Rediscovery (34 page)

fascinated by the strange world she glimpsed in those thoughts—a world where there seemed to be so much luxury, and yet so little that was luxurious. A world bounded by a strange sort of austerity, but one in which the individuals had so much wealth. Ysaye herself had so much freedom—and yet, had so few choices. In that way, perhaps, and in their love of music, they were very alike.

It was confusing, and yet intriguing.

She lost Ysaye, though, in the woman’s fear for her friend’s well-being—and

when she touched Ysaye’s mind again, she shrank back from the strange and sensual images she found there. She had withdrawn so quickly that it had not even occurred to her that the man Ysaye had been with might have been her brother.

Until Lorill himself had called her, confessed what had happened, and begged her to see that all was well, that his seduction—however
kireseth-inspired
and controlled—

had not been discovered. He had the feeling that the star folk, unfamiliar with the powers of the pollen, might not take that as an excuse.

Alarmed by the precarious position in which he had put himself, she had

complied. As Ysaye rose from her bed and staggered to the ship and the healers there, Leonie saw that she thought the encounter with Lorill was only a dream— something inspired by illness.

She breathed a sigh of relief, but dutifully stayed within Ysaye’s mind until the healer helped the star woman, convinced that all would be well.

Until
those
words.

She withdrew, hastily.

Lorill’s child.
First Hastur child of this generation; infinitely precious, the more so as Ysaye was obviously gifted with
laran
in abundance, and so the child would likely be gifted as well. She, Leonie, would certainly never bear a child; it was up to Lorill to continue the Hastur line. By
nedestro
children, if necessary, although many children by a proper
di catenas
bride from the Domains would be preferable. But any child of Hastur blood was to be nurtured and welcomed; doubly so in these days, when so few had
laran
in full measure.

She bent her will on Lorill, waking him from where he slumbered in his bed in the guest quarters of Castle Aldaran. He tried to shove her sleepily away, but her words shocked him to full wakefulness.

Your folly with the star woman has resulted in a child,
she said shortly.
It cannot
be ignored now, not by them, nor by us. You must go to Father and tell him, then return
to Aldaran and confess your part in the situation.

He gathered his scattered thoughts, and tried to marshal them.
How? How can

they know it was
—

Don’t be foolish,
Leonie snapped at him, feeling horribly older and wiser than he, her twin.
This child is a
Hastur,
we can’t ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist! Besides,
she remembers some of what happened. When she becomes sensible, she’ll realize that it
wasn’t a
kireseth
dream, it was you after all. And where did she get the pollen all over
her, anyway?

I don’t know; somewhere in that building, I think. When she got the other woman

—
Elizabeth was acting like she‘d been standing in a Ghost Wind, too.
Lorill seemed dazed.
What am I supposed to do?

Claim the child, of course!
Leonie replied impatiently.
How can you not? It’s a
Hastur, we must take it and rear it properly
—
perhaps we can foster it with
—

But what if Ysaye wants to keep it?
Lorill replied unexpectedly.

She has no right
—Leonie began.

They’re not our people,
Lorill reminded her sharply.
They don’t follow our laws.

Even a Hastur could not order the girl-child of a Renunciate into his keeping; their laws
could say that disposition of the child is only the mother’s right. If she wishes to keep it
and raise it herself, there is nothing we can do about it. She can even take it away into
the stars if she chooses
—
in fact, that’s probably what she will choose. She doesn’t like it
here, much.

The very idea shocked Leonie to the core. That the woman might
take
a child of Hastur blood, not only to keep it from its father, but to take it away where it could not be properly reared and educated—

There was only one thing to do. She would have to reveal herself to Ysaye; to

make friends with the woman, and then convince her to give over the child when it was born. It would mean close contact with the alien’s mind. It might mean witnessing some uncomfortable—perhaps even frightening— things. Thoughts that were as alien to her as any nonhuman’s. And she would have to make a special effort to learn to like Ysaye as much as if the woman were her best friend—you could not lie mind-to-mind, and she sensed that Ysaye would only release something as precious as her child into the hands of someone she liked and trusted.

