This Gulf of Time and Stars (6 page)

R
UTI
DI BOWART SQUIRMED
in her seat, her luxurious hair catching glints from candlelight as it twitched in sympathy. “I should be in the kitchen, not out here.”

Feigning horror, Barac regarded his Chosen. “Don't let him know, or you will be.” Him being the massive alien heading their way between the tables, one great handling claw balancing a loaded tray, the other clenched with incongruous delicacy around a single flower.

“I promise.” Dimples appeared on her soft round cheeks.

Dimples he loved, among all else. The joy of it still amazed him. To have his emptiness not only filled by another, for any Joining would do that, but filled with—

Those kissable cheeks took on a hint of rose as Ruti shared his thought. Her eyes sparkled.

—love, like any besotted pair of the Humans he'd once thought fools. Not a Clan expectation. Not a Clan priority or need. Having discovered this feeling, having Ruti . . .

Who were the fools? Barac thought.

His cousin Sira's doing, this ridiculous contentment. And Jason Morgan. Not to mention Huido.

“Stop! It's not on the menu!” Huido lifted his claw to save the flower from the beak of a Chincomih. “Stupid grasseater. Go
graze somewhere else!” This while his tray-laden claw swung wide for balance, just missing the heads of a pair of Threems at the neighboring table. “GO!” The bellow sent the Chincomih and its five companions galloping for the exit with bleats of outrage, their napkins fluttering from their concave chests.

“Oh, my.” Ruti put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile.
He really shouldn't.

You try to tell him that,
Barac responded. The Carasian wouldn't admit to being sentimental, and few, seeing his servo-sized bulk for the first time would credit it, but since Barac's and Ruti's Joining, he'd insisted on bringing a fresh rose, a very expensive fresh rose, to their table.

The special attention might be because he'd introduced them to one another, but Barac suspected it had more to do with their
grist
—for Huido's species could sense something of the Clan in the M'hir. Theirs was, they'd been told repeatedly, exceptional.

Midstride, Huido stopped. “Do you smell that?” he asked in an anguished whisper most of the restaurant could hear.

Ruti wrinkled her nose. “What?”

Eyestalks bent to aim at the tray. “This isn't right. This isn't right at all!”

Barac's stomach growled to say yes, the food almost in reach was not only the right food but theirs and could they have it?

Ignoring the sound, Huido spun in his tracks. “Come with me! Both of you. We will accost my misery of a chef about her/his mistake together. We will demand satisfaction!”

“That's not—” The “necessary” died on Barac's tongue, for his Chosen had leaped to her feet, eyes flashing with indignation, and then there was nothing for it but to grab up their bags and follow the incensed Carasian wherever he was leading them.

Most of the other customers did their utmost to ignore their passage, rightly fearing to put their suppers at risk.

One turned her head to follow, smiling.

She wore a hat.

“P
ARTY
HATS
,” Morgan whispered.

I peered at my Chosen, seeing little more than the glint of his eyes. “What?”

A sigh. “I forgot them.”

Given the five of us were crouched on either side of the door to the restaurant, ready to ambush poor Barac and Ruti, I couldn't see how hats would help, but I made a sympathetic noise.

“What are party hats?” Rael whispered from behind me.

“Human custom,” I replied automatically. How many more my fellow Clan would accept before protesting, I'd no idea, but they'd followed along in good spirits so far.

Remember playing 'port and seek?

My own childhood was decades past and dimmer than the lights, but Rael's wistful tone made me smile.
I remember you and Pella refused to stop for lessons.

A bright and happy memory.

I'd others. Of hiding in the dark, running, waiting. My heart thudded in my chest. I remembered waiting, alone, to die.

Not alone, Sira. Never alone.
A hand found mine, gripped tight; he'd found me then, too.

Together,
I agreed.
Always.

Wordless
warmth
dispelled the cold of the past. Then,
Someone's coming.

