Afterburn

by S. L. Viehl

  Are you going to sit there boring holes into my back all night, or will you make a run for it? Burn asked.

  Neither. She swam over to his side. I was just thinking what an excellent female you’d make.

  He eyed her. That’s a compliment?

  On my world, it is.

  In that case, I thank you.

  You know so little of my people. Liana glided away and allowed her petite veils to unfurl. At the same time she released a few slippery notes of luresong—not enough to captivate, only to tease—and waited for him to come to her.

  Burn only looked puzzled. What is that noise you are making?

  Don’t you like it? She turned, showing her primary colors. We sing it to our males back on Ylyd. They like it very much. She sang a full scale, spinning the wave around him, and braced herself for the impact of his body. Surely he would hurtle himself at her. Any moment now.

  Strange sort of song, Burn said, and blew out some bubbles. There aren’t any words. Is it some kind of pulse?

  No male had ever been able to resist Liana’s luresong. Burn’s hearing must be impaired.

  Not really. It makes you feel things . . . differently. She swam around him, making sure not to touch him. How do you feel?

  It makes me feel itchy, like when I’ve been topside too many hours.

  So she could not tempt him with luresong. It emphasized what an exceptionally strong will he possessed. There were still her secondary veils, the veils that she never unfurled before any male. Come into my chamber. I want to show you something.

  It was dangerous. The thin space between showing herself and revealing her affliction could be easily crossed, and estrus was one of the strongest catalysts. The last thing Liana wanted to do was hurt him. At the same time, she ached to let go. To be what she was, and not hold back. Surely he could take some, if not all, of her colors.

  Once they were inside the chamber, Liana turned and presented herself in the upright position of unveiling. Watch. Slowly, carefully, she unfurled her secondary veils.

  Burn remained silent and stared as Liana’s extended veils surrounded her in a web of color. He went around her, close but not touching, close enough for her to sense the heat of his blood. At last he faced her again.

  What do you think? She knew she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. No ’Zangian female could give him this.

  I think you have more colors than I realized, he said at last. They are pretty. He noticed her gape. Uh, very pretty?

  Liana furled her veils with snapping, jerking movements. I can’t believe this. This is not happening to me.

  What did I do wrong? Burn seemed puzzled.

  I am showing myself to you. Displaying all my beautiful colors and singing for you. And it means nothing to you. Liana wanted to bite him for that.

  I said they were pretty. He studied her. I understand now. That’s not what an Ylydii male would do.

  No. A proper male would be overcome by my beauty and luresong. He would respond with uncontrollable desire, and beg me to take him. She whirled around, unable to bear the sight of him. You’ve succeeded in humiliating me again. Congratulations, Sublieutenant.

  I don’t need to see your colors or hear you sing to want you, Liana.

  Liana turned. What?

  You heard me. He inched closer. I don’t even have to see you to feel desire for you. When I sleep, you’re in my dreams. When I move through the water, I can taste you. You’re always with me.

  But your females do not show themselves to you.

  ’Zangian females have their ways. They are very playful just before they come into their time, always teasing the males who interest them. When they are ready for a mate, they run away. The males who desire them chase them down.

  They are not afflicted like me, Liana said bitterly.

  I don’t understand what you mean by afflicted. Burn looked all over her. You look normal. Beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with you.

  Every generation, a female is born with a green stripe below her eyes, and green in her eyes. Liana pointed to the blaze of emerald color beneath her eyelid. It’s a mark of a royal, and no one knows when or to whom she will be born. She just is.

  I already knew you were royalty. He peered at her face. But your eyes are black.

  They turn green when—it doesn’t matter. There was no way Liana could condense ten thousand years of tradition into a few sentences. What is important is how it affects life. Being of the green, as I am, brings more than status. A royal female develops differently from other Ylydii females. We are stronger and more intelligent. We are born to rule alone, so we are afflicted with the ruler’s curse.

  Which is?

  I can’t. She turned away. I’ve only used it once, and I didn’t mean to. No one told me what it would do. I didn’t even know I had it. She would not think of her father. She would not. Accidents happen, and things that are done cannot be undone. I will not harm you.

  Burn swam closer. There are stories about Ylydii females. How they mate and then kill their mates. Is that what it is? How it is, for you?

  She gave him a miserable look. No. A royal does not harm someone she loves. She reserves her power to destroy evil.

  He had drifted closer, and she could feel the heat of his big body again. So this showing off and singing is all you do when you mate.

  Our males are small and timid. They have to be courted. On impulse she surged against him, wrapping her veils around him, turning him so they were belly-to-belly. We Ylydii are very good at courting.

  I can see that. Burn rubbed his cheek against hers before he slipped out of her embrace. Thank you for telling me about the differences.

  I can show you more.

  No, my lady. Burn backed away from her. If you do, I won’t be timid, and I won’t be satisfied with courtship. If you do not wish to be mated to a ’Zangian with no royal marks or blood, then you must never do this again.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I have had enough of this.” Jadaira tore open the front of her thermal chest wrap. “My mother is too blind to see what that Terran is doing, and by the time she does it will be too late.”

