letting me bend your ears. I love you guys. Oh, don’t forget to give Joelle my com frequency. I have to meet my stepmom.”

  That earned me some grins. We yapped about a couple more subjects before we signed off.

  Ah, Kalquorians. We are so similar, but light years apart on the important issues. They have their beliefs, but mine are as valid. I am the woman who is pregnant. I have not changed my mind one iota about including Dusa’s clan in their offspring’s life, if I have it.

  January 7

  Oh shit. I think I’m being stupid again. No, I KNOW I’m being stupid again. Idiot me.

  After my conversation with the dads yesterday, I decided to mosey over to Betra’s office to bend his sympathetic ear too. He’s up front and honest with me, even though it goes against what the empire insists on. I needed that, not the paternalistic advice of well-meaning Kalquorians.

  When I reached his office, he was stepping out. “Hello, Shalia,” Betra said. He acted happy I’d shown up. Poor fool. “What can I do for you?”

  Only then did I note the hour. Betra is always on call for his ten wards, but it was the end of the regular shift. I didn’t expect him to work late because I was having a drama moment. I said, “Ah, it can wait. Get out of here and eat your dinner.”

  He cocked his head. “My dinner can wait, especially since you’re wearing that expression. What’s going on?”

  “It’s me being me. Honestly, Betra, it’s not a big deal. I’ll stop by in the morning. I promise.”

  Betra blew out a breath. “Shalia, we’re having whatever conversation you need to have now.” Then he gave me a smile that softened the ragged edges of my poor worn-out heart. “I can compromise, however. Why don’t you have dinner with me, and we’ll talk over that?”

  That intrigued me. “Somewhere besides the Matara dining room?”

  “I’ll have our meals sent to my quarters. We’ll have a private talk where you can pour out whatever your burden is. Though I can guess.”

  I snorted. “My baby daddy issues.”

  “Of course.”

  I slipped my arm in his. “Lead on, big guy. Promise you won’t throw your food at me when I go through my old song and dance again.”

  Betra gave me a shocked look. “I never waste food.”

  That made me laugh. We went to his room, which is located just outside the Matara section of the ship. It makes sense to have him close, what with him being at our beck and call 24/7.

  Over my delicious pilchok and ronka, I recounted my conversation with my dads. I ended my tale of woe with, “Give me your honest opinion, Betra. Forget how it’s done on Kalquor. Am I crazy to wish for my kid to know his or her biological father?”

  Betra thought long and hard about it. I was glad he considered my concerns. We ate in silence for several minutes, our plates nearly cleared when he spoke.

  “Shalia, I’ve come at this from every possible angle I can. Disregarding how our society operates, I’ve come to a few conclusions, some of which are in opposition to each other. Some you won’t want to hear.”

  I gazed into his purple eyes. I took a breath. “I asked for your honesty. Lay it on me.”

  “I can comprehend the issue from your perspective. You shared an incredible bond with Clan Dusa. You love them. They love you. The unborn may be theirs, and that means a great deal from anyone’s viewpoint. Particularly yours, since this was no casual encounter.”

  “Exactly.” I was happy someone got it.

  My relief must have shown, because Betra grinned before he sobered. “Okay, here’s the part you’ll hate.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “I’ve put myself in the place of the men of Clan Dusa. I have imagined I may have a child on the way, being carried by the woman I love.”

  I tried to imagine that too. When I looked at it from that viewpoint, I started feeling ill. “A child I may never raise. That I’m not welcome to visit, given how it works on Kalquor.”

  Betra nodded. “Even if you get your way and you do manage to include Clan Dusa in the babe’s life, a different clan will raise it. They might be able to watch it grow, but they aren’t allowed to decide on its upbringing. They have to watch you be a part of yo
ur chosen clan as well.”

  “But if I wait—”

  “Then they’re stuck worrying for perhaps years that their loved ones are without the care and protection of a clan. They will not regard this as an opportunity to reclaim you, Shalia. They will feel guilty that you’ve taken this course. They may attempt to clan another woman as soon as they can, just so you’ll give up on them and grant their baby a parent clan.”

  I scowled at Betra. “You don’t know that.”

  “It’s what I would do.”

  I stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not at all. For the welfare of the woman I adore and the child that might be mine, I would do what was best for them. You have to understand, this is the manner in which we were raised. This is the belief that has been instilled in the men of Kalquor all our lives.”

  “That is nuts,” I vented.

  Betra smiled. “It is alien for you. However, it is odd to us that you would prefer such a thing. Why wait on a clan you aren’t certain of when there are other men who will love you? Men who would accept your little one to protect, guide, and cherish, as they would their own?”

  “This is normal for Kalquorian men?”

  “It is for the few who find themselves in such a situation. We’ve been in decline for centuries, Shalia. The empire concentrates on what is in the best interests for the few Mataras and children we are blessed with. Men who have the most to offer step up and take on the roles of fathers. Men who have sired, but can’t guarantee their children the time, finances, and stability needed, step out of the way when it grants a better opportunity for mother and babe.”

  I felt stunned. Would Dusa and the others really clan some other woman when their first year as a stable unit was up, to ensure the baby had fathers present? I didn’t want to believe that, but there was no subterfuge on Betra’s expression.

  Seeing that I was catching the gist of the argument, Betra added, “You’re forgetting a major issue in all this.”

  He’d handed me enough crap to mull over. “Which is?” I said with more than a little force.

  “The baby may not be Clan Dusa’s.”

  I couldn’t hide from that. I pulled a face and propped my chin in my hand. The suckfest kept rolling on.

