Afterburn

by S. L. Viehl

“I’d heard that N-jui don’t permit males to leave their homeworld.” A little contempt edged his tone. “Rather like Ylydii females in their attitude, aren’t they?”

  That’s right, throw out that casual reminder of how well educated you are. Teresa felt a little better, now that she was seeing the man’s true persona emerge. You just don’t realize that you’re on my turf now.

  “Ylydii females are dominant, and keep their males like pampered domesticates,” she informed him. “One class of N-jui males are essentially mindless, walking semen vessels who are devoured after mating.”

  “Ah.” The captain nodded. “I will remember the distinction, particularly if I am ever propositioned by your lab chief.”

  The sense of humor was new, too. “T’Kaf is not a breeder. Like their males, there are at least six different subgender classifications of N-jui females, but only the breeders mate and kill.” Teresa’s gaze went to a large, dark shadow passing outside the viewing panel. “I’ll have to discuss this with you another time; my mate is waiting for me.”

  Argate followed her gaze. “You married a ’Zangian.”

  “The natives here are polygamous, seasonal breeders, so there is no such institution.” She showed him some of her teeth in a display that would have seriously upset an aquatic. “However, Dairatha and I have scandalized the pod by remaining exclusive to each other.”

  “That provokes a thousand more impertinent questions, but I won’t keep you.” The captain offered a data chip. “This is my relay code. If you decide you have the time and space for me here at the URD, please let me know.”

  Teresa knew quadrant wouldn’t have sent Argate to K-2 simply to serve as an observer or researcher. Nor was he here to be her new best friend—not with the unpleasant history between them. If he really had joined the military, then the League wouldn’t have wasted him on K-2. They had better things to do with their enlisted scientists, such as having them design and build more death machines for the war.

  If that’s why he’s here, I’d better keep him where I can watch him. If it’s not, I’d better keep him here anyway.

  “There’s an empty office at the end of the mid-level corridor, on the small side, but the adjoining quarters are rather comfortable,” she said. “As long as you don’t disrupt my staff’s routine, then you can occupy that for the duration of your assignment.” She could also monitor his transmissions and activities, as her own office was directly next to it.

  “Thank you, Dr. Selmar. I’ll see that you won’t regret your generosity.” He inclined his head and then left the office.

  I let the devil steal my dance shoes, Teresa thought, and now I ask him to waltz.

  A bump on the viewer panel made Teresa swivel around to look into her mate’s recessed eyes. One of the oldest males in the pod, Dairatha mu J’Kane’s bulk now stretched out almost three meters in length and weighed close to half a ton.

  The sight of Dairatha made Teresa forget about Noel and filled her instead with strong, conflicting emotions. Despite their differences, the ’Zangian was the only male she had ever loved, would ever love. Yet because of their differences, that love was ultimately doomed. His size now made all but the mildest love play physically dangerous for Teresa, and soon it would no longer be possible for him to leave the water. In time the only manner in which they could be together would be with Teresa in a breathing rig, or like this, staring at each other from opposite sides of a wall.

  Dairatha, who, like all ’Zangians, lived in the now, never worried about such things. Come-out, come-out, he finned, turning in a long, slow circle to show her his entire length. Such a display was usually only made to capture the interest of an unmated female, but he still used it with her to show that his affection and desire remained constant and unchanged.

  Teresa swallowed against the tightness in her throat and pressed one hand to the plas. “I’ll be right there, my love.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “One of the controllers over at Flight said we were going to love this,” Loknoth told Burn as they entered the briefing room. “So I assume the commander is having you incarcerated for the remaining duration of the war.”

  “Why let him go when the war ends?” Saree asked. “I say keep him locked up until he is too old and toothless to do more than chase soft-shell sterbol around the silt.”

  Burn ignored the acid-tinged teasing and took his place among the other trainee pilots. The pod was still angry with him, but Dair wouldn’t reassign him now. Not with the Peace Summit about to take place. If anything, she would give him a strafer to fly and let him take his place among the patrol. She needed all the pilots she could get up into space.

