B00CH3ARG0 EBOK (27 page)

 He stared at the man. With a small gesture, he signaled to
his head guard. Vidar busied himself at his console. “You will find that your
engines and weapons are disabled,” the Sural said. “Perhaps the Kekrax will
assist you.”

Vidar broke the connection. Shaking his head, the Sural left
to return to Marianne.

* * *

 “Took you long enough,” she muttered, sparking with irritation
as he entered the sleeping room in his quarters. He lowered himself onto the
mat beside her. She leaned back against his chest and pulled his arms around
her. “Rub my belly,” she ordered.

As he complied, he cast a pointed look at Cena, who was
sitting on her heels near Marianne’s knees.

“She is progressing quickly now,” the apothecary said.

“Not half fast enough!” Marianne cried as a contraction
peaked.

“Breathe,” the apothecary said.

Marianne glared through the pain. “If you weren’t increasing
yourself,” she grunted, “I’d kick you.”

“If I were not increasing, I would permit you,” Cena replied
in a mild voice. “Relax, high one.”

“I am relaxing!”

“No, you are not.”

“Yes I am! If I say I’m relaxing, then by God I’m –
gaaaaaaaaahhhh!”

The Sural rubbed.

* * *

“And you say the recordings clearly show the Sural ordering
the ship disabled
after
being informed that we’d consider it an act of
war?” the voice asked.

“He didn’t order it explicitly,” Wallingsby answered. “He
told us after it had been done.”

A hand banged on something hard. “Damn it all, we were well
within the window of opportunity! Enough of this – it’s time for stronger
measures. Send in the
Macedonia
.”

“Sir, Admiral de Causans informs me that an attempt to reach
Tolar is unlikely to succeed. Their mysterious protectors appear capable of
concealing themselves from our scans. And they do appear to be more
technologically advanced than we are, as Citizen Woolsey originally asserted.”

“The V’kri trade restrictions make it imperative we develop
a base in the Drift – and the Beta Hydri system sits, unclaimed, right in the
middle of it. The Tolari will bargain with us, or they won’t, but we
will
have that space. In the meantime, I want Woolsey back in our hands, and I won’t
be embarrassed in front of the Trade Alliance over a matter of securing our own
citizens.”

“I—” Wallingsby swallowed. “I’m afraid it’s too late for
that, sir.”

There was an icy silence. Then, “What did you say?”

“The Terosha and A’an’ governments insisted upon placing
their regional representatives on board this vessel, sir. If we attempt an
extraction now, it will be very hard to hide it. Given time, I may be able to
negotiate the terms we’re looking for, or we may have to wait until the Tolari
ambassador is of age to treat with us. And we might still be able to get the
information we want – either from Woolsey or … other sources. But…”

“But?”

“Sir, where’s the profit in this? I’ve read Woolsey’s file.
Why are we risking so much for a schoolteacher?”

A long silence greeted that question. Wallingsby went cold,
wondering if he’d made a mistake.

“She’s the only human being who’s been around the Tolari for
more than a week,” the voice said, finally. Wallingsby’s stomach unclenched. “And
she’s been there
nine years.
She has to know by now where their damned
camouflage comes from. If we had that, it would let us put our agents in a hell
of a lot of more places, not just the Drift. Once we’ve pulled all the useful
information out of her, we can figure out the key to managing this Sural. And
if controlling him fails, we’ll know who to work with to unseat him.”

A faint rustle of papers came over the comms. “You have your
brief, Wallingsby.”

* * *

The shaking was starting again.

In his office on Tau Ceti station, the Chairman looked once
more at the high-resolution images in the file.
Why are we risking so much?
He
glanced at the diplomatic dossier the Terosha had provided. This Sural had been
in power for 200 years standard, at least – and four times he had become obviously
younger, as had two of his advisors. The appalling, bug-like Terosha didn’t
notice, or if they did, they hadn’t known what to make of it. This human did.

Life extension was nothing surprising; lots of races had
that in some form. It was also uninteresting, especially if those with enough
experience and power to do something really useful ended up living on as
decrepit, pitied… things.

