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Nightflyers ISBN 9781419920127 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Nightflyers Copyright © 2009 Isabel L. Martens Edited by Meghan Conrad Cover art by Dar Albert Electronic book Publication July 2009 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
NIGHTFLYERS Isabel L. Martens
Isabel L. Martens
Prologue Portland, Oregon “Oh, great,” Tess said in disgust. “Neat,” her grandfather chuckled. Two rows over in the mall parking lot a huge inflatable designed to look like a spaceship sat with one leg cocked up on the roof of a red coupe. The other two legs were embedded in the asphalt. The inflatable gave off realistic-looking jets of vapor and an engine-like hum. It teetered a moment before the person in control managed to turn it just enough for the leg to slide off the coupe and onto the asphalt with a resounding metallic clank. A bystander applauded. “Probably a used car dealer,” Tess muttered. The recent increase in UFO sightings had resulted in what she considered a universal case of space crazies. Difficult to believe when all the scientific knowledge of the world had not come up with a propulsion unit that would allow for the blink-of-aneye speed required to travel to the outer edge of their own solar system, to say nothing of hopping to neighboring ones. And no one had managed to capture one of the “alien” ships. As far as Tess was concerned, until someone with impeccable credentials actually touched a UFO and talked to the occupants, she would continue to regard them as the creations of overactive imaginations. A hatch opened and a narrow ramp slid out onto the pavement, allowing half a dozen individuals in ankle-length gray robes and helmets with opaque face plates to glide into view. That was certainly a new twist. She regarded the inflatable with a small measure of respect. The thing had to be well made to accommodate moving parts and passengers. The debarking individuals wore backpacks of faux air tanks and corrugated tubing attached to the back of their helmets. Well done but all standard sci-fi stuff, although the gliding walk was unique. They moved like they were on wheels instead of feet. “Neat costumes,” someone said, laughing. “Do they expect anyone to believe that’s real?” a youth sneered. “Good acting, if you ask me,” a man in coveralls said. Tess agreed. Whoever had done this had gone to a great deal of trouble. The tall gray-robed actors were well rehearsed. They spread out and approached the gathering crowd of curious onlookers, each carrying a slim black rod with a hand grip obviously intended to be viewed as a weapon. They didn’t say a thing. Just started nudging people with the rods and motioning them toward the ramp. Some of the shoppers went
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willingly, falling in with the script. Others refused, too busy for such foolishness. The willing ones laughed and joked as they climbed the ramp. “Could be one of those screwball television shows.” “Maybe we’ll get tickets to tomorrow’s ball game.” “More likely we’ll get a twelve-pack of toilet paper.” “A fellow can always use toilet paper.” There were snickers of agreement. A woman, tugging a small boy by the arm, admonished him for being rude to the actors. “They’re dorky,” the boy insisted. Someone jostled Tess and she caught a whiff of sour sweat and a long avoidance of soap and water. She didn’t need to turn and look. She’d gotten familiar with the odor of the unwashed homeless while working in the hospital’s ER. They panhandled in mall parking lots throughout the city, reminders that not everyone had jobs and homes and families. The ship gave off more tiny puffs of vapor and the humming sound changed to a higher pitch. Tess felt a twinge of uneasiness slip across the back of her neck. The rude little boy, hanging back as his mother attempted to hurry him along, pointed a toy gun at one of the actors and fired. The toy gave a loud bang, spurted flame and filled the air with the smell of burned gunpowder. The actor’s rod made a soft popping sound and flashed a light so bright it made Tess blink. The boy’s lower body exploded in a blood-red mist that hovered in the air for an instant before settling on the asphalt. For an endless instant there was absolute silence. Then the boy’s mother screamed. Pandemonium erupted. “Fuck!” the panhandler behind Tess growled. Another soft pop silenced the woman. No one could scream with only half their head. “Oh my God!” Tess lost her grip on her grandfather’s hand, jostled by the milling crowd, and found herself face to face with one of the gray-robed creatures. They weren’t actors, but what they might be was beyond the grasp of her stunned mind. He—it, whatever, motioned toward the ship with his weapon. She backed up. “No way!” “Leave her alone,” her grandfather demanded as he tried to push back through the crowd and rejoin her. Tess tried to go around the gray-robed figure, but another one blocked her escape. “No!” she protested. Her grandfather stumbled and fell, landing hard on his arthritic knees. “Let me through,” she demanded.
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The gray-robed glider brought his weapon level with her face. Frantic, she pushed forward, stopping only when strong arms locked around her waist and pulled her out of the line of fire. His smell surrounded her as he shoved her toward the ramp. “Put me down!” “Shut the fuck up!” Two of the aliens converged on them, making escape impossible. “Tess!” her grandfather shouted. He’d struggled to his feet and tried to reach her. The crowd milled around, panic setting is as those in the front grasped the fact that the bodies sprawled on the pavement weren’t going to suddenly rise up, brush off and walk away. They were missing parts. Were totally, hideously dead. Those in front pushed their way toward the back, their places immediately filled by people craning their necks to see what was going on. The whole thing was surreal, something out of a comic book. Gliding aliens in helmets herding people into a spaceship that had landed in a mall parking lot? Impossible. There had to be another explanation for all of it. There had to be. She just had to get loose so she could find it. Find her grandfather. She kicked against the hard, muscular legs propelling her toward the ramp and dug her fingernails into the hairy arms circling her. He didn’t even flinch “Let me go!” “You want to come out of this alive, you’ll shut the fuck up and be damn glad I’ve got a soft spot for redheads!” That said, he clamped a wide, filthy hand over her mouth. She continued to struggle, but he pinned her against his chest making escape impossible. “The old man’s as good as dead,” he told her. “Now shut up and move.” He shoved her up the ramp. Dead? She stumbled into the semi-dark interior of the ship. Hot, humid air rank with the stench of feces and vomit overwhelmed her. She gagged. “Don’t you fucking dare!” the man said. The other people who’d come on board were huddled together just inside the craft, eyes glazed, mouths slack. Jets of strange-smelling yellowish mist pulsed around the open hatch. “Don’t inhale that stuff,” her captor ordered as he pushed her past the vapor. Then he snickered. “Unless you want to be stoned like those poor bastards.” She held her breath and stepped through the opening only to find herself on eye level with an egg-shaped reddish-brown creature hanging by fur-covered tentacles from the roof of an acrylic cubicle. The cubicle on her other side held a mound of dark fur with multiple unblinking yellow eyes. Reality settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. A scream bubbled up her throat. She had to get out of here. Now! She clawed at the panhandler’s arms, digging in with her nails.
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“You keep this up and you ain’t gonna have to worry about these bastards blowing holes in you,” he growled in her ear. “I’ll kill you for them. Now settle!” He’d shifted the hand he had over her mouth to include her nose and cut off her air supply. “You make one more fucking sound and I’m done with you. Understood?” She should be so lucky. She nodded and he took his hand away allowing her to take in a badly needed breath. The stench made her stomach lurch. “You puke and I’m gonna hit you alongside the head,” he promised. She nodded and swallowed, knowing that in a few minutes her nose would become accustomed to the stench. Never doubting for an instant the sincerity of his threat. Two more people were herded up the ramp followed by their captors, weapons at the ready. No one showed any inclination to rush to the captives’ rescue. A conveyor moved an empty cubicle to the end of the ramp where they stood. The door slid open and they were forced inside. Her personal captor drew her into the far corner and sat down on the floor, drawing her down with him, sitting her between his legs, his arms still around her. The blast of a claxon produced a chorus of alarmed wailing from the occupants of the cubicles. Hoots, barks and clicks mingled with howls and screeches. The hanging things in the next cubicle rolled into balls hugging the ceiling. The ramp retracted and the hatch closed, muffling the sound of approaching sirens. “Trust the fuzz,” her unwashed captor said. “Too little too late.” For an insane moment, Tess visualized the call that had reached the 911 operator. “There’s a spaceship in the Sandberg Mall parking lot and a bunch of aliens are abducting shoppers.” “Yeah, right, and what have you had to drink today, sir?” The ship vibrated. Tess felt her stomach lurch. His muscular legs wrapped around her. “Hang on.” He patted her shoulder and she felt strangely comforted. “We’re going to die!” a middle-aged man whimpered. “Are we?” Tess asked. “Not right away.” He jerked a thumb toward the ceiling of their cell. “They’re giving us air.” “How do they know what we breathe?” He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “If they’re smart enough to build space ships figures they’re smart enough to know what we breathe. Name’s Arnie, by the way.” “Tess. Tess Lockhart.” “Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you.” “I completely understand,” she replied.
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A businessman, seemingly unaware they were airborne, went to the door of the cubicle and pounded on it with his fists. “You need to let me off,” he shouted. “I have a two o’clock meeting at the Hanford Building.” Tess stifled a giggle that perched somewhere between giddy hysteria and mindless terror. They were lifting off the ground in what could only be an alien spaceship and he was worried about a two o’clock appointment? Totally insane. “Idiot!” a woman on a cell phone snarled. She snapped the phone shut. “He doesn’t believe me. We’ve been captured by aliens and he doesn’t believe me!” Then reality took hold and her anger gave way to eye-glazing terror. She began to scream in a chilling, endless wail. Tess started to get up, intending to go to her, but Arnie pulled her back down. “Hey!” she protested, trying to shake off his hand. “You don’t want any part of that,” he said. “Why not? She’s hysterical. I could help.” “That’s why.” The alien nearest their cubicle fired his weapon. The flash of bright white light passed through the acrylic without harming it. The woman’s body exploded. The residue of blood and tissue hung in the air for an instant before it cascaded to the floor. Tess sank back against Arnie’s broad chest. “There’s times to volunteer and there’s times not to,” he said. “And that was a not-to time,” Tess managed hoarsely. “Right.” The ship began to shudder. “Oh God!” she whimpered. “What’s happening?” “Probably leaving Earth’s atmosphere. Gets bumpy. Ain’t you never seen no space movies?” “They’re make-believe.” “Apollo 13 was historical,” he said indignantly. “Pure fact. I seen it ten times easy.” She gave a bleat of semi-hysterical laughter. He pulled her close. “You’re okay. I’ll keep you out of trouble.” “This isn’t trouble?” she managed. “As long as we’re alive, it ain’t permanent trouble.” He had a point. She relaxed slightly. “We’re gonna get through this. All you gotta remember is that a screw is a screw and it don’t matter if he’s wearing official navy blue or a gray nightie. Same rules apply and I know them all. Number one is no sniveling. Do everything you’re told to and don’t cause them no grief. For now we want to be invisible.” “How do you know?”
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Laughter rumbled through his chest. “I’ve spent more time in jail than out. I’m a fucking expert.” He looked around. “Hell, I’m probably the only expert here.” He seemed to find that enormously pleasing and his barrel chest shook with silent laughter. “You follow my lead and we’ll come out on top of this deal. Wait and see.” How could anyone think there was a “top” to this? “I wonder where we’re going,” she said aloud “We’ll know when we get there,” he said philosophically. Then he chuckled. “Bet Georgie Lucas would give his left nut for a look at these guys.” In the cubicle beyond the fur-covered things with the tentacles was a single pile of black fur. It took Tess a moment to realize it wasn’t one anything, but a group things wound together like a ball of string and occasionally blinking large yellow eyes at her. On the other side, reptilian creatures with red-orange scales, colorless oval eyes and flicking tongues circled their cube, moving in single file, like a string of animated beads. Beyond them, upright insects huddled in a cluster clicking their mandibles. Purple praying mantises that stood upright? Definitely not earthly. Tess closed her eyes, her beleaguered mind unable to assimilate anything more. The small space between Arnie’s knees and arms had become a haven. A sobbing breath escaped her. “You’re gonna be okay,” he promised, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “You said there were rules,” she said, desperate for something to occupy her mind besides her growing terror. “Tell me what they are.” “Okay. The big one is stay alive no matter what. Dead men can’t escape.” She nodded. That made sense. “Don’t cause trouble,” he continued. “Be invisible.” “All right.” “And find a job.” “A job?” she asked in disbelief. “How do captives find jobs?” “Sure. Find something that needs doing and do it. Screws are lazy bastards no matter the uniform. Once you take over a job for them they’ll start cutting you slack. We’ll just go along with these creeps and keep an eye out.” “Collaborate?” He had to be joking. All she wanted to do was slit throats and blow heads off. A lifelong advocate of nonviolent solutions to problems, she now understood how reasonably intelligent people could pick up a gun and start shooting. “What do you do?” Arnie asked. “I’m a doctor.” He whistled softly. “Well, that sure as hell ought to come in handy.” “If they hand me a scalpel, I’ll cut their throats.” She spat the words through clenched teeth.
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“Good thinking,” he said caustically. “You cut their throat and they vaporize you and we’ll all live happily ever after.” “Oh God,” she whimpered, her bravado crumbling as quickly as it had risen. He gave her shoulder another one of his joint-dislocating pats. “Be as mad at them as you want, but don’t let them see it. Not now. Now we play it real cool.” He settled her more comfortably on the patch of floor. “I got another rule for you, so listen up.” “I’m listening.” “No escape plans. Never try to escape until you know everything there is to know about where you are, who’s got you and where you’re going once you do escape. No point jumping out of the fry pan only to end up in the fire.” He gave a snort of grim laughter. “Knowing where we’re going is gonna be a real problem with these bastards, ’cause I ain’t seen nothing like them in my whole fucking life.” “I suppose with a whole galaxy full of solar systems we should have known we weren’t the only sentient species.” And she could have gone the rest of her life without knowing. “I thought everything was weightless in space.” “Must be one of the things these boys figured out how to fix.” He looked around. “Be interesting to know how.” She couldn’t care less. “Tell me another rule.” Rules were better than thoughts. “Eat anything they give you as long as it don’t try to eat you first. Take a crap every day and stay in shape.” That was an interesting combination. He snickered. “Not that your shape ain’t damn good just the way it is.” He ran his hand up her leg. She pushed it away. He shrugged and grinned, but she doubted he’d given up. “You gotta stay fit,” he continued. “Be ready to run when the time comes. Mostly, you gotta be patient. Escaping is a one-shot deal. If you get caught, you either get killed or put in solitaire with the roaches.” The man made a dreadful kind of sense. “How do you know all of this?” “I’ve spent more time in jail than out,” he replied. “You could have gotten a job.” “But I didn’t. Enough with the questions. You need to understand something else. I saved your ass out there, but you screw up in here and you’re theirs.” “I understand.” “I ain’t taking no dive for no dame, even if she is kind of cute. Course, I’ve always had a weakness for broads with long legs and good-sized knockers.” “Courtesy of my Irish mother. The red hair and the freckles.” “You’re a babe.”
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It sounded nice, even if it wasn’t true. Her nose was too long, her mouth too wide and her jaw too square. The mass of red corkscrew curls covering her head refused to be tamed and her fair skin was splattered with freckles. Neither of them could win a beauty contest. Arnie’s egg-shaped head was completely bald and his prominent nose had been broken at least once. But his eyes reflected a surprisingly sharp intelligence and he earned high marks for his composure. There was an aura of tough certainty about him. She had no doubt he would follow through on his threat to abandon her without a backward glance if she caused him grief. “Company’s coming,” he cautioned. “Be cool.” A trio approached them. While one stood guard the other two entered the cubicle and confiscated jewelry, cell phones, wallets and purses. She dropped the watch her grandfather had given her for high school graduation into the sack with tears running down her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound. They also took everyone’s shoes and socks. “They better not ask for the rest of our clothes,” she told Arnie as she pulled off her sneakers and handed them over, feeling unbelievably vulnerable in her bare feet. “If they do, you can undress first,” he snickered. “In your dreams,” she responded. Wisecracking helped squelch the fear that threatened to turn her into a hysterical, screaming wreck. Hysteria, she now knew, could get her killed. But was that necessarily a bad thing? Death might be preferable to what lay ahead of them save for one serious drawback—death, as Arnie had pointed out, lasted forever. She wasn’t quite thirty and there were things she wanted to do and places she wanted to see. Flying in space hadn’t been on any of her lists.
***** Sleep became her safe haven. She leaned against Arnie and slept, deeply and soundly, without dreaming for hours at a time, her mind too shocked to organize a dream, good or bad. Today her respite was cut short by a sharp cry of pain. She jerked upright. “What happened?” “The dame in the blue dress cut her arm on something,” Arnie said. The woman stood with blood dripping off her elbow, a jagged gash on her upper arm. “Come on, Tessie,” Arnie said, hauling her to her feet. “It’s time to strut your stuff.” “What do you mean?” “Play doctor.” “How? I haven’t got any medical supplies. Nothing.”
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“Improvise.” While their captors stood outside watching, Tess attempted to bind the woman’s arm with strips ripped off the woman’s slip. The long, deep cut needed stitches and the slippery nylon made a poor bandage. The small group of aliens who had gathered to watch made way for another. The alien watched for a moment and then hurried off. When he returned, the alien Arnie had tagged as being in charge accompanied him. He carried a box that he brought inside the cubicle. “Stay cool,” Arnie cautioned her. The alien lifted the lid. The box contained an assortment of tubes and jars and some basic instruments such as scissors, long-handled tweezers, forceps and suture needles along with a bundle of suture thread. The alien removed a large bottle, opened it and poured a small amount of clear gel out into his hand. He spread it over Tess’ arm. The gel flowed smoothly and dried almost instantly to become a flexible protective covering. “Liquid bandage,” she told Arnie. “Neat.” “So what happens when you take it off?” he asked giving a wary look at his own hairy forearm. “About what you’d expect.” “Then you ain’t putting any on me,” he stated. The woman with the cut arm warily eyed the needles and suture material. “Are you going to put in stitches?” she asked. “No,” Tess replied. “I don’t have anything to give you for pain. I’ll close it with butterflies.” She cut a dozen tape butterflies and closed the cut with them. Not the best solution, but under the circumstances the best she could do. Then she sorted through the containers of medicine, using taste and smell in an attempt to identify their contents. The headman pointed a long bony finger at a blue container full of off-white powder. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Tess muttered under her breath as she dusted the woman’s wound with it. Hopefully, the powder was something that would retard infection. Then she covered the wound with gel. The woman scurried back to her chosen companion, a youth half her age. They huddled together, holding hands. Of the original fourteen captives, only seven remained. Their captors killed anyone or anything that caused them a moment’s inconvenience. The suddenness and the violence were numbing and rather than drawing them together it had splintered the group. Tess put the jar of liquid bandage and the container of powder back in the box and closed the lid. “I thought we’d all be a team,” she told Arnie as she watched the woman’s hurried departure.
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Arnie shook his head. “Too much killing. They figure them and their good buddy can stay out of trouble, but they ain’t so sure about the rest of us.” She figured Arnie knew enough to save them all, but he hadn’t stepped forward with an offer to take charge. Even if he had, she doubted they’d have accepted him. His face wasn’t one that inspired trust. She started to hand the box back to the alien, but Arnie took it out of her hands. “We keep this.” The alien considered that for a moment, then turned and motioned one of the crew forward. He carried face masks and small oxygen tanks equipped with shoulder straps. He indicated that they should put them on and go with him. The moment they left the cubicle Arnie pulled his mask off and took a deep breath of the air in the main portion of the ship. “We won’t be running no two-minute miles on their air, but it’s breathable.” He handed his mask back to the crewman. Tess followed suit. The headman led them from cubicle to cubicle. Tess lanced boils, removed an assortment of splinters and thorns from various creatures, stitched up two more cuts and applied an unknown salve to a bad rash. She daubed liquid bandage on skin and scales and prayed that she was doing more good than harm. The mall captives weren’t the only ones who had figured out the price paid for disobedience. Under the watchful eye of their captors, her patients were mute and compliant. All were clearly terrified. Tess suspected she could perform an amputation and only hear a faint murmur of protest. Arnie’s decision to be her assistant was not one of his better ideas. The first spurt of pus turned him green and gagging. An incision required to remove a deeply imbedded sliver turned him fish-belly white and weak-kneed. Nevertheless, he stuck stubbornly at her side, holding the box, handing her instruments and medications while doing a lot of deep breathing and staring at the ceiling. “Now I’m gonna puke,” he muttered when they returned to their own cube. “Feel better?” she asked when he rejoined her. He sank down beside her, his head cradled in his arms. “I can’t believe anybody would go to school so they could spend the rest of their life doing that kind of stuff.” “You’ll get used to it,” she said cheerfully. “Fuck.” They were allowed to keep the box and, for all his expressed distaste for medicine, Arnie guarded it like a priceless treasure. “This, my love, is our ticket to survival. You’ve just become camp doctor.” “Combination veterinarian and xenobiologist is more like it.” She hadn’t seen anything that even faintly resembled the genus Homo sapiens or, for that matter, anything she could reasonably include in the ancient family of mankind, Hominidae.
