by S. L. Viehl
Her mother—the one—
A streak of yellow-white flashed before her eyes, and the sound of a guttural male voice rang in her brow.
Here she is. Wedged herself into this conduit somehow. Grab her flukes.
Liana was pulled from the tight restriction and out. The water was still around her, but it was dark and too cold. She could see nothing, not even the smallest glimmer of light. She heard no sound but the harsh voice snapping out words she did not understand. Something jabbed her in the side and she released a pulse crying for help.
Mother. Mother where are you mother mother—
Here. A heavy body bumped against her own. Be silent.
Liana’s sore, bruised hide told her what her eyes could not. Someone had wrapped her body in cords. Another, much wider cord covered her eyes. Her veils strained at the confinement, but the cords were too thick and made of something that cut into her hide when she twisted.
It took a moment to understand that the place she had been before had only been a dream. What has happened?
It was not her mother who answered her, but Nerala, the female captain of her mother’s transport. We have been boarded by mercenaries, my lady, she told Liana. They have taken over control of the ship.
The strange taste was still strong on Liana’s tongue, but she knew what it was now: Ylydii blood. It made her want to retch, but she clamped her throat shut and held it so until the surge passed.
What do they want with us? she asked Nerala when she could safely speak.
The female captain began to answer, and then cried out. The blood in the water grew stronger, and a limp, heavy weight struck her side.
Please, Liana thought as she pressed her body to the captain’s bleeding, still form. Please, please let them kill us quickly.
CHAPTER 3
A na Hansen was already awake when she felt the sleeping platform depress and reshape itself on the empty side, but she kept her eyes closed and her body still. She could feel the exhaustion weighing down her lover’s body, dulling the sharp edges of his highly analytical mind. She also knew why he felt the way he did.
Fifteen hours on shift. Five more in surgery. Something went wrong.
It was times like these that she was glad she could sense other people’s emotions, mental states, and often their thoughts. She would wait until he fell asleep, and then she would slip out of bed and dress for her work shift.
“I don’t have to be empathic to know you’re awake,” he said, his voice a weary rasp.
Ana rolled over and looked into William Mayer’s face. Morning sunslight wasn’t kind to his weathered face or thinning silver hair. Luckily, she didn’t adore him for his outward appearance. “You ruined my plan.”
“You make plans at”—he glanced at the room panel—“oh-four-twenty-eight in the morning?”
She had already taken four signals from her colleagues on the pending Peace Summit, but she only nodded and snuggled up beside him. “I was going to attack you as soon as you fell asleep.”
“Don’t be gentle.” He moved her onto his chest and dropped his head back against the pillows. “Whatever pain you inflict, I probably deserve it.”
Defeat came through the waves of fatigue. “Bad night?”
“I fully intended to be here in time to take you to whatever reception we had scheduled,” he said, and released a sigh. “Right before the relief cutter reported for duty, my nurse brought back a neck injury. Turned out to be a reconstruct who had tried to refit his cranial case mounts and cut four inches into his own brain stem. When I walked out of surgery, it was daylight.”
Ana’s medical knowledge was basic, but she knew reconstructs only had a brain and a short length of spinal tissue. The remainder of their bodies were constructed, mechanized alloy chassis that provided physical support for the organic parts. “Were you able to save him?”
“No, I lost him three hours in. There was simply too much wound area to repair, and the damaged cells were dying faster than we could regenerate them.” His dark eyes filled with self-disgust. “I should have—”
“Shhh.” She pressed her fingertips against his mouth. “You did what you could. You always do.” She stroked his brow. “Go to sleep.”
His arms tightened around her. “Stay with me until I do?”
Ana’s first meeting that day was scheduled to begin in ten minutes. She knew it would take her three to dress and five more to drive to her office. Then there were the briefs to read over, a thousand more details to coordinate for the Peace Summit, and signals to send and receive. She should have left for work thirty minutes ago.
Instead, she nodded and stayed where she was, her cheek pressed over Liam’s heart, and listened as the strong, heavy beat slowed. Only when his breathing became deep and regular and his grip loosened did she ease out of his arms and slip from the bed, touching the form control on her side so that it mimicked the shape of her body.
She hated leaving him like this, as much as she hated coming home to an empty dwelling. Yet when her shift was over, he likely would be back at the hospital, operating on someone else.
It won’t have to be this way forever. As Ana put on her makeup, she calculated the remainder of her tenure on the Colonial Council. In another cycle someone else would be elected to take her place, and then she would have more time for herself. Once the surgeons quadrant had recruited transferred in, Liam would have fewer professional demands. That would be the time to really start talking about what direction to take with their future. . . .
What future? Why was she kidding herself?
Ana jerked her tunic over her head. She had to be realistic. From the beginning of their relationship, they had been forced to make appointments simply to see each other. Thinking to give them more personal time, Liam had agreed to move into her quarters, but their shifts seldom coincided so they were hardly ever home at the same time. Simply sharing a meal or a conversation proved a daily challenge.
