“I am pleased, Captain,” Circe beamed happily. “I've gotten to make love to my darling husband for the first time since I reported aboard this ship. And, we've officially started trying to conceive.”
“How long do you think it'll be before you can get pregnant?” Bowen asked politely.
“It could be a few months, Captain,” Norom nodded to the Captain. “Kumarrin couples can often take as long as three years to produce a litter.”
“Our women were never what you might call, extremely fertile,” Circe shrugged. “We average about one pregnancy over a period of three to five years.”
“Wow,” Bowen was a bit surprised given how often humans could reproduce, “your women aren't very fertile.”
“We like to think that the Holy Mother has balanced our nature to compensate,” Circe lectured. “We live an average lifespan of roughly one hundred fifty years. And when I do get pregnant, Norom and I are likely to conceive anywhere from three to eight kittens.”
“You make it sound like multiple babies are perfectly normal.”
“It is,” Circe frowned, “in fact, I've often wondered how your human women can feel perfectly fine carrying one kitten during pregnancy. And your women are unbelievably fertile. A human woman could have one kitten every year of her fertile life-phase. Holy Mother, you humans reproduce like....what's that small animal from your planet with the long ears?....Rabbits!”
“I suppose it would seem that way to another species,” Bowen winced at the comparison.
At that moment Oba approached. She was still dressed in the robes that signified her status as the matriarch of her clan. She sat down in the chair, and nodded to Norom. Norom put a large horn to his mouth and blew a blast. It gave off a deep, resonant tone. Bowen marveled that he had not noticed that Norom was holding it. However, the effect of sounding the horn was immediate. Perky and Booker approached. Booker's outfit was similar to Norom's; differing only in color. Booker was also wearing hunter's blades. Perky was quite noticeable. She wore a white sarong embroidered with silver flowers. She wore her sarong tied as a halter dress. What was most noticeable about her was that she suddenly looked heavily pregnant.
Bowen leaned over to Circe. “Are your pregnancies that short?”
“No, Captain,” Circe giggled. “She's wearing a fake pregnancy belly under her dress. Long ago a Kumarrin woman waited until she was heavily pregnant before being bonded. It was to ensure that she was indeed pregnant by her chosen mate.”
“I thought you could smell that a woman is pregnant?”
“We can, Kumarrin women used to wait till late in pregnancy to bond with a chosen mate to ensure that they would truly want to be together. However, in more modern times, women often bond with a chosen mate before getting pregnant, so we started the practice of having a bride wear a false belly under her bonding dress.”
“That’s rather odd. So what's this ceremony involve?”
“Just watch,” Circe poked her Captain in the stomach.
“You know, I could have performed the wedding,” Bowen groused, “and saved your grandmother a trip.”
“Booker and Klia must be bonded by Oba,” Circe explained, “or else the clan will never accept that they are mated.”
“Oh,” Bowen said.
They fell silent as Booker and Perky walked up to Oba and knelt before her. Perky was a trifle awkward in her kneeling, thanks to the large false belly she wore. Oba regarded them in silence for a few moments. Then she tapped her cane on the ground and spoke.
“Who do you bring before me, Klia?” Oba asked solemnly.
“Oba,” Perky said, “I bring this man. I wish him to be bonded to me as my mate.”
“Why should you wish to bond with this man?”
“Because he has filled my belly with kittens,” Perky leaned back to emphasize her false belly, and stroked it as she spoke.
“Is this true, young man?” Oba gazed at Booker, “does my granddaughter carry your kittens within her womb?”
“Yes, honored matriarch,” Booker nodded.
“Do you love my granddaughter?”
“Yes,” Booker said.
“Do you love her enough to hunt,” Oba asked, “and provide food to fill not only her belly, but also the bellies of the kittens that she will soon give birth to?”
“I swear upon the name of the Holy Mother,” Booker pounded his chest with his right fist, “that I love Klia. I shall provide for her and our kittens. They shall always have food enough to fill their bellies. They shall always be protected from rival clans. I shall prove from this day forth that I am a true and faithful mate. And should I die before Klia, my spirit shall stay by her side, guarding her from evil spirits. And when she joins me in death, we shall be eternal mates, standing watch over our kittens.”
