Discovery (26 page)

He was glad that he could tell her now. He stayed at her side, holding her hand, stroking her hair, until she fell asleep. Leaning in, he kissed her temple and adjusted the covering, frowned over the rough brown-tinted fur that made her look so much like a dark skinned Folonar. One last detail before he left: a tiny biomonitor for her upper arm. Thank the Goddess this was over. She was safe.

~~

When Povre knew she was alone, she opened her eyes. She blinked and rubbed at them, trying to bring back the moisture. She remembered that day her father had described, remembered it well. How H’renzek had raced from camp and had not returned until much, much later. How he never told her anything but her mother had an accident, and had been killed. How he changed. Part of him had died that day, too.

She understood now, more than ever.

She reached for the tiny monitoring device, which would signal she needed medical attention with the slightest change in her heart rate, respiration, or temperature. After removing it, she gave in to the huge sobs she’d swallowed. Sobs for the pain she caused her father—for his unending grief over Silpova. And most especially for her loss.

When she, emotionally exhausted, finally fell asleep, all her dreams were of Kent.

* * * * *

“HAS PHYSICIAN VORZ CHECKED
her yet?” The Kemmerian captain set aside the small computer pad with the morning reports and swiveled her eyestalks fully on H’renzek.

“Povre insists she’s fine. The stress exhausted her. Her chemical balance and mineral levels were upset and depleted more rapidly because of it.”

“It’s been twelve days, and she’s still not herself,” insisted the captain.

“She grew fond of the human male who helped her.”

The captain’s soft pink coloring deepened. “Fond?
Fond?”
Her tentacles rose toward her bulbous head. “Oh, so
now
you tell this part…are you sure
fond
is all? It makes
perfect
sense now. Of course, being a male, you can’t see the eyes in front of your face.” The captain’s long, flexible eyestalks lowered her milky orbs in front of her face in demonstration. “I see this all the time in the mammilian races, especially in Sirgel and Folonar.”

H’renzek held back his irritation. “I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”

“No, of course not. She acts like a female in love, H’renzek.”

“No! Povre cannot be in love. Surely she wouldn’t make that mistake. She was gone for only three days!”

“Mistake? Was it a mistake when you met Silpova, and five hours later were Life Mated?” She eyed him disapprovingly. “I know enough about Sirgels to know better, H’renzek. Your people hold the record for sighting in and falling in love with one’s life mate among any of the Affiliated Races. It is a known fact. Your daughter, Dr. Povresle, fell in love.”

“But he’s...human.”

The captain shrugged. “Not that different from your people, as far as I’m concerned.”

H’renzek’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what this means, Captain.”

“Oh yes, my old friend, I do. It’s my job to know.” Her voice darkened with sympathy. “Poor Povre. She is so young to go through her life alone.” Her colors rippled in the Kemmerian equivalent of a sigh. “You met this male?”

H’renzek nodded. “He seemed…honest.”

“I see.” The pause before her next question suggested some difficulty in asking it. “About Povre, did he show any—?”

H’renzek’s hands clenched into fists.
“Feelings?
I suppose. He appeared distressed. He wanted to come with her.”

The Kemmerian made a sound of sympathy. “The poor boy.”

H’renzek looked her directly in the eyes. “The Folonar say most humans find another to love after a time.”
Am I trying to convince her? Or myself?

“Think, Commander. He must be unique. The people on the planet below, for the most part, have displayed consistent and significant difficulty accepting relationships even between different appearing people of their same species.”

She stopped right there, although H’renzek guessed she wanted to voice more personal opinions about the more dominant societies below.

“This individual, however, fell in love with
another
species. He looked beyond her surface, just as she did his. Based on past record of the humans, this is unusual. Despite Povre’s horrible experience with those—” The Kemmerian paused again, scrambling for a tactful term, no doubt.