Ana loved Liam, but she was under no illusions about where she stood in his life. First there was preserving the health and welfare of everyone else on colony, then came time with her. She couldn’t even blame him for it, as her attitude toward her own responsibilities was the same. Colony business always came first, her personal relationships second. Their mutual attitudes were realistic, direct, and perhaps even admirable.
What their attitudes cost them as a couple made Ana often wish she could slam her head into a wall panel.
Ana signaled her office to tell her assistant that she was going to be late, but there was no answer. Carsa, a Triburrin who had recently undergone transgendering to become a male, had never been late before. Naturally he would be today, the one day she needed him at the console to juggle the endless stream of signals and data coming in about the Peace Summit.
Maybe Carsa decided to linger in bed with his new mate. Ana smiled to herself, picked up her data case, and quietly let herself out the front door panel.
As she drove to Colonial Administration, Ana considered what life would have been like for her if her first love, Elars, had not been killed. They had been so young when they mated, and Elars had had very definite ideas about their future.
“I know Terran females are much more independent than those of my species, but I would like my mate to devote herself to being our family caregiver,” Elars had said. “Does that make me a terrible prospect as a husband?”
At the time Ana had been happy to throw herself into the traditional role of a Venyaran mate: caring for their home, preparing their meals, and looking forward to bearing their young and raising them. Elars had died before he could give her children, however, and in her grief the only solace Ana had was in finding a job on a newly established multispecies colony, far from the world she and Elars had loved.
When Ana arrived on K-2, she had thrown herself into her work, allowing it to fill her every waking hour. Now it had become her life, and it was forcing the man she loved as much as Elars to take second place to it.
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br /> He understands. He understands, and he will still love me even when I’m not there.
Ana saw that she was more than a quarter hour late by the time she reached her office, and as a result rushed to get to her console. “I don’t have time for coffee this morning, Carsa,” she said as she hurried by the front desk.
“I’m not Carsa.”
Ana came to a complete halt and stared at the being sitting behind her assistant’s desk. “You’re not.” She hesitated and peered through the shadows. Whoever it was, it was humanoid, and possibly female. “Were you Carsa?”
“No.”
“Lights.” Ana felt her heart sink as the overhead emitters illuminated the unsmiling face of a young female. A very young, attractive female.
A very young, attractive, undeniably Terran female.
“I’m not actually scheduled to begin until tomorrow, but I thought I would stop in on my way to orientation,” the young woman said in a mellow, pleasant voice. She offered her hand. “You must be Administrator Hansen.”
Ana shook her hand and was vaguely startled to realize that here was one of the rare humans from whom she could pick up no emotions or thoughts whatsoever. “Come into my office.” When they were inside, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Let’s see, where to start . . .”
What was Jurek-sa thinking, replacing Ana’s extremely personable assistant with this child from her unpleasant homeworld? Surely he remembered how horrible most Terrans were. With the Peace Summit only a few rotations away, the last thing Ana needed now was a new office assistant.
“Perhaps I should give you a quick overview of your duties.” Maybe that would scare the girl enough to send her running for the next transport back to their homeworld.
“That won’t be necessary. According to the slot profile, I will be acting as your personal assistant, coordinating your schedule, communications, and data flow,” the new assistant stated. “My other duties include processing pertinent information relating to new transfers, existing residents and, for the next interim, Colonial Council business. I have been cleared with a T-5 security rating.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Are there any additional duties of which I have not been made aware?”
“We’re about to conduct a multispecies, interplanetary Peace Summit. In orbit.” Ana watched her expression, but it proved as unreadable as her thoughts. “Perhaps you haven’t realized this, but you’ve transferred to a planet populated and frequented mainly by aliens.”
“Yes.”
“That would be two hundred thousand aliens, originating from four or five hundred different worlds.”
The younger woman didn’t bat an eyelash. “I knew K-2’s colony was a multispecies settlement prior to making my transfer application.”
“You are Terran, aren’t you?” Sometimes crossbreeds deliberately hid their alien characteristics so they could pass better as purebloods, although generally that practice was only so they could maintain permanent residence on the homeworld. With the exception of a few species that preferred to keep their gene pools unsullied, nobody off Terra much cared what mixture of DNA anyone else had.
Light brown eyebrows arched. “Born and raised on Terra; certified 100 percent pure human-blooded via DNA scans, which I was given every year since gradetech. I can provide data verification, of course, if you’d like to review my disks.”
“I don’t mean to imply—I mean, no, thank you. Why did you choose to transfer here?”
“It seemed a desirable destination. Administrator, if my being human presents any difficulty for this office, please feel free to request my transfer to another department.” The new assistant made a graceful gesture. “I will not be offended.”
Now that was a nice way to turn this whole thing around so that it was Ana’s personal problem. She felt a grudging respect for the polite yet straightforward way she had done it, too.
“Since you’re being frank, I’ll do the same. We have only seventeen Terrans residing on K-2, and with the exception of you, me, Dr. Mayer from the FreeClinic, and Dr. Selmar from the Underwater Research Dome, none of them were raised on the homeworld.” Ana smiled to take some of the unhappy emphasis off the last word. “Most of us have or have had alien mates.”
