by Marie Dry
"What does it mean?" She wasn't about to make assumptions and find out a ring in their culture meant divorce or something equally horrible.
"That we are husband and wife, according to Earth customs."
"Oh," she said. He'd obviously missed a few steps, like the actual ceremony, but this was all she needed. His commitment. If he loved her, she didn't need a church wedding or a stunning dress. Though, she might push for a honeymoon.
"Now, you have to say all right."
She looked down at the ring. He was trying to change, to adopt some of her customs and she loved him for it. "Do you know what love is?"
She didn't doubt that he cared for her, but she still wondered how deep his emotions ran. He seemed to be made up of warrior strength and very little human feeling. But she'd rather have honesty now, than pain later when she realized he wasn't capable of the feelings she wanted from him.
"When Murdoch took you, I wanted to destroy everything in my path to save you. If he had demanded I hand over my sword in exchange for you, I would've done it."
"Your sword?" She didn't know if she liked being compared to his sword. She wanted to be more important to him than some inanimate object.
"When we reach full warrior status, we are gifted with a sword. This sword only appears to our hand. No other warrior can steal it or use it. It represents everything we are."
"It's really that important to you?" Natalie asked, unable to fathom putting that much importance on a mere weapon.
"It is linked to our honor and to give that up, is to give up a part of myself."
"And you'd sacrifice your sword for me?" The dead tissue in her heart grew to life again. The dread of a future where she was used as a breeding machine, without any possibility of tender feelings, lifted.
"Without hesitation," he said, with absolute conviction.
"Now, I almost believe you care for me." She could feel happy tears gathering.
"Not care. Love," he insisted.
"You do? Love me, I mean?" She looked up at him in wonder, this fierce warrior that used to scare her so much but who had shown her such tenderness in all the time she'd known him.
"Do you love me, Natlia?"
He didn't look at her. Was her strong warrior afraid of her answer?
She cupped his strong jaw in her hands and smiled up at him through her tears. "Yes. Oh, yes, Zacar. I love you so much my heart broke into a million pieces when I thought you didn't love me back."
"And you forgive me for my hurting you with my harsh words?"
"Yes, but never do it again. It hurts too much." She caressed his high cheekbones with her thumbs while she smiled up at him. "Do you know the best part about being married?"
"No."
"It's make-up sex," she whispered and kissed him.
"Show me this make-up sex," he said against her lips as he increased the pressure of the kiss. He took control and soon she forgot about everything but touching him. "Remember when Azagor was wounded that first time?" he muttered against her lips.
"Yes," she said, concentrating more on getting his shirt off than his words.
"I wanted to be in his place."
His words penetrated the haze of arousal and she drew back, gaping up at him.
"You wanted to get wounded. Why?" It had to be some strange honor ritual that Zyrgins went through. She couldn't think of any other reason why they'd invite injury.
"I wanted you to hold me and kiss me like you did Azagor." His coppery skin turned a darker shade and he stared down at her breasts in a fixed way as if more to avoid her eyes than to look at her naked body. "Both me and Zurian had to taunt a lot of raiders to get wounded."
"Oh." If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was blushing. "Zurian wanted me to hold him while he was wounded?" she asked, not able to wrap her mind around that one. She'd thought he hated her. "Is he still after Julia?" They'd been suspiciously quiet about finding women lately.
"Zurian has been going into town to see her. He will make contact eventually."
"Oh, should I expect more wounded warriors on Tuesday?"
"Viglar is insisting on his turn, so act surprised," he said.
"Uh, okay." She didn't know what to say. She'd noticed the coincidence that they ended up wounded Tuesdays at the same time of day, but never thought it could be a set up.
"Oh, Zacar. I love you so much. It's been eating at me, loving you when I thought you'd never be able to feel the same for me."
"I thought my father weak for mourning a woman not strong enough to be a breeder to a Zyrgin warrior." He leaned down and kissed her, a brief tender kiss that would have told her of his feelings if he hadn't already confessed his love. "Even if you were sickly and afraid of me and weak, I would still love you and take you as my breeder."
When he lowered his head and kissed her, she knew her alien was truly hers. He loved her and together they would make a home for their sons. Even if she never got to enjoy them as babies, she would love them and their father for as long as she lived.
Chapter 17
Three months later, she was making their bed when she felt something trickling down her legs. Looking down, she stared stupidly at the puddle on the floor for a moment. Then she moaned and doubled over in pain.
"Zacar!"
She didn't have the breath to scream, but still, he came into the tent at a dead run. Viglar was right behind him.
She'd been reading up on pregnancy, but this felt different. The birthing pains were bad, but not as unbearable as she'd heard. Still, it was painful enough.
"You have technology that can wipe out your enemy and change the color of your clothes and I have to go through this," she almost screamed at Zacar.
If she hadn't been trying desperately to breathe through a contraction, she would've laughed at the way he took two steps back from her and then braced himself.
Viglar pointed his scanner at her, and although she could feel the pressure of the contraction, the pain abruptly stopped.
