This Gulf of Time and Stars

by Julie E. Czerneda

  I extended shields around her mind, lowering those between us. Tell me, I sent.

  Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, but Ruti was strong. Somehow she calmed herself, managed to form words. They want my baby, Sira. They’ll take her from me as soon as they can. Keep her on Acranam. Hide her away. I’LL LOSE HER!

  My fury at the former rebels wouldn’t help, so I kept it to myself. You won’t. I let her feel a brush of my Power, my will. I won’t allow it. Trust me.

  She swallowed hard and nodded, hair subsiding.

  We do. Barac. He put his arm around his Chosen’s shoulders, his eyes fierce, and if Ruti’s parents discounted his ability to protect his own, I thought, they’d learn otherwise.

  It wouldn’t come to that. “This is a baby shower,” I told them, aware of Morgan at my side. “A Human custom where family and friends welcome a new life.”

  “Even you?” Barac hadn’t lost his fierce look.

  Oh, and didn’t I feel Rael’s attention then?

  I refused to flinch. “I’ve asked our people for”—there was no easier word—“restraint, but that’s to ensure a future for all. Including your daughter.”

  “For whom we’ve gathered,” Morgan put in.

  “Our feast awaits!” Ever the vigilant host, Huido seized his cue with gusto. He leaped into noisy action, herding us to the table and summoning servers from the kitchen. Tayno, having not been crushed, roused to fetch the chairs from the corner for Bowman and Terk.

  In honor of the “occasion,” Huido, at the head of the table, set Barac to his right, Ruti to his left. Wordlessly, Terk moved his chair to the end, sitting where he could watch everyone. We were friends, of a sort; we certainly had history. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust us, I thought. It simply wasn’t in the constable’s nature to lower his guard.

  Ousted from his spot at the table, Tayno settled without argument by the beverage cart, perhaps just as happy to be farther from his uncle. Or closer to the beer: he wasted no time pouring a glass into his handling claw, eyes parting to allow that appendage to tip its contents into the hidden cavity Carasians used for a mouth.

  Enora, joy lighting her face, sat between Barac and Rael. Across from her, Agem was so frankly delighted to be next to Ruti that the young Clanswoman soon warmed to his attention. I’d thought to sit across from Rael, but Bowman arrived there first, leaving Morgan and me the seats to either side of Terk.

  Once everyone settled, Morgan rose to offer a toast, giving Ruti a tender smile. “To family, friends, and the future.”

  “To success in the pool!” Huido bellowed, shaking the water in the tabletop tank. “But eat first!” he advised coyly. “You’ll need your strength.”

  Barac blushed, Ruti laughed, and suddenly, it was an occasion after all.

  Whatever was being served in the Claws & Jaws that station evening was nothing compared to what was on our table. Course after course arrived, each offering as irresistible as it was exquisitely portioned and timed. Bowman, known for her love of fine food, saluted Huido with a finger to her forehead and if not for his recent molt, I was sure Huido would have swollen from her praise and ours.

  There was conversation, light-hearted and aloud. By our custom, it was rude for Clan to converse mind-to-mind in front of others; I was gratified to see my heart-kin extend that courtesy to the aliens. Only Terk didn’t join in, but he paid attention, of that I was sure, and wasn’t drinking.

  Morgan leaned over the table, blue eyes sparkling. “Where are you putting it all?” he whispered.

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying an excellent meal,” I informed him, loud enough that Huido broke out in a laugh. Much as I loved my new life, the Fox’s galley supplied sustenance, not this level of satisfaction.

  My Chosen chuckled, understanding completely, and turned back to catch what Ruti was saying at the other end of the table.

  I loosened my belt in anticipation of dessert.

  Bowman leaned close. “I’d like a moment of your time, Speaker,” she said in a low voice. “In private. We need to talk.”

  I lost my appetite. So much for being legal, I thought with an inner sigh. Next time, we’d sneak aboard. “How did you know about—?” I waved my fork.

  Terk looked up. “There’s a Lemmick,” he volunteered around a mouthful. “Level 3.”

  “Spinward ¼,” I finished. So much for secrecy.