By her mottling and tone of voice, H’renzek knew she felt about as diplomatic as he did over that incident. Her position as Ship’s Captain, however, demanded she make the effort.

“With those others,” she decided at last. “His action gives me hope for their future.”

“Povre still cannot say enough good things about him.” For the first time, he considered the deep consequences of this discussion. If Povre were indeed in love, her life would be as lonely as his since Silpova died. “It can’t be so,” he said softly. “Impossible.”

One of the Kemmerian’s tentacles reached and caressed H’renzek’s cheek. “No parent likes to admit their offspring will be deprived of a partner.”

H’renzek pulled away from the touch. “He couldn’t come. We couldn’t take him.”

Since his words were more question than statement, the captain agreed. “No. Against all policy. Unfortunately, it will just have to be a result of her poor judge—
disregard
of orders. In which case I would say she punished herself.” The Kemmerian leaned close. “But talk to her. Find out for certain. Perhaps it was merely a deep fondness, and this will pass.”

* * * * *

“HEY, POVRE, I BROUGHT
you some
lege’an
. Your favorite.” Jenn slid the plate with the steaming vegetable concoction, along with a beaker of tea, near her friend’s elbow. Although she had just eaten, the aroma made Jenn’s mouth water.

“Jenn, how thoughful. Thank you.”

Jenn watched as Povre glanced at the colorful, tempting array, leaned closer for an appreciative sniff. Jenn had prepared the dish herself, and had taken the time to artistically arrange the steamed, spiced vegetables with some, hard, flat wafers made from ground
miv
seeds and a crunchy leaf as a garnish.

“This plant grows on the planet,” said Povre, sending Jenn a smile as she fingered the crunchy leaf.

“What do they call it?”

“I don’t know. I wish I remembered to ask. Kent would have liked to know we grow some of their plants for food because they adapt so well to the growing conditions on the ship.”

“Well…eat it before it gets cold.”

Jenn fretted as her best friend dawdled, taking another sniff, snitching a tiny piece of a leaf. Povre’s appetite for normal food had eluded her. And Jenn was gettiing worred. She’d caught Povre snacking on the alien plant cuttings and vegetable samples destined for study, and that couldn’t continue. Someone was sure to ask why all the samples were disappearing.

Then Povre made a strange gulping sound. Before Jenn could say anything, her friend pushed herself back from the workstation, flung herself from her chair, and nearly bowled over a Lazorta technician in her haste to reach the head.

“Povre?”

“Povre run, all times,” grumbled the bruised Lazorta. Like any other member of its race, the voice rumbled as if from a deep cave. “If not run to heave, run to eliminate.”

“Eliminate what? From what I’ve seen, and what H’renzek tells me, she’s hardly eating anything at all!” Jenn marched to the door. “Povre!”

The sound of retching was the only reply Jenn heard.

Jenn felt real worry squeeze her guts. Sirgels rarely vomited. Maybe she picked up some germ from the planet they still orbited. Maybe some injury had been overlooked. The only thing that made Povre this violently ill, in Jenn’s knowledge, was use of the Teacher.

“Has she used the Teacher?”

“Not know,” shrugged the Lazorta.

“Pov?”

The door slid back. Hollow-cheeked and dull of eye, Povre swayed for a second. Her fingers grabbed for the handhold to either side of the portal.

“Povresle, talk to me!”

Her friend straightened and offered Jenn a very sickly smile. “I’m all right.”

“Like the Goddess who birthed us all was a male you’re all right,” snorted Jenn, taking her arm. “I’m taking you to the ship’s physician.”

“No, Jenn,” pleaded Povre. “I’m just
tired
. I’m not—” She jerked from Jenn’s grip and spun back toward the head. Another Sirgel crewmember was just about to enter, but Povre bowled her back, not even muttering an “excuse me please.”

Jenn arrived on Povre’s heels in time to prevent their crewmate from falling and hurting herself.