  Onkar stopped stripping and regarded his mate. “What is the Terran doing?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Haven’t you seen the way he puts his fins all over her? How he’s constantly touching and hovering and nudging at her?”

  “Captain Argate has hands, not fins, and he is Teresa’s friend.” Onkar caught the belly wrap she threw at him. “Jadaira, you know that sort of touching among land-dwellers is considered casual and acceptable. He’s not attempting to court her.”

  The Terran male’s presence had been very conspicuous during the week they had spent in the outer currents. Noel Argate was an early riser, and occupied the vessel’s control tower in the early hours of daylight, but turned the helm over to a crew member as soon as the others came on deck.

  Onkar had been a little disturbed at first by the unusual amount of attention Argate had given Jadaira’s stepmother. The captain, who otherwise was quite professional in his dealings with the crew and researchers on board, showed a marked inclination to spend much of his work and personal time in the company of the Terran woman. Unlike most ’Zangians, Onkar understood the need for monogamy in an intimate relationship, and in his mind had permanently paired Teresa Selmar with Dairatha mu J’Kane. Seeing Argate with her only made Onkar worry again about the future of his bond with Jadaira.

  It soon became obvious that Argate was friendly toward Teresa because they shared a common history. Often Onkar heard the Terrans indulging in what they called reminiscing, which seemed to involve remembering the worst moments of one’s adolescence and laughing a great deal. He also saw no overt sign of mutual sexual interest, despite the touching, and suspected that while Argate might be amenable to the idea, Teresa was yet preoccupied with the hunt and thoughts of Dairatha.

  Jadaira had observed the same things as he had, but her reaction was co
mpletely different. She seemed to resent Argate’s affection for Teresa, and her dislike of him deepened with each passing day. Now, after seeing the Terran male take Teresa into a loose embrace up on deck, his mate was seething with rage.

  “I won’t let him do this to her.” Jadaira jerked on her flightsuit. “If he can’t keep his fins—hands—to himself, then I’ll break his wrists.”

  Onkar blocked her way out of the cabin. “You can’t attack the Terran.”

  “Oh?” She looked up at him. “Are you forgetting your low success rate with stopping me from doing as I wish, and how hard I can thump you in the head?”

  He thought she was adorable when she was angry, which was a good thing, because Jadaira was seldom anything else these days. “This is where I must tactfully remind you that you are pregnant and not responsible for the rapid changes in your emotional state. May I do that without you thumping me in the head?”

  Her lips—so like Teresa’s now—twitched. “No.”

  Onkar tugged her into his arms. “May I suggest you allow me to speak with Argate about his behavior?”

  “Male to male?”

  He pressed her close and stroked her gillets. “Concerned spouse to the primary source of my mate’s aggravation.”

  She sighed. “Will you at least bite him once for me?”

  Onkar waited for an opportune moment to speak with Argate, which came later that day, just before the two ’Zangians were to make their usual afternoon dive. Teresa was busy outfitting Jadaira with a special sonar harness, which would help extend the range of the ship’s scanners. Argate, who had come down from the control tower, went below, and Onkar followed.

  “Something you need, Subcommander?” Argate asked him.

  Onkar noted the barely perceptible tremor in the Terran male’s voice, and wondered if it was fear. His size often intimidated land-dwellers, but he had not realized the captain was one of them. “I would speak to you privately, if you have a moment.”

  “Of course.” Argate led him into one of the larger, unoccupied research cabins.

  Onkar waited until the Terran had closed the hatch and settled himself on a chair behind the room console. Since sitting was uncomfortable for a ’Zangian, he remained standing. “You and Teresa Selmar have been spending much time together since we departed the coast.”

  Argate nodded. “We’re old friends.”

  “Your friendship does not please my mate, but you are probably aware of that.” Onkar knew Jadaira had not bothered to conceal her disgust. “She is very protective of Teresa.”

  “I’m sorry,” Argate said. “I didn’t realize that I was upsetting her.”

  “She expressed a desire to bite you several times this morning.” Onkar watched the other man’s face. “As you Terrans do not use your teeth the way we do, and considering the thinness of your derma, I persuaded her to abandon the idea.”

  “Now I’m grateful.” The Terran rubbed his arm. “What did I do to upset your mate?”

  “You have been touching her stepmother. Rather a great deal, and without concealing it,” Onkar said. “We ’Zangians reserve that sort of contact for mates. Jadaira still sees Teresa as being her father’s mate, so you can understand her anger.”

  Argate’s facial skin turned pink. “Frankly, I don’t. Teresa and I are friends. We’re both Terran, both unattached. With all due respect, Subcommander, what we choose to do together is our business, not your mate’s.”

  “There are no secrets among ’Zangians.” Onkar had a few of his own, but this was not the time to bring up the reasons for being exiled from his own natal pod. “We dwell together all our lives, so our relationships are perhaps more intense and intimate than those of your species.”

  “Teresa is not a ’Zangian.” This time Argate did not show fear, but resentment. “She belongs among her own kind.”

  Here was the infamous Terran prejudice of which Onkar had heard so much. It did not surprise or disgust him as much as it concerned him. A person who felt superior to all other species could not be trusted in a position of authority, and on this expedition Argate was shown the same deference as Teresa was.

