Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  It’s difficult to relegate them to the background when they saved my life. I loved them. Still love, to be honest. However, we all understood our relationship would be temporary, and Betra and Oses will forever be my friends.

  I have my lifemates, whom I’ve chosen to devote my heart to for eternity. I love Seot, Cifa, and Larten and refuse to regret anything.

  What was I writing about? Oh, my visit with Katrina.

  Once we caught up with all the latest, Katrina asked, “What brings you here, besides my stunning good looks and irresistible personality?”

  “A cause. Specifically, the egg donor program.”

  “Ah, you’re coming to the source of your hybrid baby-making needs. At least I can hope to help you. Candy’s campaign to alter the clanning laws goes against everything the Matara Complex stands for.”

  “Big conflict of interest,” I agreed. Katrina is supposed to encourage traditional clanships, not rally against them. Fortunately, Candy understands and has agreed to not ask for anything that would put our friend in an uncomfortable position.

  “Between you, me, and these four walls, I agree that love should be allowed to be love, whatever form and number of participants it takes.”

  I laughed, remembering Katrina’s salons on the Pussy ‘Porter. “Proven time and again.”

  “What would you ask me to do for your project?”

  I outlined my request to give a presentation to the lottery Mataras. “I’m still putting together the presentation—hell, I haven’t really started it yet. I’m going to move on it in the next few days. It’ll be a vid, live presentation, and answering questions. I might even have a guest or two, in a panel-type forum.”

  “Sounds great. Let me go through the schedule and determine what would work best for you and us. I can tell you up front that Fourthday and Seventhday of each week tend to have the most women sticking to the complex. Give me a target on the calendar. I’ll verify where you’ll have less chance of vying against scheduled classes.”

  “Fourthday and Seventhday, huh?”

  Katrina grinned. “On Fourthday, everybody is recovering from the Kalquorian equivalent of the weekend. Seventhday, they’re impatient for the next weekend, but nothing is going on yet. Any entertainment will do.”

  “Even without jobs, they’re excited for the weekend?” I laughed to think Earthers had such a Pavlovian response.

  “Well, the men are more available, and the entertainments are better then.”

  I could understand it, when she put it that way. “Let me line up what needs to be done, and I’ll let you know the when. I wanted to make sure it would be acceptable to campaign on your turf.”

  “I’ll doublecheck with my supervisors, but I don’t detect a problem.”

  We gabbed for a little longer, laughing as friends do about anything and everything. She was correct; we were due for a girls’ outing with Candy and Anrel. We made our plans and hugged again before I went back to my regular job and left Katrina to hers.

  February 15

  I hit a wall. Between therapy, the stress of launching the cruise ship and my department, Candy’s clan campaign, and trying to pull together a presentation for my foundation, I fizzled right the hell out. Life overall is great, but I mentally felt like toast.

  I’m not the one to play the lady of leisure in my day-to-day life. Once in a blue moon? I’ll be honest; I thought about running off and hiding. Maybe take Anrel to the beach and play. If I hadn’t had an appointment with Dr. Cafir this morning, I’d have done it.

  I couldn’t settle in and work. I was pathetic, though I tried my best. I sat at my desk and looked through applications for the staff positions I had yet to hire. Couldn’t make it happen. I attempted to come up with a second run of promos for the new ship. Even the news the Imperial Clan had booked a cruise couldn’t spur me to move my ass. I used company time in the hopes of outlining my inaugural presentation for my foundation. No dice on that front either.

  I finally gave up. Maybe a beach trip with Anrel was out of the question, given that my therapy appointment was coming up within the hour, but I figured I could do something afterward. A bit of novel fun, a jaunt that had no duty attached to it. Just to clear my head and let me start fresh. A reset button.

  I puzzled over that until my gaze happened to fall on the grouping of small vid-stills I keep on my desk. Gorgeous portraits of my clanmates and Anrel smiled at me, warming my heart. Anrel was with Candy once more. Cifa was in his office, marshalling the troops who would be taking care of the royals while they cruise next month. Not the moment to drop in on him by any means. Seot would be at work, and his door was always open. The memory of my last visit to his office gave me evil thoughts. I considered another drop-in.

  I looked at Larten’s picture. It occurred to me that I’d never visited my Nobek at his job. I heard the stories, almost nightly, of young Nobek trainees who were too stupid to live and the trouble they got themselves into. Larten talked like his job was one endless slapstick comedy. The kids, between sixteen and twenty-five, couldn’t truly be that bad. If they were, a visit would be hilarious. If they weren’t, I’d still be able to see Larten. That made it worthwhile.

  If I was allowed on training camp grounds. I commed my Nobek to find out.

  “I recognize this frequency, you delicious woman,” Larten growled for a greeting. “Tell me something that’ll make me forget I’m in the company of the third-most worthless hides in the universe.”