“We’re going to have to assign Dr. Povresle to her own relief area if this keeps up,” said the older woman, a navigator.

“You mean this has been going on for more than today?”

The navigator nodded. “You and the other science teams have been on the surface these past two weeks. Trust me. People’ve been avoiding this section of the ship when Povre’s here. I should’ve know better. I’ll go aft.”

Povre chose that moment to emerge. No sign of anything amiss remained. “I hope it didn’t get too cold. I’m really hungry,” she announced brightly to Jenn. “Oh, Nykar, I’m sorry for being so rude.”

“Forget it,” said the navigator kindly, but shook her head and hurried off.

* * * * *

PROFESSOR KENT XAVIER
.

The words, in print, on his desk, on his office door, hell, even on his letters…didn’t bring the thrill Kent once thought they would.

His phone rang, and he tucked it between his shoulder and chin as he answered. Pushing his laptop aside, he reached for his notebook and a pencil.

“A Dr. Landreau to see you, Kent,” said Redfern from the lab.

Landreau. Landreau. Oh. Maybe he was the naturalist from France who wanted to convince Kent to be a part of that new book project on the Cascades.

“Send him over.”

Mercy Redfern’s voice sounded resentful. “He’s a
she
,” said the undergraduate, and from her hostility, Kent guessed Dr. Landreau was drop-dead gorgeous. A small smile twisted his mouth.

“Whatever,” replied Kent, bored. His restless pencil moved over the blank paper before him. He closed the notebook as his visitor entered.

She was beautiful. Model tall, immaculate, flawless. She moved into his cluttered office and took a seat without waiting for Kent to rise or ask. She lifted an expensive-looking leather briefcase to her lap and snapped it open.

“Nice to meet you, too,” said Kent without humor.

Her narrow, penciled eyebrows rose. “Professor Xavier,” she said, in a delightful accent, “I was informed to be brief and to the point, and not to stand on formality.”

“Kent,” he said. “And Ms. Redfern was mistaken.”

“Ah, I see. A defense mechanism. She targeted me as a threat.” The newcomer nodded to herself and then eyed Kent. “Am I?”

“Not in that department.” He rose, coming around the desk with his hand extended. “Kent Xavier.”

“Dr. Michelle Landreau.” Her handclasp was cool and dry. “We are still two busy people, so in any case I will be brief. I have several questions to ask.”

“This isn’t about the Cascades project?”

She smiled, her tinted lips curving. “No.” She sat her briefcase on the one clear spot on the desk before Kent planted his butt there.

He shrugged and returned to his seat. “So why are you here?”

“I represent the Extra Terrestrial Intelligence Search, surface division.”

His smile faded. “Yeah, so?” He hoped his casual tone didn’t sound forced.

“You have had a contact, Professor Xavier?”

He laughed. “A contact? With what?”

“An extraterrestrial.” She didn’t smile or laugh in return. Her dark blue eyes locked with his in steady regard.

“Aliens?” His laugh turned to a snort. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“It is natural to be in denial after the fact. However, allow me to assure you that we will not regard your story as crazy, or insane, and what you tell us remains in confidence. We are not representatives of any government or military.”

Kent tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Look, sorry you had to come all this way for nothing. I don’t know who’s been feeding you such bull, but I haven’t met any aliens. Big, small, gelatinous, green, white with gold eyes, carving images in cornfields, or otherwise. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but I really don’t have time for this.”

Landreau leaned her elbows on his desk. When she moved, it was with startling swiftness. She had his notebook before Kent could react, opening it to the gap the pages made around his pencil.

“She is beautiful,” said Landreau, placing the pencil on the desk with a precise hand. “We wished so much to meet with her.”

“Yeah? To what? To keep her against her will? Study her like a chimpanzee or rabbit?” Too late he curbed his damning words. Too late he tried to control the angry flush spreading over his face and neck. He hadn’t even been aware his pencil had sketched Povre’s exotic features.