But rejuvenation – that was something else. It would cause
riots across the Six Planets if people approaching the age of 150 or so heard of
it. But they didn’t need to know. Now that Security had spotted the same key facial
changes in Marianne Woolsey as they had in the Sural – they would get her back,
and take her apart, molecule by molecule if necessary, to see what the Tolari
had done to her. And he had no doubt the Sural had done something to keep his
little human plaything around for a while. But the
Macedonia
was fully
capable of getting the job done – or else conducting a punitive expedition that
would turn the castles of Tolar into ash.

From his desk, he took the double-sealed and verified strip
of derm-patches and applied them beneath each collarbone and under both arms.
The shaking eased, but at a cellular level, his body still knew.

He needed a new life.

* * *

“Push!” Cena said.

Marianne scowled. “I
am
pushing!” she yelled.

“Harder.”

“I can’t!”

“You can,” the Sural murmured in her ear. “Lean back against
me. Take my arms. Push with all your strength.”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

A guard flickered. “NOT NOW!” the Sural thundered at him.

* * *

Vidar regarded the display. The huge Earth Fleet command
carrier was moving. The Sural refused to be distracted from the impending birth
of the Marann’s child and gave no orders. He pondered what to do. The Sural might
simply destroy it, he knew, but being only a guard, he had never been trained
to kill.

Eyes narrowing, he studied its trajectory as it turned
toward Tolar. If he disabled its engines at the proper moment, momentum would
carry it into the gravity well of the seventh planet, a colossal gas giant. The
humans would have days before the ship’s orbit decayed enough to put its crew’s
lives in danger. He nodded to himself as he prepared to disable them.

The carrier continued its turn and engaged engines.

* * *

An outraged wail filled the air. Shaking, crying, and
laughing all at one time, the Marann cupped the little face of her daughter as
Cena placed the newborn on her stomach. It was, the apothecary thought
gratefully, an uneventful birth.

“Happy birthday,” Marianne whispered in English.

The Sural glowed, seeming not to notice the tears trickling
down his cheeks.

Cena continued her work and directed an aide to clean up, as
a nurse took the newborn to wrap her in a soft blanket and replace her in her
mother’s arms. She sensed the infant reach for her mother’s bond to commune as
she nursed. The Sural, his protective instincts ignited by the cloud of
pheromones wreathing his bond-partner, wrapped his arms and his senses around
them both.

Ordering a nurse to monitor them, she helped her aide in the
cleaning. The Sural did not seem inclined to move, and the Marann began to
drowse, still leaning back against him, her newborn daughter snug against her
breast. A servant placed a large, heavy bolster behind the Sural’s back, and he
relaxed against it. Presently, all three slept.

Just past the midday meal, Marianne awoke, starving. She
kissed the warm, sleeping bundle in her arms, wondering where the Sural had
gone.

Then she caught a good whiff of herself. Hungry though she
was, she
needed
to bathe before she went anywhere. Leaving her daughter
into the arms of the watchful nurse, she went into the bathing area. Emerging
afterward much refreshed, she found the nurse insistent upon carrying the baby.
“You may find the walk to be sufficient exercise, high one,” was all she would
say.

Marianne did have to admit she had a point, when she arrived
in the refectory feeling like she’d run a race.

Laura, sipping at some tea in the nearly empty room, was quick
to appropriate the baby. “She’s
beautiful
,” she cooed. “Long, too. Going
to be tall like Papa.”

Marianne shrugged. Laura chuckled, turning her attention
back to the newborn, murmuring soft nothings. The Sural arrived from wherever
he’d been and detoured to drop a kiss on Marianne’s forehead.

“I heard the first meal you eat after having a baby is
fabulous,” Marianne said. “I have to say – it’s absolutely true.” She bit into
a piece of fruit and closed her eyes in bliss.

Laura looked up from the baby and smiled. “It was certainly
true for me,” she said. Her eyes misted a little.

Marianne put a gentle hand on her arm. “How
are
you,
really? I don’t think anyone expected you to react to the blessing the way you
did.”