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“Before you start celebrating, you’d better wait and see how my so-called patients do,” she cautioned. “I may have hindered more than helped.” “Anything you did was better than what they were doing.” That was certainly true. At least half of the wounds she’d treated were infections caused by neglect. “Just keep up the good work,” Arnie said. “We’ll be trustees before you know it.” Trustees of what? Where?
***** Time passed in equal measures of mind-numbing monotony and unabated anxiety before Arnie nudged her awake. “What?” “Something’s up,” he whispered. “Feel that?” “The vibration?” “Yeah. Same one as when we lifted off. I think maybe we’re landing.” A fresh wave of fear rolled through her. She grabbed Arnie’s hand and hung on. He made no attempt to elude her, his grip as tight as her own. Soon after, the vibrations stopped, replaced by the off-and-on sound of thrusters until they landed. The hatch opened, the ramp was extended and the cubes moved out of the ship on a conveyor belt and loaded onto the flatcars of a narrow-gauge railroad. The air vents had been closed, forcing them to make do with what oxygen the cube contained. “Can’t say much for the scenery,” Arnie muttered, blinking in the harsh sunlight. Miles of rock-strewn desert covered with oddly shaped cacti surrounded them. The small airfield backed up against sheer stone walls of a bare mountain. Four more aircraft were parked on the edge of the tarmac, their needle noses and swept-back wings lending them a lethal look. “Fighters,” Arnie said. “See the guns? These guys do more than rounding up prisoners.” A second ship like the one they’d arrived on was suspended by a gantry. Tow trucks and runabouts like those usually found at airports were scattered about. Several aliens emerged from a large hangar to help with the unloading. “Ugly bastards,” Arnie said under his breath. She couldn’t disagree. Tall and thin like those on the ship, they wore gray coveralls instead of robes and, through an odd hip movement, they too glided more than walked. They wore no helmets, revealing elongated faces with narrow noses, small puckered mouths and round dark eyes with lids that closed from the bottom up instead of from the top down. Tufts of white or gray hair covered their heads. “Are they all male?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t see no knockers,” Arnie answered. 14
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Once the cubicles were transferred to the railcars, an electric engine towed them through a tunnel carved into a cliff face. Tess was no judge of distance, but several minutes passed before they emerged once again into sunlight. Momentarily blinded, Tess couldn’t make sense out of the scene before her, save to realize that they’d left the barren desert behind and entered a green oasis with buildings and roadways set midst lush thickets, towering trees and verdant green lawns surrounded by sheer walls of rock. “Probably an old volcano,” Arnie offered. “A dead one, I hope.” As the train threaded its way between the buildings the place began to make terrifying sense. Arnie pressed his palms against the wall of the cube, visibly shaken for the first time. “Jesus H. Christ! It’s a fucking zoo, Tessie, and we’re one of the bears!”
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Chapter One Five years later Arnie’s booming voice crackled over the intercom, yanking Tess from a sound sleep. “Get your ass down here, sweet cheeks. I brought you a surprise.” Blurry eyed, she peered at the clock on her nightstand. “It’s three o’clock in the morning, you idiot.” “So?” “I’m sleeping.” “Not now you ain’t.” He chuckled. “You just woke up.” Tess moaned. She wanted to pound Arnie’s logic into the ground with a hammer. “What do you want?” She hauled herself upright and leaned back against the head of the bed. “I want you down here at the clinic. Now. Come on your own or I’ll come and get you.” “All right already.” She shoved a handful of tangled curls off her face. “Give me five.” “Not a second more.” Hastily dressed and without her wakeup cup of what passed for coffee at the zoo, Tess left her apartment feeling massively disorganized. Spur of the moment did not sit well with her. Pausing on the sidewalk in front of the old aviary building she’d been allowed to move into last year, she wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the predawn chill. She should have dressed more warmly. Shivering, she trotted toward the clinic, dreading the soulful cries of terrified babies that would greet her when she arrived. Her own fault. She was the one who’d told Itz that the younger the captives, the more easily they’d adapt. Adults tended to be difficult and when they were too difficult Itz ordered them put to death. Although killing was his favorite solution to problems, Itz disliked wasting time and money and that’s what the death of specimens was. Wasted time and money. Not that that stopped him from continuing to kill anything that displeased him, it just irritated him when he found it necessary. The people taken at the Portland mall had not survived their first year of captivity. They’d resisted, fought, attempted to escape and one by one had been killed. When Itz ordered the last three executed, she and Arnie had been forced to watch. An object lesson, Arnie had assured her, a lesson still fresh in her mind five years later.
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It seemed impossible that they’d been here that long. They’d planned to escape long before now. Correction—she’d planned. Arnie accepted the passing years with a shrug. He invariably pointed out that as long as they breathed escape remained possible and, he promised, in due time, they’d leave the zoo. As each year passed and Arnie made little progress in that direction, her hope dwindled. What really scared her was how ordinary and normal life at the zoo had become. Some days it seemed as if she’d had no other life. Never been an intern and never shared a house with her grandfather after the death of her parents. She had to deliberately pull those memories out of their boxes to remind her that her life hadn’t always been right here with the Norans. At first she’d buried the memories because they caused unendurable pain. Far better to keep busy meeting the challenges presented by the endless variety of creatures the Norans imported to populate their constantly expanding zoo than to brood over what couldn’t be changed. The facility now covered more than half of the caldera floor, new habitats constantly under construction. No one could see all there was to see in a single day—a guarantee that visitors would come back again and again. That pleased Itz. The Norans believed in private enterprise and the zoo was his personal project, created without financial assistance from his nearby home world. She hurried along the sidewalk and passed through the center of the new aviary. The largest building in the complex and segmented like an orange, it rose halfway to the rim of the caldera, each segment containing a different habitat. In addition to those confined to the new aviary, large numbers of birds ran loose. Few ventured away from the only vegetation and water to be found on the planet’s surface. They were content to stay within the caldera, feeding and nesting. Scattered along the walkway were bubble elevators that carried spectators to the upper levels of the aviary where they could see the large birds of prey and scavengers circling through the multi-layered flyways. Its opening had allowed Tess to move into the old aviary and turn the second floor into an apartment and mini clinic where she could keep high-risk patients who needed round-the-clock care. All made possible by the Houdin workers imported by the Norans. The Houdins were skilled craftsman and could duplicate anything they saw a picture of. Unfortunately, nothing dampened their preference for rioting colors. In time, she’d ceased to shudder when she caught sight of the lime-green sofa sitting beside the lemon-yellow recliner in her living room. She broke into a trot, keeping a wary eye out for tarantulas. They came through the train tunnel under the cover of darkness, looking for water. The size of a meat platter, they had bright, intelligent eyes that made Tess feel they were sizing her up as their next meal. Arnie claimed they were harmless. They gave her the creeps. No lights showed in the Norans’ quarters. They wouldn’t stir until the sun was high in the sky and the caldera basking in warmth. They had no tolerance for the cold and slept in heated sleeping cells like bugs in burrows. Not so the Houdins. Every window in the kitchen was lit up and casting mellow gold rectangles on the ground. The smell of 17
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fresh baking wafted past her nose carried on a wisp of breeze, making her mouth water. She resisted the temptation to detour in that direction. Later, after Arnie had shown her what he’d brought back that had him so excited, she’d make a run to the kitchen. Arnie had been right about the advantages of being useful. After happily relinquishing his position as physician’s assistant to a smiling Houdin, he’d worked his way up from handyman to aircraft mechanic and, finally, pilot of a capture ship. It hadn’t given him a single qualm to do to others what had been done to him. The man seemed utterly devoid of conscience and considered every capture run a treasure hunt. His curiosity and interest in the specimens he brought back seemed endless, as was his interest in the planets he visited. A bone-chilling wind buffeted Tess as she hurried along. She pulled her flimsy wrap tighter. He could have waited at least until the sun was up to cut through the nighttime chill. She’d shoved her feet into skimpy sandals and should have at least taken the time to put on socks. Her toes were freezing. The wind curled around her body, seeking and finding gaps in her clothing. She glanced up at the rim of the caldera where the first faint, rose-colored fingers of daylight pushed against the darkness. A living hell existed outside the caldera, one of dirt, dust and parched earth populated by bizarre life forms requiring little food or water. Being grateful for the protection the caldera offered did not soften the reality that the steep sides formed a prison. The only way out was the closely guarded tunnel through the mountains which led to an endless desert. She crossed the railroad tracks and passed by the now-empty sidewalk café where the mall captives had been housed. From the front it seemed a cheerful spot with icecream chairs of wrought iron, little round tables and picturesque street lamps. Behind the façade of the café was an open latrine and sleeping shelves lined with straw covered by dust-filled blankets. For all that the Norans had studied Earthlings long enough to realize their intelligence and acquire a dozen of the languages to enter into their translators, they hadn’t understood the smallest thing about the psychological makeup of human beings. The habitat, after sitting empty for most of the five years since they’d arrived, was now being remodeled for some other species. Hopefully when there were new tenants, she could walk by without being reminded of the ones who’d died so needlessly. Her breath fogged in the frigid air. Damn Arnie for hurrying her. He’d better have something really outstanding to show her. A startled jojo bird scolded her as she passed by its nighttime perch. She circled the plaza fountain, dodging the mist blowing off the graceful columns of water and headed toward the infirmary. A work of art, the fountain had a long rectangular pond with a centerpiece carved from rose-colored stone. Colorful fan-tailed fished swam between clusters of aquatic plants. In truth, the zoo was a thing of beauty, a beauty that always took her by surprise because she wanted it to be as ugly to look at as it was to live in. But it wasn’t. The Norans were good architects and skilled engineers. Everything they built was structurally sound and pleasing to the eye. And functional. The water for the fountain, 18
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an unusual artistic touch on a desert planet, came from the planet’s water-filled core, lifted to the surface by wind-driven pumps. Solar panels fixed to the caldera’s rim provided the electricity they needed for lights and summer air conditioning. Heat was supplied by a system of pipes tapping the steam vents at the lower end of the caldera. Tess wondered if the volcano was as inactive as Itz and company believed it to be. For all that the zoo was self-sustaining and provided basic creature comforts, it was and always would be a prison. She pushed through the front door of the infirmary and stopped short, surprised by the silence. Frightened, stressed, new arrivals were generally vocal. Very vocal. “Tessie!” Arnie bellowed on spying her. “Damn, woman, but you’re a blessed sight for these sore eyes.” “You’re certainly in good voice,” she said. “If I’d had a hangover, I’d be dead now.” “Could you have? A hangover?” His blue-gray eyes lit with hope. “Tell me, beloved girl, that you rebuilt my still in my absence.” “I did not,” she said. His last still had blown up while he was away on a capture run. It had taken out the rear wall of a sizeable storage shed and Itz had been furious. But with Arnie gone, Itz had pinned the blame on the two totally innocent Mergansers who had a well-known taste for liquor. They had accepted his wrath willingly, hoping, she was sure, that Arnie would reward them when the still was back in operation. “That stuff you brew isn’t good for anything but washing engine parts,” she said. “Drinking it is pure suicide.” “Sadly true,” he admitted. “My last batch was magnificently intoxicating, but had me puking for a week. My insides damn near turned into my outsides.” “You should have called me.” “Right,” he snorted. “And you’d have poured that god-awful syrup down me. I prefer death by puking, thanks just the same.” “You are such a wuss,” she teased. “Your problem is that you never just take a drink—you go on benders.” She headed for the quarantine room, Arnie beside her. When she glanced in his direction, he dropped his hand and cupped his crotch. “Go find a keyhole somewhere,” she told him without rancor. His laughter boomed. “God love you, Tessie. You never disappoint me. It’s always no.” His expression sobered. “The day may come when you’ve got no choice.” “A bridge I’ll cross when I come to it.” She hoped that time never came, but she had to admit the possibility existed, again her own fault. She’d recommended starting a breeding program among the adult specimens previously captured, pointing out how much easier it would be to raise babies who knew nothing but captivity compared to adults already set in their ways. She’d never thought that Itz, who’d enthusiastically
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embraced her suggestion, might view her and Arnie as a breeding pair. Recent comments had indicated this was exactly what he thought. If Itz did decide she and Arnie should reproduce, they would have little choice in the matter. Nytran, Itz’s personal physician, had a whole pharmacy of mind-altering substances that he delighted in using on the reluctant. He’d even managed to kill a few with the potent aphrodisiacs. “What a lovely way to die,” Arnie had sighed on hearing about the unfortunate results of an unstoppable marathon of intercourse. Sex was never far from his mind. “A kiss, at least,” he pleaded while trying to loop his arm around her waist. “The way you smell? No way.” She sidestepped away from him and waved her hand in front of her face. “Have you showered since you left here? Brushed your teeth? No, you haven’t. How can I tell? You stink like rotten socks.” “If I scrubbed up, would you have me?” “No.” Laughter sparkled in his small eyes. “Then why waste the time?” “Maybe in the interest of maintaining good health?” “I’m never sick.” She threw up her hands in surrender. He had a point. The man had a superb immune system and never caught anything. She owed Arnie her life, but not even that huge debt gave him the entitlements she suspected he wanted. They had nothing in common except their earthly origins. She’d grown up in an affluent, upper-middle-class family provided first by her parents and later her college professor grandfather. Hers had been a life of academics and intellectual pursuits. Arnie’s had been the exact opposite. Even if she had wanted to be intimate with him, which she didn’t, she would have been afraid to act on it, fearing that once the door opened it could never be closed. She valued Arnie’s friendship too much to risk losing it over lust. Before entering the quarantine room, they donned robes and masks to protect both themselves and the new arrivals. Not that Arnie bothered with such details out in the field. He jumped off and on unknown planets and mingled with the natives without regard for sickness, disease or disaster. Tess had long since given up trying to change his ways, but she did insist he comply with her rules in the infirmary. She stepped into the nursery where a dozen motionless, silent bags occupied the same number of cribs. Cribs designed with lids that closed and latched to prevent their occupants from escaping. “Well, what are they?” she asked. “Bats. Baby bats.” He reached out and picked up a bag. “Bats? Why would Itz have you catch bats? We’ve got thousands of them flying around here every night.”
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“Not like these.” He turned the bag inside out. The infant blinked owlishly at the glaring lights with oval grass-green eyes, its small mouth locked firmly around its thumb. She estimated his weight to be four, possibly five pounds. A dusting of pale peach hair covered creamy skin and dark brown curls capped a perfectly shaped head. “Damn,” she muttered. Overlooking the eyes and elfin ears, it could be a human infant. She dreaded the almost-human captives most of all. They were never the people she wanted them to be, people from home able to ease her soul-deep loneliness. “You want to keep them in the bags,” Arnie said. “They curl right up and sleep the day away. Out of them, they carry on like the hounds of hell.” She took the baby from Arnie. “He’s adorable.” Cara, one of her Houdin helpers, tapped on the glass and held up a cup of steaming coffee. Still holding the baby, Tess went and got it, grateful for the warmth and the caffeine. Cara greeted her with a flood of completely incomprehensible chatter, as unable to speak English as Arnie and Tess were unable to speak Houdin. In spite of this, they managed to communicate with a minimum of confusion using a combination of gestures, facial expressions and body language. Possibly startled by Cara’s voice and with a surprising spurt of strength, the baby scaled Tess’ shoulder and nose-dived into her hair where he began frantically rooting. She pried him loose and tucked him into the crook of her elbow. He began to yelp, obviously distressed. “Poor thing must be starved.” Tess signaled to Meta, Cara’s helper, motioning for a bottle. When Meta brought the bottle, Tess sent both of the Houdin females to fix bottles for all the babies. After they were fed she would give them physicals and put identification bracelets on them. Then she could enter them into the database. Eventually, if they survived, never a certainty with new arrivals, she’d inject them with security chips and remove the bracelets. Cradling the pup in her arm, Tess brushed the latex nipple across his mouth. He didn’t need any additional encouragement to begin feeding. After gulping down a swallow, he paused and gave a loud yelp a much different cry than his first one. “Now we’re in for it,” Arnie said. “One squawks and they all squawk.” An ear-shattering chorus of bleats, squeals, whistles and howls erupted. Such behavior was common in species where nursing chores were shared by lactating bitches. The racket these guys put up was ear shattering. “Good grief!” “Like I said, the hounds of hell,” Arnie said. He held up his hand and cocked his head. “Just wait a minute.” From down the hall leading to two rarely used single-occupancy enclosures came a low, melodic whistle. Silence followed as if someone had turned a switch. “What in the devil was that?” Tess asked.
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“The big kahuna,” Arnie said, grinning. “I brought a big one back for you to play with.” “You brought back an adult?” He nodded. “Damn you, Arnie!” Thanks to her, Itz had forbidden the taking of adults. When he had criticized the mortality rate of the adult captives—partly from a failure to thrive, but far more falling victim to his obey-or-die policy—she had pointed out the superior adaptability of babies, suggesting that Arnie only bring back one or two breeding pairs. To her horror, Itz had gone a step further and instructed Arnie to only capture infants and toddlers. What Itz asked for, he got. Arnie occasionally bent the rules but never if the result would be a confrontation with Itz. As he’d told Tess, just because they hadn’t been killed didn’t mean they couldn’t be. “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Arnie said dismissively as he led the way down the hallway. “He’s pretty banged up and probably won’t last the night, but I wanted you to see him.” The lights came on when they stepped inside the end room, but not the ventilation system. Tess reached around and flipped on the exhaust fan to vent the all-too-familiar stench of vomit and feces. “He’s been kind of sick,” Arnie said. She approached the cage that filled two-thirds of the room and looked at the animal sprawled inside on the tile floor. Its silver-tipped black pelt was matted with filth. A single featherless wing was crumpled beside him. “One wing?” “They’ve got pouches in their backs where they keep them when they ain’t flying. Buggers fold them up to next to nothing in the blink of an eye.” “Why doesn’t it put this one away?” “It’s kind of broken.” “Kind of?” On closer look she saw two rows of fractures extending from the top to the bottom of the wing. “What did your guys do, hold it out and take turns jumping on it?” The Minitars, a race of mercenaries who worked for the Norans, had a well-earned reputation for viciousness. Arnie’s eyes shifted away from hers. “He pissed them off.” “They jumped on him,” she said with grim certainty. “Okay, so what’s the story? Why this one?” The animal didn’t appear unique. Granted, she’d never seen a bat this large, but she’d never seen mice the size of dogs, so why not a bat as tall as a man? Little surprised her anymore. Most of the flyers at the zoo were clearly birds, although there were two featherless flyers that probably would have gotten a paleontologist’s blood racing. This fellow 22
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didn’t look like he belonged to either group, but if his other wing was the same size as the one, he could certainly fly. “These ain’t like nothing else I’ve brought in,” Arnie said. “They walk around like regular people.” “So did the Eket vampires,” she said clearly remembering how ordinary the vampires had appeared. Right up to the moment they got hungry. He ignored her reminder. “They don’t all fly. Just the full-grown males, from what I saw.” She squatted down for a better look. Arnie retrieved a long stick from the corner and poked it through the mesh, prodding the lifeless animal. “Come on, get up.” It didn’t move. Arnie moved the wing to reveal a curved claw protruding from the wingtip. “See that? He used it like a switchblade. Took out two of my Minnies before they had a chance to get off a shot. Sliced the one’s head clean off and slit the other one’s throat.” “Great. We really needed another bunch of bloodthirsty savages.” “Before you go all postal on me, you need to understand how this went down,” Arnie said. “I scoped out the site like always, getting the lay of the land and figuring out the best time to go in. Every night, soon as it got dark, all the males came flying out of this big cave, leaving the females and babies behind. I figured to slip in, grab a dozen babies and get the hell out of Dodge before they knew what hit them.” “Only?” “They must have had some kind of warning system, because we’d no more than got a good start when here come the flyers back. They’ve got a war cry that would raise the dead. Scared the shit out of me. This guy here was leading the way. “I’d left shooters to guard my back like always and they downed most of them, but a few got through. Like him. They shot him, got him a good one in the shoulder, but he wasn’t letting nothing stop him.” There was a note of admiration in his voice. Arnie respected bravery, even when it was misplaced or suicidal. “He hits the ground running and snaps Gurion’s head off with one swing and whips right around and with the next one cuts Niblatear’s throat. I kid you not, this is one mean mother.” “Is that why you let them beat him to a pulp?” “Like I said, they were pissed. Come on, Tessie, give me a little credit here. At least, I didn’t let them barbecue him like they wanted to do. And before you come down with a case of the warm fuzzies for those pups out there, remember this is what they’ll grow into. Peaceable critters don’t come with his kind of equipment.” That much was certainly true. The animal stirred and turned its head toward them, giving Tess her first real look at its face. She sucked in a breath. “Now tell me you ain’t interested,” Arnie said with a satisfied smirk. Save for the distinct upward slant of the eyes, the evenly set features in the long, narrow face could have been human. Not even the narrowness of his jaw, his high
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cheekbones and the flat set of his ears that gave his face a fox-like cast eroded his resemblance to genus Homo. More specifically, Homo sapiens. A long, aristocratic nose ended above a wide, full-lipped mouth. What teeth she saw were even and ordinary, the canines no longer than her own. “You should have seen them fly,” Arnie said. “Every night they’d come pouring out of that cave and play around like a bunch of kids. It was like some kind of flying competition, with them trying to outmaneuver each other. One of them would make a mistake and almost fall out of the sky and I swear to God, the others laughed at them.” “Laughed?” Many animals made laugh-like sounds, but the subtleties of humor were the exclusive domain of sentient life forms and not even all of them. “That’s what it sounded like to me,” Arnie said. “Whatever, the whole aerial thing was fucking fantastic.” “You still shouldn’t have brought it back. When Itz finds out, we’ll both be in trouble and he’ll order it killed.” Arnie gave the beast another prod with his stick. When it didn’t move, he unlatched the gate and stepped inside the enclosure. “That’s kind of dumb if he’s as dangerous as you say,” she said. “Once I get a hold of his wing, he’ll lay right still. He ain’t no dummy. You think he’s a bat? I was hoping maybe you’d think he was more like a flying fox.” “Fox? Why a fox?” Arnie shrugged. “Bats ain’t nothin’ but flying rats and I got no use for rats. Besides, these guys are smarter than rats.” “Rats are the ultimate survivors and extremely smart,” Tess countered. “But bats aren’t rodents. They’re chiropterans.” “Right,” he muttered. She held back a smile. Arnie struggled with scientific terminology and disliked her using it. In truth, he had no need to apologize to anyone. It was doubtful that he’d spent ten days in a classroom since leaving home, but uneducated did not mean unintelligent or uninformed. He had a sharp mind, an excellent memory and was a prodigious reader. When he wasn’t out on a capture run or drinking himself blind, he holed up with his computer and spent hours studying the material in the database, not the least put off by the rather crude and often inaccurate translation program. “Come on.” Arnie waved her into the enclosure. “I got something to show you.” Tess cautiously entered the cage, drawn by curiosity, but not as confident as Arnie that there was no danger. Any creature that had successfully taken on the Minitars was a force to be reckoned with, unconscious or not. Arnie held the wing, pushing it aside so he could roll the animal onto its back. “He ain’t so perky as he was,” Arnie admitted. “’Course, he’s had a couple of days to fester. But if he gets out of hand I just give his wing a pop and he settles right down.”
