by Wen Spencer
Then it struck her. They were too small to be adults. This was group of children.
She stumbled to a stop in her surprise.
"What is it?" Turk stopped with her.
She motioned him to wait, thinking. The nearest minotaur settlement was Midway, nearly a hundred thousand miles away. There was no way children could have come all the way by themselves. There had to be adults somewhere close by. Very protective adults; every time she had done a trade with the minotaurs in the past, the children were herded out of town. Oh holy hell, this could get messy. Maybe talking to them wasn't wise. Maybe waiting for adults to arrive would be better.
But the Minotaur children had noticed her arrival and were now galloping toward her.
"What's wrong?" Turk growled.
"It's fine. Just wait." She waved him back and then stood her ground as the children charged up and stopped.
"Try it! Try it!" The smallest female minotaur cried.
"It's not going to work." A mid-sized female snorted and tossed up her head, a gesture of contempt. "They don't have a mouth."
"This one might be a mouth, although it's tiny." The tallest female peered down at Paige. Was size any indication of their ages, thus this would be the oldest of the group? The female was slightly taller than the bull, which would mean she was definitely older than the male since minotaur bulls were normally much bigger than females.
"Talk to it!" The other two females said.
The females all prodded the bull.
The little bull swallowed hard and then bellowed. "I demand to talk to your mouth."
At least he had the traditional phrase down. That was encouraging. How old were the kids? Pre-adolescent? Adolescents? It occurred to her that she knew nothing about rituals of passage for minotaurs, except that at some stage young adults moved on to form herds of their own. Was this such a group? Or was it a sibling group, too young to be out on their own?
"I am the mouth," Paige said. "I speak for this herd."
"It's a mouth!" The children cried and bounded around with excitement. It was stunning to see how high excited minotaurs could leap. For a few minutes they sprang about her. Strange how she never considered minotaurs as hyper before. She glanced at Turk; he was tense but was patiently waiting.
The tallest—and possibly oldest—female regained her composure first. "Ask it for a trade!"
"Ask it for food!" The smallest continued to bound around.
"They eat animals." The middle one settled down. "And we don't have anything to trade it."
"Ask it for medicine for Zo."
"Ask it to fix the communicator."
"Hush." The oldest stomped her foot in the sand. "They're civil not real."
At least that was what Paige thought the female said. Paige had never heard the words used in that way before and wasn't sure what the phrase meant.
"We can use my armband." The little bull was already removing its finely crafted gold armband.
The females all reacted as this was a stunning announcement.
"But Toeno!" The littlest cried. "That's your stake money!"
"I got us lost." The bull held out the armband to Paige. "I offer this up for trade."
"You got to tell it what you want first!" The mid-sized female snatched the armband out of the bull's hand and held it tight to her chest. "It's the only thing we have. We have to get the most we can for it."
This triggered a squabble as they argued what was needed and what the humans might actually have. The phrase "civil not real" was used again, making her wonder. Trading was usually fairly regimented, but Paige could see that the kids were out of their element. She decided to hint that the wounded child was the most pressing of their needs.
"What is wrong with Zo?" Paige asked.
They went wide-eyed and silent.
"Is Zo hurt?" she pressed. Whatever gender Zo might turn out to be. Paige was guessing female. "We might have medicine for Zo."
After several minutes of the minotaurs eyeing her and each other, the littlest finally blurted out. "Zo broke her leg." She pointed back toward the direction that their hoofprints came from. The littlest was probably also the youngest. Little, of course, being comparative to the other Minotaur. The female was still taller than Paige.
"Hush," The tallest said. "Toeno talks to strangers."
And they all turned expectantly to the bull who backed up a step under the collective stare.
"Z-z-z-zo broke her leg," Toeno kept backing up. "She seems very sick."
"The trade!" The middle female stomped her foot.
"We're establishing what goods my people can offer in exchange." Paige soothed. "Why don't you show me where Zo is?"
The children led her down the beach several kilometers to a small tent shelter tucked between two sand dunes. In the tent was a female clearly in the middle range of ages, her right leg broken. The bone had pierced through her hide. Paige flinched at the damage. Worst the female didn't stir as they crowded around the tent's entrance.
"Has she been like this since you came ashore?" Paige said.
They made the little noise that meant yes.
"Have you given her any water?" Paige said.
They glanced at each other and the bull was elected to ask, "Should we?"
"Yes," Paige said.
They looked at each other again, and this time the oldest said, "We didn't know."
God, they had to be just babies. Either that, or the minotaurs were lousy at teaching their children how to survive. She might not able to provide "medicine" to the children, but she could lend basic care.
"How long have you been lost?" Paige said.
She couldn't imagine beings as young as these obviously were had come from Midway. They must have come off a minotaur ship. The question, how far way was it?
"How long have you been lost?"
