He opens his tiny, membranous wings that are so thin the light shines through and flaps them, his little tail shifting side to side in obvious excitement.
"Hi," the new girl says. "I'm Calista, this is Illadon."
"Hi," I say.
"So," Calista says. "What's his name?"
"I'm sorry?" I ask, taken by surprise with her blunt question.
Calista smiles, hefts the baby up higher on her waist, then repeats the question.
"Ragnar," I say, flushing.
Calista nods, pursing her lips and looking thoughtful.
"Illadon, what a cute name," I say.
"Thanks, it's a bit of an homage, blending his father's name with an old earth game."
"Oh," I say.
"Jolie named her little one Rverre," Calista adds, nodding up at the other baby ahead of us.
"River?" I ask.
"Exactly," Calista says. "Jolie is firmly in the Doctor Who camp. She thought it was a clever way to keep the naming tradition I started going. Rverre is a combination of River Song and Sverre. Personally, I'm in the Star Trek camp."
"The… camp?" I ask, confused.
"You all didn't divide? Not enough geeks in your part of the ship?" she asks, laughing.
"Well, I'm a data nerd, I guess."
"You guess?" Calista says, her smile makes it clear she's joking with me.
I shrug and laugh, feeling lost and wishing with all my heart that Ragnar was at my side.
"So how long have you and Ragnar been an item?" she asks.
"An item?" I play dumb, trying to buy time to figure out an answer.
What do I say? I don't know when it happened. Are we an item? We can't even talk to each other. What does that say about me as a person that I'm sleeping with a guy I can't even talk to? Is it more than just an ongoing one night stand? My heart says it is. I think his does to. No, I know his does. How do I explain that to, well, anyone?
"I get it," Calista says, dropping her voice so that only I can hear her when she notices some of the girls ahead glancing over their shoulders.
"Do you?"
"Yeah," she says. "I was… first."
"What do you mean, first?"
"Ladon found me after we crashed," she says. "I brought him to the others but only after we had… well, you know."
Nodding my understanding, a bond forms. First. We have that in common at least.
"Yeah," I agree. "Me too, I guess. No one else anyway has… well as far as I know."
Calista nods and smiles. "So tell me all about it. How are there so many Zmaj together out there? That's unbelievable! When word came in there was an army of Zmaj approaching the dome we were freaking out."
"How come?" I ask.
"Zmaj don't get along, not since the extinction event they call the Devastation."
Frowning I think about that. I've not seen anything like that. They are primal, barbaric maybe, but the Tribe all get along well enough.
"I've not seen that in the Tribe," I say.
"The Tribe?" she asks.
"Yeah, that's what they call themselves, according to Lana," I say.
"Hmm."
"I can't talk to them though," I say. "How did you learn their language? Can you help me?"
"Sure," Calista says. "It's easier than you might think. Didn't Lana tell you?"
"No, I haven't thought to talk to her about it."
I'm trying to take in as much of the city as I can while we walk.There are no short buildings, everything looks like it's at least twenty decks high or more.
"So how much do you know about Zmaj?" Calista asks, probing for something but I'm not sure what.
"Enough, I guess," I shrug.
"Have you two…" she trails off, flushing a deep red as she continues. "Have you seen him naked?"
"Yeah," I say, my cheeks burning just as hot.
"Okay, good," Calista says. "That can be a shocker."
"Oh my god, yes!" I agree and Calista laughs.
"You know Zmaj mate for life?" she asks.
"They do?"
"Yes, if he's chosen you, you're his treasure. It's a much deeper bond than anything you'll have experienced before."
Thinking back on my limited, almost non-existent, 'experience' I don't know that I'd know the difference but I can't stop myself from smiling at memories of the way he touches me, the way he looks at me. Treasure is a good word. I feel treasured when I'm with him. Like I'm the most important thing in his universe.
"I think I get it."
"Good," she says.
"Scum," someone says loudly from ahead of us.
There are three, scraggly looking men and a woman walking in a group away from us across the street.