“Klia,” Oba said, “do you desire this man?”
“I do,” Perky smiled, “I am filled with pride that his kittens grow within my womb. I shall be overjoyed when I give birth. I swear to be a good mother, and raise our kittens to be good and productive members of the clan. I shall keep my heart only for my mate. Our love shall be eternal. When we depart this life, we shall be mates for all eternity, watching over our clan, and guarding them from evil spirits.”
“Then may you be forever blessed by the Holy Mother. May your womb be fertile and produce many kittens.”
“Holy Mother,” Perky stroked her false belly, “bless my womb, that I may have many kittens with my mate.”
“Rise,” Oba said, “you are bonded as mates for life.”
Perky and Booker stood. She immediately threw her arms around Booker and kissed him. As they kissed, Circe, Norom and Bowen moved closer to them. Booker and Perky broke their kiss and welcomed the well wishing. Booker and Norom grabbed each other's shoulders in the traditional Kumarrin greeting of men who belonged to the same clan. Meanwhile, Circe put her hand on Perky's false belly.
“May your womb be fertile,” Circe intoned.
“Thank you, Pyra,” Perky hugged her sister.
“I'm so glad you finally took a mate, little sister.”
“I will pray the Holy Mother blesses your womb, Pyra,” Perky smiled. “You deserve to have kittens more than I do.”
“We both deserve to have kittens, Klia,” Circe said.
“Yes, we do,” Perky nodded.
“Congratulations, Perky,” Bowen said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Perky hugged Bowen. “It means a lot to me that you're here.”
“So, Booker,” Bowen jostled the lucky Kumarrin male‘s shoulder. “Are you looking forward to watching your children being born?”
“Certainly not,” Booker snorted.
“Why not?” Bowen frowned. He was confused.
“Tradition, Captain,” Oba said, as she approached them. “You see among the Kumarrin people, birth is seen as the realm of women only. Men are not permitted to be present when a woman is giving birth. It is bad luck, and will draw evil spirits.”
“I don't understand.”
“We believe,” Norom explained, “that evil spirits pursue a man all his life, and seek to drive him to do bad things. This is why men suffer such afflictions as war, jealousy, religious fanaticism and politics. Because of this, we believe that it is taboo for a man to witness his mate giving birth. It is because one of the evil spirits that pursues him will possess a newborn, thus turning the kitten into an evil person.”
“Okay,” Bowen rolled his eyes at their strange customs. How could a civilized people believe such hogwash?
“To answer your question fitly, Captain,” Booker said, “I eagerly await the birth of my kittens, but I cannot and will not be present to witness their mother birthing them. I shall wait nearby to protect them from evil spirits...even if it is merely symbolic.”
“Interesting,” Bowen mumbled.
“Now, Captain,” Oba said, “if you would care to join us. I have arranged a bonding feast for all of us.”
“I would be honored, Matri
arch,” Bowen offered his arm.
Oba took Bowen’s arm, and he led her out. They were followed by Circe and Norom, and then Booker and Perky, who also walked arm in arm as they all walked in a circular path around the botanical garden. When they returned to the willow, the gardeners had replaced the chair and canopy with a picnic table, and a buffet table laid out with the aforementioned feast. Together, they sat down and began eating, Bowen asking more questions about Kumarrin culture.
Chapter Eight
Black Eagle Three flew over a sizeable planet among the fifteen planetary bodies that made up the Kordam Formation. As Glitter flew the Black Eagle over the planet, she looked at one of her displays, which showed a view of the surface, from one of the Black Eagle's cameras.
“How long till we approach Black Claw's last known location?” Glitter asked.
“We're coming up on it now,” Dan said.
Glitter gazed at the display from the camera. The site was located in a rocky defile at the eastern edge of a vast desert. The defile showed very few signs of habitation at all. There was a curious mound of sand at one side of the defile that seemed out of place. Glitter stared at the defile and shook her head.
“This place is dead.”
“Yeah, looks like this place hasn't seen life of any sort for centuries.”