  “Where Dr. Selmar belongs should be a place of her choosing,” Onkar suggested.

  “Teresa is certainly old enough to make her own choices,” Argate told him. “I only want what’s best for her, and I’ll do what I can to make that happen. Why don’t you explain that to your mate?”

  “Once I thought I could dictate what I thought was appropriate for my mate,” Onkar said carefully. “Strong emotion often makes us feel we have the right to do so, in order to protect the objects of our affections. Fortunately, Jadaira taught me that there can be no true love without absolute trust.”

  “But she has no problem with biting me for caring about Teresa,” Argate snapped.

  “She does not know you, Captain.” Onkar didn’t like the quickness of the Terran’s temper, or his defensiveness. “If you intend to make a place for yourself in Teresa’s life, you should be aware of the affection she and Jadaira have for each other, and respect it. Teresa may not have whelped Jadaira, but she is still her mother, and she still shares a strong bond with Jadaira’s father.”

  “Yes, I heard about him. He dumped Teresa the moment she refused to let him dictate to her.” Argate raised one of his eyebrows. “I guess he’s not as enlightened about controlling a mate as you are.”

  “Dairatha mu J’Kane is an honorable male. He has devoted his life to caring for Jadaira and Teresa.”

  “His relationship with Teresa is over, and so is this conversation.” Argate got to his feet. “If your mate can’t accept things the way they are, then maybe you two should go back to the coast and leave us alone.”

  There was one good thing about being his size, Dairatha mu J’Kane thought as he paced the expedition vessel. He didn’t need thermal wraps to stay warm in the frigid outer currents. He was getting hungry, however, for this far out there was only scant feed available. If Teresa and her band of brainless mouth-breathers didn’t soon abandon this hunt, Dairatha might have to.

  The only pleasure he had was riding under the vessel’s changeable hull, which was a thin, biomalleable alloy that was watertight yet easily permeated by sound. Through it he could overhear every conversation held belowdecks. At first he had only listened for Teresa’s voice, and any indication that Jadaira and Onkar were entering the water. He had to make himself scarce when his daughter and her mate swam—he didn’t want to explain his presence to anyone—but the water was too cold for Jadaira, and they seldom stayed downside long.

  The sound of Onkar’s voice had drawn his curiosity, however. The former rogue rarely spoke to anyone except Jadaira, and Dairatha found himself curious to know what had Onkar talking so much. Dairatha had risen beneath the ship and listened carefully, following the conversation between his daughter’s mate and Argate, the Terran male whom he’d seen several times with Teresa.

  He didn’t become enraged until he heard Onkar explain why Jadaira felt angry enough to bite Argate. You have been touching her stepmother. Rather a great deal, and without concealing it.

  Dairatha had been completely unaware of this. Of course, he had to stay out of sight of the deck most of the time, except at night, so that no one spotted him.

  Argate had become angry with Onkar. We’re both Terran, both unattached. With all due respect, Subcommander, what we choose to do together is our business, not your mate’s.

  So the Terran male was possessive of Teresa. It was interesting that Argate would feel that way, considering that he had only spent a few weeks in her company. Dairatha wondered how he would feel if he found himself dragged over the side of the deck and plunged three hundred feet below the surface. Will he bubble, or squeak?

  Yet what had brought on a killing rage was what Argate had next said about Dairatha’s former mate. Teresa is not a ’Zangian. She belongs among her own kind.

  Dairatha didn’t care if the Terran male was xenophobic or, like the
Skartesh, a separatist. Most Terrans despised off-worlders, from what Teresa had told him over the years. What made his hide go black was the implied intention behind Argate’s last statement. She belongs among her own kind. Argate was her own kind. With Argate was where she belonged.

  Dairatha had endured Teresa’s jealousy for a decade. He had tolerated it because he knew it was born out of love for him. Now the dark, possessive feelings were coursing through his mind, twisting and boring into his calm. Who did this male think he was, putting his hands on Teresa, laying claim to Teresa?

  If Dairatha had had any doubts, they were dispelled by one of the last things the Terran had said to Onkar. I only want what’s best for her, and I’ll do what I can to make that happen.

  Argate said all this very briskly, as though it were decided.

  It had been years since Dairatha mu J’Kane had challenged another male over a mate. The last time had been a face-off with several ’Zangian males over the right to chase Kyara, and no one had been able to prevail over him. Terrans evidently did not fight over their females, according to Teresa, and when they did it was with words, not teeth or bodies.

  With Argate being the size of a pup, there could be no fight, Dairatha decided. He would simply have to kill him.

  Two weeks ago Emily would never have abandoned her console to take a meal interval, but now she didn’t feel a qualm about switching the channel relayer to auto-reply. She couldn’t work around the clock, as Ana Hansen often did, without feeling as if her brain had turned to sludge. After settling several minor administrative disputes among six different species, most of which had been slimy, spiny, and not inclined to practice tact, she also felt she had earned a break.

  Today she stopped at Lisette’s Café long enough to pick up the order she had signaled over earlier.