  “Third-most? What a rousing compliment for your boys,” I laughed. “How did they get so lucky?”

  “It’s the youngest group, the sixteen-to-twenty-year-olds. The two older bunches are worse.”

  “I’d have thought they’d get better as they mature.”

  “No, the older ones think they’re better and have learned everything. These younger kids understand they’re fools and don’t pretend otherwise.”

  I laughed. He was speaking loudly, letting his trainees listen in. “I can’t believe they are that bad, my Nobek. Is there any chance I could come and inspect them for myself?”

  The delighted surprise in Larten’s tone caused me to grin bigger than ever. “Please do. Your presence might keep the worst of their stupidity in check.”

  “I have my appointment with Dr. Cafir, then I’ll head out there.”

  “I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

  He sounded pleased that I’d be visiting. My clan never makes me feel as if my presence is taken for granted. I am a lucky gal.

  First, therapy. I’d have much rather gone straight to Larten and skipped that altogether. It was tempting. I’d been doing so well with my clan, experiencing only twinges of darker moods. Yet I didn’t want my fear of abandonment to gain traction again. I told my staff I wouldn’t be back today and headed to the headshrinker.

  It was my therapy session, not Hina’s, so I was surprised she and Dr. Conyod were waiting for me with Dr. Cafir. “Hi. Nice to see you,” I said as I recovered from amazement.

  “I’m glad to see you too,” Hina told me as her therapist bowed.

  “Hina wondered if she might return the favor of you helping her. She’d like to sit in on your session in the hopes that some of her experience as a clanmate will aid you.”

  I considered. “That’s nice of you. Do you have history with abandonment?”

  “I’ve never had a parent leave me, as you’ve dealt with. Or losing people I counted on, beyond my daughters.” Hina offered a sad smile. “The closest I can come to what you’ve experienced is coping with the large age difference between me and my clan.”

  “I thought they looked a bit older. Well, a lot older,” I amended, not wanting to infer Hina might be of an advanced age. “Don’t tell them I said that.”

  Hina snickered before sobering. “Our generational differences have often kept me isolated from them.”

  “Typical for arranged marriages between established clans and our few Mataras,” Conyod confirmed.

  “Oh
, that’s right,” I remembered. “Most of the Kalquorian Mataras don’t clan for love.”

  “We do often fall for our mates as we become familiar with them,” Hina said. “Such is my case. I’m doted on, adored. Yet I often feel misunderstood, even condescended to. That’s why I might have support to offer you.”

  “I’m willing to hear your take on some of what I’m going through.”

  We sat down. Before my formal therapy began, I caught Hina up on the latest with the egg donor program. “I’m pulling together my presentation to the women at the Matara Complex.”

  “Tell me if I can help. Before the depression following my daughters’ deaths, I was a motivational speaker.” Hina snorted. “Isn’t it sad that the life coach couldn’t motivate herself?”

  A bulb lit in my head. “You’re used to giving presentations and speeches? Hina, that’s perfect. I realize talking to others about your experiences would be excruciating, but would you consider it? Hearing about the heartbreak of losing your daughters might make all the difference to those Earthers who could donate.”

  Hina gave me a startled expression. It had apparently never occurred to her that she could take part in my plans for the foundation. “Oh. Well.” She looked to Conyod for help.

  Fearing I’d overstepped, I rushed to say, “No need to answer immediately unless you know it’ll do you harm. In that case, don’t hesitate to say no. I’d never ask you to put yourself through that kind of torture on my account.”

  “It’s not that—do you believe they’d respond to a Kalquorian woman?”

  “Earthers have gone through a lot of loss in the last couple of years,” I reminded her. “Armageddon snatched family and home from us. We Earthers understand that kind of pain, though maybe not your specific level of it. Your story would resonate with my people and encourage them to help Kalquorian women.”

  Her face brightened. She turned to Conyod. “What do you think, Doctor?”

  He considered. “Using the pain you’ve endured might offer meaning to your experience.”

  Hina drew a deep breath. “I’d like that. For my babies’ deaths to lead to something beautiful. To bring hope to those who believe they have none.” She turned to me and smiled. “Let me know when you need me to speak. I’ll be ready.”

  I could have hugged her. “Thank you! You’ll make a huge difference to the foundation. In fact, since you’ve had firsthand experience with loss, I’d be thrilled if you’d consider being on our board.”

  Hina promised to think it over. She appeared radiant at the opportunity to turn her tragedy into something constructive. I guess I’m not the only person who needed a cause to involve herself in.

  I was in a chipper mood as I left therapy an hour later. I headed to the training camp about twenty minutes inland, chauffeured once again. We’re supposed to buy me my own shuttle tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. It’s ridiculously snooty to be piloted everywhere.

  I commed ahead. My timing couldn’t have been better. I was scheduled to land during a break between Larten’s last two classes, so he didn’t need another trainer to cover for him while he met me on the landing bay. It was terrific to see him waiting for me as soon as I stepped off the shuttle.