  The top authority in the sector leaned back comfortably. “Glad to help celebrate. They—” a nod to the head of the table, “—deserve to be happy.”

  Morgan glanced our way. “Agreed.”

  “Been a while since my last baby shower.” Bowman took a sip of her wine and cocked an eyebrow. “Could use some party hats.”

  My Human feigned chagrin, the other Humans chuckled, and none of it was real. Oh, I believed Bowman thought kindly of Barac and Ruti.

  But she’d come for me.

  The rich food sat uneasily in my stomach as I wondered why.

  Interlude

  WE COULD GO.

  Barac met Ruti’s somber gaze, the distress she hid from the others coursing like tiny needles beneath his skin. Being the center of attention unsettled her at the best of times. Being the cause? Worse. Aren’t you curious? he sent, keeping it light. A First Scout’s training concerned Humans and, while unfamiliar with the baby shower custom, he understood the significance of ornately wrapped boxes. They’ve brought gifts.

  Her eyes flicked to the table. For us? As if it were unimaginable others cared about them. The new life within her made them both more protective. He hadn’t guessed it would start Ruti building this shell of distrust around them, but that had been her response to her parents’ outrageous demand.

  Give them their baby?

  He’d give them his force blade first.

  After that, the bland-faced uncle who’d cut off his funds—

  A touch on his knee. Barac turned to meet Enora’s knowing gaze. So much anger.

  Forgive me. He strengthened his shields. She couldn’t help but feel the emotions of those close to her, and no one could care more.

  If anyone could comfort his Chosen—he stopped himself. A mother wasn’t someone Ruti was willing to have.

  For now.

  We’re always here for you. Enora gave the tiniest of nods.

  “Ruti, you haven’t told us the name of your Birth Watcher.” Rael tilted her head, smiling. “Anyone we know?”

  Ruti gave a tight little shrug, the ends of her hair fitful. When she didn’t answer, Barac spoke for her. “We don’t have one.”

  Silence spread from Clan to Clan. Even Huido noticed, pausing mid-pour. His eyes clustered to stare at Ruti. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Ruti’s lips pressed together and Barac hoped his cousin would leave it at that.

  As well hope to be rich again while he was at it, for Rael frowned and snapped, “‘Nothing’? This is ridiculous. You must have a Birth Watcher. To protect the baby. To help her be born.”

  “Don’t you think we know?” Taking a breath, Barac gestured apology for his tone. His cousin didn’t deserve it. “Thank you for your concern, Rael. We’re working on it.”

  She gave a gracious nod, though she let him feel her worry and wasn’t done, not Rael, but she’d wait. His father turned to Ruti and asked her a harmless question—

  —Barac didn’t hear, his mind abruptly tugged by another’s vastly greater Power into the M’hir.

  Explain this.

  In the M’hir, Sira was brilliance and heat, as if a sun had found its way into the darkness, her mind voice like the clean scent of rain before a storm. And a storm brewed; he could sense its terrifying edge.

  Barac kept his eyes on Ruti, dwelling on the face he loved. They’re trying to force her home. Her family’s forbidden their Birth Watcher to leave Acranam. Anyone
else we’ve approached has either turned us down or demanded more than we can afford. You know why.

  Regret rang through the M’hir, distant and soft. Then RESOLVE filled it.

  What was Sira in this place brightened until he gasped without sound and would have covered what weren’t eyes if he could.

  The instant passed and they were no longer alone. Ruti was with him. And—

  —another presence, like a pool of still calm water. Ruti di Bowart, my name is Quessa di Teerac. I offer my service as Birth Watcher to your daughter-to-be, if that’s acceptable to you and your Chosen. I can be on Plexis tomorrow, unless you need me immediately.

  But—you’re—Ruti’s mind voice firmed. Tomorrow would be fine, Quessa. Thank you.

  The presence vanished.

  Their Birth Watcher would be the Chosen of the Clan’s foremost Healer, Cenebar di Teerac, her own skills in such demand Barac couldn’t remember the last time Quessa had left Camos.

  My gift, Sira sent, and the M’hir released him.

