Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) (15 page)

She was not sure how to say it, but Xia seemed to understand. The Ixthian peeled her gloves off, went to the sink and began scrubbing her hands. She had no fingernails, Maeve noticed for the first time. All twelve digits came to smooth, soft tips. They looked fragile, but Maeve doubted that they actually were. The Ixthians were too large to sustain a proper exoskeleton, but their insectoid heritage had made their skin nearly as resilient as one. In a test of strength, Maeve's short, unpainted fingernails would lose out against Xia's smooth silver skin.

"No, Duaal and I aren't seeing each other anymore," she said. The doctor looked down at the soap streaking her hands rather than face Maeve's curious gray eyes. "He just outgrew me, I suppose. Duaal needed someone to take care of him, but that's a boy's need. He's a man now."

Maeve was sorry she had asked. "That must be painful," she said.

"It's not so bad," Xia said with a shrug. She dried her hands and smoothed back her white hair. "Duaal has his work and I have mine. We all do what we have to, Maeve."

"Did you love him?"

Now Xia actually turned to Maeve and smiled. "Not like you love that hard-hearted bounty hunter of yours," she said. "I've been meaning to ask you about that."

"You are changing the subject," Maeve objected.

"Only because I'm legitimately curious. You really should bring him in for a test. Logan's human. They're a resilient species. He's Prian, on top of it all. He could be carrying a dozen diseases that he doesn't even know about. Arcadian immune systems just aren't up to that sort of challenge."

"Oh." Maeve had not thought of that. "That seems wise."

Xia sat on the corner of the exam table and propped her elbows up on her long, thin legs. "And that's only one factor of biology."

Maeve wanted to hide behind her wings, but that was not very queenly. She put her hands on her hips. "Ixthian men are smaller than their women," she pointed out, remembering her embarrassing conversation with Panna. "But Duaal is nearly as tall as you are!"

Xia's teeth flashed in a short smirk. "True, but not what I was alluding to. Humans and Arcadians share a lot of genetics, but not enough. You and Logan can't have children, Maeve. Not naturally."

"I know."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Xia asked when she said nothing else. "You can never have a family with him."

"I have not given that much thought," admitted Maeve. "It seems so unlikely that we will live long enough for such concerns."

"With so few Arcadians left in the galaxy, maybe you should be considering your population a little more seriously."

Maeve lied that she would and then fled the medical bay.

________

"Can you hand me the um… the… um…"

"What do you need?" Logan asked.

"The U-wrench," Gripper squeaked.

Logan found it on the bottom tier of the huge toolbox and handed it up to the Arboran. Gripper's arm vanished to the shoulder into the vent.

"Even the heavy filters just can't handle this much feather fluff," he muttered. "I need to install a five gauge."

Gripper grunted and pulled the filter free, maneuvering it carefully out of the duct. The mesh was entirely covered in fine white down like snow. Logan passed up a new one. Gripper's tongue poked out from between his teeth as he examined the new filter.

"This kind is actually for the rear vents. I'll need to cut it down to size," Gripper said. He climbed down and began making measurements. He hesitated and looked at Logan. "I… You can go, if you want. I know the captain asked you to help out, but–"

"It's fine." Logan held the heavy filter frame steady as Gripper marked out the cuts with a stick of blue wax. "Maeve's busy and there isn't much piloting to be done while traveling SL. Duaal can manage that on his own."

"Oh." Gripper chewed his lip as he worked. "We only have a few more of these. Getting to Stray before we all choke on feathers is going to be close."

Logan nodded in agreement, though the mechanic was not looking. He watched Gripper work, neither of them speaking. The young alien sat cross-legged on the floor, hunched over his work. Large, powerful muscles bunched under his oil-stained shirt, knotted and tense-looking.

Logan was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "You're still upset about the Oslain'ii."

Gripper flinched and didn't even try to protest. "Yeah. I know I shouldn't be. They were trying to shoot us and all, but I never wanted to…"

He sighed and took a laser cutter from the dented green toolbox. Gripper flicked it on with a massive thumb and began cutting, wielding the tool with a grace that surprised Logan. The fine red beam sliced easily through the filter's metal frame.

"You didn't know," Logan said. "You were just doing what I told you."

"I know." Gripper turned off the laser and picked a file from his case. "The raw edges will tear up the duct lining if I don't smooth them down some. I told myself that it was your fault. For a while."

"I was sixteen the first time I killed," Logan said. He leaned against the wall beneath the open vent. He crossed his arms under the small of his back. His cybernetic arm scraped against the bulkhead. "Young, but not as young as some on Prianus. Jess was flying with a gang in those days. The Harrowhawks. It came down to a duel against her leader. I was too young and too broke to have a bird of my own, but Vorus loaned me his."

"Vorus?" Gripper asked. The file in his hand was not moving.

"My teacher. He ran the palaestrum where I spent most of my time. Vorus taught me to fight and how to fly a bird. A blue-banded falcon named Bella. On my command, she tore out the Harrowhawk boy's throat. His hawk gave me this."

Logan tugged the collar of his shirt down and showed Gripper a set of three faded lines that ran over his right collarbone. They were pale now, but had been livid red for more than a year after the duel.

"And then she went with you?" Gripper asked. "The girl?"

"Jess. Yes, she did. A few years later, we were engaged."

"To a girl from a gang?"

Logan pulled his shirt back into place. "Everyone on Prianus is with a gang at some point in their life. Even the cops. You don't survive long alone."

"So… are you saying I'm like the hawk?" Gripper dropped the file back into his toolbox. "That I… I just followed your orders? I'm not dumb, Freezer. I could have figured it out, what we were doing. I just didn't think about it."

