He blinked at me in surprise. “Many men. In fact, it’s a good thing you’re not on Kalquor, smelling the way you do.”
I frowned at him. “Smelling?”
Betra nodded, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “There are a few weeks in the first trimester during which some pregnant Earther Mataras exude a certain aroma. It’s a strange phenomenon, and it doesn’t happen with all of you. It doesn’t happen with pregnant Kalquorian women, or so I’m told.”
So that’s why he had been sniffing when around me. “I stink?”
Betra laughed. “Quite the opposite. Actually, you, ah, smell very nice.” He reddened. “Your scent is arousing.”
I went wide-eyed again. “Arousing? You mean, guys want to be with me? Sexually?”
“I’ve been keeping a close eye–or would it be nose?–on you. I had to so I could warn off other men if it happened. Your father said you wouldn’t appreciate a bunch of eager Kalquorians on your doorstep so soon after losing the clan you loved.”
“He was right.” I sighed. “Dad is determined to keep me protected, even from all these miles apart. Tell me more about this sexy stench I’m putting off.”
“Your pregnancy scent kicked in about a week ago. It lasts about seven to eight weeks.”
“Good God,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands. “That day in the dining room must have been when it started. That’s why you chased everyone off.”
“The men were responding to you. I had to order them away so they didn’t become too excited and land themselves in trouble.”
I worried over my clanning possibilities now that I was in the mommy way. “I won’t smell yummy forever. By the time I show up at Kalquor, I won’t be able to lure a clan into my evil clutches. If I don’t freeze the embryo, I’ll have a newborn that will scare them off instead.”
“You don’t understand, Shalia. Your pregnancy will be irrefutable proof of your fertility. It will make you a more sought-after mate for many clans.”
I stared at him. “But they’ll have to raise another man’s child. No one’s sure which clan fathered my baby. That other Dramok, the guy I knew better than to get involved with...oh, I can’t talk about the whole sordid mess. I was a naughty girl. We’ll leave it at that.”
Betra cocked his head at me. “The baby you carry will belong to the clan you choose on Kalquor. They will be his or her fathers. Not the men you had sex with.” A smile twisted the side of his mouth. “You do understand you’re supposed to be exploring your sexuality, right? That it’s okay for you to have intimate relations with whomever you choose until you join a clan?”
“Stop laughing at me,” I warned him. “It’s not that simple for Earthers. Besides, I was in love with the first clan. I turned to the other man because I was lonely and scared.”
“You put a lot of emotion in the realm of sex,” Betra said. “It’s not casual for you, is it?”
“Not even with Nang. Crazy or not, he made me feel safe. He made me feel incredible.” I scowled. Emotions when it came to Nang had been complicated. “Half the time I wanted to be around him, the other half I fantasized about crashing a shuttle into him.”
Betra snickered at that. “Then you definitely don’t wish him to be the father of your child. You should be relieved to offer the honor to other men.”
I tried not to think of Dusa’s clan. Of giving their offspring a different set of fathers. It hurt my brain.
Instead, I asked Betra, “A baby doesn’t hurt my chances of clanning? That whoever I end up with will care for this child?”
“They will beg to show you what amazing fathers they will be for the babe you carry. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to winning a clan, Shalia.”
I felt better to hear that. I guess that when you’re facing extinction as the Kalquorians are, you’ll grab whatever you can...even if it means adopting and caring for a kid not of your own making.
One question down, a million to go.
December 20, early
I just had the most nerve-wracking conversation in my entire life. Dusa’s clan commed me to say hello and catch up on the latest. Ha! That wasn’t awkward, not a bit (yes, please assume sarcasm here).
I don’t remember most of the conversation. I sat there, watching at my three former sweeties, thinking about the baby inside me. I’m nodding at the appropriate moments, smiling like all is well in Shalia Land, laughing at their jokes, telling them about anything and everything but THAT. All the while I’m chanting in my head, I’m pregnant and they don’t know. I’m pregnant and they don’t know. I’m pregnant and they don’t know.
I half-expected them to guess. I felt as if I had the word blazing in capital letters over my face. P R E G N A N T. I waited for eyes to widen, for mouths to drop open, for someone to shout. It never happened. They talked on and on, telling me stuff that I responded to without really hearing.
I nearly told them. I thought I would explode if I let them patter on with their conversation and then ended the com with no idea. The words were on the tip of my tongue: Congratulations, guys. You’re going to be fathers. Surprise!
Only one thing kept me from doing it. The possibility that this baby is the product of my ill-advised fling with Nang kept me from sharing this universe-shaking news. While there is doubt, I can’t tell Dusa, Esak, and Weln they have a child on the way. I kept my mouth shut.
Sooner or later, if I decide to go through with the pregnancy, it will show. My favorite clan will figure out I’m expecting. That somebody from Clan Dusa might have knocked me up. It will have to be dealt with.