  Barac blinked, finding himself still staring at Ruti. In the span of three heartbeats, their lives had changed for the better, their greatest problem solved. His Chosen gazed back, her generous mouth starting to curve up at the corners, her eyes moist. Sometimes, I forget who she is.

  Family, he insisted, for his beloved cousin was that. Above all, Sira was that.

  And the Speaker of the Clan.

  Chapter 4

  BEING ABLE TO HELP BARAC and Ruti made me happy.

  The need for it did not. It meant a visit to Acranam in my near future and I’d no friends among its Clan. I’d Chosen a Human over their leader, after all, not to mention rudely shoved their little kingdom back under Council authority. At least there were no di Caraats to poison the mix. Yihtor’s House had been exiled by Council; the few remaining, including his vile mother, had vanished from sight. Doubtless they cursed me in their spite, but that was all. Exile had consequences, foremost being banned from traveling the M’hir.

  The Watchers saw to that.

  The strange disembodied things had their uses, I thought with distaste. Clan scholars—I’d been one—remained divided on what the Watchers were: some unconscious projection from living Clan; the dead whose minds had dissolved in that other space; the M’hir itself, expressing opinion. What mattered to most was that the Watchers protected the M’hir from unwanted intrusion and, somehow, listened to Council dictates.

  They left Morgan alone. When I’d the choice, I left them alone, too. It was better for all concerned. Acranam, though—

  “You going to eat that?”

  I looked up, realizing I’d been transfixed by my egg-shaped pastry. “No.”

  “Allow me.” Bowman held out her hand. I passed her my plate only to watch her give it to Terk. “Enjoy that,” she ordered brusquely. “Take your time.”

  Terk’s dour look expressed his opinion; that didn’t slow his fork.

  She rose to her feet. “That moment, if you will.”

  The Human had picked her “moment” with care. Barac and Ruti, having shared the news of their new Birth Watcher, were in the midst of an animated discussion with his parents and my sister—no doubt about babies—while Morgan, followed by the balloons, had joined Huido at the gift table to sort the order of presentation.

  Having no choice, I stood as well. “Whatever this is about, we didn’t do it,” I said firmly, there having been certain instances otherwise in the past.

  “Good to know.” Her smile didn’t touch her eyes. “I need a drink.”

  I accompanied Bowman to the beverage cart where she ordered a cup of sombay and scalded cream from Tayno. Given the jaunty tilt to his carapace and random motion of his eyes, this was brave or foolish.

  She was never foolish. Brave, yes, I thought, studying her. As well as devious, complicated, and brilliant. The metallic tang to my inner sense near her—and Terk—warned against mental touch. They’d artificial shields implanted in their scalps, making their minds invisible to Clan. Brave, indeed, both to have the implants . . .

  And to be so very interested in my kind they were necessary. Not for the first time, I wondered how Bowman had survived that interest.

  I’d expected her to go into the hallway where we’d have some privacy. Instead, the sector chief took a few steps beyond the cart, as if to wait for her drink, then pulled out a thumbnail-sized disk, affixing that to her collar.

  Silence. I could see lips moving, Tayno drop a spoon, but heard not a sound.

  “Excuse the precaution,” Bowman said evenly. “What we’ve to say shouldn’t be overheard. I’m sure you agree.”

  I’m listening.

  I smiled at that. Bowman’s eyes narrowed. “Morgan, I take it?”

  No need to confirm what she knew full well; my Chosen and I were partners in all things. “Why the secrecy?” Not that we weren’t obvious. I sensed interest, concern from my kin. I sent a quick reassurance, feeling none myself. Rael stared back, unconvinced. “What’s this about?”

  Her disarmingly amiable features grew still. “You don’t know?”

  She’d a way of making you examine your past for misdeeds. It wasn’t that we’d done anything wrong, I reminded myself, and Bowman knew it. Morgan and I had simply kept a prudent distance since our adventure on the Rugheran homeworld, White. The Rugherans were, presumably, happy with the result. The Drapsk definitely were, having experienced a procreative frenzy.

  Ren Symon had died in Morgan’s arms, having helped him do the unthinkable.