None of that mattered. There was a Hastur child at stake.

She steeled herself, broke off contact with her stricken brother, and prepared to touch Ysaye’s mind again.

The doctor had done something to improve her condition somewhat; Ysaye was

agitated, but much more coherent, and no longer so disoriented. The doctor had left her for a moment.

Now, if ever, was the time to reveal herself.

Ysaye?
Leonie said, carefully, as Ysaye jumped, startled by the voice in her mind.

You don’t know me, but I am Lorill’s twin, and there is much we have to talk about….

“I can’t believe it,” Elizabeth said, dazedly.
“Ysaye?
Pregnant? But how? By whom?” “Believe it,” Aurora said grimly. “She’s just as pregnant as you are; according to the computer, you probably conceived within a few hours of each other. As for how and with whom—we were hoping you’d be able to tell us that. She is your best friend, after all.”

Aurora at least had the courtesy not to say what Elizabeth herself was thinking; that if Ysaye hadn’t refused the birth control implant “for religious reasons” none of this would be happening.

Aurora’s colleague, Doctor Darwin Mettier, was not so charitable, or tactful.

“If Space Services would make birth control implants mandatory for both sexes

until couples had permission from the Service to start a family, this could never happen,” he said coldly. “And if this woman had thought about her safety and her duty first, instead of her religious scruples—”

“Hasn’t she told you anything?” Elizabeth interrupted, still bewildered by the

news, and feeling increasingly uncomfortable during the angry tirade.

“Nothing coherent.” That was Darwin again, who was the specialist in internal

medicine. “She keeps talking to someone named ‘Leonie,’ and all we know for certain is that she is adamant about taking this pregnancy to term.” He obviously did not approve.

“That’s all very well for someone—you, for instance—prepared to start a family and stay in one place for a while. But she’s needed on this ship, here and now. Her duty is to
us,
not to some whim of passion.”

“That insistence doesn’t surprise me, given her psychological profile,” Aurora

added. “And her background. Frankly, I was expecting her to ask us to sew a big red ‘A’

to all of her uniforms.”

“That would only be applicable if she’d been married,” Elizabeth pointed out

absently, so bewildered by the situation that her mind whirled with trivialities. “I can’t believe it. What is she going to do with a child? The Service is a hard place for a single mother.”

“Make that ‘impossible,’” Aurora snapped.

Elizabeth was already wondering if she and David should offer to adopt the baby.

She knew Ysaye disliked this place as much as she liked it; and the baby would keep Ysaye bound to the planet for two years or more. Darwin obviously disapproved of the fact that Ysaye would not be leaving with the ship…how could two babies be that much more trouble than one? Ysaye would be planet-bound for the nine months of the

pregnancy, but if negotiations and construction bogged down, the ship could be delayed here for that long anyway.

“That’s going to be the least of our worries,” Darwin replied harshly. “I’m far

more worried about keeping her alive. Do you have any idea how badly allergic she is?

Even if we do get quick orders to terminate this pregnancy, she might not live through it.”

Elizabeth blanched. “Is it that bad?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Darwin, a muscular blond who would have looked more at home on the

stevedore’s dock, shrugged. “She’s in a full allergic attack, and there is only so much we can do for her without killing the embryo, or malforming it. Frankly, in my opinion—

which Aurora doesn’t yet share—I think she’s reacting allergically to the flood of hormones nurturing the embryo as well as whatever triggered the attack in the first place.”

“I can’t see how she could be,” Aurora argued. “It’s not in any of the literature—

how could she be having a reaction to hormones which exist in her body all the time in smaller amounts? Women have been having children for millennia without having

allergic reactions to the natural chemicals which enable us to bear them!”

“Aurora, you know how sick she gets every month, don’t you see—it seems

obvious there could be a connection—oh, never mind.” Darwin shrugged, and turned back to Elizabeth. “You’re sure you can’t tell us anything? The father, whoever he is, should at least know what’s going on.”