  The more Burn thought about it, the more sense it made. Dair had had enough time to think over his maneuver; she’d have seen the merits of his actions by now. She’d also taken the time to cool off and avoid any more unpleasant interactions— she’d certainly spent enough time avoiding him in the water yesterday. Maybe she’s come to her senses and will let me have Rescue Three.

  The briefing was short and to the point, and was given by Onkar, not Dair.

  “We have diplomatic ships from Ylyd and Ninra converging on the planet, as well as a ship of Skartesh launching from K-2. Patrol shifts will provide escort and cover for all of the delegates. Any unauthorized vessels will be reported at once to Flight Control, and ground command will then decide if and how they are to be engaged.” He looked out at the other ’Zangians. “These people who are coming here are not only dignitaries, but important leaders on their worlds. You will remember that in your dealings with them and act according to the appropriate protocols.”

  Burn had been too young to meet the last Ylydii delegation, which had traveled to K-2 when he was a pup for a brief cultural exchange with the colonists and the natives. The meeting between the two species had been held in space, and while some of the other young members of the coastal pod had been permitted a short visit to the Ylydii ship, his mother had refused to let him go.

  It had frustrated him at the time, to be kept back like a newling. Hearing how strange the alien aquatics had seemed from other podlings had only made him feel worse—he’d really wanted a look at them himself—but Znora had been flatly adamant.

  You’re too young, Byorn.

  Now he wasn’t. Maybe this time I’ll get to meet one of them. Their females were said to be smaller but very exotic-looking, and very strong-willed.

  Burn waited as position assignments were called. Saree was slotted as wing leader, as always, but that didn’t worry him. Neither did it bother him when he wasn’t called to join the body of the patrol. Dair had decided in his favor, obviously, and he would be flying Rescue Three, at the very front of the patrol.

  Then the briefing was over, and the pilots filed out to the flight line to board their assigned ships, and Burn was left behind, with no assignment at all.

  Onkar waited until the last of the pod had left before addressing him. “She’s still very angry with you, Byorn.”

  “Which means?”

  The other male didn’t mince words this time. “You’re grounded from flight duty and will report for remedial trainer sessions until further notice.”

  Burn looked up at the controller’s view panel, and saw his cousin standing and talking to some of the tower crew. “We’ll just see about that.”

  Onkar didn’t try to stop him, but he did accompany him as far as the lift to the control level. “Remember that while Dair is my mate, she is still in command of this unit. I cannot thwart her orders.”

  “Did you try?” At Onkar’s nod, Burn released a rude burst of air through his gillets. “Fine. If she wishes to punish me, then she can do it to my face, in person.”

  Dair didn’t appear surprised to see Burn, but she barely gave him a glance. “Your training session initiates in three minutes, Sublieutenant. You’d better haul tail over to the simulator.”

  “I’ve flown all those sessions a minimum of three times each, Commander. I can pe
rform the flight patterns in my sleep.”

  “I’ve altered some of the scenarios so that you can concentrate more on strategic flying.” She waved him off. “Get to it.”

  “No.” He waited until he had her full attention. “You’re drowning me with this training waste, Dair. I’m trained. Use me. Watch me fly.”

  Her silver eyes flashed. “I have better things to do than witness the moment you vaporize yourself in orbit.”

  Verrig, the chief of flight engineering, stepped up behind Dair. “If you younglings can’t play nicely, I will relieve both of you from duty.”

  “You can’t do that to me,” Dair snapped.

  “On the contrary.” The chief gave her a mild look. “I most certainly can, if I feel you are physically unfit for duty. One of the perks of being in charge of the hardware around here.” He gestured toward a console. “Shall I consult with Subcommander Onkar on the matter?”

  Burn bit back a strum of mirth. “I think he has you by the tail, cousin.”

  Dair gave him a lethal glance. “Shut up, Burn.”

  “Trainer pilots relieved from duty generally end up scrubbing out engine vents for me,” Verrig advised him. “A month of that might curb your amusement.”