I passed the warning to the others, felt their
anticipation.
Morgan, ever the optimist, had instructed us to jump up in unison and shout “surprise!” when the door opened. In practice, Rael had shouted before jumping, startling Agem so badly he'd 'ported to the other side of the table. Hoping for the best, I readied myself.

The surprise was ours. The door that suddenly opened, admitting a flood of light, wasn't to the restaurant, but Huido's own, and though the silhouette filling in that doorway was unmistakably Carasian and two following behind humanoid?

They wore uniforms.

The room lights came up. I straightened with the rest, the flicker of alarm crossing Morgan's face proof he hadn't invited Trade Pact Enforcers to our family occasion.

Though these he could have, I thought, starting to smile. The short, stocky woman with bright intelligent eyes was Sector Chief Lydis Bowman, while at her side—as usual—loomed Constable Russell Terk. Gray battle armor showed at the collar of Terk's uniform but instead of any obvious weapons, he carried a pink box under one arm, tied with sparkly green ribbon.

Bowman, after a swift glance that took in balloons, egg-festooned webbing, and the table, spoke first. “My apologies, Captain Morgan. Guests. We hadn't planned to interrupt—”

The other door opened. In rushed another Carasian, with another two humanoid figures, this time Clan. As the door shut behind them, there was a momentary pause. Our three groups eyed one another, the Carasians having the advantage of being able to eye everyone at once.

Barac's “What—?” overlapped Ruti's “Who—?” They closed their mouths and stared.

“Surprise!” Agem shouted.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Huido bellowed, snapping a claw at his nephew. “You were guarding the door!”

Tayno, clearly feeling himself on some moral high ground, dared bellow back. “I found Ruti's parents!”

“Idiot.” Terk was built as close to a Carasian as a Human male could be, his uniform straining at the shoulders. He scowled, an expression well suited to a face made of planes and harsh lines. “Don't you recognize us?”

The Carasian hesitated an instant too long.

“My nephew truly is an idiot, friend Terk,” Huido admitted. “Tayno. Pay attention. These fine beings have no
grist.
They are Humans. Important ones! This is Sector Chief Lydis Bowman and Constable Russell Terk.” More sternly. “You insult them with your ignorance!”

Tayno collapsed on the floor, claws splayed out to the sides. “Crush me, Uncle! I am unworthy!”

Before Huido could be tempted, Morgan rapped a knuckle on his shell. “We'll need two more settings.”

“Are those?” Bowman looked at the eggs, then shook her head. “Won't ask.”

“You will join us, won't you?” I asked Bowman.

“Join us in what?” Barac asked, perplexed. During the bellowing, he'd taken Ruti to greet his parents and Rael. “Sira?”

Oh, this wasn't my doing. I turned to Morgan and waited.

His lips twitched. “This is a family occasion,” my Human said smoothly. “Barac, Ruti. We've come together to celebrate—”

“‘Family'?” Ruti's face went ashen. “My parents—why would Tayno think my parents were coming?” Hair lashed her shoulders. “What occasion is this? Barac, they can't be coming here. They can't have her. You promised—”

Taking her hand, my cousin looked at me.

Something was terribly wrong. One day, maybe, we'd look back at this first Clan-Human baby shower and laugh, but right now, all I could see was Ruti. I went to her, took her hands in mine, and
reached.

Emotion battered me.
FEAR! Protectiveness. Betrayal/grief.
Outwardly she appeared upset, but inside, where it counted, Ruti was close to irrational. The M'hir roiled with her distress and I could see Barac wince as he tried to protect himself.

I extended shields around her mind, lowering those between us.
Tell me,
I sent.

Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, but Ruti was strong. Somehow she calmed herself, managed to form words.
They want my baby, Sira. They'll take her from me as soon as they can. Keep her on Acranam. Hide her away. I'LL LOSE HER!

My fury at the former rebels wouldn't help, so I kept it to myself.
You won't.
I let her feel a brush of my Power, my will.
I won't allow it. Trust me.

She swallowed hard and nodded, hair subsiding.