That’s why I’m finding out who the father is. It will help me decide whether to freeze the embryo or keep going with the pregnancy. It will allow me to say, this is Clan Dusa’s child. All the doubt will be gone, and I’ll have one less issue to wonder about. One last worry to keep me up at night.
I’m off to Medical to ask Dr. Tep to solve this mystery. I hope it’s good news. I really, really pray it’s good news...though I’m not certain which would be good news.
December 20, later
Well, fuck me. I wish the Kalquorian Empire itself had a face so I could punch it. They have the stupidest rules!
I went to Dr. Tep to discover who the father of my child is. Guess what? There’s a chance I won’t be allowed to know! Since I’m not clanning with Dusa and company, nor Clan Nang (oh HELL NO), my kid is to be the legal offspring of whoever I clan with. That means unless Nang or someone in Dusa’s clan has family histories of genetic illnesses, Tep won’t give me the name of the father!
How the hell is that fair? Or right? Shouldn’t my baby know who his real father is? Or at least the clan he comes from? I mean...what the fuck?
Tep did promise to check into the medical records of all concerned. That scared the shit out of me. I mean, what if Nang found out he might be the father? He didn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer most of the time. Good Lord, if I ever opened my door to find that jerk standing there with that ‘I own your ass’ expression on his face...fuck. I’d kill him or myself.
Fortunately, Dr. Tep assured me none of the potential fathers would realize a genetic health check was being performed on their backgrounds. That’s a relief. At least Kalquor is getting that part correct.
He then said, “You’ve had a few days to think about what you’re going to do with this baby. Do you have any questions or concerns to discuss?”
I had to laugh, though without much humor. “Dr. Tep, all I have are concerns. This is such a mess, especially if I don’t know who the father is.”
“The fathers will be the men you clan. Biology does not make a parent. Love does.”
Isn’t that sweet. And not a bit of help to me whatsoever. “I have to have a name. I talk to Clan Dusa. We care about each other.”
“You should review that relationship. You are headed to Kalquor to be a part of the lottery. You’ll join an established clan, which will make you their lives’ priority, as well as
with the children you give them. Including this one, if you wish.”
I scowled. “I don’t need a guilt trip, Doc.”
He kept on. “Meanwhile, Clan Dusa will be on Earth for as long as it takes to evacuate your people. They may even reach a point while there when they’ll have been together long enough to clan a woman. They may find a mate who makes them happy. If you’re clinging to them, however, they’ll miss that chance.”
I blinked at him. It hadn’t occurred to me that Dusa’s clan might meet someone special. Someone they would be able to clan.
The thought made me a little ill. Sure, I want the boys to be happy, to have someone who cares for them and makes them smile. I have never been sure I was that someone. Yet now that I was faced with it, I was desperate to push the idea away. To pretend that it couldn’t happen.
I muttered, “Thanks for making me feel like shit.”
Tep patted my shoulder. “Sometimes life works that way, Matara Shalia. You have to turn your back on the past, as much as it hurts. It’s not good for someone in your condition to be stressed over foolish worries like paternity. You should be anticipating your bright and happy future, surrounded by men who love you.”
I was betting Tep had never been in a hopeless love affair. It must be nice to not have your heart yanked out and stomped on. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be hinting that I set Dusa’s clan aside. He couldn’t suggest I walk off as if it hadn’t meant anything.
For God’s sake, they may have given me a baby. How am I supposed to not think about that?
The good news keeps coming. The com just went off, and it was my advice buddy, Tep himself. None of the Kalquorians I had sex with has any abnormal genetic history. I will not be told who the father is. How fucking liberating. Asshole.
December 21
You gotta love friends. Especially friends like Candy and Katrina. They came over first thing this morning, whooping it up like a couple of lunatics.
“Up, woman!” Katrina yelled at me. “Into the shower! Clean up. No more feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Who died and made you my keepers?” I grouched.
“No one died, but you’re getting your tail in gear,” Candy insisted. “You’re pregnant. So what? You don’t know who the father is. Who gives a shit? The men you care about are not returning to your life in the foreseeable future. It sucks to hell and back, but that’s how it is.”
“Join the living, baby,” Katrina agreed. “Go shower and dress, or we’ll hogtie you and do it ourselves.”
I stared at them in disbelief. Their faces set in determination, they moved towards me. I ran into the facility.
“Fine!” I yelled, turning the water spray on. “But there had better be coffee and breakfast when I walk out!”
They saw to it. I sipped delicately at the coffee. Tep said I could have it, but it tends to bring the nausea on. Most of the morning sickness crap isn’t as big a deal with the medicine he gave me, but certain smells, drinks, and foods mess with me. Katrina tells me I’m getting off lucky.