  “If you’re looking for someone to take on your gunner, Jadaira, I could use one.”

  The ’Zangians and Verrig turned to see Shon Valtas standing nearby, shamelessly listening in on their conversation.

  Dair eyed him. “I thought you were through with trying to commit suicide, Major.”

  “You won’t regret it, Shon.” Burn gave the oKiaf a slap on the shoulder. “I’m checked out on the StarFire now; have they installed the sphere in your strafer yet?”

  “We’re still waiting for authorization,” Verrig put in. “There have been some problems finding pilots who can let the control array take over. They end up resisting it, which sends the array into auto-shutdown.”

  “The StarFire array will not be installed in any of the patrol vessels,” Dair stated flatly. “Even if quadrant approves it, it’s too dangerous for anyone to use until we do more testing on our people.”

  Burn tapped the side of his head. “I had no problem with it.”

  “Anyone with functional brains,” Dair amended. “In the event you’ve forgotten, our mission now is search and rescue, not search and destroy. Standard weapons systems are more than adequate for any mission needs.”

  Burn couldn’t believe it was his cousin talking like this. “Having a pup really has turned you into a paranoid old dam, Dair.”

  She looked ready to smack him again. “Be happy I’m willing to allow you to serve as Major Valtas’s gunner, and he’s crazy enough to put up with you.”

  “You can’t keep putting me off, you know,” Burn told her. “Eventually you’ll have to put me in the pilot’s seat, and then I’m going to outfly everyone in the pod. Even you, Dair. Is that why you’ve kept me grounded? Because you don’t want me to take your place?”

  Verrig caught Dair’s arm. “No hitting or biting. My crew doesn’t need to be cleaning blood out of these consoles.”

  Shon clapped a hand on Burn’s shoulder. “Okay, my friend, you’ve had your say. Time to fly.”

  “Just a minute.” The anger faded from Dair’s eyes and was replaced by that blank frostiness she used when dealing with unpleasant mouth-breathers. “This is not personal between you and me anymore, Sublieutenant. This is the military, and I am your commander. You will follow the orders I give you.”

  “Or?”

  “Or you will be permanently relieved of duty. Naturally you can apply for review and reassignment. I believe there are some openings in Engineering and Flight Control or, if that might prove to be too much of an intellectual challenge, the Facility Maintenance Crew.”

  The insult made Burn’s hide darken, and he turned to Shon. “I’ll run the preflight, Major. Subcommander.” He didn’t trust himself to speak to Dair, so he walked out to the corridor and headed for the Flight Line.

  Dair had wrestled with the aftereffects of her transformation for weeks. The integration of human DNA into her own had not only permanently changed the color and structure of her body, but had given it some new, strange, and often disturbing functions. Like the heated, crawling sensation she felt over her hide whenever she was thwarted. At the moment her face felt as hot as if she were back on Ninra, baking under the merciless sunslight there.

  There were the new emotions, too. Such as the one she was feeling now, which made her want to chase after her cousin and beat him senseless. Didn’t he understand that she was only trying to keep him from killing himself in some male-hormone-laden idiocy?

  She had no answers, so she looked at Shon. “Would you explain to me why males feel compelled to behave like that?”

  “I believe Byorn’s finally growing up.” Shon seemed amused.

  “Perhaps his body has, but his mind and his mouth are growing more infantile by the day.” A wave of nausea made Dair grope for a handhold, and then Shon was there, his arm supporting her. “Sorry. Teresa tells me this gastric distress is common for breeding Terran females. Just my luck, I get to experience it as well.” She began the full, slow breathing exercises Teresa had taught her.

  “I’ve never seen you so at odds with your gunner before,” Shon said. “What is wrong between the two of you?”

  Dair debated whether to talk about it or not—pod business was a private thing—but it might help to get Shon’s perspective. “Burn’s dam, Znora, cornered me when he began his pilot training.”

  “I remember her. She does not like you.”