The younger woman merely nodded as if absorbing the information.
Ana was beginning to admire her unshakable demeanor. It was truly a shame the girl was a Terran; she had the makings of an excellent diplomat. “You may see yourself as having the type of intrepid or pioneering spirit capable of handling so much alien interaction, but . . . may I be frank?”
“Please.”
Ana tried to think of something a Terran would consider horrific. “I can’t have an assistant who screams the first time a slime-coated Rilken slides a sticky tendril up her skirt to see what she has under it.”
“Should I find myself in such circumstances, I would gently discourage the Rilken,” her new assistant told her. “I never scream.” She tilted her head. “Do you dislike other Terrans, Administrator?”
“No. My best friend is a Terran. So is my lover.” She sighed. “They are the exceptions. It’s true that I don’t think much of homeworld Terrans. Or their prejudices.”
“Most Terrans assume any member of our species who mates with an alien is a sexual deviant who should not be allowed near small Terran children.” Mild eyes moved to inspect the wedding photoscan on Ana’s desk. “Should I make that assumption about you, based solely on what I’ve been told?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then perhaps you will extend the same courtesy to me.” She rose. “It is near time for me to report for new transfer orientation. Please feel free to contact Administrator Jurek-sa and request another assistant, if you so desire.” She gave Ana a polite smile and slipped quietly out of the room.
Ana was tempted to call after her, but instead prepared for her meeting over at security. She couldn’t run a background check on the young Terran woman, much less request Jurek-sa give her a reassignment.
She had no idea what her new assistant’s name was.
Chief Norash’s small, shrewd eyes narrowed as Shon walked into the briefing room. “You’re wet.”
“I was picked up at the beach after I’d been diving,” he told the chief of K-2’s colonial security forces. “If you’d like me to report dry and in uniform, try having your officers pick me up when I’m actually on duty.”
Norash idly used his extended nasal appendage to scratch a spot on his thick yellow-and-brown-streaked hide. “What I meant was, to be more precise, that I thought you were hydrophobic, Major.”
“I was.” A few months ago Shon’s fear of the water didn’t allow him within a hundred yards of an ocean. “I got over it.”
“Maybe you’d care to share your secret.” Norash nodded toward the Trytinorn compound on the outskirts of the colony. “My mate can’t convince our son to bathe more than twice a week.”
“Is he an adolescent?” At the chief’s nod, Shon suggested, “Try bribery. Some with a great deal of sucrose or some other tooth-decaying substance he’s not permitted to have very often.”
“May I never have to repair the teeth of your children.” Norash’s floor groaned slightly as he shifted position, coming around his console and inspecting the data displayed on his terminal. “You’ve heard about the Skartesh?”
“Some.”
“Administration tells me that they’ve decided they won’t speak to—or through—anyone but you.” Norash checked the time. “Ana Hansen was supposed to join us for this briefing, but she’s late. Blasted civilians never can keep to a proper schedule.”
Shon wasn’t fooled by the Trytinorn’s attempt at camaraderie. “Whatever you or Admin have in mind, the answer is no.”
Norash eased his hindquarters into a special harness that allowed him to remove some of the weight from his legs—the Trytinorn equivalent of a chair—and gave Shon a mild look. “That’s a fairly adamant statement, considering what
you were willing to do before the cult was disarmed.”
“My assignment to impersonate Rushan Amariah was over as soon as the invasion of Ninra was defeated,” Shon reminded him. “While my SEAL augmentations cannot be reversed, and I will resemble a Skartesh for the remainder of my life, I have no valid reason or motive to continue playing a role for the cult.” He looked up as a fair-haired Terran female entered the office. “Administrator Hansen.”
“I do apologize for being late. This has been one of those mornings.” Ana handed each a disk. “Copies of the Skartesh Elders’ latest communication. Text only, I’m afraid; the compound has disabled their audio and video.” She gracefully arranged herself on the edge of one of the chief’s oversized chairs. “To give you the short version, the cult has decided to maintain their position on the separatism issue. They’ve also elected you, Major, as their species representative and colonial liaison, effective immediately.”
“I respectfully decline, Administrator.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I was hoping you’d accept the position, at least on a temporary basis. You were the main reason our mental health counselors were so successful in helping to deprogram and reeducate the cult after the invasion. It was also your idea to have the Skartesh make amends to the Hlagg.”
Since a Skartesh riot accidentally released thousands of different Hlagg insect life-forms from their sealed embassy into K-2’s biosphere, the Hlagg and the Skartesh had been working together to track and contain as many of the insects as possible. The Hlagg’s unique symbiotic relationship with their insects enabled them to control the tiny creatures through vocal intonation, but on their homeworld they had never been obliged to hunt them.
Shon had been the one to suggest to the dismayed Hlagg ambassador and the embarrassed cult Elders that the Skartesh, with their highly developed senses of smell and hearing, might serve as excellent scouts. Over the last several weeks, the cult’s best hunters had been out tracking for the Hlagg, and many thousands of the escaped insects had been successfully recovered.