“All nine months with my second, I was sick as a dog,” she confirmed. “It was horrible. Even the smell of tap water made me heave.”
“Tap water has a smell?” Candy asked.
“It did during that pregnancy. Taking showers was awful. My head hung out of the stall over the toilet, and I retched like you wouldn’t believe. My husband thought it was hilarious.”
“What happened to your kids? After Armageddon?” Candy asked quietly, as if she hoped Katrina wouldn’t notice the question.
Our elder friend swallowed and shook her head. Her eyes were too bright. Mine stung in sympathy, and Candy cringed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I appreciate the concern.” Katrina managed a smile as she swiped at her wet cheeks. “The Kalquorians doing search and rescue in Memphis and Nashville have been contacted. That’s where they all lived. If they or my grandchildren are found, I’ll be notified.”
We were quiet after that. What do you say to a grieving but optimistic grandmother?
As if I’d spoken aloud, Katrina said, “I have the joy my children and grandchildren gave me. Nothing can take that from me. They had happy lives before Armageddon, and that I had a hand in it. I have no regrets where my family is concerned.”
I felt awful for whining over being pregnant. What were my concerns compared to Katrina’s? Sometimes I am appalled at my own drama queen gestures.
“Names. I need ideas for baby names,” I told the women.
“You’re having it?” Candy looked excited. “I’m going to be an auntie?”
“I’m not sure,” I said as a fresh wave of terror overtook me. “But it’s something to do.”
“You could name him or her after your parents,” Katrina suggested.
I considered that. Eve was out. I love my mother, but we have too much history of anger and disappointment. Saddling a daughter with my mother’s name was asking for trouble. I don’t want to fight with my own kid.
“I wonder what Nayun means,” I mused, putting girl names aside for the moment.
“You wouldn’t name your child after your real dad?” Candy asked.
I snorted. “That’s exactly who I’m thinking about. Nayun has been more of a father to me in the short time I’ve known him than the guy who got my mother pregnant.”
Katrina nodded. “The kid is half-Kalquorian. Why shouldn’t he have a Kalquorian name?”
Boy, I wished I knew that a member of Dusa’s clan was the father. I could have named the kid after one of them.
We tossed names back and forth, growing sillier by the second. I called a halt when Candy came up with Ebenezer Rumpelstiltskin Monroe.
“You’ve lost your mind,” I told my giggling friend.
“How is that worse than Katrina suggesting Michael Monroe Your Boat Ashore?”
The two idiots howled. I rolled my eyes.
“Hey, let’s do your clan forms,” Candy said when I stuck my fingers in my ears to block out any further horrid names they would saddle my baby with.
“Bleh,” was my response.
They jumped on my case. I overdue on starting the process. The questionnaire file on the computer was so ridiculously involved that I was glad to have the company.
After half an hour of that nonsense, I asked, “I can’t find the part where I write, ‘I’m already pregnant by a Kalquorian. Also my mother, who will not be sent far away, is batshit crazy. Stop now and run for your lives’. Where do I put that?”
Candy snorted. “You’ve already indicated you’re expecting in the ‘proof of fertility’ space. And Eve is not so bad. Concentrate, would you? What is the most important characteristic for your potential mates to possess?”
“Write, ‘big penises’,” Katrina advised me. That had been her answer for a dozen other questions.
I contemplated throwing the computer at her. “There is more to a lifelong relationship than the size of a man’s endowment.”
“You’re right. They should have strong tongues too. And nice butts.”
This was my day. Silly, distracting, and fun. I owe those women, and not because they pushed me halfway through that damned questionnaire. I can almost handle my mess of an existence again.
My life is crap, but at the moment, I feel like one of the luckiest people I know. Friends will do that for you. I’m grateful for mine.
December 22
Betra stopped by to check on me today. Ha! I bet he’s wishing he hadn’t.
I’m supposed to share all my concerns with him, right? That’s his job, to make me happy. Honey, Shalia ain’t happy. Not a bit.
I raged about not being able to identify who the actual father of my child is. I bitched him out again for not telling me I was pregnant sooner. Then I whined about how involved the whole lottery questionnaire was. He applauded me for that.
“I’m glad you’ve worked on your preferences for mates. Almost halfway done? Excellent, Matara.” He beam
ed like a proud parent.
“Are you even listening to me, Betra? I’m pissed off here.” I could have shaken his yummy but empty-headed self. “I don’t know whether to have this kid or put it off. Or offer it up for adoption or whatever you people call it. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Shalia, you do whatever you feel you should.” He sat next to me on the small couch in the sitting area of my quarters and took my hands in his. “It’s easier for a clan to accept a baby they can call their own, with no other man claiming responsibility. Your little one will be adored by whatever clan you end up with. Be assured of that.”
Shalia's Diary Omnibus Page 45