  Similar to Seot and Cifa, Larten has no problem with public displays of affection. I received an extremely warm welcome from my Nobek before he ushered me to his knife-fighting class.

  “I’ll give you a tour of the camp later,” he promised. “My next session starts in a few minutes, so there’s no time now.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me to come if I’m going to be an imposition,” I reprimanded. “I’m not here to complicate your life.”

  “You couldn’t do that if you tried,” he assured me. “I’m delighted you wanted to visit me at work.” He held my hand as we walked to his fight studio. It reminded me of the training rooms I’d practiced in on board the Pussy ‘Porter.

  We arrived seconds before a group of two dozen savage-seeming Nobeks stormed in. They were young, but hulking. They wore those ridiculously tiny shorts I’d viewed soldiers and fleet crew train in. On such young guys—they appeared to be mere teenagers—I was less than excited to observe them wearing so little. Apparently, I’m not cut out to be a cougar.

  I was a surprise to them, however. They stopped short to notice me standing at the front of the class next to Larten. Eyes grew large.

  Larten snorted, his expression filling with derision. “Your sight does not deceive you. She is what is commonly referred to as a female. My female, so if you look at her wrong, I’ll cut your eyes out.”

  Heads bowed respectfully, so that their black hair fell forward. Eyes peeked at me through those mops of hair. I smirked, letting them know I wasn’t to be messed with whether Larten warned them or not.

  My Nobek was in agreement. He handed me a knife. “Then again, perhaps my Matara will take care of any disrespect herself. Observe.”

  We parried, much as we do at home now that Larten has taken over my training. There was no showboating. We went at it as we usually do, me with an actual blade and Larten with a non-lethal fake knife. I took him seriously though, remembering too many instances where I had needed to defend myself. It served me well, allowing me to nick him about half a dozen times before he called a halt after ‘stabbing’ me in the stomach. He’s so damned fast.

  Yet the kids watching us were wide-eyed with appreciation, telling me I’d done pretty okay against their instructor.

  Larten eyed them, his gaze cold. “Most Mataras are not trained to defend themselves. They’ll look to you to keep them safe. Earther Mataras face many dangers when they’re not on Kalquor. Mine learned to defend herself because of the trouble she faced outside the empire.”

  He paced back and forth, warming to his subject. “Even here on our home planet, the women might find themselves in peril. There is a Dramok my Matara met while on Earth. He developed an unhealthy obsession with her, to the point where he has abandoned his clan. Now he is on his way here to try and claim her.”

  The youngsters exchanged horrified glances. A few growls sounded.

  Larten responded with a slight smile, pleased with their anger. “That’s right. Even here, we must be ready to protect our clanmates. Danger lurks everywhere. You are the force that keeps those entrusted to you safe. This is why we fight.”

  Heads nodded, their gazes burning.

  “This is why we train.”

  Muscles tensed. Fists clenched.

  “This is why we must eternally be ready to die in the defense of those who shelter behind our strength.”

  Snarls. Growls. The hair on the back of my neck rose at the animal sounds.

  “Show my lifemate how we take care of our Mataras. How we fight for them.”

  The boys squared off. Their nonlethal practice knives, able to do little more than scratch, flashed. They attacked each other with a will, whether because Larten had actually incited anger or because they wanted to show off, I wasn’t sure. I found it to be an impressive display, though my own abilities were a touch more advanced than theirs. That had me feeling good about myself.

  Larten did too. Before walking around to comment on his students’ form and technique, he whispered to me, “I should have you show up every day. The young shits are taking it seriously for a change.”

  “If I did that, you wouldn’t have such entertaining stories to tell at dinner.”

  Larten chuckled and roamed the room to give one-on-one instruction to each of his trainees. For all his threats at home about turning the kids into Tragoom loincloths and throw rugs, he’s actually quite patient. Maybe it was because these were among the youngest of his students. Sure, he delivered a smack here and there to the back of the boys’ heads when they weren’t doing as well as they could have, but only when they weren’t trying their best. If somebody struggled with a particular technique, Larten took plenty of time to go over it with him. He didn’t belittle any them over mistakes they committed through inexperien
ce. He gave compliments when they were earned. My Nobek was tough but fair.

  I smiled at the kids at the end of class when they bowed to me. Then they were gone, whooping with delight to have made it to the end of the day’s instruction. Larten smirked at me.

  “You make even the young and foolish try to be better men.”

  “Then I corrupt them when they’re older.” I waggled my eyebrows at him suggestively.

  “Oh, I want to be corrupted. Come with me and show me some evil.” His grin stretched from ear to ear.

  I followed him the short distance down the hall to his office, which was long on utility and short on décor. Desk. Chairs. Computer. Desk com. Nothing else. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the attached lavatory, which included a shower. Clothes flew. Moments later, we were under the warm spray.