"Eat dick," one of the other girls yells.
One of the men stops and turns towards her, but the other three grab him by his shoulders and pull him away. They glare at us without another word, not breaking their gaze until they turn the corner out of sight.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Gershom supporters," Calista sighs.
"I heard something about him outside," I say.
"Yeah, sorry. Even lost on a desert planet, some people are just assholes."
"Are there a lot of them?"
"No, maybe, it's hard to tell," she says. "I think many people are just afraid. He's fantastic at playing on that."
"I see."
"Yeah, well don't worry about those jerks."
"Okay," I agree, doing my best to put them out of my mind.
"I want to know more about you all," Calista says. "None of us could believe it when we found out another section of the ship survived the crash! Tell me all about it. I want to know everything."
"Well, everything is a lot." The sad loss of our part of the ship isn't really a story that's fun to tell.
"You got something better to do?" she asks, grinning.
Her smile is infectious so I launch into my story, telling her about surviving the pirate attack on our ship, then crashing on the planet. Learning to survive here on our own, getting taken by the Zmaj, then coming to terms with the loss of friends and family when we went back.
"So you've had run-ins with the pirates here?" I ask.
"They haven't tried anything at the city but yes," she says. "They've been spotted and dealt with by some of us out on expeditions. Amara dealt with a lot of them."
"Which one is Amara," I ask, looking at the group of women just ahead.
"She's not with us," Calista smiles. "She's in her final quarter."
"Her final quarter?"
"Uhm, yeah. Well if you conceive, there's a few things we've figured out you should know."
"Like?"
"Zmaj babies are big. They take longer to gestate than the normal baby cycle."
"How bad is it?" I ask, my throat dry and tight.
"Just an extra three or four months…" she trails off.
"Okay?"
"But it requires bed rest. Our bodies aren't designed to carry a baby that long."
"Oh," I say, nerves tingling along my arms and legs with a restlessness which makes me feel out of sorts.
"It's not bad," she says, shifting Illadon who coos and calls out, reaching his perfect, tiny little hands towards me. "And the result is absolutely worth it."
She kisses Illadon's head, smiling. The cold ball of ice in my stomach melts seeing the result of a pregnancy. I hold out my finger to him and Illadon grabs onto it with a surprisingly strong grip. He pulls my finger to his mouth and chews.
"I think he's teething," I observe.
"Yes, all his hand-crafted toys are now chew things," Calista says. "Oh, we're here."
We walk into a large, open area. A fountain with a statue of a Zmaj dominates the center. There is no water in it as far as I can tell and the statue has chips and cracks. The group is heading towards a building on the far side of the square that has large, intact front windows.
Jolie, holding her baby on her hip, holds the door open, ushering
all of us inside. Calista and I are the last to enter.
"You two getting along?" Jolie asks.
"She's sweet," Calista says, causing a burning flush to race across my cheeks.
"Thank you," I squeak. "I'm glad to get to know you."
"Don't let her fool you," Jolie says. "Calista can be totally ruthless."
"Look who's talking," Calista retorts, laughing.
The friendship and connection these two share is deep and obvious.
"Your baby is Rverre?" I ask, looking at the small child on her hip.
There's a delicateness to the baby's features that Illadon doesn't have. The wings are different looking, more membranous maybe? The tail is thinner and longer despite it being smaller overall.
"Yes!" Jolie says, beaming with excitement. "Her name is Rverre. She's growing like a weed too."
Jolie hefts the baby up and down on her hip making her giggle loudly. The baby has brilliant green eyes that sparkle with joy and a toothless smile that makes her cheeks stick out.
"Pfff, should have named her Jadzia," Calista huffs.
"Ugh, like I'd ever name her after a Star Trek character," Jolie says, shaking her head.
"I'm telling you Olivia, some people have no taste," Calista says, struggling to keep a straight face.
"I know, right? How can you not love Doctor Who?" Jolie insists.