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He brushed aside the long hairs of the pelt to expose the animal’s genitals. “You ever seen a finer set of bullocks? This old boy is hung like a bull.” “You are an absolute pig,” Tess said, turning away in disgust. As she did, she caught a glimpse of color between the animal’s slit eyelids. “I’m not so sure he’s as out as you think he is.” Before Arnie could move, the creature lashed out with his foot, shoving Arnie backward. Arnie landed on his butt, but he still had a hold of the wing and gave it a hard yank. The animal shrieked and collapsed. “That’s it,” Tess exclaimed. “I’ve no interest in watching you torture it.” She headed for the gate. “Wait!” Arnie grabbed her arm. “Don’t go stomping off mad. Here, this is what I wanted you to see.” He turned the creature on his back. Half buried in his long-haired coat was a baby clinging with knotted fists. “I think it’s his kid,” Arnie said.
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Chapter Two Tess’ heart melted. “Oh dear.” She stroked the finely shaped head with the tip of her finger. “It can’t be but a week old, if that.” The recently born had a certain look. The pup turned toward her touch with smacking lips, jet lashes parting to reveal turquoise eyes. Black hair, fine as silk, covered its small body. She touched his mouth and he sucked in her finger, his toothless gums grinding with considerable force. Finding no sustenance, he returned to the male’s chest, wailing softly. His cries did not go unnoticed. Tess found herself looking straight into a pair of glittering adult turquoise eyes. “Arnie!” He’d let go of the wing to show her the pup and the animal took full advantage. She jumped back an instant before the wing-claw sliced through the air where she’d stood. She bolted from the cage, her hand covering her throat. Not that a flimsy human hand would have stayed that lethal claw. “My God!” “I told you he wasn’t just another pretty face,” Arnie said in an unsteady voice. Beads of sweat stood on his upper lip and his breathing was as ragged as hers. But they weren’t pursued. The animal slumped back onto the floor, shivering with pain. Then he coughed and vomited an unhealthy quantity of bright yellow bile. “Has he been doing that long?” “Since yesterday.” Vomiting guaranteed dehydration and dehydration killed. Worse, she’d had little success in treating dysfunctional digestive systems. “Damn it, Arnie, he’s already half dead. You’ve just bought us a ton of trouble for no reason.” “I couldn’t leave him.” Arnie leaned against the wall, arms folded over his barrel chest. “You’d understand if you’d been there. We killed this female the minute we set foot inside the cave. She came right out to meet us. Didn’t have a clue. I took her out…” “Killed her,” Tess corrected. “Whatever. They don’t just hand us their kids, you know” he said. “Now are you gonna let me tell this or are you gonna keep interrupting?” “Sorry. Tell your tale.” “The Minnies were bagging the pup we took off the female when he showed up.” He jerked his thumb toward the creature in the cage. “He killed both of them and scooped up the kid in the space of a heartbeat. I figure I’m next so I shove my gun in his face. Does he run? Try to defend himself? Hell no. He just stands there looking me right
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in the eye and cradling that pup in his arms. The bastard never even blinked when I pulled the trigger.” “You missed?” He paced, agitated. “My fucking gun misfired. Can you believe that?” It was hard to imagine. Arnie spent more time cleaning his guns than he did cleaning himself. “Click. Just click. And still he doesn’t try to run. He stands right there waiting for me to try again.” He squatted down and peered through the wire. “He was willing to die for that kid.” Now she understood. Discarded by his own parents, Arnie found this animal’s bond with its offspring admirable. Additionally, there was nothing he respected more than bravery and it took courage to stand up to a gun pointed straight at you. “You know they’ll kill him,” she said. “Not if they don’t see him.” “Arnie, they’ve already seen him.” She waved her hand toward the spy cam at the end of the hallway. It stared back with a blank, unseeing eye. “You didn’t!” “Calm down,” he soothed, refusing to be concerned. “I just shorted out a couple of wires. Itz will never know anybody’s touched it and by the time he gets the out-ofservice notice and sends somebody over to take a look, we’ll have this guy under wraps.” “Under wraps where?” Arnie was flat out of his mind if he thought they could hide something this large. “The storeroom?” “Oh yeah, good thinking, Arnie. That’s a terrific place for a half-dead, wounded animal. Freezing at night and cooking in the daytime.” “So?” “How about I put him out of his misery and dump the body in the incinerator?” “No, we ain’t killing him,” Arnie stated flatly. “Damn it, Tess, I think we killed all there were. They didn’t give up their babies easy. And things got way out of control after he killed the Minnies.” Translation: Arnie had lost control of the Minitars and they’d gone on a killing spree while he’d snatched up as many babies as he could to keep them from being slaughtered. In the process, he’d somehow managed to capture the big male. “I’d have never got him and the pups out if they hadn’t got busy taking trophies.” Her stomach rolled. The “trophies” the Minitars took were the hearts and brains of their victims, which they ate, claiming that the flesh of their enemies restored the strength lost in battle. The Norans killed as a solution. The Minitars killed for sport. “You’ve got to at least try,” Arnie pleaded. Then he played his trump card. “Please.”
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Damn. “Please” rarely found its way out of his mouth. And she owed him. Besides, until now his captives had been nothing more than the currency he used to stay in good with the Norans. This animal he seemed to genuinely care about. “I save him and then what?” she asked. “I’ll figure out something,” he replied, grinning, knowing he had her. “Next spring, when he’s good and healthy, I’ll smuggle him out and drop him off somewhere friendly. We could even let him keep the pup. It ain’t in my count and he seems downright attached to it.” “Like willing to give his life for it?” “Yeah, like that,” he said, adding with a touch of grim amusement, “I don’t think our lives will be worth a plug nickel if we take it away from him.” “I’m really going to hate you in the morning,” she muttered. “Go get a gurney.” “Where are we going with him?” he asked when he returned with the gurney. “My place.” He backed up two quick steps. “Oh, hell no! You can’t do that. Damn it, Tessie, haven’t you been listening? That old fox is dangerous. All you’ve got up there is a flimsy little chicken wire coop. He’ll come flying out of there and kill you first thing.” “Arnie, the poor bastard can hardly lift his head off the floor. If he’s alive this time tomorrow, I’ll be astonished. If he survives, I’ll have him in restraints long before he’s up to giving me any trouble.” “I don’t like it.” “You got a better idea? And don’t say the storeroom again, because that’s an automatic death sentence.” There was no other place to take the animal. Spy cams tracked their every move inside and outside of the buildings, the only exception being the old aviary and the tunnels. The tunnels had never been on the spy cam system and for some reason the aviary had been taken off when the new aviary opened. That suited Tess just fine. She hated having everything she said and did on tape somewhere in the fantasyland Itz called the control center. Arnie’s beast would go to her place and be confined in the treatment room. Not trusting him to stay unconscious during the move, Tess administered a mild tranquilizer. In an instant, the beast dissolved into a boneless heap. “Shit!” Arnie exploded. “You’ve killed him!” “Not yet,” she replied, although she checked his pulse to make sure. It was weak and thready, but was still there. “He’s still breathing. Kind of. Come on, let’s get this over with.” With the gurney flat to the floor, she and Arnie hoisted the now-unconscious animal onto it. They laid him face down and draped his broken wing over his back. The pup crawled up onto his shoulder, muttering complaints as he went.
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She unfolded the gurney’s legs, grabbed one end and pushed. “This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” She stopped at the doorway of the quarantine room. “How do we avoid the cameras?” Arnie grabbed a blanket and tossed it over their patient. “Stay against the wall. At your office doorway do a sharp right, turn down the hall and head for the tunnels. All they’ll see is the back of our heads and a blanket-covered lump. They say anything, tell them we was moving supplies.” Tess nodded. As they entered the main lobby the Houdins clustered in the far corner, chattering in high-pitched distress. “Wonder what they know about this fellow that we don’t?” she asked. Arnie dismissed the Houdins with a snort. “Hell, they run from mice.” He pushed the up button to call the elevator. “This is a really bad idea.” “Your idea, remember?” “I didn’t figure you’d want to take him home with you like some stray puppy you found alongside the road,” Arnie muttered. They rode down to the tunnel level and left the car, shoving the gurney along the somewhat uneven floor. Apparently not liking where their conversation had been headed, Arnie changed the subject. “Shit, it’s cold down here.” The tunnels weren’t heated. Like all areas not open to the public, they suffered from Itz’s penny-pinching policies. The complex system of tunnels that provided underground access to every part of the zoo during the brutal winters when subzero temperatures and twelve to fourteen feet of snow made it impossible to go outside were dimly lit and rarely cleaned. Tess guided the gurney along the gloomy corridor while Arnie pushed. As they rounded the corner and entered the tunnel leading to the aviary, the beast twitched and moaned. “What else did those sadists of yours do besides crush his wing like a rotten egg?” she asked. “Kicked him around some.” “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with his stomach. One kick too many.” “Why worry about his stomach when you’ve probably already killed him with that damn shot,” Arnie retorted. No one knew better than she that her tenure as zoo veterinarian was nothing more than a huge ongoing experiment. Her treatments were an endless guessing game played with the lives of patients whose physiology she didn’t have a clue about and using medicines she was unfamiliar with. She’d had high hopes of translating Noran to English that first day when the Noran showing her around the clinic had pointed out the zoo’s translating software. That hope had died a quick death. Not only were the translations inaccurate, but they too often
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described unfamiliar maladies afflicting unknown organs in unheard-of beasts. The lists of medications and their uses were as difficult to understand. Arriving at the aviary building elevator, they boarded it. The car ground and rattled its way to the second floor, where her apartment was located. They pushed the gurney out in the hallway just as the first rays of morning sun poked over the rim of the caldera. “First the sun, then Itz,” Arnie said. Tess prayed nothing they’d done at the clinic aroused the Noran’s suspicions. He could be relentless in his search for truth and she knew that as much as Arnie wanted to save this animal, he would not put himself in jeopardy for it, no more than he’d incriminate himself to save her. In fact, she suspected that the chance was less now than when they’d first arrived, for Arnie had found a place of importance with the Norans. No longer a down-on-his-luck ex-con, he now headed up a respected capture team and piloted his own ship. “Let’s get moving,” he urged. “I still haven’t done my damn report and don’t need Itz in my face asking why.” “So go do your paperwork. I can take it from here.” “I’m not leaving until this old boy is inside that pen and the door’s locked.” He eyed the lightweight wire with disapproval. “Not that this mousetrap will stop him if he wants out.” “Long before he’s strong enough for that, I’ll have him in restraints.” “Be damn sure you do.” “You worry too much,” she said. “Scoot. Go do your paperwork. I’ll manage just fine.” “Okay.” Arnie headed toward the stairs. “You check back tomorrow,” she called after him. “If this thing dies on me tonight, you’re disposing of the body.” “He ain’t gonna die,” Arnie said. Tess wished she shared his belief. The animal was desperately sick and so much of what she did was guesswork. But a promise was a promise. She would do her best to save its life. Since their arrival, she and Arnie had, for the most part, studiously followed the rules and stayed in Itz’s good graces. Getting involved with this animal was a gross violation of the rules and both foolhardy and dangerous. They were literally risking their lives. And for what? An animal Itz would kill. Well, she’d promised Arnie. Best to get busy. A bath was the first order of the day. He reeked and no way was she touching him until she’d cleaned him up. Besides, cleaning reduced the chance of infection. She rolled the gurney into the middle of the cage over the floor drain. “Arnie, I really do hate you for this,” she grumbled. 30
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She constantly talked to herself. Not only did it fill the silence, it seemed to soothe her patients even if they didn’t understand what she said. “I’m going to waste time and energy on you,” she told the unconscious animal, “and you’re still going to end up dead because if I don’t kill you, Itz will.” She tapped her collar mike. “Meta, you there?” There was an affirmative noise. Speaking Houdin was impossible. Fortunately, they understood most of what Tess said and signaled their understanding with an assortment of noises. “You need anything?” “Grumph.” “The babies doing okay?” “Bhuph.” Tess took that as a yes. “Good. If you need me, holler.” Not that she would. Meta and Cara knew as well as she did what a bunch of frightened babies needed—cuddling and food. “Which is what your little guy needs,” she told her patient. He stirred and moaned. Tess double checked the restraints Arnie had put on him for the move, making sure they were still secure. The tranquilizer was wearing off and she had things to do while he was still too groggy to protest. She dug into his thick pelt and extracted the quivering pup. The minute the cold air hit him he took in a breath, prepared to howl in protest. She silenced him by shoving her finger into his mouth. He sucked energetically. “Easy, kiddo. There’s blood and bone in that digit that I’m not planning to share with you.” She tucked him into the crook of her elbow and carried him over to the supply cabinet, still allowing him to gnaw on her finger. His narrow brows drew together in an unhappy frown, telling her she had little time before he began howling. The Norans kept her well supplied with an assortment of powdered formulas and, after making her selection, she fixed four ounces. The pup couldn’t be more than a week or two old. His umbilical cord had shed so recently his navel was still raw and pink. He was a bit dehydrated, judging by his sunken soft spot. The ratio of body mass to skull was roughly equivalent to that of a human infant. The adult male had a large, well-developed head. Large heads usually meant large brains and intelligence. It would be interesting to watch these pups grow and to see what they were able to learn. Mountain gorillas and chimpanzees could be taught sign language and how to use alphabet boards. African Grey parrots could count, recognize colors and perform simple tasks. Dolphins were able to accomplish complex tasks and recognized a wide range of voice commands. But there was no exchange of knowledge between human beings and animals and that was unfortunate because it would certainly be an interesting conversation.
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She sat down with the warm bottle of formula in hand, but the pup refused to relinquish her finger until she pinched his nose shut, forcing him to open his mouth or suffocate. Deprived of her finger, he sucked in a breath and let out a howl that rattled the windows. She cut him off in mid-bellow by jamming the bottle into his mouth. His eyes popped open and he began to nurse with frantic desperation. “Will you take it easy? You’re going to drown yourself.” Formula was funneling out both sides of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. She hated to think how much air he gulped down. But eating was good. Sometimes her most difficult task was finding the proper formula and getting new arrivals to eat it. What built strong bones in one resulted in rickets in another. Carrying the nursing baby back to the doorway, Tess checked on his parent. He’d been sensitive to the pup’s sounds of alarm, but appeared to have missed this one. By the time the pup emptied the bottle, his tummy bulged and his eyelids sagged. Tess draped him over her shoulder and patted his back. He rewarded her with an explosive burp that turned into hiccups. “You’re lucky you didn’t hurl, eating so fast.” He gave a sleepy sigh followed by a huge yawn, drawing up his knees and fisting his tiny hands. “You are a cutie.” He needed a bath, but that could wait until his next feeding. For now a dry diaper would do. Too much handling and he’d upchuck for sure. She diapered him and tucked him into a sleeper. Take away the layer of downy body hair and the unusual coloring of his upward-slanting eyes and he could pass for a human baby. She sighed. Babies were much too easy to love, the human-appearing ones in particular. She hated raising anything to face a life in captivity. Gazing into the bright, knowing eyes of the smart ones made it difficult to believe that just because they didn’t speak English they didn’t think and feel and grieve. She dressed him in an undershirt, diapers and socks. The socks refused to stay on his ice-cold narrow feet, so she wrapped him up tightly enough in a flannel blanket that he couldn’t kick it off. Then, with him draped over her shoulder, she went down the hall and rescued a crib from the storeroom. A clean sheet and it was ready to use. “There we go. Fed and ready for a nap. Right?” He popped his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes. Long, dark, curling lashes meshed on his cheek. “You guys are really going to be tough. More like people than most people. Of course, when you start flapping your wings I’ll be able to tell the difference. If you have wings to flap, that is.” She saw no evidence of wings on his small back, only a faint striation extending from the top of his shoulder to the edge of his tiny hip. Now able to turn her attention on his father, she headed for the treatment room. The pup gave a yelp of distress and his father gave a frantic response. Tess scooped up the pup and carried him to the treatment room where the male was clawing at his restraints. “Stop that,” she ordered. 32
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His head snapped up, a mix of hatred and anguish in his eyes. “You’re getting in a tizzy over nothing.” She continued vigorously patting the pup’s back. “He’s got a bellyache from eating too fast.” He gave another explosive burp and his howls became whimpers. “See? Gas.” She held the pup where he could see him. He reached for him and she carried the baby close enough for him to touch. “See, your baby’s okay. He’s been fed and he’s ready for a nap. Later on he’ll have a bath, but you get one first.” His long, slender fingers caressed the baby’s cheek. “He had a bellyache from eating too fast. He chug-a-lugged that bottle. He’s a real screamer, isn’t he? Spoiled rotten too, I’ll bet. Probably kept you and the missus up nights, right? Okay, now I want you to watch this. I’m going to set this kid in that crib over there.” She pointed to the crib in the hallway. “That way he’ll be right here where we both can hear him and know he’s okay. That okay with you?” He watched closely as she backed away, carrying the baby, and laid him in the crib. The baby got a handful of blanket and dragged it to his cheek to go with his thumb. Tess pulled the crib into the treatment room and parked it against the wall, out of the way. The big male watched intently, his turquoise eyes missing nothing. How easy it would be to believe he understood what she was doing, but of course, he didn’t except in the most general sense. Like many animals, his attentiveness was curiosity. The pup cried out in his sleep. The big male turned his head in the pup’s direction. “You need to stop worrying about him and worry about yourself,” Tess told him. “You aren’t in such good shape, you know.” She pulled down the overhead sprayer and inserted a soap pellet. “And you aren’t going to like this much, but it’s necessary. You’re filthy and you stink. I’d appreciate it if you’d lie still.” No very likely. The sprayer put most animals into a state of panic. Hopefully, he’d not fight too much. Because most animals disliked water flying around their heads and faces, she started with his feet and lower legs. “You’ll get used to hearing my voice,” she explained as the stream of soapy water poured onto his legs. “I talk a lot. Keeps me company and seems to smooth the way for treatment.” He moved his leg and a large patch of hair fell to the floor.