The other woman wrinkled her forehead in thought. “It’s not
what I expected either. But the trick is cold.” She patted a pocket. “The
icepacks help. They feel
very
good.”

The Sural took his seat at the head of the high table and
interrupted them. “It may be necessary to extend the interdict until Earth
changes its course.”

“You’re not going to get anywhere with Central Command as
long as the Chairman is in power,” Laura said. “The man is mad.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “He is persistent.”

Marianne looked from the Sural to Laura and back. “What are
you two talking about?”

“Earth sent a command carrier,” the Sural explained. “It
stationed itself in the cometary belt while a diplomatic liner representing
Central Command moved closer and demanded I return you to them. I refused and
disabled the liner. A short while later, the warship left.”

Marianne winced. “All this, while I was having the baby?”

“Yes, beloved.”

She sighed and kept eating.

“Here,” Laura said, changing the subject. She carried the
baby over to the Sural to lay her in his arms. “I know you want to hold her.”

He smiled his thanks and gazed at the tiny infant, stroking
her shock of black hair with a finger. “She resembles Kyza,” he murmured.

“She should,” Marianne said. “They’re sisters.”

Laura returned to her chair. “So what are you going to name the
little beauty?”

Marianne glanced at the Sural. “Rose.”

The Sural smiled and opened his mouth to say something. Kyza
and Thela interrupted him by stampeding into the refectory, late for their
midday meal. They stopped short when they saw the bundle in his arms.

“Father!” cried Thela. “Is that the Marann’s child?”

“Yes, daughter,” he said. “Come look if you like, but be
gentle.”

Kyza and Thela crowded around him, cooing and giggling and
peppering him with questions. “What did the Marann name her?” they asked. “Was
she born this morning?” “How fast will she grow?” “When will she be big enough
to walk?” “Will she be the Marann someday like Kyza will be the Suralia?”

 He answered their questions until their appetites eclipsed
their interest, and they wandered over to the trenchers of food near the
kitchens.

Marianne felt a stab of hunger through her parental bond. Rose
made a face. “She’s getting hungry.” Marianne eased herself out of her chair.

The Sural glanced at the nurse, standing quietly nearby. “I
will carry her to your quarters,” he offered, standing and proffering an elbow.
Together they headed for the corridor, the nurse trailing behind them.

Laura finished her tea. “I think I’ll take a walk in the
garden. It’s nice and cool out there today, and that really does help.”

“Stop by my quarters later if you like,” Marianne called over
her shoulder. “I’ll tell the guards to expect you.”

She turned and bumped into the Sural, who had stopped just outside
the doorway. Storaas stood in the hall before him, one eyebrow raised, studying
each of them in turn. His eyes moved from Marianne to Rose to the Sural and
back.

“You have something to say, old friend?” the Sural asked.

Storaas clasped his hands behind his back. “You have a
parental bond with this child.”

The Sural went still, surprise running through him. He glanced
at Rose and back at Marianne. She sensed him probing, and his eyes widened. He
stared at Storaas.

“The bond with the mother appears normal and healthy,”
Storaas continued. “Astonishing. I have never seen this. Perhaps a result of
being bonded to the mother and so intimately involved with the birth.”

“Well,” said Marianne, “as much as I’d like to continue this
discussion, I need to sit down, and Rose needs a feed.”

She headed toward her quarters, pulling the Sural along with
her, sensing Storaas’ gaze following them down the corridor. In her quarters,
she made room on a low divan and snuggled into her beloved while she fed Rose. He
wrapped his arms and his senses around them both.

A guard flickered. Marianne groaned. “What do they want this
time?”

The Sural pulled out his tablet and studied it. He gave her
a squeeze, stroked Rose’s hair with a gentle finger, and stood. “I must go,” he
said. “The heir to Nevenar has arrived.”

“Never let it be said that the Neven permits a little thing
like the birth of a child to get in the way of trade.”

“He does rarely miss an opportunity to gain advantage from
distraction.”

She snorted. “You’d better go.”

“I will return as I can.” He strode out of the room, nodding
to Storaas, who had appeared in the doorway.

“Proctor!” she said. She put Rose on her shoulder to burp. “Have
a seat.”