"You'd better not be messing with my brain. And if your devices harm my children--"
"Be calm. The little warriors are fine and so are you," Viglar said with that even tone that made her want to shake him.
At last when sweat ran in rivers off her body and she didn't have the breath to pant anymore, her whole body bore down and she felt something expel in a watery rush.
She swallowed tears and struggled upright. "Why aren't they crying?"
"Zyrgin warriors do not cry." Zacar said but he motioned Viglar over.
She cried when she saw the two bloody, tiny little bodies he placed next to her. "They were born too soon. They're too small." They were barely bigger than her hands. What if they didn't have the equipment to keep them healthy until they'd grown a bit. "Zacar?"
"Be at ease. They are fine."
Even as he spoke, the two tiny bodies moved. She cried and laughed as she carefully scooped them up. They were small, but already perfectly formed. Like miniature Zacars. She lay down with care, placing them next to her.
Zacar held her and made threatening growls, which she assumed were supposed to be soothing noises. He took no notice of the two tiny little beings huddled together at her side. She touched their bald little heads with a forefinger and they immediately started pushing their heads toward her finger. It reminded her of the rough soldiers vying for her attention and she smiled.
"They're so little. Somehow, I thought they would be big and mean looking."
"You think I am mean looking?"
She leaned over and kissed him. "No, you look strong and capable of protecting me."
Strange to think these two perfect little warrior babies had come out of her body. There was nothing human about them.
"They can walk already but will have to stay close to you for safety. They are not babies as you know them."
"And I do not need to breastfeed them, do I?" She could barely speak for the tears in her throat. What was wrong with her? She had two healthy sons. Why o
bsess about booties and breastfeeding?
"No. I saw on the TC about breastfeeding and you don't have to do that." His voice sounded strange, as if he was relieved she didn't have to breastfeed.
"Oh." She didn't know what else to say.
Viglar handed him a silver bottle with a cone shaped top with a hole in it. "Give them this for the next month." Zacar handed the bottle to her.
"Well, at least I get to feed them."
She held the bottle to the tiny mouth of her son and could've sworn he gave Zacar a disgusted glare before he latched onto the bottle.
"What will we name them?"
"Zss...rrrrllllrsss.
"Uh Larz?"
"Yes."
"Okay, that's a good name. Do I get to name the other one."
You would've thought she scratched one of their swords. Zacar jumped upright and roared. She covered the babies' ears and glared at him.
"All right, I get it. I'm not allowed to name my own sons."
"Natlia, this is custom. Only a warrior can name another warrior."
"Whatever."
"ZZZrrrloorrffff?"
"What?"
"Our second warrior, we will call him Zorlorf."
She sighed. She'd given birth to toddlers and would never know her children's baby stage.
***
For the first month they drank a disgusting green concoction from the bottle. And they drank a lot of it. After a month, they started eating the green slop Zacar and the others ate. Lots of it. She decided to stop worrying about their health. The way they ate, they couldn't be anything but healthy. At least she got to feed them some of the green slop, though she suspected they tolerated her feeding them, more than needed it.
As small as they were, they were able to walk on wobbly legs and seemed to delight in fighting each other. They got physical with each other all the time. Whenever she looked at them one was tackling the other or they were punching each other. Never having had brothers, Natalie wasn't sure if this was normal behavior.
***
Natalie was in the kitchen area, baking bread, and smiled as tiny fingers tickled her toes. The boys liked to build a fort under the table which they defended from an unseen but very fierce enemy.
"If I feel any more mice tickling my feet, I will have to come down there and hand out kisses to my babies." She smiled when the tickling of her toes abruptly stopped and she heard a sudden silence from under the table. Her fierce little warriors equated being kissed by their mother to being treated like babies.
A little while later, she heard a strange groaning noise. Their latest game was playing cowboys and Indians, and it was very cute watching one of them pretend to be shot and fall down, supposedly dead. They'd watched an old cowboy movie the previous night with her and Zacar, and for the whole day today that was all they played.
When she bent down to look under the table, they were writhing on the floor. She clutched at the table, dizzy with fright. Their little faces were twisted in grimaces of pain, their tiny little bodies rolling around on the floor among the weapons and makeshift fort.
"Viglar." For a scary moment, she didn't have the breath to scream for the doctor. Then she couldn't stop screaming. "Viglar!"
This was her fault. They were getting these asthma attacks because they'd inherited it from her. Her children were in pain. What if their alien and human physiology made them more vulnerable to illness? What if they inherited her asthma after all? And where was that damn doctor when she needed him?
"Zacar!" she screamed at the top of her voice while she carefully lifted them from under the table and held them on her lap.
Viglar came hurrying up, watching the children for a moment. As usual, his face was expressionless, but his body relaxed. She could've killed him when he walked away calmly, as if her children weren't groaning in pain in her arms. How could he be so heartless?