“Black Claw's group was probably the last people here,” Glitter agreed.
“Well,” Dan said, “we've laid eyes on the location. I'll transmit our scans of the site to Atlantis. Let's sweep the surrounding terrain for threats or signs of activity.”
“Right.” She steered Black Eagle Three into a course that began to take them over an ever widening circular path around the defile.
On the Atlantis, Dr. Parker and Dr. Bowen stood at the base of Ranger-Seven's boarding ramp. Major Nim and a contingent of Fleet Marines stood around them. A small team from the Atlantis Science Department stood together among the marines. Standing prominently among them was Lieutenant Commander Sovaren Garliff, one of the lead science officers. Doctor Bowen, a retired fleet officer, briefed them.
“We're going down to the surface of the Kordam Formation's Number Eight Planet,” Dr. Bowen said, “and even though this is a scientific mission, this mission is classified as extremely dangerous,” he pointed at the marines, “while we are on the surface, you marines will establish a perimeter and patrol it constantly. Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. At the first sign of trouble, we fall back to Ranger-Seven and evacuate. We don't want to become the latest statistic in the long list of people who have disappeared exploring the Kordam Formation.”
“Meanwhile,” Dr. Parker added, “the science team will set up a sensor grid and scan the area as deep as possible for artifacts.”
“Safety is our watchword,” Dr. Bowen cautioned sternly, “we want everyone coming back alive on this. Are there any questions?” He waited, and when none were asked. “Then let's get aboard and get out of here.”
They all piled aboard Ranger-Seven. In the cockpit, Dr. Bowen stepped up to the pilot's station to see Captain Martin Garibaldi, the assigned marine pilot, preparing the craft for launch. Ed took the co-pilot's station as the shuttle was moved to a lift platform.
“What do ya know, Doctor Bowen?” Garibaldi spoke cheerfully.
“Do you understand your part of this mission, Captain?” Dr. Bowen asked.
“Simple, I fly you down to Planet Eight, and then I keep Ranger-Seven on eye-blink standby, just in case we need to haul ass outta there.”
“Correct.”
“Hey, don't worry,” Garibaldi chuckled, “there's not a spook or creepy crawly that I can't outrun in this baby.”
“Let's hope,” Dr. Bowen said.
Just then, Garibaldi keyed his radio. “Alpha-One, this is Ranger-Seven,” he spoke into his headset pickup. “We are positioned for launch.”
“Roger, Ranger-Seven,” a female air traffic controller said from their headset speakers, “you are cleared to launch. Good hunting.”
“Thank you, Alpha-One. Ranger-Seven launching.”
With short blasts from her maneuvering jets, Ranger-Seven rose off the lift platform. Flashing blue-white energy from her engine bars, the ship flew off into space. The flight to Planet Eight of the Kordam Formation was short and uneventful. In a short time, Ranger-Seven was flying over the surface. Skimming at a high altitude over the desert sand, the vessel slowed as it came to a line of rocky mountains.
In the cockpit, Dr. Bowen pointed. “There it is. That defile, relative bearing zero-one-three. See it?”
“A deep gorge in the rocks,” Garibaldi replied candidly, “kinda shaped like two thirds of a bowl, with a narrow path on the far side?”
“That's it.”
“Got it,” Garibaldi nodded.
“Land on this edge of it,” Dr. Bowen said, “but not actually inside it. We want to disturb the site as little as possible.”
“I'll land her as light as a feather.”
Ranger-Seven slowed to a hover as she approached the defile. Using her anti-gravity field, the craft lowered herself to land at the edge of the defile. Her boarding ramp lowered immediately. Major Nim dashed out. She held her phaser carbine at the ready, as she looked at her surroundings. She then flashed a hand signal up the boarding ramp. The Fleet Marine contingent dashed out.
“Let’s move, marines!” Nim barked. “Get the lead out! Jump, yard bird! I want a perimeter established yesterday! You! Get those early warning sensors deployed immediately! Today, people, today!”