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Chapter Three “What the devil…” Tess gasped in alarm. His silver-tipped black pelt was falling apart. Literally. Pieces sloughing off and falling to the floor with soggy plops. Glowering at her, he shook his leg and more fell. “This is not my fault,” Tess protested. But if not hers, then whose? Maybe he was shedding. Or had mange. Surely his hair wasn’t water soluble. That would be terribly impractical for a forest dweller. How did he manage in the rain? Wear a raincoat? The possibility forced a giggle up her throat. Wings and a raincoat. Definitely Alice in Wonderland material. Regardless of the cause, it was too late to stop now. He had to be cleaned up. She continued spraying and his hair continued to fall. She aimed the spray at his crotch, grateful when the thick stand of curly black pubic hair stayed right where it should. She couldn’t help but admire his equipage. He was pure male and well endowed. He definitely didn’t appreciate her invasion of his private places. He hissed and snarled and tried to cover himself with his hand. She couldn’t help laughing. “Goodness, gracious, a bashful bat.” He arched an eyebrow and grumbled. For all his vocalizing, he made no real attempt to elude the soapy spray. Many animals seemed to recognize an offer of help. Some with well-established reputations for violence stood motionless while she crawled between their legs to cut away entangling wire or poked foul-tasting concoctions down their throats. And then there were those who fought everything done to them, good or bad. She hosed the last of his pelt off onto the floor, her concern for his lost hair taking a rear seat to her concern over the amount of damage the Minitars had done. His bare belly, ribs and back were covered with nasty-looking bruises. “Damn savages.” Cautiously, she sprayed off his wing. He gave no indication of discomfort when she spread it, but when she caused it to move at its base he flinched. Apparently, the wide, sheer flight surface filled with tiny bones was nerveless, but not the heavier bone that was the leading edge of the wing and contained the lethal-looking claw. The wing pockets began right below his shoulder blades and reached to his waist. The interiors felt like fine suede and, save for being dirty, appeared undamaged. Where the wing anchored to his body the flesh was bruised and swollen. The injury had to be causing him considerable pain. Proceeding cautiously and using a mist setting, she ran warm water and flushed out the dirt and debris. The pocket didn’t seem large enough for the width and depth of his wing, but obviously the arrangement worked because his other
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wing was inside with no lumps or bumps distorting the smooth, muscular plane of his back. His wounded shoulder was badly swollen, pus oozing from a dozen small holes. Buckshot. “Bloody bastards.” Arnie’s Minitars loved their guns. Any excuse was excuse enough to shoot. From a clinical standpoint, the infection in his shoulder was the most life threatening of his injuries, although his bruised belly could run a close second if his stomach didn’t settle. She could do nothing about either until she got the wing repaired and out of the way. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she would set the fractures and how did you go about putting a wing in a sling? Even though she saw no sign of vermin crawling through the ultra-fine black hair that had survived his bath, he still needed to be deloused. Fleas in particular carried diseases and what constituted an annoying itch for one species could be a death-dealing plague to another. After removing the soap module from the sprayer, she replaced it with a mixture that spelled instant death to fleas, ticks, lice and their assorted relatives. She aimed the spray at her patient. “You aren’t going to like this.” That proved a gross understatement. He howled and kicked. She stayed out of the reach of his long legs and continued spraying. In a very few moments he expended what meager strength he possessed and slumped back on to the gurney, exhausted. “Good thinking. For the moment, I’m bigger and stronger.” While the dip did its work, Tess swept the clots of hair into the floor drain where they would be carried away by the zoo’s efficient sewer system. She picked up a clump and examined it. She wished now that she had initially taken a close enough look to see that it was a garment, not a pelt. He had lost consciousness. That and his shallow breathing prompted her to take his pulse. It remained rapid and thready, but no more so than it had been earlier. Certainly, no worse than hers would have been in the same circumstances. Having estimated his weight to be around a hundred and eighty or ninety and having found a heartbeat and breathing sounds in about the same places hers were, she used her own vital signs for a measuring stick. Not very scientific, but the best she could do for now. He stirred and opened his eyes. She saw no menace in them. Only resignation. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” His muttered response did not convey much agreement. She got a towel, planning to dry him, but as she approached the table he reached over the side of the gurney and, with a long, slender finger, unlatched the restraint at his waist. The strap fell to the floor with a clunk. She stayed at the doorway, hand on the door prepared to slam it shut and lock it, waiting for his next move. Freed of the waist strap, he only turned on his side and pulled his knees up to his belly.
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“You’re cold and wet and running a fever. I need to get you dried off and warmed up. And take a look at that belly.” Every breath he took was pain-filled. Judging from the bruises, he probably had some broken ribs. She hadn’t wanted to use the air dryer on him. The noise alone would terrify him, but no way was she going to try towel drying him now that only one strap held him to the gurney. Standing well back, she turned the dryer on and aimed the blast of warm air in his direction. He gave a startled huff when the warm air hit him, but lay still and after a few moments seemed to be enjoying the warmth. Nonetheless, she stayed near the door. Animals on the brink of death often found unexpected reservoirs of strength and their desperate, final lunges could be lethal. Dried, his body hair was more down than hair, a super-fine mist of color shadowing his tawny skin. The hair on his head was straight and the part of it that wasn’t tangled and filled with twigs and dirt hung below his shoulders. Remnants of braids hung at his temples. Thank goodness the hair on his head hadn’t washed off like his body hair. She would brush it later. “My, but aren’t you the handsome one.” Handsome and disturbingly human in spite of the wing. Tall, easily six one or two, with a well-developed upper body and narrow hips, and a firm, muscular rump that tapered to long, straight legs ending with standard ankles and feet. His arms were in proportion to his torso and his slender hands had opposable thumbs. “But he’s not human,” she reminded herself as she pushed the human similarities out of her mind. She’d be better off to concentrate on the things that made him an alien animal. His wings and hair and claws and the sloped eyes set above high cheekbones in a narrow fox-like face. No human being had turquoise eyes with pupils that dilated so wide the color disappeared. Dozens of animals shared human characteristics, but none were truly human. This fellow, with his trills, barks and hisses certainly wasn’t. Possibly, in time, she might be able to sift through the various sounds he made and discover a pattern of rudimentary communication. Most creatures had calls they used repetitively. Warning calls. Mating calls. But those certainly didn’t equal humanness. Her personal measurement of humanness was the ability to hold a conversation, be it through spoken vocabulary or via hand signals and body language. Definitions were difficult to come by in this alien environment. She’d always considered a sense of humor a basic element of humanness. She’d yet to catch a Noran laughing, but their intellect was unquestionably intact. The Houdins smiled all the time, but they found no humor in Arnie’s practical jokes. The Minitars and Mergansers wouldn’t know a joke if it jumped up and bit them. The difficulty she’d had originally was thinking that those creatures that bore the closest physical resemblance to human beings were human. Twice she’d been bitterly disappointed. It would not happen again. “So stop this foolishness and get to work,” she said out loud.
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Getting a sling, she gently maneuvered his arm into it, partially stabilizing the shoulder. His only response to the pain she caused him was a few low-pitched grunts. “You’re being very good,” she said, patting his head. He jerked away from her touch with a muttered growl. “Cranky, aren’t you?” She sighed. “I don’t suppose this next part is going to go very smoothly.” She propped him up on his side with a rolled flannel blanket as a brace and then securely strapped him down, this time locking the buckles, taking no chance that his long fingers would accidentally open another latch. “Good thing everything is on one side.” He watched what she did, attentive to her every movement. A couple of instrument trays set end to end provided support for his broken wing. She spread it out and examined it. The featherless black membrane had an iridescent sheen and felt silky to the touch. It was so sheer she could see through it. Dozens of bird-fine bones with intricate ball-and-socket joints allowed the wing to fold so compactly that it fit into the pouch below his shoulder blade. His torso was only slightly thicker than that of an ordinary man and the lips of the pouch containing the undamaged wing sealed so neatly the pouch was barely visible. Two rows of fractures extended from the top to the bottom, every bone save for the thick primary flight bone snapped like a twig. Moving the wing fabric did not seem to cause him pain, but movement at the base of the wing did. The absence of pain in the membrane meant she could set the fractures without anesthetic, a definite plus considering how he’d reacted to the tranquilizer. Now all she needed to figure out was how to splint the tiny bones. The most logical approach was to cut the wing at each fracture, realign the bones and somehow stabilize them, but she hesitated to do much cutting seeing as the half dozen old-looking tears along the bottom edge of the wing had never healed. She feared that that once torn the wing would stay torn. If that proved true and she made an incision beside each fracture, he would end up with a sieve instead of a wing. He was shivering again. She got a warm flannel from the warmer and tucked it around him. “That should help.” She took his temperature and blood pressure. His blood pressure was low by human standards, his temperature higher by two full degrees than the pup’s. He flinched when she touched his ear with the thermometer, but quieted under her hand. The wing claw remained sheathed, only the tip showing. “You’re being very good. Probably because you’re too sick to be anything else. That wing is an engineering marvel. Evolution at its finest.” Had the joints been damaged, she would have had no recourse but to amputate. With only one wing he could never return to the wild. Unable to hunt, he’d starve to death. All future concerns. At the moment, what she needed to figure out was how to splint the tiny bones without damaging the delicate membrane.
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Leaving the worrying up to her, he’d fallen asleep. She got a fresh cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to drink it. The membrane was flexible enough that she ought to be able to realign the bones through it. For sure, she could see what she was doing. A decent overhead light illuminated the fractures nicely. But how to hold them in place until they healed? If they healed. She needed something small but rigid to use for splints. The shaft of the Noran’s version of a cotton swab might work. One on top, one on the bottom, held in place by fine suture thread. A small gauge needle would leave tiny holes, not big rips. She felt a surge of excitement. That just might work. Tiny holes she could plug with healing gel. She might even try some on the tears along the lower edge. She took a moment to check on the pup. He slept with his thumb resting on limp lips, a puddle of drool under his cheek. “Just stay that way for a couple of hours, okay?” Then she got several boxes of swabs out of the supply cabinet and began removing the cotton tips and cutting them in half. The adult was awake again, watching as she laid her supplies out on a surgical tray. When she started toward him with a threaded needle clamped between her teeth and a swab in each hand, he looked more curious than alarmed. Of course, he had no idea what she was planning. “I’m hoping this will work because I sure don’t want to cut your wing off. But you can’t go through the rest of your life dragging it along behind you.” She fumbled the first few, but soon got the knack of it. The swabs were strong enough to brace the tiny bones and a few wraps of suture held them in place. It was a time-consuming process that took the rest of the morning and left her with an aching back and a stiff neck, but it worked. Her patient dozed off and on, ignoring her after a few minutes of curiosity. Finished, she stepped back to view the results. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Her voice woke him and he peered back over his shoulder and muttered something under his breath that, for a change, didn’t sound like a hostile reprimand. “What’s that? You approve? I’m so glad, because this was damn hard work, in case you hadn’t noticed. Can’t say it’s pretty, though.” Now she needed to keep him from flopping around and dislodging the splints or, heaven forbid, gnawing them off. “I don’t think you’re quite the badass we thought you were,” she said when she came back from getting a sheet she hoped to fashion into a sling. “If you’d wanted to do me damage, you’d have pulled out your good wing, wouldn’t you? The only time you get excited is when you think I’m doing that pup some damage. Small wonder, the howls he puts out. Now that his belly’s full and he has his thumb, he’s happy. You’re going to want to break him of that thumb sucking, you know. Leads to crooked teeth and overbite.” She laughed at her own whimsy. “Now there would be a sight. A bat in braces.”
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Laying the sheet to one side, she started an intravenous infusion of fluid. Using another vein she drew blood. They struggled briefly for possession of his arm, a battle she won seeing as, for the moment, she was strongest. But he didn’t surrender gracefully and hissed and growled at her. Using another vein she drew blood. Her laboratory equipment was limited and she could only do the most basic blood work, but every bit of information helped. “I’m sure you’re not saying nice things about me.” Finding a good vein on the back of his hand, she slipped the needle into it and attached a specimen tube. It began to fill with blood. He took one look and fainted. She couldn’t help laughing. “Now that’s an interesting reaction. Must be kind of inconvenient when you’re out hunting, or maybe it’s just the sight of your own blood that does you in. Arnie’s the same way. Toughest man in the jungle as long as he doesn’t bleed. Men are such wimps.” After setting the drawn blood aside, she taped the needle securely in place and hooked up a bag of saline. A loosely wrapped elastic bandage that covered the needle would keep him from tearing it out. Hopefully. His eyes fluttered and opened. “Back again, are you?” He gave her what she could only describe as a dirty look. “This will improve your disposition.” She tucked another warm flannel around him. “You rest. I’m going to get a cup of tea and do your chart.” She settled at the kitchen table with her notes. She was lifting her half-empty cup of cooling tea to her mouth when she heard a soft metallic click. Rising from her chair she stepped out into the hallway and looked into the treatment room. Her patient had unfastened all of the restraining straps and sat on the gurney, legs dangling. Grimacing with pain, he stood up. He stood there a moment and then closed his eyes, tipped back his head and, with a half-swallowed cry of pain, folded and retracted the wing, splints and all. All the color leached out of his face and he swayed dangerously. Oh shit. He was going to faint. Tess inched in his direction. “Okay, here’s the deal. Your claw is still sheathed and you haven’t pulled out your other wing. I’m taking that as a friendly gesture. The thing is, you’ve got to lie down before you fall down and ruin all my hard work. You do that and I’ll be real irritated with you.” She reached out and took his arm. If he decided to attack now, she was dead. “This is so stupid.” She wrapped her other arm around his waist. He sagged, eyes rolled back in his head. Tess pushed him forward and he landed face down on the gurney, half on and half off. If he’d gone to the floor, she would never have gotten him up again. She lifted his legs and pushed and shoved until she got him all the way back on the gurney. Tipping him up onto his side, she propped him there with a rolled blanket so his weight wasn’t on his bruised belly or his wounded shoulder. The wing hadn’t completely retracted because of the added bulk of the splints, but even bulging from the pocket it was in a much better place than it had been. He’d paid a heavy price to get it there, however and his breathing had taken on the huffy quality
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of acute pain. She took a chance and applied a dermal patch of pain killer. In a few moments his breathing eased and the deepest pain lines faded from his face. Out in the kitchen the pup gave a whimper that promptly erupted into a fullthroated howl. The male’s eyes flew open. “Nobody could miss that, could they?” Tess got the crib and pulled it into the treatment room so he could see that no one was torturing his offspring. He silenced the pup with a soft trill. “I’ve got to learn how to do that.” She changed the pup’s diaper and went for a bottle. He nursed with a little less haste but still did a good deal of greedy gulping. It would be a while before he trusted this new source of nourishment not to run out on him like his mother’s milk had. With the pup burped and back to sleep, her attention returned to its father. He had drifted off again, his periods of wakefulness growing shorter, the flush of fever deepening across his arched cheekbones. “Think wings,” she muttered under her breath. “Big black wings with big black claws. Think dangerous.” Hard to do when he wasn’t acting dangerous. Of course, he was weak and sick. Healthy would be a whole different story. Still, save for the few moments over at the clinic when she suspected he would have cheerfully disemboweled Arnie, she hadn’t felt threatened. The eyes usually told the story. A few animals had sent her racing for high ground with a single glance, but not this guy. So far. Mostly what she saw in his eyes was pain and intelligence. Unfortunately, intelligence wasn’t always a good thing. The smarter the animal, the more difficult to contain. You didn’t dare turn your back on the smart ones because they were usually three steps ahead of you. Medium dumb was more manageable. Stone stupid too often equaled mean and unpredictable. She tightened the strap over his hips and raised the sides of the gurney. He eyed the bars warily. “You need an x-ray.” She pushed the gurney out into the hallway and headed for the room housing the xray machine. At the end of the hallway she made a sweeping turn toward the room where she kept an x-ray machine. He gave a bleating moan and threw up. “Sorry,” she apologized as she mopped him off with a towel. “Didn’t mean to make you carsick.” Breathing through flared nostrils, visibly struggling with recurring waves of nausea, he glared at her. “I said I was sorry.” His mutters did not sound the least forgiving. She waited until his breathing calmed and a bit of color returned to his face before starting out again, going much slower this time. 40
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Tess was convinced that Itz supplied the clinic with antiquated castoffs. Surely aliens capable of space travel had something better than the x-ray unit she had to use. Its saving grace was that although old it worked well and produced fairly decent films. She tried not to think about how much improved her ability to diagnose would be if she could do CAT scans and MRIs and had a fully functional lab. And, as long as she was wishing, a radiologist to read everything and a lab tech to process tests and print out results. Or, better yet, just go home. She parked the gurney outside the door, went inside and loaded the film and got the machine set up. Then she went back for him. He’d dozed off and didn’t wake up until she was positioning the gurney under the machine. His eyes popped open. He took one look at the monstrous green enamel machine hovering over him, gave a wild cry and fainted. “Good show, Tessie. Scare the poor thing to death.” She moved him away from the machine before picking up his ice-cold hand and rubbing it between her warm ones. “Come on, sweetie, wake up. It’s just a hunk of metal. It isn’t going to eat you, I promise.” His eyes fluttered open, their turquoise depths filled with lingering panic. Tess crossed to the machine and draped her arm over the green enameled housing. “See? Totally harmless.” She patted the chipped paint and spun the silver adjustment wheel up and down, played with all the knobs and tapped the dials. She turned it off and on so he could hear the clicks and whirrs. “All I want to do,” she explained as she inched him close again, “is to take a picture of your shoulder. That means you lying like this with your arm out like so.” She gently positioned him. He was tense and wary but didn’t fight her. His trust was heartwarming. “Oh, excellent! Now lie very, very still.” She pressed the button, the machine clicked and whirred and he yanked the blanket up over his head. The movement ruined the film, but once he had his face covered he lay still and she was able to take another two shots. Done, she pulled the blanket down far enough to look him in the eye. “Now, was that so hard? Aren’t you ashamed for making such a fuss?” She gave his leg a pat and headed out the door, the undeveloped plates under her arm. She got no farther than the hallway when he began calling her with high, imperative trills of anxiety. She returned to find him sitting up on the gurney, struggling with the restraints. “Whoa! Calm down.” She urged him back down. He lay back, but clung to her hand. “Okay, so I won’t leave you behind.” She tucked the blanket back around him and tightened the straps. “You have got to stop bouncing around like this. You come off this gurney on your head and you’ll ruin all my pretty bone setting.”
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After shoving the undeveloped plates under the mattress, she pushed the gurney down the hall to the developing room. “You stay right here. I’ll leave the door open a crack so you can watch me, but there isn’t room enough for both of us.” As long as he could see her, he stayed quiet. She hadn’t expected him to attach to her. Especially not after all the pain she had caused him, not to mention scaring him half to death with the x-ray machine. The developed films showed that his shoulder was riddled with buckshot. “Blasted butchers.” It also showed a portion of his spine. Tess studied the curious bone formation wishing she’d had the presence of mind to get more shots of his vertebrae. The bones appeared to be able to interlock in a way that would keep his body horizontal while flying. It made sense. Flying around with legs and lower torso dangling would be difficult. Back in the treatment room, she shaved his shoulder in preparation for surgery. Each pellet would have to be removed and its entry path thoroughly cleaned. Not something that could be done without anesthetic. Her choices were limited. She had an inhalant that resulted in a nice unconscious patient who vomited for hours and hours post-op or an intravenous drip that didn’t upset the stomach, but often seriously depressed respiration and cardiac function. He had reacted so badly to the tranquilizer that she was leery of the injection, but at the same time, he sure didn’t need to do any more vomiting. She finally settled on the injection, but used it so sparingly that she had to stop twice and administer more. That was a small inconvenience for a patient who ended surgery with a strong pulse, good respiration and a calm stomach. The pellets removed, she packed the holes with healing gel, a bit of Noran technology she treasured. She had no idea what the gel was made of or how it did what it did, which was merge with healthy flesh to become one with the body, but it was fantastic stuff, able to replace soft tissue and lost muscles and even repair damaged nerves on occasion. She thought about using it on his fractured wing, but with no idea what it would do to the delicate membrane decided to stick with the old-fashioned method of letting the bone heal itself. She installed a drain in his shoulder and dressed it with a cloth bandage, still the best method for draining wounds that needed daily dressing changes. Modern technology leaped along, but now and again what had worked for the past one hundred years was what would work for the next hundred. His blood pressure was down and his temperature climbing. He was sicker now than he’d been four hours ago, but his lungs were clear, he was getting fluids and the drop in blood pressure was not the sort that indicated internal bleeding. Evidently Arnie’s merry men hadn’t ruptured his spleen, if he had one, or lacerated his liver, something she was sure he had. Livers were pretty much standard issue.