  Betra reached across the tiny table in his quarters to stroke my hair. “I’m wrecking your happy scenario. You have to understand how you’re complicating the matter, above all for the child.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to hear anymore, but I’d asked for this. “It would be tough for a kid to have two parent clans, huh?”

  “Especially if one of them has no business in your lives. That’s the other angle I looked at this from: the babe’s. Think of it from the worst-case viewpoint, Shalia. Your son or daughter is raised by a set of men. He’s been told his actual blood father belongs to another clan. Clan Dusa flits in and out of his life, confusing his loyalties. Then he discovers they may not be related to them at all, that he’s actually the offspring of Nang! What would that do to his head? How would you feel in his place?”

  I knew how I’d feel. The scenario Betra painted was pretty fucked up, not to mention unfair to my kid. My choices were to be wrong on the baby’s behalf or wrong in that Clan Dusa would never know their maybe-child.

  “Damn it,” I said.

  I’d been staring at my dinner plate. It blurred. Doubled. Trebled. I blinked and tears rained down on the few scraps of food left on it.

  Betra leaned over. He plucked me from my seating cushion to cuddle me on his lap. He held and rocked me, holding me tight and keeping me warm and safe while I cried out my confusion.

  I’d made a mess out of all of it, making my unborn a victim of my bad decisions. The only path to fix any of it was to either give birth and snag it a decent set of fathers, or to surrender the embryo to someone else. None of those options included Dusa, Esak, and Weln. My selfish heart cried out against it.

  I felt so alone. Unfortunately, when I feel lost, I search for support in the worst direction imaginable. The way I had with Commander Nang on Earth. True to form, I did it again.

  I lifted my eyes to discover Betra gazing down at me, his face tender with compassion. I let my desperation for the shelter of someone strong overcome my good sense. I strained upward so my lips met his. I kissed him.

  He stilled, his body rigid with tension. I realized what I was doing, but it was too late to throw the engines into reverse. Even as I started to break the kiss, Betra’s lips moved against mine and he kissed back. My lips parted instinctively, and his tongue found mine. We melted into each other, giving and taking, clutching hard and kissing harder.

  We came to our senses at the same instant, tearing ourselves apart. Thank heavens we’d been sitting on cushions on the floor, because I sprang off as if I’d been confronted by a bear. Had we been on chairs, I would have busted my ass.

  I crab-walked backwards to put space between us. We stared at each other, scarcely believing what had happened.

  I had screwed up again. Or was about to.

  “I’m sorry, Betra,” I managed. “That was inappropriate.”

  “My apologies as well, Matara,” he said. “I should have better control than that.”

  I rose to my feet, and he jumped up to help me. “I’m returning to my quarters,” I told him.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “No. Please don’t.”

  “Shalia—”

  I held out a hand to stop him. “I’m okay, Betra. I need to have my space now, though.”

  He swallowed. “I am so sorry, Shalia.”

  “Me too.” I hurried out the door. For the seconds we’d clung to each other, he’d felt too damned amazing. I had to go so I didn’t try to make more out of that kiss than it had been.

  What is with me? Am I so weak that I can’t stand to be without a man for two seconds? No sooner had I acknowledged that I might have to let Dusa, Esak, and Weln go than I jumped on the first convenient man I could find. I tried to fill the emptiness that threatened. That I found Betra attractive, that I consider him a friend, made me run quicker to the false shelter of his arms.

  Crap. I don’t have any sense whatsoever.

  January 8

  Have I mentioned lately that I’m an idiot? An unmitigated fool? I have? Good, let me say it again.

  I am an utter ass.

  After all the stupid shit with Nang, after getting pregnant and not knowing who the father is, I have not learned a single damned thing. Not. One. Damned. Thing.

  After a sleepless night obsessing about how up close and personal I’d been with Betra, I got up this morning. I dealt with the light morning sickness by taking a shower and trying to ignore it. By the time I was scrubbed clean, it had passed. I could contemplate eating a piece of toast and maybe a little juice.

  Dumb Mistake Number One Billion: I was pondering what to wear today when my door announce went off. My back was to the door, and I had a towel wrapped around me. Thinking it would be Candy and Katrina stopping by to check if I was conscious yet, I called, “Enter,” without bothering to verify it was my friends.

  The door hissed open behind me. Light footsteps came in and stopped. The door hummed closed again, but nobody spoke.

  I turned with a blouse in my hands, already yapping. “Hey, I was just dressing—”

  I froze and shut up. Betra stood a few feet away, thunderstruck as he looked at me dripping and wearing only a towel. A towel that chose that very fucking second to untuck and drop off me. I do not lie...I am the walking embodiment of Murphy’s Law. This law states, “If a man you are attracted to and have no business having sex with comes upon you wearing only a towel, that towel will fall right the fuck off in front of him.” And if Murphy’s Law doesn’t say that, it damned well should.

  Betra’s eyes opened so wide, I feared they might burst out of his skull. His jaw tried to crash through the floor. Meanwhile, I could only stand there stunned, staring at him.

  Dumb Mistake Numb
er One Billion and One.

  By the time I recovered my senses enough to swoop towards the floor to retrieve my towel, it was too late. Betra had me in his arms. He kissed me and my nymphomaniac brain short-circuited.

  What can I say? It was good to be held again. Hell, it was better than good. It felt amazing. I’d been kissed with raw passion before, but not as desperately as Betra kissed me this morning. His tongue surged in my mouth as if he’d die for want of me. I responded to it, to the frantic grip he held me with, to the forceful, agonized way he plumbed my mouth. He acted as if after the initial taste he’d never be satisfied again. He moaned as he kissed me, as if he were begging me to not stop him, that it would kill him if I did.