"You're not an animal," Logan said. His voice was harder than he meant it to be. "We love our birds, but they're just animals. They just follow commands and kill when told."

"I don't get it."

"You're right, Gripper. You could have figured out that we were towing the Oslain'ii into the star," said Logan. He lifted the cut-down filter and held it out. "But would it have changed what you did? Would you still have done it?"

"I had to! That pilot was trying to kill us!" Gripper did not take the filter.

"So? One of us was going to die. But you get to decide which one. Choosing yourself is a legitimate option, Gripper. You could have died instead of becoming a killer. Plenty make that choice, even on Prianus. Not everyone has it in them to kill. But you fought."

"I had to," Gripper answered quietly. "We have to stop the Devourers, Freezer. We're trying to save the whole galaxy here."

"And you saved Maeve by taking out the Oslain'ii, Gripper, for which I'll always be grateful. We can't remake our choices. We live with the consequences of our actions and they make us who we are. We can only hope that we help more than we hurt."

Gripper finally accepted the filter and climbed up to wedge it into place. "I guess so," he said. The Arboran's voice echoed through the duct. "Hey… Thanks, Logan."

It was strange to hear his given name from the Arboran. It made Gripper seem older, somehow, but Logan doubted that it was just the sound of his name. Death changed a man, one way or the other. He and Gripper finished their work in silence.

________

"Queen Maeve, Dellan requests an audience."

Maeve groaned. The Blue Phoenix was not large enough to avoid Ferris forever. She sat at the dinner table with her chin in her hands. Her lunch sat half-eaten in a bowl, a rehydrated salad from Gripper's emergency stores. Maeve's stomach growled.

"Yes, I would be happy to see him," she said.

Duke Ferris bowed and went to get Dellan. Maeve finished her salad in a few large, hasty bites. Before she could take her empty bowl to the sink, an Arcadian woman swept it away. Another swiftly polished the table clean with a dishtowel. Clean as the old table got, at least. Maeve thought it might have been Malla, but the girl was gone again in a moment.

Panna stepped through the door that led up to the cockpit. She looked around the mess and then squeezed through to take a seat next to Maeve. "It sure is crowded in here," she commented. "What's going on?"

"Audiences," Maeve grumped. "I am not even permitted to tend to my own dishes. And Dellan wishes to speak with me, apparently."

"Well, I've told you that a queen can't do dishes," said Panna. "You don't think that King Illain did the laundry, do you? That was probably some nyad's job."

Maeve had no answer to that. Duke Ferris returned a moment later, leading Dellan, a middle-aged man who walked with his head down. He held one of his wings out at a stiff angle from his body. Dellan did his best to lower them before the dinner table where his queen sat. Maeve felt ridiculous.

"A'shae," Duke Ferris said. His expression was pinched and disapproving. "Dellan has asked to speak with you alone."

"Of course." Maeve could not imagine why Ferris might object and did not feel like asking. She looked around at the other fairies filling the room. "Will you please give us just a moment?"

Panna stood, too, and filed out with Ferris and the rest. When they were gone, Dellan rose slowly.
"Vaelin, a cerri,"
he said.
Thank you, my queen.

"Ai'li eru Aver?"
Maeve asked.
Do you speak Aver?

Dellan shook his head.
"No, Highness. I never learned."

It was not uncommon. How many fights between the Arcadians and the coreworlders had started because they simply could not communicate. If she was really a queen, could she change that? Institute some sort of… educational program? All the Alliance worlds had contributed to Aver and then learned the common language. Maybe the Arcadians could, too.

But was Maeve truly a queen at all? Her sudden monarchy was not out of any ability or sense of obligation, but because Panna and Duaal were sure that it was the only way to thwart Xartasia. Playing queen did not actually mean that Maeve could change anything.

Maeve realized she had not been listening to a word Dellan said. She sighed and apologized.
"Please say that again."

"It is Gael,"
Dellan said. He was upset – his hands clasped before him so hard that the knuckles had turned white – but it did not seem to be directed at Maeve.
"He has never… He is my friend, but Gael lost his whole family at the fall. He takes
Deep–" The name was spoken in heavily accented Aver.
"–to forget. He falls asleep for days at a time. Please, my queen… Can you help him?"

"Me?"
Maeve sat up and bumped her elbow painfully into the table's edge.
"How can I help him?"

"Speak to Gael, Highness. I beg you. He is here on your ship so he must believe in you, in the new kingdom that you promise. If you ask him to stop, maybe he finally will."

"I can try,"
Maeve said uncertainly.
"Where is he now?"

"There is one of the closets, full of cleaning things. It is small and dark and no one seems to go there much. He sleeps there when he has taken too much."

Maeve nodded and stood. Dellan bowed and followed her from the mess. The corridor outside was crowded by those banished from the audience. Ferris and Panna began to walk with her, but Maeve waved them off. The duke gave her another disapproving look, but Panna just shrugged and returned to the mess.

Maeve and Dellan made their way through the Blue Phoenix to a small door just down the corridor from the medbay. The tiny closet was all that remained of the larger storage room that had been converted for Xia's use. Maeve knocked on the gray metal door, but there was no answer.

The medbay door slid open and Xia's head poked out, silver antennae arched. "Anything wrong?"

"Maybe. Did you see anyone go in here?" Maeve asked.

Xia shook her head. "The closet? No. But I've been redprinting all of the new blood samples. I only heard you knocking because I was already on my way out."

Maeve held her breath and opened the closet door. There were shelves of bleach and hylox, all marked with peeling and yellowed labels. The lower shelves held boxes of sponges and a splitting mycolar bag of old rags. At the bottom of the closet was the curled-up lump of an Arcadian, limbs drawn close and wings wrapped around his skinny body. Dellan let out a low, unhappy moan.