  For Jason Morgan had pushed his starship through the M’hir to bypass normal space and reach me in time.

  Something I couldn’t do.

  Something no Clan had ever done.

  And something to never do again, lest Morgan become the target of every species in the Pact.

  If that was why Bowman was here, let her try—I buried the cold dark thought deep inside, where my Chosen wouldn’t feel it, schooling my expression. We’d scraped together repairs for the Fox and gone back to work. There’d been no sign anyone had paid attention; no reason to suspect Bowman even knew.

  Until now. “That would be why I’m asking,” I said as calmly as I could.

  “I gave you time. Waited for you to get in touch. When I heard you were on Plexis, I was done—” Bowman broke off with a humorless laugh. “You really don’t know. Here I’d half-convinced myself you’d decided against our arrangement and was prepping for the consequences. Should’ve trusted my instincts about you.”

  Arrangement? Consequences?

  So this wasn’t about what had happened, I thought with sickening relief, but I shared Morgan’s puzzlement. “Is this about the treaty?” I hazarded. “I thought everything was going well.” Or as well as could be expected with a bureaucracy the size of the Trade Pact. I’d honestly lost count of the Board Members who’d approached the Clan Council “off the record” with an offer of help; none had been worth the price.

  “Treaty’s solid.” Her brows met, then lifted. “You haven’t spoken to your father.”

  “Jarad di Sarc’s been exiled.” I could no more keep the chill from my voice than make sense of this. “He’s no longer part of the Clan.”

  “Damn.” Bowman unfastened her collar with a twist of her thumb and tugged it open. She didn’t dislodge the device keeping us in a bubble of silence. “That’s inconvenient.”

  What’s Jarad know that we don’t? Morgan asked.

  Nothing that matters.

  Nothing I cared to hear was more the truth. “If you’ve something to say to me, Chief Bowman,” I told her, “please say it. Otherwise, I’d like to rejoin my family. It’s time for the gifts.”

  Bowman’s gaze went to the boxes, paused thoughtfully at the silly balloons, then returned to me. I couldn’t read her expression at first. Curiosity, I decided.

 
Or was it wonder?

  “All this,” she said slowly. “Your doing, Sira di Sarc. Huh,” a soft grunt. “What have I to say? You’re the best of your kind. Oh, not because of your Power. How you use it. I’ll admit, till you came along, I was ready to give up on the Clan, but you—Clan like you? You’re why I’m here. Why I’m staying.”

  Bowman, complimentary? “Someone’s not about to die, are they?” I glowered at her. “Or blow up? Because if that’s what this is, you’re wasting time.”

  A chuckle. “I imagine I am. This’ll be interesting, me briefing the new Speaker. You’ll have to take a lot on—” She stopped, eyes momentarily unfocused. In Clan, that sudden distraction signified communication mind-to-mind.

  In Bowman, it meant one of her many implants was delivering a message.

  Her eyes closed for an instant. When they opened, what I saw in them made me hold my breath and any questions.

  For what looked out was deadly.

  “We’ll do this later, Sira. Got to go.” Bowman yanked the device from her collar and dropped it in a pocket, alerting Terk with a nod, then paused, her expression easing. “Don’t worry. You and me, we’ve something new. Trust. Hold on to it.”

  She didn’t wait for me to answer, raising her voice. “My sincere apologies, Fems, Homs, but duty calls. Barac and Ruti, congratulations. Huido? Decent meal. I’ll be back.”

  Sector Chief Lydis Bowman spun on her heel, her eyes raking me one last time as if a look alone could convey meaning, then was out the door, Terk pounding behind.

  The dining hall felt smaller.

  “But it’s ready,” Tayno announced plaintively, a steaming cup in one claw.

  Interlude

  WITH BOWMAN’S ABRUPT DEPARTURE, the room fell silent. If the Clan sent to one another, Morgan wasn’t included, but they didn’t hide their consternation. He shared it. Bowman in a hurry was never a good sign. Enforcers dealt with trouble at the species-species interface. With thousands in the Trade Pact, that trouble ranged from misunderstanding to major threat. The Sector Chief wasn’t called for misunderstandings.