The little bull stated a time that was equated to several weeks. "Our herd was going to the human settlement of Mary's Holt." He meant Mary's Landing; a holt was an alliance of herds, sometimes but not always living close to each other. It was the close as the minotaurs got to the concept of 'settlement'. Apparently bulls were so territorial they couldn't stand living near a non-allied bull. "On the way, we stopped at an island in the human waters to do some maintenance on a navigation beacon there." He pointed toward the Fenrir Archipelagos which lay between Midway, Ya-ya, and Mary's Landing. "There was no beach where our ship anchored. Hoto said we could take the catamaran out to a nearby sand bar to run on firm land."
She knew Hoto. He was bull from Midway. She had never seen Midway's children as the humans were never allowed near them. She made the noise that meant that she understood and that he should continue with their story.
"We—I got bored of that," Toeno couldn't blame the females since their society expected males to lead. "So we sailed to another sandbar . . .which could be even called an island because it had three trees. Mia could see—I could see that there were pai fruit at the next island which had more trees, so we—I sailed to it."
Paige felt bad for the little bull. The other children had been as much to blame if not more so but he alone would shoulder the responsibility for the disaster that followed. She knew what it was like to suddenly have to act as head of the family. There were times that her siblings ignored all common sense only to later claim Paige should have headed them off. Charlene was the worst offender; Paige often wondered if later her sister would be blaming her for letting Charlene marry Mitch. Or how much blame would be placed on her if something happened between Hillary and Rabbit.
"You got lost?" Paige guessed at what happened to the children as they weaved their way from island to island. Close to the water, unable to see any great distance, and movement changing the appearance of any nearby landmass, it would be very easy to lose track of which way their main ship lay.
The bull bleated out a yes. "I thought I would be in less trouble if we just find our own way home, and then a storm caught us."
It
must have been the recent force 5 storm that swept up the axis. Its rotation must have carried them counterspin hundreds of miles for them to end up at Ya-ya's outer banks. They'd done well to stay afloat if they'd been caught out in that storm.
It meant, though, that their parents weren't close at hand. She wasn't even sure how to get a message to the minotaur ship. While people liked to call their relationship with the minotaurs an alliance, it was more often peacefully ignoring one another except to occasionally trade goods. Communication was always handled face to face. She'd have to radio to all humans ships with translators on board to pass on a message.
Until then, she would have to take care of the children. To get their full cooperation in their own rescue, she was going to make a trade. The question was what should she ask for in return? She didn't want to take the armband if it represented a much needed resource for the little bull. It was bad juju to take advantage of lost children.
"How about you trade me the catamaran?" Paige figured that the catamaran would be lost soon anyhow. "Surely you have no more need of it. I can take it back to the human city and fix it."
The children considered the offer.
"Toeno can keep his armband?" The middle female asked.
"Yes," Paige said.
They conferred via glances.
"Yes," Toeno said. "We will make that trade."
* * *
Captain Bailey stomped up the Tigertail's gangplank and stopped in front of Mikhail. The minotaurs trailed behind her, like a herd of calves suddenly convinced that they were ducklings to her mother duck. Turk brought up the rear of the strange parade, looking as mystified as Mikhail felt.
"What did you find out?" Mikhail wondered why she'd brought them back to his ship.
She bellowed out a curse. "Well, this is all screwed to hell."
"How exactly is it screwed?"
"What we have here are six lost children, one of which will die if we don't do something quickly." Said children towered over the petite Bailey. "Their boat is scrap. Their communication device is broken, and they don't know how to fix it."
And the Rosetta's engine needed replaced.
"I feel like we're creating a parade of the blind leading the blind," Mikhail said.
"I told them that I would help them. And I will, even if you won't." She leveled at him a gaze that reminded him of his father when he laid down the law. It said 'you will be sorry if you think I'm kidding.'
"I will help them." Mikhail said. "I'm going to need you to show me how."
She studied him and then nodded. "We need to move them to Ya-ya, along with their boat. The communicator is built in their boat and I'm not sure we can remove it—and the boat could wash away and sink with any large wave."
"Done," Mikhail said.
"And the wounded calf needs to be given some basic care."
"Done."
"I will have to get my mechanic and see if between me, him and your engineer, we can fix their communicator and call their family."
"Done.
She relaxed slightly then, and gave him a slight smile. "Thank you."
* * *
The invasion of the Svoboda became a storm of activity in the hanger as the minotaurs children and their catamaran were unloaded from the Tigertail. The crew of the Rosetta joined Mikhail's crew, helping to translate and assist with the repairs on the minotaur communication device. Captain Bailey was at the eye of the storm. One moment she was bellowing out the breathy minotaur phrases. The next she was whistling and chirping at her mechanic, who reminded Mikhail of an otter. Mikhail noticed that she changed how she held her body and moved as much as her language. For the Minotaurs she stood up straight, stomped a lot and tossed her head, mimicking the children's gestures. For the mechanic, she'd duck down, wrinkle her nose, and occasionally wriggle her butt as if she had a tail.
Maybe she was playing at being a human just as well as she did at being other species.
Mikhail's medic, Lidija Amurova, looked at Mikhail as if he was mad and complained that she hadn't had so much as a hamster for a pet as a child. Captain Bailey, though, guided Amurova through simple first-aid for the minotaur child as Bailey coaxed water into the wounded alien.