"Truly a dilemma," I observe, trying to tread my way through the obvious minefield.
"A diplomat," Jolie observes. "Well played."
The three of us laugh together as we enter the building.
Inside the air is cooler than outside, not a lot, it's not air conditioner but it's better. We're in a large lobby area that looks like it once served as a reception. Now it seems like some sort of communal gathering area.
"Bunch of fucking bullshit," someone grouses.
Half of the room has seats, small tables, and a bed that dominates the space. On that bed is another woman with a belly that is so swollen I wonder she doesn't explode right there. She has a strong jaw and sharp nose. Her short, dark hair is standing on end and her eyes look exhausted. The other girls have taken up seats and are working on various tasks. The woman in the bed glares at Calista from across the room.
"How much longer?" she asks.
"Amara, we've talked about this," Calista sighs. "There's no way of really knowing."
"Sure, you've talked, I've listened, nothing has changed. I'm telling you Calista, this sucks."
"Where's Shidan?" Jolie asks.
"Ugh," Amara groans. "I sent him to get me food, cause you know, I'm not big enough!"
"You're beautiful," Calista says.
"Sure," she says. "If you like your women big enough to hide from a nuclear assault behind."
Calista laughs as she walks over to the bedside. "Amara, this is Olivia," she says, pointing. "She has a… special friend too."
Amara looks over at me and smiles, it's faint but genuine.
"Hey," she says. "Don't let him knock you up. This is all a bunch of bullshit."
"Amara!" Jolie says.
Calista and Jolie place their babies on the floor where they immediately become the center of attention. The two children seem most interested in each other while all the girls in the place ooh and ahh.
"What?" Amara asks. "This sucks."
"I'm sorry you're having a rough time of it," I try, unsure what else to say.
Amara shrugs.
A pale girl with white-blond hair checks her forehead and cheeks then leans in and looks into her eyes. Amara pushes her away.
"Nothing's changed," she grouses. "I'm fine."
"I know," she says, ignoring Amara. "Now let me do my job."
"See what I mean?" Amara asks, looking at me past the girl.
"Amara, do you have to be so mean?"
"Yes, Mei, I do," Amara grumps. "This sucks."
"I didn't mind it," Jolie tosses in.
"You liked being waited on," Amara says. "I want to get up and work!"
"Have you figured out how that panel we brought you works?" Jolie asks.
"No," Amara says, throwing her hands up. "I can barely hold the stupid thing up around the giant mound that is my stomach."
"It's not your stomach, that's the baby," Calista says.
"In my stomach," Amara comes back.
"No, in your uterus," Mei says, taking Amara's wrist between her thumb and fingers, closing her eyes and moving her lips as she counts.
"Same difference," Amara says.
"Okay, your pulse is fine, eyes look fine, you're good for another day," Mei says.
"Yay, another day of sitting here waiting."
"Yup," Calista says, cheerfully.
Amara rolls her eyes.
"What are you working on?" Delilah asks, her interest in engineering stuff peaked.
Jolie takes me by the arm, leading me away from Amara's bed. Calista comes to join us while Amara and Delilah talk and get to know each other. Amara seems to cheer up talking to Delilah, so that's good. Maybe they have something in common.
"Come with us," Calista whispers.
They lead the way out of the room quickly and quietly. I go along with them, uncertain what we're doing or where we're going. Calista leads us further into the building and as we walk through yet another door, there are floor to ceiling panels off to one side with data running up and down them. Screens, data, information, it calls to my heart of hearts. This is what I am, a data analyst. It doesn't matter what the data is, I love studying it, finding patterns. It makes me happy. There are also cubicles made of clear glass, most of them look shattered and ruined but one has a small table and a screen with rolling information.
"We've gotten this working at least," Jolie says.
"You're going to love this," Calista adds.
"What are we doing?" I ask, butterflies dancing in my stomach.
"Teaching you to speak Zmaj," Jolie grins.
"Seriously?"
"You bet," Calista says, grinning from ear to ear.