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She administered antibiotics and sat back to wait for an allergic reaction. If there was none and she could get the infection under control, he just might live. And then what? Nothing good. She picked up his hand and examined his long, slender fingers. At her touch, he folded his fingers around hers. Damn Arnie.
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Chapter Four The male slept, but his offspring didn’t. Every two hours the pup woke up starving. She upped the amount of formula to eight ounces and added a protein supplement to give it more substance. “You are a piglet,” she said to the pup as she wrapped a clean diaper around his skinny bottom. “But a cute one who needs a clean shirt.” He had dribbled formula down his chin. With the pup back in his crib and sleeping, she went and checked on his sire. She’d chosen a narcotic dermal patch for pain management and it was doing a good job. He slept quietly, but his temperature continued to climb. If the antibiotics didn’t kick in within the next forty-eight hours there was no hope for him. With both her charges sleeping, she headed for the clinic. Itz made afternoon rounds and she preferred to be at her workstation when he showed up, thus keeping her lying to a minimum. Lying wasn’t something she did well. She loped down the stairs to the tunnel level and managed to arrive at the clinic a full two seconds before Itz and his sidekick, Zima, slid through the front door. Itz paused inside the entrance, scanning the hall with his pale eyes. She watched as, silent as slime on his slipper-clad feet, he moved toward her, Zima following so closely they seemed connected by a tether. “Greetings, captive,” Itz greeted her in his high, thin voice. He never let her forget her status. “Greetings, Master D’Ganzer,” she replied, touching her forehead in the required gesture of obeisance. “They thrive?” His command of English was excellent, his use of it economical. “Yes. We’ve encountered no problems so far.” “They have wings?” “Not the young. Arnie said just the adult males fly.” “There are males in the harvest?” “Yes, four of them.” Harvest! Did he really consider these captives crops? The galaxies nothing more than gigantic fields for him to plunder? “So, we’ll see. You’ve searched the database?” “I was on my way,” she lied. The edges of his eyes crimped in irritation. “That should have been your first action.” “I erred.” She bowed slightly but said nothing more. Explanations and reasons were wasted on the Noran.
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“Deaths?” he asked. She looked past him to Nina standing behind him. She was shaking her head. “None,” Tess answered. “Number?” “Twelve.” “You’ve not entered them?” The question was more accusation than query. They both knew that he had checked the database before coming to the clinic. “They’ve been busy cleaning and feeding and I was ill.” Itz fixed the gaze of his large, slow-blinking eyes on her. “Your health is recovered?” “Completely.” His expression didn’t change, but she sensed his skepticism. “The nature of your malady?” “A stomachache. Something I ate.” His gaze flicked in the direction of the old aviary. She felt a spurt of fear. He looked back at her. “There was a failure in the security system monitoring the rear hallway.” “Was there? I had no idea,” she lied. “Broken wires.” His tone implied grave doubts as to the ability of wires to break spontaneously. Or maybe her guilty conscience was on high alert. She hoped so because the last thing they needed was Itz on a fact-finding mission. He was relentless. Fear settled in a hard lump in her stomach as she struggled to hold her expression neutral. His nostrils flared, tasting the air. Did he smell her fear? Norans had a frightfully keen sense of smell. Meta sidled up to her and thrust a fresh cup of coffee into her hand. Itz, repulsed by the pungent aroma rising from the steaming brew, backed away. Thank goodness for Meta. “You will complete the data entry before the end of the day,” he instructed. Then, motioning to Zima, he glided silently out of the building. Tess walked to the window and watched after him. He paused in the middle of the sidewalk and cast a speculative glance at the windows of the old aviary. One of these days he’d remember that the spy cams in the aviary had been taken off-line and he’d correct that omission. She should have been here for morning rounds. Any deviation from normal routine got his attention. Her absence and the broken camera were too much to be chalked up to coincidence. Her hands were shaking and her stomach burned. She would never make a successful spy. Deceit and subterfuge killed her. She headed for the quarantine room determined to bury her nervousness in work. The pups were jittery and restless, fussing and whimpering in their sleep. Their unrest hovered in the air like a tangible presence, upsetting even the normally
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unflappable Houdins. The pups were sounding, no doubt searching for their lost mothers. Poor things. She watched the pup Nia held grab her hair and burrow into it. The pup at the apartment had hung on his father’s chest by clinging to his ultra fine body-down. Motioning for Cara to accompany her, Tess led the way to the Houdin settlement where she sought out the tannery. There she picked out a tanned hide covered by silky fur. With the hide tucked under her arm and clutching a bottle of glue, she hurried back to the infirmary. Using scissors, she cut three-inch-wide strips of fur and glued them at the head of an empty nursery box. After giving the glue a few minutes to dry, she set one of the fussy pups in the box. He burrowed into the fur, clutched the strands with his small fingers and sighed in sleepy contentment. Every box got a length of fur. The pups snuggled in and the unnerving shimmer in the air stopped. The Houdins chortled and hugged one another, delighted with the results. They found great pleasure in the smallest things and expressed their joy with affectionate hugs, their enthusiasm with excited clapping. With the pups settled, she headed for her office and her computer. Using every search combination she could think of, she tried to identify the newcomers. They weren’t bats and they weren’t flying foxes, although they had features from both. She ended up calling them Flyers. Not much of a species designation, but the best she could do for the moment. She then opened individual files for each pup and downloaded the data she’d previously entered into her handheld. The pups had calmed down and were eating and sleeping at regular intervals. They appeared to be close to the same age, give or take a few weeks. Many animals had a common breeding time that had evolved out of centuries of experience with climate and the availability of food. They were beautifully colored. Their down ranged from palest blond to pure black. Their large eyes were gray, gold and shades of blue and green. The wide dilation of their pupils indicated excellent night vision. Interestingly, none of the females had the striations on their backs such as the males had, confirming Arnie’s opinion that the wings were gender specific. She closed the files and returned to the main menu and opened the scientific dictionary. She hadn’t searched it yet, only the zoological database. Once again, she had a species that wasn’t in the Noran database and defied classification. Done with her input, she returned to the nursery to check on the pups. The formula suited. They were sleeping quietly clinging to their imitation mothers. Now if none of them fell prey to some ordinary bug they had no resistance against they’d be ready to put on display come spring. Ready to be caged for the entertainment and enjoyment of visiting Norans. The prospect sickened her. Outside her window, one of the trains passed by, carrying a load of visitors. They streamed through the zoo from spring until fall, arriving early and staying late, viewing the animals and dining in the Houdin-run restaurants. The skillfully designed habitats
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created the illusion of a natural environment and, thanks to Itz’s new breeding program, many of the older family groups had babies. Mothers with babies were great crowd pleasers. She’d tried to explain the hazards of inbreeding to him, but he’d brushed her concerns aside, forcing her to breed mothers and daughters to fathers and sons, a sure recipe for genetic disaster. Not being the sort who assumed blame, Itz would select a scapegoat. She figured she’d get top billing, with Arnie second. Itz tolerated them and used them, but everything and everyone were expendable. She prayed she and Arnie were long gone when the full impact of inbreeding became apparent. During the next three days she spent more time at her residence than at the clinic. The male’s temperature soared as the infection in his shoulder raged. She spent her nights reducing the fevers with alcohol rubs and ice. Gripped by the throes of delirium, he gnashed his teeth, growled, hissed and even barked. When she hovered on the verge of giving up all hope, the antibiotics took hold and his fever broke. Barring something unforeseen, he would recover and that meant it was time for her to take some reasonable precautions. Using sheeting, she fashioned a vest that fastened in the back and would keep him from opening his wings. She put it on him while he was still too groggy to do more than hiss crankily. Recovery meant regaining strength and she wanted his wings contained. His protests left her unmoved. “Ask me if I care. I don’t. I’m real short of sleep, crankier than you are and in no mood to listen to your complaints. Your kid has a tapeworm, judging from the way he eats, and if you don’t have me up, he does. I’m adding mashed fruit and cereal to his diet. Maybe he’ll sleep longer between feedings.” The pups in the nursery were also thriving on diets of formula and fruit. There had been no illnesses save for a collective case of the sniffles. In a way, Tess wished she had included Gus, as she was calling the little guy, in the original count so he could be put in the nursery with the others, but there was no backtracking at this late date. Itz would never believe she had miscounted and she expected she would have some serious management problems with his father if she did dispatch Gus to the nursery. “So we’re stuck with one another,” she told the baby as she fished him out of the sink and wrapped him in a towel. She dumped him in the middle of her bed where she’d left his clean clothes. “Not that I care. At least most of the time.” What was it about babies that tugged at the heartstrings? He was consistently cheerful as long as his stomach was full and his bottom dry, although evening was his favorite time of the day. He enjoyed both his bath and playtime. Tess tickled him and blew on his bare tummy and he’d squirm and chortle. Once she had him settled in his crib, Tess went to give her adult patient his evening bath. He did not enjoy the attention and glowered and hissed through the entire procedure. Tess ignored his complaints which remained vocal as long as she left his hair alone. He violently opposed any attempt to brush out the snarls and she didn’t insist. Time enough for that when he was stronger. However, his nightly bath was a necessity. 47
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“Not that I don’t sympathize,” she told him as she soaped a washcloth. “I hate bed baths myself, but it’s the best we can do for the time being. When you’re stronger I’ll use the sprayer on you again.” She ran her hand over the silky hair covering his forearm. “I’m calling the little one Gus. I think I’ll call you Silky.” After his bath, she got a cup of ice chips from the freezer. His stomach seemed settled, but he refused to take anything by mouth. He had to start drinking. IV fluids would not get his digestion back on track. She pulled a stool up beside the gurney and offered him a chip. He clamped his mouth shut in refusal. She demonstrated, popping one into her own mouth and sucking noisily. “Try it, you’ll like it,” she assured him. He looked dubious, but when she offered him another chip he allowed her to slip it between his lips. He rolled the chip around inside his mouth, letting the precious moisture trickle down his dry throat, his expression one of sublime pleasure. “See, I told you you’d like it, you big doofus.” She offered him another. He reached for the cup. “Oh no you don’t. You gobble all this down and you’ll be heaving again. Slowly and gently, my friend. One chip at a time.” She offered him another chip. He leaned forward to accept it and at the last moment snatched the cup out of her hand. Tess responded instinctively, never thinking beyond the consequences of him gorging on ice. She knocked his hand up, scattering the ice chips across the floor. He hissed in fury, his eyes narrow slits. She jumped back, out of his reach. He sat for a moment glaring at her and then sighed and sat back. “I know you’re thirsty, but you’ll make yourself sick again if you tank up on water.” She picked the cup up off the floor but before she refilled it she mimed stuffing the chips into her mouth, then made a face, held her stomach. “A few at a time,” she cautioned. Then laughed. “Like you understand a thing I’m saying.” She handed him the cup. He took out a single chip and put it in his mouth. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the look in his eyes was contempt. Many animal behaviorists claimed that animals keyed to tone of voice and facial expression rather than the actual words. She’d seen demonstrations designed to prove that theory and just as many disclaiming it. She didn’t subscribe to either theory wholeheartedly. It seemed to her that animals understood a blend of voice, tone and body language. For whatever reason, Silky ate the chips one at a time and that was the important part. Before he emptied the cup, his eyes closed. She took the cup out of his limp fingers and tucked the blankets up around his shoulders. Sleep was the ultimate healer for man and beast. She turned down the lights and pushed Gus’ crib into her bedroom, took a quick shower and crawled into bed, exhausted from the nights of broken sleep and stretching herself between her apartment patients and those at the clinic.
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As usual, Gus woke at dawn. She scooped him out of his crib and shuffled toward the kitchen, tying the sash on her thigh-length housecoat as she went. Between the bedroom and the kitchen he went from crying to paint-peeling screams. “You’re a pain, you know that, kid?” He gave another red-faced bellow. “And you’re noisy.” She laid him down on the table to change him. He kicked his feet and screamed bloody murder. “Will you shut up? That’s enough to wake the dead.” Turning to throw the wet diaper down the disposal chute, she found herself face to face with Silky. He stood in the kitchen doorway, one of his blankets wrapped around his waist. He took in the scene at a glance and gave a commanding bark that silenced Gus. That expended his strength. All trace of color faded from his face and he legs buckled. Tess shoved a chair under him. “If you pass out and hurt yourself, I’m going to be seriously upset.” How had he gotten out of the treatment room? Had she forgotten to lock the door? She couldn’t imagine overlooking something so important. What if he’d gotten outside? Not that he could get far. He sat with his head down, breathing in raspy gasps, totally exhausted from having walked a scant ten feet. She got another blanket and draped it over his shoulders. Gus began to whimper. She mashed bananas, stirred in some formula and began poking them down him. Silky, somewhat recovered, reached out and stroked Gus’ tummy. “When are you going to get it through your thick head that I’m taking good care of this kid?” He reached for Gus. “You think? What the heck.” She stuffed the last spoonful of fruit into Gus, laid him in Silky’s lap and handed him the bottle. After tasting the formula, Silky offered it to Gus, who nursed in heavy-eyed contentment. Silky crooned softly, a half-whispered melody so fraught with sorrow that it raised goose bumps on Tess’ arms. Silky sat with his ankle resting on his opposite knee, forming a resting place for Gus. Disregard his slightly thickened torso and he looked like… She stopped right there, pulling her mind up short. “Don’t go there, old girl,” she told herself. “It’ll only cause you trouble.” With Gus fed, burped and returned to his crib, Tess took a leap of faith and offered to help Silky back to the gurney. She put her arm around his waist and draped his arm over her shoulder. His nostrils flared as he sniffed her hair, his warm breath whispering against her neck.
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“You had no business being up,” she said, urging him toward the treatment room. He responded with a melodic babble. She smiled. “Well, if I can babble, I guess you can too. Maybe someday we’ll even understand one another. Wouldn’t that be a trip?” She turned down the lights and left him to sleep. Now wide awake and with no inclination to return to bed, she dressed and went to the clinic, determined to get a head start on her work before she had to return to the apartment to feed Gus. Silky’s temperature continued to fall and by week’s end there was little swelling in his shoulder, although a few of the holes continued to drain. One in particular looked as if she’d have to drain and clean it again, but he was definitely going to survive and that survival introduced a wealth of problems. Leaning against the doorframe of the treatment room, she munched on a suppertime sandwich and studied him as he slept. What a handsome thing he was. She brushed a strand of hair off his cheek. His recovery was going well and she ought to be able to tackle the snarls in his hair before too long. The next morning, before leaving for the clinic, she double-checked the gate on the treatment room door to make sure it was locked. She also key locked the deadbolt on the stairwell door. The elevator didn’t concern her. Granted, Silky was smart and cooperative, but he was still an animal. Wasn’t he?
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Chapter Five Standing at her living room window, Tess watched the Norans assemble for departure. Falling temperatures had put an abrupt end to summer and Itz and company had spent the day packing. She should have gone down, but she’d been afraid to. Arnie was about to risk everything and she knew she wasn’t a good enough actress to appear unconcerned. Itz paused in his duties to make note of her absence, pointedly looking up at the aviary windows. Arnie stood off to the side, shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. He’d been in disgrace since his last capture mission. Forced to land due to an electrical fire, he’d attempted repairs and the very animals he’d been sent to capture attacked, killing three of his Minitars and wounding several others. As far as Itz was concerned, failure was failure and the details of why didn’t concern him. Now Arnie planned to use the breakdown as his bargaining chip for carte blanche in the hangar. Always before he’d been required to submit a parts list. If he missed something, too bad. Now determined to give his ship a nose-to-tail overhaul, he’d told Itz he wouldn’t go on any more missions unless his ship was reliable. Laying down conditions involved a calculated risk. Instead of giving the go ahead on the overhaul, Itz could just as easily ground Arnie, ending all hope of escape. Tess’ heart pounded when Itz beckoned to Arnie. Their conversation was brief, the set of Arnie’s head and shoulders speaking of stubborn determination. With visible reluctance, Itz handed Arnie a packet of key cards. Arnie’s bow made her smile. He hated bowing to the head Noran, but this time he had good reason to. He’d gotten the permission. She waited until she heard the ship lift off before racing to the clinic. Arnie arrived a few minutes after her. “You saw?” “I saw.” “Well, first things first,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Got to get my still up and running before I tackle my ship.” “Arnie!” “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks.” “Just don’t blow up any more sheds,” she cautioned. “The Houdins gave me fresh ingredients and I’ve got a new idea for the cooker. I’m cool.” “You’re crazy,” she muttered as the door swung shut behind him.
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Running a still had its hazards, like getting blown up or seriously burned. But over and above that, Arnie didn’t have time to waste if they were going to leave before spring when the Norans returned. Unlike most of them, who enjoyed lighter duties in the winter, he carried a heavier load, responsible for maintaining the heating system, keeping the light plants running and repairing anything that broke in the complex. He also distributed the supplies that arrived in the unmanned supply ships every week. Any noticeable changes in his routines would be reported to Itz. Arnie would be hard pressed to find time for overhauling his ship. The handling of supplies put Arnie to muttering every time a ship arrived. Mechanicals unloaded the containers, but Arnie had to sort everything manually and see each item properly distributed. He was convinced the Norans probably had something ten times better and Itz was just too damn cheap to buy it. He was probably right. Itz pinched pennies until they squealed and rarely authorized a project one of them suggested unless it could be done with things on hand. The only exception was the enhancement of the zoo for visitors. Then no expense was spared. Three days into Arnie’s still-building project, a supply drone landed, forcing him to take time off to distribute supplies. He livened up the task by harassing his mechanical watchdogs at the hangar and ended up with a bad burn on his arm. “Why do you pester the poor things?” Tess asked. He grinned. “Pull their guidance systems and they go nuts. Start zapping drafts. This bugger got me with a scatter shot. I didn’t duck in time.” “Men and the games they play.” “This ain’t no game,” Arnie said. “I need to understand how those two mechanicals work so I can keep the bastards from broadcasting stuff I don’t want old Itz to see.” “I thought you said they couldn’t broadcast during the solar storms.” “I don’t think they can, but what if I’m wrong? I sure as hell don’t need Itz sending an army out to stop me from doing what I’m planning.” “Which is?” Tess asked. He chuckled. “To end up with a ship that can fly rings around anything he has.” “Try to do it without getting killed, will you?” She shaved the hair off his upper arm and spread liquid bandage over the area “You get one of those mechanicals really mad at you and it’s liable to take your head off.” “Tessie, they’re machines.” “You know that, but do they?” He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.
***** The next morning she spied him crossing the grounds with a pair of young Houdins trailing him. She didn’t envy them their day. Not being from an industrialized
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society, they were slow learners when it came to things mechanical and Arnie wasn’t a patient man. Several days passed before he showed up at the clinic. He shouldered through the door, shaking off snow like a wet dog. Already a foot deep on the ground, the snow continued to fall at a slow but steady pace. They were in for a long, cold winter. “Cold enough out there to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” Arnie said. He pulled off his mittens and blew on his cold fingers. “You could use the tunnels like the rest of us do.” She handed him a cup of steaming coffee. “It ain’t that cold.” He took a sip. “Not yet anyway. But I’ll probably have to before long. This is going to be a bad winter. I can feel it in my bones.” He tossed his coat over the back of a chair. “How’s the heat in the cat house?” “Holding at sixty-five,” she replied. “I just patched it. I can’t replace that valve until Itz sends me one. Ninety-nine valves in stock and none fit.” He reached out and snagged a frosted roll off the plate sitting on the sideboard, the frosted rolls and honey-coated buns some of the wintertime treats that came out of the Houdin kitchens. Arnie polished it off it two bites. “So how’s my boy?” he asked. “Not as good as he was,” she admitted. “He’s having some stomach trouble.” A worrisome relapse when he had seemed to be doing so well. “When can I see him?” “It’ll be a while yet. He’s still not very strong.” “Dammit, Tessie. It’s been two weeks.” “Arnie, you handed him over to me filled with buckshot, with broken bones and a raging infection. Now you’re acting like I should have been able to throw some sticky tape on him and, presto, he’s cured. Be thankful he didn’t die. He should have, you know, after what your guys did to him.” “But he’s over that hump, isn’t he? He ain’t gonna die, is he?” “No, he’s not going to die.” “You’re keeping him locked up?” “I’m being careful,” she replied evasively. His eyes narrowed. “You start taking chances with that old boy and I’ll haul him out of there faster than you can say scat. You just remember how he uses those meat hooks.” “I’ve got him in a vest so he can’t open his wings.” “You think a puny vest will hold him?” Arnie asked. “It isn’t puny. It’s made out of really strong material and it fastens down the back where he can’t reach.” She walked to the sideboard, refilled her coffee cup and changed the subject. “How’s the overhaul going?”