"Normally I'd do a glucose drip for someone in this condition but I don't know what it would do to them," Amurova said. "If they have something to feed it . . .her, I'd recommend it."
"Toeno!" Captain Bailey called to the bull. "Hoofynaveyenyadoo?"
The bull bolted off and returned with two paper-wrapped squares.
"This is what little food they have left," Captain Bailey explained. "I have some more on the Rosetta. Considering Zo's fragile condition, I think the female should only get something the minotaur themselves prepared."
Mikhail and his medic eyed the squares.
"What are they?" Mikhail asked.
"They take baked grain and soak it in honey, form these bricks, and then wrap them in waxed paper." Captain Bailey unwrapped one of the bricks. "Humans can't chew them; we don't have the jaw strength. We can eat them boiled down to a thick gruel."
Amurova tapped on the hard grain. "But this is solid. Only liquids boil."
Mikhail locked his jaw to keep from sighing. Again and again, his space raised crew was in over their heads. "You put it in water and bring the water to a boil until it becomes a paste-like consistency."
"I can get Manny to make the gruel." Captain Bailey shook her head. "Your crew is going to need to do some serious adapting to survive, Misha."
Only Turk called him Misha. She said it with the same gruff affection.
"Thank you for helping us." Mikhail said.
"All things considered, it's the right thing to do." She studied him intently for a moment. "I need to ask you something. Volkov—as in Viktor Volkov? Because you look like him."
"I'm his clone."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Clone? Oh. I didn't realize they cloned him. I thought maybe you were from a bastard child that took his name." She thought a moment, growing troubled. "Turk—he's not really your brother—genetically—right?"
"I consider him my brother." Mikhail kept his face neutral. He'd faced this bigotry over and over outside the Sargasso, but he was surprised that would make a difference to her of all people.
"He's off the standard production lines." She pressed. "Not from some cocktail of Red and Volkov DNA?"
"What difference does it make?" Mikhail asked coldly.
"Viktor Volkov was my grandfather."
"Oh." Mikhail couldn't force any other words out.
'My aunt said that he was always a little touched ,' Eraphie had told him. Mikhail hadn't realized Eraphie meant that her aunt was Viktor's daughter reporting on her father's condition. That Eraphie's cousin was Viktor's granddaughter. Mikhail's genetic granddaughter.
And if Turk was a mix of Viktor's DNA and standard Red—making him more a true 'brother' instead of a straight clone identical twin like Mikhail—she'd been sleeping with her genetic great-uncle.
"Oh." Mikhail wet his mouth and managed, "Turk isn't genetically my brother."
"Good."
"Does Turk know about . . ."
Captain Bailey shook her head. "We're careful about interbreeding here. With any native born man, I would have compared family trees before the nookie. I didn't think I had to worry with Turk."
Within a creche, each lot of Reds were identical. To keep disease from sweeping through the crèche, each lot was slightly different, along the lines of children of the same parents. Luckily, because of patent protections, however, every crèche produced Reds that were genetically different from other crèches. If any of Bailey's parents were Reds, then the fact that they were White Star Crèche and not from the same crèche as Turk would keep them being genetically father/daughter or uncle/niece.
Which Captain Bailey most likely considered.
If Turk was genetically Mikhail's brother, then she would have had a mess on her hands.
"I checked once," Mi
khail said. "I was hoping that our link was less tenuous since my father always encouraged me to think of Turk as my little brother. But Ivan literally just walked out on the production floor and picked at random one out of thousands. Took Turk out of the crib, leaving an identical brother to either side, and carried him home."
She looked slightly alarmed. "I hope you've never told Turk that."
"No. No. I wouldn't hurt him that way."
* * *
It been long, hard day. Paige had lost track of time; easy to do on the Svoboda since there was no ship's bell marking time. She was starting to suspect that she'd been awake for more than twenty-four hours. She'd made the mistake of sitting down to discuss plans on what to do with the minotaur children, selling excess equipment off of the Svoboda for yen, repairs to the Rosetta as payment, and . . . Turk was shaking her awake.
"We'll need to move the Rosetta closer." She rubbed her face. She wasn't looking forward to threading her way across the harbor to her boat. How did she get here again? Did she have a launch to get back on?
"You can stay here tonight." Turk murmured into her hair. He was a comfortable wall of warm to snuggle into.
"I'm angry with you," she said to remind herself more than him.
"I'll keep my hands to myself." He promised. Apparently that didn't cover his mouth as he kissed the nape of her neck. It felt annoying good; it would be easy to melt back into his arms.
She reminded herself that she was going to be leaving with the Rosetta once the Svoboda was on its feet, that Turk probably wouldn't leave his brother—that he never mentioned his brother was Viktor's clone! Good gods, he nearly lured her into incest! She whined her annoyance.
"The crew quarters on the Rosetta is all torn apart." Turk reminded her. "You'll have to sleep out on the deck, and it's raining."
Damn him for being right. Now that she listened for it, she could hear the drumming of a hard rain.
"You can use my cabin. Take a hot shower."