  “More like she’s hated me ever since I was born,” Dair corrected him wryly. “I thought she would attack me physically when she discovered that Burn had signed up to follow me into the military. Over time I think she realized that I would protect Burn while he served as my gunner. Now she’s terrified that he’s going to get himself blasted into space dust, and I won’t be there to save him.”

  “And you’re afraid that she’s right?”

  Dair pressed her hand over the curve in her abdomen. “I know a lot more about the maternal instinct now, Shon. At least, I know how I’d feel if it were my pup sliding into a flight harness.”

  “Jadaira, you have put enough pressure on yourself, flying watchout for this Peace Summit and keeping Bio Rescue operational,” Shon told her. “You can’t also keep Burn grounded forever. He’s performed beyond expectations in the simulators.”

  “You checked his logs?”

  “His achievement scores in the trainer are better than mine were. In some cases, better than yours.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes against the uncomfortable stinging sensation coming from the new holes in her eye rims that Teresa had said were new tear ducts. “I know I should let him go. But, Shon, if anything happens to him, and I’m not there to prevent it, I’ll also know that I’ll never forgive myself. Is that some sort of bizarre human emotion?”

  “No,” the oKiaf assured her. “It’s love.”

  She uttered the burping sound that Teresa had assured her was human laughter. “Then I guess I do really love that ’shrike-sized idiot.” Her stomach rolled, and she breathed in deeply until the sensation eased. “Considering how pleasant this pregnancy-associated nausea feels, I rather wonder why her species isn’t extinct by now.”

  “Perversity. Terrans aren’t happy unless they regularly purge their gullets.” Shon helped her over to one of the flight control terminals and eased her into the seat. “Jadaira, this is likely not the best time to talk about what happened to you after you were pushed through the suns’ corona, but I feel responsible. If I hadn’t—”

  “Don’t.” She rested her hand against his mouth to stop his words. “You must stop blaming yourself for my injuries. I decided to chase the Skartesh and keep them from flying their ships into the suns. You were unconscious on one of those ships at the time, remember? How could you have prevented any of it?”

 
“That was what I was thinking, after, when Onkar brought you to the dying place.” He seemed to be struggling for words. “Jadaira, I am responsible for more than you know.”

  “Let’s not nip each other over the details. We saved the Skartesh—that was the important thing. My stepmother tells me these changes may contribute to the evolution of my species.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I’m going to tell the other females about morning sickness, though. They may decide to stop having pups altogether, and that will be the end of our species.”

  “This transformation wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t interfered in your life,” Shon said. “I couldn’t let things take their normal course.”

  “Of course you couldn’t.” Duo knew the only reason the Hsktskt weren’t occupying K-2 and all the other worlds in their system was thanks to Shon’s impersonation of the Skartesh’s dead Messiah.

  “But I am to blame—”

  Moving as silently as ever, Onkar joined them. “I will take my share of the blame, too, Major.”

  Dair watched the two males face each other and held her breath. In the recent past, Onkar’s jealousy over her friendship with Shon had been obsessive; he had nearly killed Shon twice out of possessive rage. She only released her breath when her mate extended his arm and clasped one end of his fin to Shon’s paw in friendship.

  “Your mate should be on medical leave,” Shon said, ignoring her subsequent hiss of outrage. “I worry that the stress of safeguarding this Peace Summit will cause harm to her and your child.”

  “I have been doing my best to convince her of that, but my mate feels otherwise,” Onkar said. “Unfortunately, she still outranks me as well.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Dair demanded. “Shon, report to the Flight Line before my cousin hijacks a strafer. Keep him strapped to the weapons array until after this Peace Summit is over.”

  “Will you allow him to pilot after the summit is concluded?” Shon asked.

  “If he’s still in one piece, yes.”

  Teresa had made no headway in finding out Noel Argate’s real reasons for coming to K-2. As Noel was about as sentimental and affectionate as a tapeworm, she suspected it had nothing to with her personally. Yet everyone she spoke to, from Colonial Admin to Argate’s commander, insisted the captain had told her the truth. The truth from a man who had built his entire academic standing on Terra by climbing the bony pile of the many careers he had methodically ruined.