The marines ran around like decapitated barnyard fowl, and yet they seemed to be getting their tasks done. Meanwhile, Dr. Bowen, Dr. Parker, Mr. Garliff and the science team came down the boarding ramp. A trio of cargo robots carried large equipment trunks down the ramp. The robots deposited their loads to one side of the ramp, and then returned into the shuttle. The science team opened the trunks and began to unpack the equipment.
“The first thing I want to look at,” Dr. Bowen said, “is that strange mound.”
“We should perform a subsurface scan,” Dr. Parker retorted wanting to be in charge, “before excavating.”
“I agree,” Ed agreed with his fellow scientist but was not about to let him take complete control of the project, “get a complete scan of the site down to a subterranean depth of one kilometer before we dig up anything.”
“Are we agreed that we do not disturb anything unless it is absolutely necessary to our investigation?” Garliff interrupted the two before an argument could commence.
“Yes,” Dr. Bowen said.
“Very well,” Garliff nodded. “I shall set up the scan grid control station and begin working.”
“Get me a hand scanner,” Ed asked politely. Someone put a hand scanner in his hand. Together Dr. Bowen and Dr. Parker approached the large mound at the far side of the defile. When they were standing beside it, they were suddenly aware of just how large it was.
“Miss Trent was right,” Parker grumbled, “this sand mound does not look at all natural.”
“Almost like something was buried here,” Dr. Bowen murmured.
Ed opened up his hand scanner and began running it over the mound. He immediately got interesting readings. “I'm picking up a large mass beneath the sand.”
“What is it?” Parker eagerly asked ready to rip the scanner out of Ed‘s hands..
“I have the scan grid control operational, Doctor,” Garliff called. “If you'd like me to begin a holographic reconstruction of whatever is inside that mound.”
“Go ahead,” Dr. Bowen said.
As Garliff started working on this first task, Dr. Parker looked at Dr. Bowen's readings.
“This shows that the mass is made of a combination of cast boridium and ceramic composites,” Parker mused, “almost like a ship.”
“That's what it looks like,” Dr. Bowen said.
“I'm ready to render a composite hologram of the mass,” Garliff reported.
Spherical scan
ner drones began to hover around the mound as Dr. Bowen and Dr. Parker walked over to Garliff. The handsome Elnore stood at freestanding, rectangular console, working at its holographic controls. An aesthetically concealed holo-projector projected an image of the sand mound. The sand in the hologram began to steadily disappear from top to bottom as the drones scanned the mound with red fan beams. A shape began to emerge from the holographic sand. At first it was difficult to tell what it might be. However, as the sand vanished from the hologram the object inside the mound became more obviously the wrecked remains of a ship. When the sand was completely removed from the hologram they were left with a holographic model that was most definitely the wreck of a ship. Doctor Bowen immediately recognized its shape, vague though it was.
“That's the Blood Drinker,” Dr. Bowen said, “Black Claw's ship.”
“Or what's left of it,” Garliff agreed, “my readings show that she's been stripped of nearly everything save the skeletal structure and some of the exterior hull plating.”
“It sounds like whomever or whatever attacked Black Claw and his crew left only the parts they didn't like,” Parker commented.
“Yeah,” Dr. Bowen scratched his nose thoughtfully, “if we get a chance, I'd like to dig that wreck out, take it back to Alya Station and try to restore it.”
“Can you do that?” Parker asked, disappointed they had not found any Hellkin clues here yet.
“Sure,” Dr. Bowen chuckled, “there's lots of historical data on the design of Black Claw's ship, what it looked like and what it's interior looked like. If we can take this wreck with us, and restore it, we can put it in a museum.”
“That will depend on the outcome of our investigation,” Parker said.
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
At that moment, Major Nim trotted up. “Doctor Bowen, my marines have established a perimeter. We'll alert you to any potential dangers.”
“Understood,” Dr. Bowen nodded.
“How long has the Blood Drinker been buried?” Parker peered over at Garliff.
“Based on the thickness and compaction of the sand,” Garliff sniffed, looking over his readings, “I would estimate she's been buried at least 700 to 750 years ago.”
The Atlantis Chronicles- The Kordam Party Page 12