Unspoken, but his thought that Elizabeth picked up clearly and she couldn’t help but agree with—
The father should be brought to account for this. It’s his responsibility,
too.

“Positive,” Elizabeth replied. “Other than that I’m not too clear on that evening either.” She flushed, remembering her intoxication and the incredible sexual arousal that had followed it. “There must have been something in the wine—”

“There’s something else. You went off with Ryan Evans, didn’t you?” Aurora

asked sharply. “Did he slip you anything? Give you anything to eat or drink?”

“Why, no!” Elizabeth replied, shocked, and unable to fathom why Aurora should

ask that question. “No, he was just going to give me some tips on dealing with the natives—we met at his greenhouse, and he showed me some flowers, and that was when his beeper went off. I hardly spent any time with him at all. Why?”

Aurora just shrugged and wouldn’t answer the question. “Never mind. I doubt it

was anything other than a hallucination. Maybe there was something you and Ysaye reacted to that the rest of us didn’t. With her touchy allergies, I can well imagine that.

And for you, the attack could have taken the form of euphoria.”

Again, there were thoughts that Elizabeth read coming from Aurora; not as clearly this time, however. Something about Ysaye insisting that Ryan Evans had drugged—

her! With the intent to seduce her!

Clearly that must be a hallucination. Ryan was David’s friend. Ysaye didn’t like or trust him, though—that was probably why she had imagined such a thing. It was easy, if a person was hallucinating, for mild suspicions to turn into horrid certainties.

“Can I see her?” Elizabeth asked timidly. Even though Aurora was her friend

outside the medical facilities, inside the sickbay the doctor was nothing but a

professional authority. And Darwin was just as aloof, if not more so.

Aurora shook her head. “I don’t know. It might not be a good idea.” She looked

over to Darwin for confirmation.

He shook his head in a firm negative. “We want her isolated. She’s hallucinating about talking to this imaginary Leonie, and about hearing a baby crying in pain. You people with your telepathic nonsense are only going to encourage her in that set of delusions. We need to calm her hallucinations, not reinforce them.”

“But what if she—” Elizabeth stopped before she finished that sentence. What if

Ysaye
was
speaking telepathically with a “Leonie?” Wasn’t that what Lorill Hastur, who had left for the Domains this morning, had said his sister was called? Lorill and Ysaye had been talking quite a bit at the party; perhaps that had made a kind of bridge for Leonie to contact Ysaye directly. He’d also told Elizabeth that his sister was a much stronger telepath than he was, how could it be so outlandish to think that Leonie and Ysaye might have contacted each other, especially if Leonie was curious about the star-faring Terrans? And what had begun as curiosity might have continued out of

compassion; sympathy for Ysaye’s plight, and a wish to figuratively “hold her hand,”

since the doctors were keeping her isolated from her friends.

And as for hearing her unborn child—there were countless instances of mothers-

to-be communicating with their children in the womb. Of course, those were all

subjective experiences, however well-documented, and Elizabeth feared that the so-logical Doctor Darwin would hardly find them convincing. How would a Darkovan

feel? She wished she knew.

Darwin and Aurora were looking at her as if they expected her to finish her

question. So she asked the first thing that came into her mind.

“What if she doesn’t get better?”

“Then we’ll have to terminate,” Aurora said, unhappily.

Elizabeth made a small motion of protest with her left hand, as her right cupped her still-flat stomach protectively.

“There won’t be a choice, Elizabeth,” Darwin added. “It’s a choice between a

productive member of the Service and a bit of protoplasm that isn’t more than potential yet. It’s Service regs. When you signed on with the Service, you made the Service your
de facto
next-of-kin and legal guardian in cases like this; it’s in the contract. For the good of the Service, and for Ysaye’s good, if the decision has to be made,
we
will make it, never mind what Ysaye wants. She’s not in her right mind, anyway.”