In moments I'm standing inside one booth looking at the screen. Calista reaches around me and taps on the small counter. It lights up and symbols dance across it.
"What's this going to do?"
"Just wait for it," she says.
I step back, my nerves suddenly getting the best of me.
"Look, I'm good, I'll just…"
"Olivia," Jolie says. "You don't have to if you don't want to, of course, but trust us. It's a machine that will put the Zmaj language into your head in seconds. All of it, you'll speak it fluently."
I'd be able to talk with Ragnar. Actually talk to him.
"All right, I'm in," I say, stepping back in to where they placed me before.
Calista taps the counter again, hitting the arcane symbols. A blue light flashes and shines in my eyes.
"Good!" Jolie says.
"What do you mean, good?" I ask. "It didn't do anything."
Jolie and Calista exchange a knowing smile.
"You sure about that?" Jolie asks.
"I am, nothing happened," I reply. "What?"
"You're speaking Zmaj," Calista says and they both laugh.
"I am?" I ask, trying to listen to myself.
They nod and laugh, wiping tears away from their eyes.
Footsteps running on the hard floor jerks our attention away from each other.
I follow behind as they run back towards the main gathering room we just left.
A tall, fair skinned woman stands struggling for breath just inside the door. "They did it," she pants. "Can't believe it. They did it. Come quick."
"Did what Inga?" Calista asks, rushing to the woman's side.
"Gershom's people," Inga pants. "They destroyed the airlock."
"Son of a bitch," Amara exclaims from her bed.
A cold, sick feeling grips my stomach. If they destroyed the airlock, how will I get back to Ragnar?
18
Ragnar
I watch Olivia for as lo
ng as I can see her. Only when she turns a corner and I lose sight of her, do I return my attention to the newcomers.
"The city is mine," Ladon is saying, yet again.
It's like he's on repeat, holding to that single train of thought. He doesn't seem to be in the claws of his bijass, though I can feel its pull.
"We are not challenging that," Visidion says.
"Good, then leave," Ladon says.
"Ladon," the one called Sverre says.
"Ladon, the Tribe is friendly. There's no call to be this way," Astarot says. "They took Lana and I in and welcomed us. How can we do any less?"
"We?" Ladon hisses, turning his attention to Astarot. "I brought you others in but it's still my city. This many Zmaj? No. It's mine. My territory, my city. I will not cede control."
"This is an enormous city, a big territory," the Commander says. "Perhaps we could share?"
"Why would I share what is mine?" Ladon says, stubbornly digging his heels in to his single-minded argument.
"Together we are stronger," Visidion insists.
"So you say," Ladon answers. "Yet I have the City."
"Once, thousands of Zmaj lived here. Worked here. Raised families and died here. What does it gain you to be alone?" our Commander asks.
"Mine. What else matters," Ladon hisses, leaning in aggressively.
Drosdan steps forward, inserting himself between the Commander and Ladon. Our Second in command towers over Ladon and is at least as twice as wide across the chest and shoulders.
Ladon looks up, craning his neck back. His wings unfold and flutter, his tail stands out straight. As fast as lightning striking, his fist shoots out, slamming into Drosdan's face with enough force it reverberates in my bones. Drosdan barely turns his face. One massive hand goes to his jaw, rubs, then he leans back and it's all happening in slow motion. Drosdan brings both his hands down on Ladon's shoulders with crushing force. Ladon bows under the weight, his knees buckling part way but he holds himself upright. An impressive feat of strength. Drosdan hisses, his wings spread wide, his tail standing up. Ladon punches, rapid fire hits into Drosdan's stomach. It's enough to break Drosdan's grip as he stumbles backwards.
Ladon doesn't let up, pushing his advantage as Drosdan falls back.
Drosdan's wings spread as he roars with rage. The people circled around the fight take a step back. Drosdan's bijass is strong, a siren call to all of us to give in to our own primal nature.
Dragon's Kiss (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 5) Page 11