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Arnie’s small blue-gray eyes sparkled. “I’ve turned my mechanical watchdogs into doorstops with off and on switches. Now I can spend all day stealing parts and copying documents and maps and Itz’ll never know the difference.” For the first time in a long time, Tess allowed herself to hope. It hadn’t just been Arnie’s ability to gain access to the things he needed. She’d also questioned his willingness to give up his position with the Norans. In spite of being a captive, Arnie had taken a huge step up socially. He was in charge of a crew and the commander of his own ship, no longer a second-class citizen panhandling in shopping malls. She watched after him as he left. When he came abreast of the aviary he stopped and looked up at her windows. She wouldn’t be able to stall him much longer. She wrapped her arms around her waist and worried about how protective and possessive she felt for her patient. Setting down her coffee cup, she headed toward the ICU where a medium-sized feline had spent the night after undergoing surgery to set a fracture of its right foreleg. This afternoon she had to worm the large herbivores. She would take along Tort, the Houdin blacksmith, to check feet and trim hooves and toenails. It was dark out when she headed toward the apartment. Tonight she hoped to get Silky into the shower. He disliked bed baths and yesterday had growled so fiercely when she took down the sprayer that she’d put it right back up. She hadn’t really been stretching the truth much when she’d told Arnie that Silky wasn’t as healthy as she wanted him to be. He wasn’t eating well. Tonight, she fixed him his usual tray of assorted fruit, grubs, worms and insects, all things bats normally ate, and served him before popping Gus into the sink for his nightly bath. A clean diaper, sleepers and a bottle settled Gus for the night. Silky had, as usual, picked through his meal with scant enthusiasm, finally eating some of the fruit. “You have to do better than that,” she said as she removed the barely touched food. At least he’d drunk the citrus-flavored diet supplement. “We’ll worry more about food tomorrow. Tonight you’re getting a good shower.” She changed into a tank top and shorts and headed for the bathroom adjoining the treatment room. The Norans had a fondness for bathrooms and every facility had an ample supply. The bathroom off the treatment room typified the Norans’ concept of an adequate facility. A wall of medicine cabinets with mirrors extended over double basins. A toilet and a urinal were inside their own enclosures and, in addition, a roomy four-nozzle shower stall filled an entire corner. There were no tubs save for the therapeutic whirlpool tubs at the clinic. Relaxing in a hot tub filled with aromatic bath oils and a good book apparently had never made it onto their agenda of soul-satisfying activities. Tess set a shower chair in the stall, adjusted the water and went back to the doorway and beckoned to Silky, trusting that his insatiable curiosity would bring him into the bathroom. Hopefully, once there, he’d let her lead him into the shower. Now
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that he was up and about, their roles had undergone a curious shift; he much more wary of her than she was of him. He edged into the bathroom, nostrils flared, sniffing the air. All of his senses came into play when she exposed him to anything new. He smelled, listened and touched. She opened the shower door and he reached out for the jet of water pulsing from the shower head. Still fully clothed, Tess stepped inside and stood under the stream of water. Then she reached out her hand and he cautiously took it and let her coax him inside, his ankle hobbles making his steps mincing. When he stepped over the threshold, she stripped him of his blanket and tossed it out onto the bathroom floor. He frowned and started to go retrieve it, but Tess tugged him forward far enough for the jets of warm water to pummel his body. His frown gave way to what could only be called a smile. Tipping his face into the water, he made a sound of pure pleasure. Tess laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’d finally done something you approved of.” She squeezed bath gel into her palm. He tugged at the vest. “Sure, why not?” She seriously doubted he could spread his wings inside the confines of the shower stall. She pulled back the self-sealing straps and slid the vest off his arms. When she opened the shower stall door to throw the vest out, he pushed her through the opening. “Now just a damn minute!” she protested. He shut the door in her face. It had no lock and she could have forced her way back inside, but what for? Water poured over him from four different directions, so it wasn’t as if he wasn’t getting clean. She’d hoped to shampoo his hair, but every time she touched his hair he pushed her hands away with a chittering scold she knew too well. He brushed it, but with only one useful hand he wasn’t accomplishing much except to smooth a layer of outer hair over the snarls. The lightly frosted door of the shower did little to conceal and she watched as he scrubbed his body with handfuls of gel. His ability to imitate her actions constantly surprised her. He’d filled out a little, the unhealthy gauntness of illness disappearing. Oh my, but you are a handsome devil. He had his back to her and a stream of bubbles drizzled down his back and over the curve of his muscular buttocks. Tess felt a sizzle of inappropriate awareness creep through her belly. She pushed the feeling forcefully aside and went to don dry clothes. Afterward, she went into the kitchen and washed the supper dishes, leaving him to his own devices. Just as she got done with the dishes, he appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. She got another towel and dried his back. “I want to take a look inside your wing pockets.” She ran her finger down the closure of the pocket housing the unbroken wing, having discovered that her touch relaxed the muscles closing the pocket just enough for her to be able to peek inside but not enough for the wing to pop out. He didn’t flinch as she inserted her hand into the pouch and felt around. The soft, suede-like lining was dry and clean and there was no sign of infection. It smelled sweet
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inside. She’d been keeping a close eye on the broken wing, not wanting to discover on the day the splints were to be removed that the wing itself had decayed. She didn’t trust him to complain. Animals could be amazingly stoic. The joints in both his shoulder and his elbow had solidified and he would have limited use of that arm for the rest of his life. Nothing was stoic enough to endure the pain of physical therapy when they had no understanding of the need. She couldn’t think of a single way to explain to an animal she was hurting on a daily basis that all the pain was for its own good. He’d been amazingly cooperative so far. She had no intention of ruining that. She dropped a clean vest over his head and secured the straps binding his wings. He scowled and muttered, but given the choice between dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist and keeping her from putting the vest back on him, he’d opted to guard his modesty. “You are a cutie, you know that?” She smoothed the last strap into place. “That does it, my friend.” She headed into the bathroom in the treatment room, not bothering to close the door. She reached for the waistband of her slacks, looked up and saw him watching her. Something in his eyes raised the hair on the back of her neck. He wasn’t seeing his caretaker. He was seeing a mature female on the verge of undressing. It was time for her to start closing doors. She did away with the gurney and brought him a big bag of soft pungent wood chips for bedding. He slept the next two nights on the bare floor. When she offered him a couple of blankets, tossing them onto the pile of chips, he snatched them up and shook them out, giving her a tongue lashing with his distinctive scolding sound. Then, very carefully, he laid them over the chips, using the chips for his mattress. The shower had tired him. His strength remained limited and would continue to be until he started eating better. His lack of appetite and the unexplained, too-frequent upset stomachs were worrisome. Thank goodness the pups were displaying none of his digestive problems. They were turning into plump little butterballs while he remained painfully thin.
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Chapter Six Philtrane and Suttee, Itz’s Maganor snitches, were not outstandingly bright, but the pair had sufficient intelligence to keep Itz well informed. There was a major flaw in their spy technique, however. Predictability. The ill-matched pair, Philtrane tall and bone thin, Suttee short and squat, followed the same route day in and day out, carefully adhering to the same timetable. Avoiding them was simple. Pay attention to the time and plan on being where they weren’t. They were more irritating than dangerous because they just plain enjoyed snooping in places where they weren’t welcome. Tess had chased them out of her apartment several times and when she realized that someone was going through her things, she blamed them. But how were they getting in? Since Silky’s arrival, she locked the aviary building whenever she left. Not only were the stair doors locked, but she parked the elevator on the first floor and pulled the fuse, rendering it inoperable. But if not them, who? Definitely someone. The first few times she had a creepy feeling crawl across the back of her neck, she ignored it, but she soon began to take careful note of where she left things and how many remained in boxes and packages. Things got moved around in her refrigerator. Several slices of bread went missing. The clothes in her dresser drawers and closet weren’t quite where she’d left them. Nothing grossly disturbed but enough to be noticeable. She asked Arnie if he’d noticed anyone disturbing his rooms. He hadn’t. Of course, his housekeeping made it difficult to tell if anything was out of place. She even considered Silky, but only for a moment. Hobbled and inside a padlocked cage, he couldn’t go prowling. Although bright and aware and blessed with long, clever fingers, he was a beast without the level of intelligence required to pick a padlock. Determined to catch the culprit in the act, Tess returned to the apartment early the next afternoon and crept silently up the stairs, having realized that the rattling elevator made a perfect early warning system. She unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and crept silently down the hall. The treatment room was empty, the door ajar, Silky’s vest and hobbles lay in a heap on the floor. Panic hammered her. Where was he? Get a grip, she cautioned herself. Gus snored peacefully in his crib and Silky wouldn’t have left the building without the baby. The sound of running water coming from the treatment room bathroom sent her in that direction. Easing the door open a hair, she peeked inside. Steamy air pungent with the scent of flowers filled the room. The bastard was in the shower and using her good scented soap! She nearly yanked the shower door off its hinges when she opened it.
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He gave a startled yelp and dropped the soap. Soap bubbles drizzled down his broad chest. A long moment of silence passed between them, the only sound that of the running water pouring over him. Reaching out, he turned off the water, then bent down, picked up the soap and returned it to the dish. After snagging a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist he stepped around her and headed back into the treatment room. She followed him. The padlock she had been so pleased with hung open. The key still hung on its hook in the hallway. He’d used the key and returned it to its proper place? She closed the door leading into the hallway and snapped the padlock shut. He retreated to his bed in the corner and wrapped up in his blankets. Both of them were attempting to reassemble something that had just been hopelessly fractured. There would be no going back to her perception of him as a dumb animal or primitive alien. And he couldn’t go back to his pretense of being weak and pathetic. She buried her face in her hands, struggling to come to grips with what she knew she should have realized long before now. She raised her head when she heard a soft sound that held a questioning lilt. He stood a few feet away, wrapped in his blanket. “Just how smart are you?” she asked. His answer came in a string of melodic words. Not babble. Speech. Speech, she realized, she should have recognized weeks ago. That neither understood the other was irrelevant. They both had language. Something she would have known if she hadn’t had her brain so stubbornly locked on “dumb animal”. Did Arnie know? Was this part of why he’d brought him back? Because he realized Itz had finally goofed and sent him after a sentient species? If so, the least he could have done was warn her that this captive was out of the ordinary. Of course, he’d warned her repeatedly of how dangerous Silky was. Maybe that was as close as Arnie could come to the truth. One thing was for sure. The calm intelligence glowing in those turquoise eyes made him a “being”, not a “thing”, and it was unacceptable to leave a “being” naked. That he’d wrapped himself in his blanket indicated that he agreed. A very notable change had taken place in his demeanor. All trace of timidity had vanished. The what? Man, for want of a better description, stood with head high and shoulders squared, managing, while dressed in a blanket, to look every inch a warrior. Confidence gleamed in his eyes. She’d initially thought his long dark lashes gave him a feminine look. Nothing feminine here. This fellow was thoroughly male. She went into the bedroom and got a pair of drawstring trousers and a shirt, carried them back to the treatment room and handed them to him. “Get dressed, why don’t you?” she said. He rubbed the material between his fingers and then sniffed it. Apparently approving her offering he carried the clothing back into the examining room where he could dress unobserved. He managed to pull on the trousers, but was unable to tie the drawstring. The shirt he only managed to pull up one arm. He returned holding up the trousers with one hand, the shirt hanging from his shoulder.
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“What the hell.” Throwing caution aside Tess walked over and cinched the drawstring tight around his flat belly. “It’s been you going through my stuff, hasn’t it? You’ve been playing poor pitiful patient evenings and then pawing through my drawers and my refrigerator during the day. Why the refrigerator?” No sooner had she asked the question, then she rolled her eyes in disgust. “Well, hell, Tess, where’s your brain? He doesn’t eat grubs and bugs. He probably prefers buttered bread and lamb chops.” The evidence of his intelligence had marched back and forth in front of her, screaming to be noticed and she had hit it soundly in the head with a hammer of denial. She had been so determined to keep him a dumb animal that she had matched his every action to known animal behavior. Now she had to reclassify him. Not that he was human. He wasn’t. Homo sapiens didn’t have wings with claws and oval eyes framed by inch-long lashes the color of soot. Feeling more than a little shell-shocked, she headed for the kitchen. Her grandfather had always said that if all else failed, sit down and have a cup of tea. Well, right now nothing made much sense and a cup of tea sure couldn’t hurt. Silky followed at a respectful distance, pausing in the doorway to watch her fill the teakettle and put it on the stove. She pulled out a chair and motioned him into it. He sat, one ear cocked toward the bedroom where Gus was stirring. She went and got him and brought him into the kitchen where she laid him on the table to change his diaper. The moment Gus was clean and dry, Silky reached for him. “Typical man,” Tess snorted. “Women get to do the dirty work and you step in to have the fun.” Silky cuddled Gus against his chest and cooed to him while Tess zapped a bottle in the Noran’s version of a microwave to take the chill off. She handed the bottle to Silky. “Here, you feed him.” Silky nudged the nipple between Gus’ lips. Gus took it and nursed slowly, small fists clenched, turquoise eyes fixed on his father’s face. Silky cuddled him, stroked his cheek with his finger and talked to him in soft melodic phrases, his love for his son a tangible presence. With Gus burped and back in bed, Tess turned her attention toward supper. Opening the refrigerator, she invited Silky to help himself with a wave of her hand. He shoved the container of grubs and bugs aside and reached for the bread. Bread, butter and greens for a salad got piled on the counter. In addition, he added two vegetables that required cooking, yellow tubers and a green-stemmed vegetable similar to asparagus. His lack of hesitation told her that he had sniffed and tasted everything. Cooking was a mystery to him, however, and he watched closely as she put water in steamers, added vegetables and set the steamers on the stove. He watched just as closely as she washed and trimmed the salad greens, tasting various items with approval while shoving a few aside. She offered him milk and he refused it with a curled lip and a shake of his head.
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“The source of one of your upset stomachs?” Highly possible. Lactose intolerance was common. She filled his glass with water. He replaced the water with fruit juice. “Selective, eh?” He wanted no part of the leftover meatloaf she got out. Sniffed it and backed away. “I’m going to eat it, even if you aren’t. You still need a protein.” She got a poultry breast out of the freezer and popped it into the defroster. The defrosted morsel got sniffed and poked before he gave cautious approval. She dropped it into a cooker and added water, chopped parsley and onion. He ate with his fingers and a sharp knife, holding the chicken breast and cutting off bite-sized pieces. She offered two dressings for the salad greens. He discarded one on smell alone and, after sniffing the second, cautiously dipped his finger into the jar for a taste. When she salted and peppered her serving of vegetables, he shook a little of both seasonings into the palm of his hand and sniffed them before she could stop him. The look he gave her when he recovered from his sneezing fit told her he thought anyone who put such awful stuff on their food lacked vital brain cells. Tess vacillated between anger at having been so easily duped and embarrassment that she’d refused to acknowledge the obvious. It said little for her supposedly finetuned observational skills. She knew her stubborn denial came from the bitter disappointments she’d suffered in the past. Every time Arnie had brought back a human-like captive, others who might talk and laugh and share their lives, they didn’t. Arnie hadn’t seen a hint of another sentient species out there but agreed that it might be that Itz avoided them after his disagreeable experience with the humans he’d picked up in the Portland parking lot. If that was the case, then Itz had made a mistake in sending Arnie to raid Silky’s cave. But what kind of intelligent people lived in a cave and ran around naked save for his watersoluble winter coat? While in the nursery with the babies, Silky used musical vocalizations that indicated a sophisticated language. She had been able to distinguish two levels of vocalizations. The one he used around her contained complex sounds that could be separated into words. The sounds he used with the babies were much simpler. More sounds than words. Silky ate with enthusiasm, laying to rest her concerns over his lack of appetite. She would throw out the containers of bugs and grubs. She’d fixed them an after-dinner cup of tea and sat across from him at the table watching him spoon honey into his, then stir it with a spoon. He lifted the cup, took a sip and smiled in approval. Hysteria bubbled up her throat. She was having a tea party with a flying fox! But was that any more insane than seeing a spaceship land in a Portland parking lot? Being a doctor in an alien zoo? Life had gone totally beyond Alice down the rabbit hole. Her initial anger over Arnie’s duplicity faded when she realized that had he been sure that Silky was sentient, he wouldn’t have bothered coming back. He would have stayed on Silky’s home world, not caring if Itz blew up his ship as long as he wasn’t on
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it at the time. But could he have stayed safely? Itz tracked Arnie’s every move and he didn’t keep a fleet of heavily armed ships just for show. He might well have followed Arnie and Arnie was smart enough to know that. The more she thought about it, the less she believed Arnie had deliberately concealed Silky’s intelligence from her. It was more likely that he’d had his suspicions, but no real proof. Which explained why he was so anxious to see him again, but that would be an encounter fraught with danger. Silky had stood eye to eye with him, looking down the barrel of his gun. If Silky was healthy he would take one look at Arnie and attack and she wouldn’t have a prayer of stopping him. What an absolute mess. “Would you like more tea?” she asked, her voice strained, motioning with her hands to explain her words. She felt like burying her face in her hands and crying like a two-year-old. Not that tears would help anything. He pushed his cup toward her. She went for the teakettle. “When we’re done here, I expect I’d better fix you a bed. I’ve got a feeling wood chips aren’t what you’re accustomed to.” She left him sipping his tea and went to the storeroom to get a bed frame and a mattress. The wood chips got swept into the floor drain and the bed set up and made. He circled it warily, then tested the softness of the mattress and the fiber-filled pillow and smiled. Eager to establish communication with him, Tess named every item she laid hands on. He listened attentively, frequently repeating a distorted version of a word under his breath. Teaching him enough English so she could talk to him was the only avenue open to her in making him understand that Arnie was a friend, not an enemy. She knew that were she in his place, she would find forgiveness difficult, if not impossible. Using gestures and crude sketches, Tess asked him what kind of clothes he preferred. The better artist, he sketched leggings, a breech cloth and over-the-calf footwear and a wrap-around shirt that tied in the front. She took his body measurements and made an outline of his long narrow feet to drop off at the Houdin sewing shed in the morning. The task was complicated by her awareness of the warmth and smoothness of his skin and the silky texture of his body hair. Her hand crept up the calf of his leg, around firm muscles past his knee almost to his crotch. He went perfectly still. She looked up and found him looking down. Mutual awareness collided. Tess scooted backward, away from him, then grabbed up her notes and her tape measure and fled. Safe in her bedroom, she pressed her hand over her hammering heart. What was wrong with her? Coming on to a patient. An alien patient at that. An animal.
***** Tess came to realize he preferred vegetables, although he would eat fish and small amounts of poultry and rabbit, the latter boiled, not fried. He liked pasta dishes with red sauce, pasta with cheese sauce and most fresh vegetables. He had a real sweet tooth
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and loved baked goods, spice cookies in particular. He preferred tea over coffee and ate all kinds of grains, brown rice his favorite. His stomach problems vanished and he put on weight. His face was no longer gaunt, but cheekbones retained their aristocratic arch. They communicated with a combination of gestures, body language and vocalizations. He indicated disapproval with a raised brow that gave him a haughty look. He was generally cooperative, but on occasion he shrugged his shoulders to indicate he didn’t understand her, when she suspected he understood her very well and simply didn’t want to do what she’d asked. Deliberately, she often thought, convinced the lack of understanding was his way of refusing to do what he didn’t want to do. There was no denying that he was smart, crafty and, she believed, stubborn as a rock when it suited him. He also had a sense of humor, a terrific smile and a deep, musical laugh. It had been six weeks since she’d set the fractures in his wing. “Time to x-ray your wing and see how it’s healing,” she told him. Taking his hand, she led him down the hall to the x-ray room. He balked in the doorway and eyed the machine warily. “It’s harmless,” she said. His response was a look of rank skepticism. Nonetheless, he allowed her to lead him inside and then refused to be positioned for the x-ray until after he’d poked and prodded the machine and had satisfied himself that it wasn’t about to cast off its floor bolts and attack. When he finally permitted her to take the x-ray she found healthy new bone at every fracture. The bones were healing slowly but nicely. Standing in front of him, she extended her arms out to the side and raised them up over her head, indicating that she wanted him to do the same. He tried, but could only lift his arm halfway toward his shoulder. He frowned and attempted to force his arm higher but abandoned the effort with a grimace of pain. “In a couple of weeks the splints can come off,” she said. “While we wait, we’ll work on your language skills.” Unfortunately, his shoulder would remain frozen in its present position, forever hampering his use of that arm. Physical therapy would greatly improve the flexibility, but she doubted she would be able to convince him that he must endure considerable pain in order to regain the use of it. She had seen tough grown men whimper during the painful stretches that were required to return a frozen joint to mobility. She added “come”, “sit” and “eat” to the list of words he already knew and then began forming simple sentences. “Come here.” “Go there.” “Eat bread.” He was a quick study and they were soon communicating, but remained miles away from the kind of dialog that would enable her to explain Arnie’s position in their lives or the necessity for the painful physical therapy needed to restore full use of his arm. She gave him the run of the apartment and it made for some interesting moments. He caught her shaving her legs one night and recoiled in horror. She threatened him with the razor and he leaped away, chittering his all-purpose sound of alarmed disapproval.