She was sitting on the floor, trying to hold and soothe them but they were writhing and wiggling out of her arms. She couldn't keep hold of them. In the end, she left them on the floor and tried to soothe them by rubbing her fingers over their small heads, but it only seemed to make their pain worse.
"Zacar! Get back here. Zacar!" she screamed.
Her babies were in agony and that horrible doctor had just walked away. She was still shouting for Zacar at the top of her voice when the doctor returned with a strange container and sat down, as if waiting for something. She wrung her hands. Whenever she tried to touch them, they would scream in agony. Where was Zacar when she needed him?
"How can you sit there and watch? You're a doctor. Help them."
"I cannot help. All warriors go through this alone."
"Go through what alone? I thought it was the asthma." How could he be so calm when her children were in pain?
"The small warriors are going through their change," Viglar said and looked as if settling in for a relaxing break.
"They're not warriors. They're my babies," she said through clenched teeth. "Please point that instrument of yours at them and at least take the pain away." She looked around the cave wildly. Where was Zacar?
"I cannot."
She was about to beat the living daylights out of him, when the groaning suddenly stopped. She snapped her head around to her sick children. Just then, the hair stirred at the nape of her neck and Zacar knelt next to her.
Before her astonished eyes her sons shed their skins and literally grew a few inches taller. One after the other, they weakly sat up and crawled out from under the table. They were the same size as four year olds now, but much stronger.
Picking up the discarded skin, which made Natalie shiver at the pain it must have caused her children, the doctor placed it in the container. He then injected them.
"What are you doing with them? Where are you taking them?" she asked when Zacar picked them up.
"I will put them in their beds."
He carried them to the two beds in the second tent they'd erected for them. Zacar had flatly refused to have them in their room. She quickly pulled back the silver blankets the warriors never slept under and covered them when Zacar laid them down.
"They are warriors. They are not cold."
She put her hands on her hips and squared off with him. "Zacar, don't start with me. Not now. They are sick and it's still cold at night."
Hours later, she continued to stroke their backs, reassuring herself they were all right. Zacar brought her tea and water when he came to check on her regularly and would look at the boys, but he didn't seem very concerned about them.
The way Zacar treated the children as warriors, and not as his sons, really worried her. But no matter how much she talked to him, he simply didn't understand her concern. He'd told her clearly that after the third change, they would have to go and stay with the other warriors. Now at least, she knew what he meant when he talked about the change. How much will they have grown after their second change? Already she missed her little guys. She had a sinking suspicion that if the other warriors didn't want them out of the way when they practiced, she would see very little of them.
"Natlia, come and rest."
"No, I can't leave them."
"I will carry you to our bed and you will rest."
She glared up at him. "I'm not going anywhere and you might be a warrior but you are not strong enough to take me away from my sons when they are sick and need me."
"They are not sick."
"I don't care, I'm not leaving them."
He stayed with her but she had the impression it was more to stay with her than concern about the children. Zurian and Azagor came to look in on them and acted as if everything was normal. She balled her fists to stop from screaming at them. As it was, she wanted to pound Zacar until he hurt for not being there immediately when she and their sons needed him.
The next morning, they were still lying unmoving and she feared they would never play cowboys and Indians again. Or tickle her toes.
"Why aren't they waking up?" She lo
oked up with desperate pleading at Zacar, who was holding her breakfast. Did he really expect her to eat at a time like this?
"This is normal. When I went through my first change, I slept for eight of your days."
"Oh." To them it might be normal but she was a nervous wreck. She eyed the food in his hands. "If you try to make me eat that, I'll throw it up all over you." If she hadn't been so frightened for her children, she would've laughed at the haste with which he took the food away.
***
Her sons woke a week later, and she had to swallow her tears when first Larz and then Zorlorf opened their eyes. She rushed to their sides and knelt down, laughing and crying at the same time.
"How do you feel? Do you need anything?"
Larz fixed his red eyes on her. He almost had the face of a grown warrior. To strangers, the boys would have looked identical but she could tell them apart by the small differences only a mother would know. Larz had higher cheekbones, more prominent than his brother's.
"We're fine," Larz answered, much to her surprise.
"You can talk?" Even though Zacar had told her that they would speak in a few months, she didn't think they would be able to speak yet. She was amazed. Up to the moment they'd started to groan in pain from their first change, they'd never said a word.
"Yes. Our DNA is not as primitive as human DNA. We have command of languages after our first change."
"Oh." It was lowering to realize her DNA was considered inferior by her own sons. She would have to have a serious discussion with them about respect. "But you look tired. You should rest."
Zacar walked in and both of them moved to stand in front of her. She recognized the stance as one the warriors practiced every day. How could they know these moves when they haven't been allowed near the warriors when they train? Were they born with this knowledge as well?
His greeting to the boys seemed very cold to her and she frowned at him.
Larz, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the twins, immediately addressed her. "Do not worry. Our greeting may seem cold to you but it is our way. We do not feel slighted by it. In our race, we normally do not even crave the attention of our mothers."