We do.
Barac. He put his arm around his Chosen's shoulders, his eyes fierce, and if Ruti's parents discounted his ability to protect his own, I thought, they'd learn otherwise.

It wouldn't come to that. “This is a baby shower,” I told them, aware of Morgan at my side. “A Human custom where family and friends welcome a new life.”

“Even you?” Barac hadn't lost his fierce look.

Oh, and didn't I feel Rael's attention then?

I refused to flinch. “I've asked our people for”—there was no easier word—“restraint, but that's to ensure a future for all. Including your daughter.”

“For whom we've gathered,” Morgan put in.

“Our feast awaits!” Ever the vigilant host, Huido seized his cue with gusto. He leaped into noisy action, herding us to the table and summoning servers from the kitchen. Tayno, having not been crushed, roused to fetch the chairs from the corner for Bowman and Terk.

In honor of the “occasion,” Huido, at the head of the table, set Barac to his right, Ruti to his left. Wordlessly, Terk moved his chair to the end, sitting where he could watch everyone. We were friends, of a sort; we certainly had history. It wasn't that he didn't trust us, I thought. It simply wasn't in the constable's nature to lower his guard.

Ousted from his spot at the table, Tayno settled without argument by the beverage cart, perhaps just as happy to be farther from his uncle. Or closer to the beer: he wasted no time pouring a glass into his handling claw, eyes parting to allow that appendage to tip its contents into the hidden cavity Carasians used for a mouth.

Enora, joy lighting her face, sat between Barac and Rael. Across
from her, Agem was so frankly delighted to be next to Ruti that the young Clanswoman soon warmed to his attention. I'd thought to sit across from Rael, but Bowman arrived there first, leaving Morgan and me the seats to either side of Terk.

Once everyone settled, Morgan rose to offer a toast, giving Ruti a tender smile. “To family, friends, and the future.”

“To success in the pool!” Huido bellowed, shaking the water in the tabletop tank. “But eat first!” he advised coyly. “You'll need your strength.”

Barac blushed, Ruti laughed, and suddenly, it was an occasion after all.

Whatever was being served in the
Claws & Jaws
that station evening was nothing compared to what was on our table. Course after course arrived, each offering as irresistible as it was exquisitely portioned and timed. Bowman, known for her love of fine food, saluted Huido with a finger to her forehead and if not for his recent molt, I was sure Huido would have swollen from her praise and ours.

There was conversation, light-hearted and aloud. By our custom, it was rude for Clan to converse mind-to-mind in front of others; I was gratified to see my heart-kin extend that courtesy to the aliens. Only Terk didn't join in, but he paid attention, of that I was sure, and wasn't drinking.

Morgan leaned over the table, blue eyes sparkling. “Where are you putting it all?” he whispered.

“There's nothing wrong with enjoying an excellent meal,” I informed him, loud enough that Huido broke out in a laugh. Much as I loved my new life, the
Fox's
galley supplied sustenance, not this level of satisfaction.

My Chosen chuckled, understanding completely, and turned back to catch what Ruti was saying at the other end of the table.

I loosened my belt in anticipation of dessert.

Bowman leaned close. “I'd like a moment of your time, Speaker,” she said in a low voice. “In private. We need to talk.”

I lost my appetite. So much for being legal, I thought with an inner sigh. Next time, we'd sneak aboard. “How did you know about—?” I waved my fork.

Terk looked up. “There's a Lemmick,” he volunteered around a mouthful. “Level 3.”

“Spinward ¼,” I finished. So much for secrecy.

The top authority in the sector leaned back comfortably. “Glad to help celebrate. They—” a nod to the head of the table, “—deserve to be happy.”

Morgan glanced our way. “Agreed.”

“Been a while since my last baby shower.” Bowman took a sip of her wine and cocked an eyebrow. “Could use some party hats.”

My Human feigned chagrin, the other Humans chuckled, and none of it was real. Oh, I believed Bowman thought kindly of Barac and Ruti.

But she'd come for me.

The rich food sat uneasily in my stomach as I wondered why.