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“Now I know how to torture you,” she teased. His disgruntled response held no trace of humor. When she finished, he made her stand still while he ran his hand down her smooth, freshly shaved leg. He stroked her other leg, running his palm from her ankle to her crotch. She froze, breath caught in her throat, shocked by the sensual need that swarmed over her. His hand lingered and his nostrils flared, taking in her scent. Almost too late, Tess came to her senses and pulled back, out of reach. With trembling fingers, she drew the lapels of her thigh-length robe together over her breasts. His upright stance and sure movements, the sheer presence of him, marked him as an alpha male. Of his own kind. Not her kind. She’d best remember that.
***** A few days later, she arrived at the clinic to find Arnie sitting at her desk, munching his way through her daily ration of sweet rolls. She poured herself a cup of coffee before he had a chance to empty the pot and laid claim to the last roll, a gooey treat of caramelized brown sugar and nuts. “If I’d been ten minutes later I’d have been out of luck.” “Fortunes of war,” he muttered. He licked the frosting off his fingers and sprawled back in her chair, his feet up on the corner of her desk, his expression sullen. “What’s wrong?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Those fucking schematics and diagrams are frying my brain. I was up half the night trying to figure them out.” “But you’re going to get them figured out, aren’t you?” she asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “In time.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re probably trying too hard. Take a break from the brainiac stuff. Relax a little.” “Might not be a bad idea. Maybe a couple of weeks in Florida would relieve my aching head.” “When we leave, what can we take with us?” “You, me, the critter and his kid,” he answered without hesitation. “The Houdins?” “No way. The four of us and supplies.” “Where are we going?” He smiled. “Now there I’ve made some progress. The star charts are a ton easier than the damn wiring diagrams. I’m aiming for the bat’s planet. Good air, lots of green stuff and water. I’ve been backtracking on the outbound navigation tapes and I should be able to get a fix on it. Just takes time.” Something they didn’t have an unlimited supply of. “Good.”
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He swung forward and planted both feet firmly on the floor. “Now,” he said in a tone of voice that told Tess he would not be easily put off. “When are you setting me up with a visit with my critter?” She opened her mouth to answer, her words cut off by the clamor of the alarm claxon. The red light on the control panel indicated the problem was in the reptile house. “Shit! You and your damn eggs!” she shouted as she grabbed a dart gun and a box of tranquilizer darts from the cabinet. She headed for the reptile house at a dead run, Arnie at her heels. “How many times do I got to apologize?” he panted as they rounded the corner and bolted through the front doors. “Forever.” The only things he’d brought back on his ill-fated last mission, when his ship broke down and his Minitars were injured, were eight eggs roughly twice the size of an ostrich egg. Sky blue and speckled with dark rose, they couldn’t have looked more innocent. She’d candled them and saw the shadowy embryo of a reptile, probably a lizard. Detecting movement, she set them in a brooder and waited for them to hatch. A week ago, one egg hatched. The foot long hatchling emerged and savagely bit the hand of the Houdin trying to separate it from the unhatched eggs. Captured and put in a pen by itself, it devoured not only the food given to it, but its bedding and pieces of the pen floor. It doubled in size in the span of a day and during the night ate its wooden nest box and choked to death on the splintered wood. Tess moved the eggs to a more secure nursery, one designed to contain aggressive newborns. The second hatchling, lacking furniture to eat, ate two of its unhatched siblings before munching down a gallon of floor cleaner still in the can. It died an hour later. Tess put the remaining eggs into individual brooders with a steel mesh roof, strong synthetic floor and sidewalls. She and Arnie raced along the tunnels toward the reptile house and arrived just in time to see a hatchling blast through a two-inch solid core door sheathed in metal. The Houdin workers had made it to the top of a row of metal cabinets where they perched, whimpering in terror. The lizards, bright green and gold, with long snouts and crimson eyes, were the most vicious newborns Tess had ever encountered. They emerged from the shell with bloodlust shinning in their red eyes. Sharp boney plates ran the length of their surprisingly long tails and they whipped them back and forth like a saw blade. “Jesus H. Christ!” Arnie muttered as two of the lizards raced down the hallway with the speed of a cheetah. Tess was sickened by the carnage in the hatching room. Broken shells, body parts and blood were everywhere, every unhatched egg savaged. The steel mesh lids had been ripped off the brooders and lay on the floor in shreds. “This ain’t no rescue mission,” Arnie said as he clicked off the safety on his gun. 64
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Tess nodded. She ought to have ordered all the eggs destroyed after the first one hatched. She took a firm grip on her own gun. Disdaining the Norans’ weapons, Arnie had built rifles using the tools in the hangar’s machine shop. He claimed the bullets he made could flatten a medium-sized dinosaur. She hoped so. Arnie hit the intercom. “Lakar,” he yelled. “Get your ass down here and bring guns!” The Minitars were crack shots. The lizards reached the end of the hall and doubled back. They charged into the hatching room where the Houdins were. Foltay balanced on the very edge of a cabinet, one plump leg hanging down. She yanked it back when one of the lizards leaped for it, double rows of razor-sharp teeth snapping together like the jaws of a steel trap. “Put a great white shark to shame,” Arnie muttered as he pumped two bullets into it. His self-satisfied expression vanished when the beast blinked in irritation and didn’t even stumble. “I fucking don’t believe this.” Yellow-green blood pumped from two large holes in the lizard’s left side. It paid no attention. Arnie put the next shot straight into its open mouth, blowing the back of its head off. “Look out! Behind you!” Tess screamed. One lizard circled back around through the hall and came up behind Arnie, stalking him like a cat. Arnie swung around and faced it. The forked tongue flicked in and out, tasting the air. Arnie chambered a round. When it refused to open its mouth, he crammed the barrel of the gun up its nose and pulled the trigger. Tess cringed and turned away. The top of its head disintegrated in a yellow-green mist. “You okay, toots?” Arnie asked Tess. “I think so,” she managed. “Do us a favor. Pass up the next bunch of eggs you see.” “Oh yeah,” he agreed, leaning back against the wall, his breath coming in wheezing pants. Four Minitars exploded into the room and skidded to a stop, perfect pictures of disappointment. There was nothing they enjoyed more than a full-scale massacre. “You guys get cleanup,” Arnie told them. Lakar grinned. Tess shuddered, knowing all too well how this particular cleaning up would go. She wanted no part of it and headed for the door. Arnie followed her. When they reached the clinic and put their guns away, he headed for the hangar, his questions about Silky momentarily forgotten. He’d soon be back, more determined than ever and she was running out of excuses. She also knew that if Silky attacked him, Arnie would fight back. He had no tolerance for anything that put him in harm’s way. She was unsure which of them would win. Silky met her at the apartment door, his eyes filled with anxiety, Gus clasped to his chest. “I guess you heard the uproar.” She should have come over and reassured him. “Just a small lizard problem. All under control.”
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He pointed to her blood-splattered clothing. “Well, I guess you could say it was a big lizard problem.” She fished clean clothes out of her dresser and headed for the shower. When she came out, Silky handed her a cup of hot tea. “What a sweetheart you are. Look, Silky…” He interrupted, firmly shaking his head. He laid his hand on his chest and said very clearly. “Roan.” He pointed to Gus. “Coee.” “Roan?” she repeated. He nodded. “Coee?” Again he nodded. She pressed her hand to her own chest. “Tess.” “Sss?” T sounds were difficult for him. “Te-ess.” “Ess.” “Good enough.”
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Chapter Seven The next morning, Arnie called to tell her he planned to spend several days in the hangar working on his ship. She decided to take advantage of his absence and take Roan over to the clinic, where the lobby was spacious enough for him to extend his wings more comfortably. With Arnie occupied elsewhere, removing the splints should go smoothly. Tess dressed Roan and Coee warmly for the trip to the clinic. Carrying Coee, she led the way to the elevator. Roan boarded reluctantly, endured the car’s noisy descent uneasily, took one look at the dimly lit subterranean corridor when the doors opened, gave a sharp bark of alarm and swept Tess and Coee behind him. “Whoa! Roan, stop.” She placed her hand on his, stopping his determined attempt to rid himself of his clothes so he could extend his wings, splints and all. “There is nothing here to hurt you. I promise.” It took five minutes of talking to get him calmed down and inching forward all the while, darting glances back and forth as if he expected some sort of flesh-eating predator to come leaping out of the shadows. Granted, the tunnels were poorly lit and filled with dark, mysterious corners. Noises echoed through them and bounced back totally altered. Steam hissed from the overhead heating pipes and mold drew weird abstracts on the walls. All things spooky but nothing harmful. Roan was unconvinced. He hissed and growled every step of the way and filled the air with rapidly fired bursts of sonar. “I swear, if you had hackles they’d be raised,” she said as she coaxed him along. He veered toward a set of stairs. She dragged him away and urged him on down the tunnel. She would have to tell Arnie that Roan’s home planet might well have formidable cave-dwelling predators. During the winter, feeding was done at the tunnel level and, hearing footsteps, the animals came to the bars in hungry expectation. Roan barked and snarled, driving most of them back from the wire. A pair of snow leopards snarled right back. “I’d just as soon you didn’t pick fights with the other residents,” Tess said as she dragged him along. “They’re caged, silly. They can’t get out.” He didn’t care. He gave another seriously challenging snarl, making her glad they wouldn’t be passing by the saber-toothed lions. He would no doubt try to pick a fight with them. Bad enough that he hurled insults at the Eket vampires. She hurried him along and into the tunnel leading to the clinic. She had called ahead and told Martha to cover the camera in the lobby. It would take Philtrane and Suttee half a day to realize something was wrong with the spy cams and by then she would have Roan safely back in the apartment. 67
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Roan, visibly relieved to be above ground, pulled off his wool hat and looked around, the sweep of his turquoise eyes taking in every detail. The Houdins scrambled for Tess’ office and closed and locked the door behind them. Tess headed for the nursery to put Coee with the others. Roan followed her. The sound he made when he saw the cribs sent chills down her spine. The two Houdins who’d remained in the nursery, probably thinking they were safe there, backed up against the wall, their eyes wide with terror. He ignored them, his burning anger directed at Tess. He turned on her with murder in his eyes. She backed away. “I didn’t do it. I had no part in the raids.” As if that mattered. “It wasn’t me, damn it!” He backed her right out of the nursery, discarding cape and shirt on the way. When they reached the main lobby, he snapped his wings to full extension, warrior claws gleaming. He was the embodiment of lethal force even with the splints. All beast and fury. She couldn’t run fast enough to get away from him. Besides, where could she go that he couldn’t follow? Resignation overtook fear. What would be would be. She’d long ago realized that there were worse things than being dead. Some days the zoo was one of them. She said a silent prayer. He flexed his wings, cupping them to catch the air, pushing it forward. It brushed her face and nibbled at her hair, a harbinger of death. She didn’t blame him for his rage. They’d stolen his children and murdered his people. “Do it,” she invited. “Better you than Itz.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But leave them alone,” she said of the Houdins. “They’re the ones who have been caring for those babies. Keeping them alive. And just in case you’re interested, we’re all prisoners here.” She stepped toward him, daring him to be done with it. He hesitated, distracted by the babies’ chirrups for attention. “Minnie, hand me your baby,” Tess said softly. Minnie scooted across the room and thrust the baby girl she held into Tess’ arms. Tess held the whimpering infant out to Roan. He hesitated but was unable to resist the tiny reaching hands and frantic entreaty. He took her, cradling her against his chest. She snuggled and purred. The lethal stance of his wings softened. He looked up at Tess with tear-filled eyes. “Yours?” she asked gently. He shook his head. “But close, I expect. A relative.” His fury momentarily deflected, he turned his attention to the row of cribs. Carrying the little girl, petting and stroking her, he prowled along the row trilling to the babies in his deep melodic voice. They gurgled and cooed, delighted to hear a familiar voice. When he reached the end of the row, he turned back toward Tess with a questioning gaze. “That’s all of them,” she said. 68
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His cascading throb of grief went beyond tears and there was nothing she could do to erase his pain for children and mothers slain. She shouldn’t have brought him here. Not until she’d explained, prepared him. But bringing him was not nearly as big a mistake as the one bursting through the front door in a swirl of wind-driven snow. Arnie stomped into the hall, shaking snow from his clothing and boots and her heart stopped. She opened her mouth to warn him, but was already too late. Roan’s regal head swiveled in Arnie’s direction, his wings swept out, and claws poised and glistening. He dumped the baby he held in her arms and charged It took Arnie a split second to comprehend his situation. He took a futile step backward. “Jesus H. Christ!” Unarmed, he looked death right in the eye. “Tess.” He half turned toward her. She couldn’t imagine that he actually thought she might be able to save him, but she had to try. She leaped after Roan. “Roan, no! You can’t. Wait. Please. You don’t understand. We need each other. You can’t kill him!” She owed Arnie her life and truly cared for the bald ex-con. Not to mention that they’d be stranded here forever without Arnie. Roan’s splinted wing was proving somewhat unmanageable and trailed slightly. She made a grab for the trailing edge, caught it and yanked as hard as she could, newly healed fractures be damned. Pulled off balance, Roan stumbled and fell, his head hitting the floor with sufficient force to stun him, all the advantage Arnie needed. He bolted from the building. Tess knelt beside Roan and felt for his pulse. It leaped raggedly against her fingertips. He moaned and opened eyes momentarily clouded with confusion, but they cleared in a heartbeat. He tried to rise, but sitting up drove the color from his face. He hung his head between his knees, too dizzy to stand. “I know. I know.” She patted his back to comfort him. “You aren’t going to understand this, but Arnie isn’t exactly the bastard you think he is.” Roan’s wings had retracted as he fell and she tucked his cape around him to protect him from the cold drafts in the lobby. “Well, he is and he isn’t. He did lead the raid. There’s no point denying that, but he didn’t have a choice. Not really. None of us do. We’re all prisoners here just like you are.” She paused and took a shaky breath. She was talking too fast, her sentences piling on top of one another. “I’m babbling. I do that when I’m scared and you scared me.” Terrified her was more like it. Her heart pounded in her ears and cold sweat trickled down her spine. “How are you feeling?” His color had improved. “Could you get up now?” She motioned with her hands. He nodded. She cupped his elbow to steady him and he got to his feet. “Come on, let’s get those splints off.” She led him over to a chair and had him straddle it. She patted his back. “Open them up.” His wings flared. The Houdins watched from the office, mumbling in clicks and grunts, wide-eyed and frightened. Hands still trembling, Tess began the time-consuming, arduous task of
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removing the makeshift splints. If they’d been a deterrent to mayhem she would have left them on while she improved his language skills, but he’d already shown the splints were no handicap. He might not be able to fly, but he could certainly kill. “All done,” she told him as she wiped the last thread hole with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. “If you’d put them away, we could get you dressed again.” He stood up and flexed the wing, testing it. Then he stretched both out in full extension, ebony claws reflecting the light. The claws moved like fingers. When he turned around and faced her, her heart skipped a beat. Naked from the waist up, displaying muscular arms and shoulders and a well-developed chest that tapered to slim hips, he managed to look both deadly and beautiful. With ears up and wings extended, slightly cupped to bring the claws forward, he was all animal. All aggressor. Then he shrugged his shoulders and the wings disappeared and his ears flattened, leaving behind a tall, well-built man with jet hair and unusual eyes set in a handsome face of slightly pointed features. The transformation startled her. Her heart tripped. Which was he? Man? Beast? Regal alien? Certainly a majestic creature and a complex one. She retrieved Coee from Marta and tucked him inside her jacket. Taking Roan’s hand, she led him toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s get you home.” When they reached the aviary apartment, she gave him some painkillers. As hard as he’d hit his head, she couldn’t believe he didn’t have a headache. He washed them down with a drink of water and went to bed, too exhausted to do anything more than pull off his boots. Tess tucked a comforter around him. As she started to leave, he caught her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. An apology? “You’re sorry you flared up at me, but what about Arnie?” she asked. He hissed like a stepped on snake. She sighed. “That’s what I thought.” She turned out the light and closed the door reaching the kitchen just as the com beeped. “The bloody bastard tried to kill me!” Arnie bellowed. “Did you think he was going to blow you kisses?” she asked. “You killed his family, his friends and most of his relatives. And you stole the babies. Didn’t it occur to you that he’d be upset?” “I saved his fucking life!” “I don’t think he sees it that way.” Arnie heaved a sigh. “Okay, I suppose not. You could have called and let me know.” “You said you were going to be in the hangar all day every day for the next week,” She said. “I took you at your word.” “Guess I did at that,” he admitted sourly. “I saw you sitting there with his head in your lap.” He didn’t sound pleased. “I suppose you took him home and gave him a lollipop.”
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“No, as a matter of fact, I gave him two aspirin and he went straight to bed.” “Poor baby,” Arnie said without an ounce of sympathy. “Don’t be such a jerk, Arnie.” “He needs to be in a cage.” “The only person he wants to kill is you,” she reminded him. “For me he’s a pussy cat.” “And all healed up and healthy?” “Pretty much.” “Sounds to me as if things have gotten kind of twisted,” Arnie said. “I had to get down on my knees and beg you to give him a chance and now you’re hovering over him like a mother hen with a single chick. I’m getting a bad feeling in my gut, Tessie and it ain’t got nothing to do with anything I ate.” “Maybe it’s something you didn’t eat. Are you getting enough fiber? Have your…” “Enough already,” he snarled, cutting her off. She smothered a laugh. For all his rough edges Arnie had a large amount of modesty. Arnie changed the subject. “Want some good news?” “Certainly.” “I figured out the last of the codes,” he said. “Really?” “Yep.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that a hoot? Old Arnie, who never owned anything bigger than a bike, cracked these spooky gliders’ destruct codes. I can turn them off and on at my pleasure and Itz will never know different until we don’t blow up like a bomb. By then we should be far enough away from here that they’ll never find us. After I finish overhauling my old crate, we can blow this joint.” “How much more do you have to do?” “A lot,” he admitted. “I’ve spent most of my time on the damn documents. I never figured that part would take so long. It’ll be close, but I’ll make it. How come you had him over there?” “To take the splints off his wing. It’s healed.” “Them splints didn’t look like much of a handicap.” “They weren’t,” she agreed. “If they had been, I’d have left them on even if they did itch.” She heard Arnie’s big feet hit the floor. “He talks?” “A few words,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to backpedal. “You’ve been holding out on me.” “Not exactly,” she hedged, then added, “Well, maybe a little.” “No maybe about it.”
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“I haven’t said anything because I knew you were anxious to see him and I was afraid of what would happen. And it almost did. He doesn’t talk well enough for me to really explain why you killed most everyone he knew. Operating on the eye-for-an-eye principle, he figures you should be dead and buried. If I hadn’t managed to get a hold of his wing…” She let his imagination fill in the blanks. “Just how smart is he?” “He figured out how to use the bathroom on his own,” she said. “His table manners are great if you overlook the fact he eats with his fingers and a knife. And I’ve been teaching him how to use the computer.” “Holy shit! He’s regular people, isn’t he?” “Yes,” she admitted. “Smart enough to be scary. Didn’t you say you found them in a cave?” “That’s right. I watched for three days before I made my move. Every night, soon as it was dark, one of them blew a horn like it was a starting gun and the flyers all took off and did some kind of maneuvers. Looked like a damn contest to me. One would make a fancy move and the others would try to imitate it. Sometimes they could and sometimes they couldn’t. After a while doing that they took off like a flock of birds disappearing into the dark. They stayed gone for an hour or two. The ones that stayed behind cooked up a big feed for when the flyers came back. They used big glazed pots set over fire pits. I didn’t see nothing metal.” “And you didn’t tell me any of this because…?” She purposely left the question dangling. “Looks like we’ve both been holding out,” he admitted uncomfortably. “Yes, it does. Let’s agree not to anymore.” “Deal. Now when do I get to talk to him?” “Why are you so anxious?” “I’m hoping he can identify his star system,” he replied promptly. “His home world has everything we need. Good air, lots of water and lots of stuff growing. I saw plenty of game. I’ve tried tracking back on my old flight tapes, but it’s not working. If he could give me the general direction or point out the star chart that looks familiar to him, I’d be able to narrow down my search. His planet is the best one I’ve been to so far and we for sure don’t have time to do a lot of exploring. I got a feeling Itz is going to be pissed off big time when we turn up missing. I’d just as soon not be flying around where he can find us.” Itz had made sure Arnie wouldn’t take off on his own by pre-programming the onboard autopilot. Arnie flew blind until he was well within the range of his destination. The program was erased automatically when he landed back at the zoo. “Me either. I’ll let you know just as soon as I’m convinced Roan understands that he can’t slit your throat.” “Yeah,” Arnie said. “That would be nice.”
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***** Tess had been taking Coee to the nursery now and then, thinking exposure to the other babies would be good for him. The next morning Roan surprised her by handing her Coee when she started out the door. “You want me to take him with me?” “Take. Others.” A chorus of cheerful chirrups greeted Coee. He replied in kind. After that, taking him to the clinic became daily routine. Roan spent most of his time on the icon-driven computer programs. Tess set up the audible and showed him the English tutor, hoping to improve his language skills. Unfortunately, there was nothing on his language in the system, further evidence that Itz hadn’t realized the Nightflyers were sentient. Roan worked with the English tutor, increasing both his comprehension and his command of the spoken word. He also corrected her species designation, informing her that his kind were known as Nightflyers. After seeing him flex and stretch his arm on his own, Tess undertook some formal physical therapy. He tolerated the pain surprisingly well, particularly after he discovered that his reward for cooperation was a soothing hot pack. Having worn him out with a lengthy therapy session, she left him lying face down on the treatment table with a hot pack on his shoulder, eyes closed and half-asleep. Going into the bathroom, she got his comb and brush determined to untangle the snarls in his hair. His daily brushings hadn’t removed a large snarl at the back of his head that was beginning to give off a musty smell. The snarl had to be either combed out or cut out. Knowing he would refuse to allow her to touch his hair, she took advantage of his being half asleep and pinned him to the table with a tie-down strap. His head snapped up, his eyes filled with suspicion when the buckle snapped shut. Seeing the comb and brush in her hands, he snarled, hissed and kicked. “I know. Every time I push you into a corner, you drag out your primitive side. Well, beast or no, you’re getting your hair done before you end up with an abscess under that knot, if you don’t already have one.” “No! No!” “Sorry about that, but the hair needs attention.” She grabbed a handful. His meager command of English vanished and he howled, the sound so fraught with anguish she hesitated, but only for a moment. It had to be done. The snarl had been there for over six weeks and she could see pus seeping from under it. “Wrecks your manly pride not to be able to out wrestle me, doesn’t it?” She pulled a moldy twig that had been acting like a hairpin out of the snarl. “I don’t know what the big deal is.” She worked each individual strand loose. “It’s just hair.”
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Working slowly and carefully, she salvaged most of the hair involved in the snarl. The core, tangled, matted and smelly, had to be cut away. Under it was a seeping ulcer, just as she’d suspected. She trimmed around it, cleaned it carefully and packed it with antibiotic. “There now. Isn’t that better?” He had beautiful hair. Absolutely straight and black as soot. She brushed it out until it hung perfectly straight several inches down his back. Satisfied with the results, she undid the tie downs. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He leaped off the table and confronted her. Tears streaked his face. Tears? She stepped backward. What was going on here? His eyes were pools of raw emotion. He verbally berated her, shouting and gesturing. She didn’t understand a thing he said and backed up to escape his anger. Then, in a move too quick to counter, he snatched up the hairbrush and shook it at her, threatening her. She bolted from the room, closing and locking the door behind her. Inside the treatment room, which also served as his bedroom, she heard him pacing, talking to himself, banging things. It sounded as if he was having a full-scale temper tantrum. He paused periodically to pound on the locked door with his fists and shout at her. She no longer relied on the padlocked cage door, but closed and locked the solid doors leading in and out of the area. Gradually it got quiet. When she’d heard nothing for close to an hour, she cautiously unlocked the hallway door and peeked in. Whatever damage he’d done had been set to rights and he slept wrapped up in his blankets. In the dim light, she saw his spiked tear-filled lashes and knew she’d crossed a line she might later wish she’d never approached. The next few days were strained. Roan was unusually quiet. She frequently found him standing at the windows, looking out at the frozen landscape, his expression unreadable. On weekends her clinic duties were minimal and she spent her time cleaning house and gathering up laundry. Evenings, she mended or played solitaire. She missed television, but what she missed more than anything was reading. She’d been a collector and once she’d bought a book, no matter how awful, she’d never been able to give one away. Her grandfather had finally given in to her passion and built a room in the basement, complete with dehumidifier, for her precious collection. What had happened to all of them? Would anyone think to save the possessions of those who’d vanished that day? Had the day the existence of aliens had been confirmed drawn a line in history? If she ever got another chance, she’d opt for ebooks so she could carry a thousand in her pocketbook. If the Norans had the equivalent of ebooks, she’d not seen them. The computer system was devoted to facts, not fiction. Realizing she was teetering on the brink of a first-class pity party, she mentally totaled up the things she was thankful for. Arnie topped her list. He was her Rock of Gibraltar. Life without him wouldn’t have been possible. In her ignorance, she’d have
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died with the others. Had she been the only one to survive, she doubted she would have been unable to bear it. She suspected that if anyone could have been a sole survivor, it was Arnie. Her work gave her life meaning and the Houdins, so eager to please and so willing to work, cheered her days. She and Arnie were both healthy. Things could be much worse than they were.
***** Thinking Roan down for the night, Tess indulged in a lengthy shower. When she stepped out of the shower stall, he stood waiting for her, hairbrush in hand. She tried to duck back into the shower stall, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hallway, pinning her to the wall with his knee, making her remember all the times Arnie had warned her that Roan was powerful and dangerous. Still, it wasn’t as if he’d attacked her with a meat cleaver. What damage could he do with a hairbrush? He pulled the stool out of the kitchen. “Sit.” She sat and tried to tell herself that this was no big deal, but in her heart she knew it was a very big deal. His hand shook as he lifted the brush to her mop of corkscrew red curls and drew the bristles through the still-wet strands. “Roan, you don’t need to do this.” She pushed the brush away. He grabbed a handful of her short curls and yanked. “Ouch!” “No hands.” She curled her toes around the rungs and hugged her towel to her chest. Muttering unintelligible words under his breath, he reduced her rioting red curls to satiny ringlets. Finished, he rested his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs stroked her neck. A prickle of awareness skated through her. Instinctively, she stiffened, but still she was unprepared for the touch of his mouth against the back of her neck or the sensual nipping of his teeth. She leaped off the stool, startling him. The stool overturned and crashed to the floor. He was coming on to her. Making sexual advances. She planted both hands in the middle of his chest and shoved. He staggered backward, his expression one of confusion. “How dare you!” “You asked,” he retorted. “I did not!” “Brush hair. Grooming. Mate.” Mate? As in copulation? The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Every rank joke she’d ever heard regarding sex-starved men and animals flooded her mind and turned her stomach. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” Her voice shook.
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He made one of his very eloquent sounds and threw the hairbrush at her. She deflected it with her hand, knocking it to the floor. He left the room, slamming the door so hard Coee gave a startled squawk and began to cry. She picked him up and cuddled him. “Now see what you’ve done?” she yelled through the closed door. “You woke up the baby!” She moaned out loud. Could she be any more absurd? Here she was, walking the floor with a crying Coee and shrieking at Roan like an outraged wife. This whole thing had gotten way out of control. She paced back and forth, patting Coee’s back so energetically it was a wonder the poor baby fell back to sleep. But he did, turning limp and warm against her shoulder, feathery lashes tangled together on his rosy cheeks. She kissed his forehead. Such love she had for this little one. But what did she feel for his father? More than she should. Roan’s touch had felt good. It had stimulated needs and desires left too long unfulfilled. Physically, sex with Roan was possible. But morally?
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Chapter Eight Tess decided that the best way to handle the incident with Roan and the hairbrush was to ignore it. Until his command of English improved, discussing it would no doubt result in even more confusion. Later, she would tell him that brushing his hair had been nothing more than a medical necessity. No additional meaning should be attached to it. The hair brushing incident made a marked change in Roan’s attitude toward her. Now he acted as if they were equals and casually discarded any of her rules that he disliked. He flat-out refused to acknowledge the danger of being seen outside the apartment and insisted on accompanying her to the clinic where he spent his mornings playing with the babies, his gentleness winning over the Houdins. He continued to treat the tunnels as portals to hell, but the subzero surface temperature and raging blizzards had driven even Arnie underground. He sneaked around doing his best to avoid a confrontation with Roan, who kept a watchful eye out for any sign of him. Every time a door opened Roan looked toward it. To thwart him, Tess and Arnie stayed in close touch. They discussed the possibility of Roan searching for Arnie on his own and came to the mutual conclusion that as long as Roan remained leery of the tunnels, Arnie remained relatively safe. In one of their unexplainable lapses in logic, the Norans had no spy cams in the tunnels. Arnie adjusted the clinic cameras so Roan could move about that area without concern. Had Itz been around, he would have spotted the changes in a minute, but Arnie doubted Philtrane and Suttee would notice. For good measure, he put a beam on their door that would beep both in the clinic and Tess’ apartment if they left their quarters. Roan identified each of the babies by their correct name and the crib names were changed accordingly. Tess also noted the changes in the database. It sickened her to know that these beautiful babies would be left behind. She continued to hope Arnie would change his mind, but she feared it was a lost cause. He talked at length about all the supplies they would need and how crowded the ship would be loaded with just the bare essentials. At least the babies were enjoying an extended stay in the clinic nursery being cuddled and fussed over by the Houdins. Houdin babies were probably the most pampered babies in the universe, discipline unheard of, and the Houdins treated those babies in their care with the same uncensored affection as they treated their own young. The absence of discipline only worked for the Houdins because their young were dedicated copycats. What the children saw their parents do, they did. Nightflyer babies were not and if there was mischief to be found, they found it. Roan filled that gap. Firm but patient and using what Tess called his “ancient speak”, a melodic assortment of
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trills, whistles, clicks and bursts of sonar that tingled across her skin, he taught the babies valuable no-nos. The winter developed certain monotony, the intense cold and heavy snowfalls forcing all into the tunnels. Those in the grassland habitats moved indoors, trading room to roam for life-giving warmth. The wild birds found warm niches throughout the zoo and were provided with feed and water. Even the great cats moved inside. The absence of the Norans was a blessing. Tess liked knowing that every move she made wasn’t being observed and that Itz’s favorite means of problem solving didn’t lurk just around the corner. That they lived on the brink of extermination was never far from her mind. Without Arnie making capture runs, her workload was cut by twothirds. In past winters the combination of less work and the long, dark days and bitter cold had depressed her and made time drag. Not so this winter. The days sped by and the old adage about so little time and so much to do fit perfectly. She spent every spare minute working with Roan on language skills. Arnie used his days to work on his ship and assured her he was making good progress. He also stayed out of Roan’s way. Tess knew that the next time he and Roan came face to face the results would be catastrophic unless she’d been able to make Roan understand why Arnie couldn’t be killed. It wasn’t just his skills as pilot, but everything else he was to her. Friend. Mentor. Protector.
***** She picked a night and waited until Coee fell asleep, then brewed a pot of tea and carried it and cups into the living room. “We need to talk.” Roan shut off the terminal and turned in her direction, accepting the cup of tea she offered. “You’re doing really well with English.” She took a sip of tea. “But this is going to be really hard to understand.” She’d decided to first explain where they were and about the zoo, but how could she explain galaxies to someone who lived where there were no airplanes? Or cars, for that matter. “Your home is way, way, way beyond the stars you see in the night sky. The ship you arrived in was a spaceship. And this is a zoo, a place where the Norans display all different kinds of plants, animals, reptiles and birds. Insects are even brought and put in cages so the Norans can come and look at them.” “You not zoo.” “Yes, I am. Arnie and I were captured just like you were. And the Houdins. The only difference between us and the others is that we’ve proved useful to the Norans, so they let us run loose and give us jobs. “Helpers.” “Kind of,” she admitted, wishing that wasn’t as much a truth as it was. “We all came from somewhere else and we all lost family and friends during the raids. In order to stay alive, Arnie and I have done things we wouldn’t have ordinarily done.”
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“You do good. He kills.” She sighed. Intellectually, she understood why Arnie did what he did, but emotionally? Forget it. “You’re right. He does kill, but what you also need to understand is that Arnie is the only person who can get us out of here. And we have to be gone when the Norans return because they’ll kill you. Arnie wasn’t supposed to bring you. Just the babies. He’s fixing his ship up right now and when it’s finished we can escape. But only if he flies us. I can’t. I don’t know how.” “I fly,” he declared firmly. “There’s no air out in space. You’d die.” He considered that a moment. “I fly here.” He gestured toward the rim of the caldera. “Take babies.” “There’s nowhere to fly to. There’s nothing beyond the caldera but sand, rocks, cacti and spiders the size of washtubs. Anyway, the Norans would just come after you and kill you.” “With guns?” “Yes, with guns.” Roan understood about guns. “Worse than the ones Arnie used.” His expression turned grim. “Arnie thinks that he can get us back to your home planet. That’s what he’s trying for anyway.” That pleased him. “Yes. Go home.” “Right. So no matter how much you’d like to cut his throat, you’ve got to leave him alone.” Roan’s smile was humorless. “Kill later.” Taking his hands, she looked him in the eye. “No. You will not kill Arnie later. He kept me alive. He taught me how to survive. We’ve done what we had to to survive. I’m not particularly proud of being the doctor in this facility and I curse the day I suggested bringing back babies instead of adults, but I can’t undo what’s done. Neither can Arnie. He’s hard and I don’t like a lot of the things he does, but he doesn’t kill for pleasure and convenience like the Norans do.” “He kills,” Roan stated flatly. Tess grimaced. “When he considers it necessary,” she said in Arnie’s defense. Roan snorted in derision. “Still bad. Evil!” Her temper flared. “You arrogant bastard! How dare you judge us? You weren’t here. You don’t know anything about what we’ve been through.” He blinked, clearly startled by her vehemence. She knew in her heart that Arnie found power in cruelty and enjoyed being able to kill without reprisal. It was an empowering experience for a man who’d spent most of his life the victim of poverty, abuse and an often out-of-balance judicial system. Now he had the wherewithal to pay society back. That it was the wrong society didn’t matter. Still, she didn’t consider him intrinsically evil like the Norans.
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“You’ve no right to pass judgment on either of us,” she said more calmly. “You weren’t here. You don’t know what it was like.” He turned toward the window, away from the censure in her voice. An ice-filled wind whipped the falling snow into a swirling blizzard. The streetlamps cast twisted eddies of trapped light unable to reach more than a few inches beyond their bulbs. The wind moaned along the eves, deep voiced and sorrowful. Roan absentmindedly rotated his shoulder. She came up behind him and began to massage the tight muscles. Since the night of the kiss, she’d carefully stayed out of his personal space and carried out his physical therapy sessions with clinical detachment. Tonight he surprised her when he turned around and hugged her. She pressed her cheek against his chest and looped her arms around his waist. “I didn’t do you any favor when I saved your life.” “Alive is good,” he replied. How ironic that he and Arnie agreed on such a fundamental issue. “None of us are where we belong. We probably won’t ever get back to where we belong. The Norans skipped around the galaxy picking up specimens for the zoo. What they didn’t want, they killed. Those that misbehaved, they killed. Killing was their solution to everything. Arnie told me the day we were captured that dying was stupid because once you’re dead you have no choices. So we stayed alive.” Roan stroked her hair. “Is good.” Her long-caged feelings spilled out in messy disorder and threatened to overwhelm her. “Things were easier when it was just me and Arnie. We had this pact. We’d escape together or die together. Only now there’s you and Coee and the others. And the Houdins. We can’t ask all of you to die with us.” “Not die,” he said with quiet conviction. He pulled her to him, his long slender fingers cupping her neck, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. She considered resisting, but before she could step back, his wings unfolded and curled around her, enclosing them inside a cocoon of sheer black silk. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent, his own salty male aroma flooding her senses. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, his full-lipped mouth warm and mobile, his tongue stirring up forbidden needs and emotions. He touched her hair, threading the short curls through his fingers. And then, as suddenly as the embrace had begun, Roan stepped back and Tess stood alone in the cold. Gratitude mingled with regret. The differences between them were rapidly fading into the distance, but she still wasn’t ready to venture into the uncharted waters of sex. Not yet.
*****
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They arrived at the nursery the next morning during breakfast. Coee’s anxious cry to be included brought Jaja on the run. She took him and put him with the others. Tess still marveled at Roan’s easy acceptance of having Coee in the nursery. “Nonnies,” he said, pointing at the Houdins poking food into hungry mouths. “Houdins,” Tess corrected. “Good nonnies,” he insisted. “No, Houdins.” His palm smacked on the counter, startling her. “Nonnies!” he barked. “Good grief. Okay.” She picked up the pen she’d dropped when he’d startled her. “Don’t get in such an uproar. I’m beginning to wonder if this talking business was a good idea. You’re sure turning out to be one opinionated fellow.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand and a sound not unlike those the Houdins made. The nearest of them grinned. “Do not tell me you are speaking Houdin,” she said in disbelief. “Nobody talks Houdin but another Houdin. Anyway, I don’t want you investing time in other languages until you’ve mastered enough English so I can get answers to all my questions.” “Questions?” “What your life was like. Where you lived. How you lived. Did you have engines? Cars? How did you dress? Stuff like that.” “No.” “No, what?” “Too sad.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe forgetting everything about the past is the best place for us to begin.” “Begin together.” He picked up her hand and held it. “New life. Una dead. Children dead. Go forward.” There was a deep thread of sorrow running through his words. No happiness, only resignation to a fate he was unable to change. His resigned acceptance. It had become more profound since the hair-brushing incident. Personal grooming, in particular brushing another person’s hair, had significance. He’d talked of mating and the advances he’d made since confirmed that grooming hair had ties to intimacy. She tried not to think about it. That weekend she sat beside him at the computer and searched the database for things he found familiar. He identified a variety of wildlife, some still strange to Tess and others she was familiar with. He recognized primitive mechanical items such as wheels, tripods and wagons. Engines and electricity were mysteries. “Luggers.” He beamed on seeing the picture of a beast harnessed to a cart. The next illustration showed it being ridden. “Luggers,” he repeated with a satisfied grin.
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Taller and more muscular than either a horse or a llama, it resembled both and had tufted upright ears and large, long-lashed eyes. It looked alert and intelligent, not necessarily a desirable combination because with intelligence came stubbornness. Her grandfather once told her the reason mules were so stubborn was because they were smarter than their riders. The highly held head and the way it looked down its nose denoted intelligence and arrogance which no doubt equaled stubborn. The file accompanying the pictures described luggers as strong and dependable, but difficult to train. They were used for riding, as pack animals and to pull wagons, carts and buggies and to do farm work. Definitely an all-purpose animal. Roan soon tired of looking at animals and Tess switched to the astronomy database. She did her best to explain a galaxy with its dozens of solar systems, but the concept was too foreign for Roan to get his mind around. She finally drew Earth and all the planets she remembered in its solar system on one sheet of paper, the zoo planet on another and a blank sheet of paper to represent the solar system he’d come from. She put one in the x-ray room, another in the apartment and carried the third downstairs and put it in the far corner of the aviary entryway, hoping that would give him some idea of the tremendous distances involved. Astronomy hadn’t been one of her favorite subjects. Now she wished she had paid closer attention. Her attempt to help him understand was futile. “Enough thinking,” he said. As he turned away, their arms brushed. The fine hairs of his body-down were like silk, his skin warm and smooth. Her fingers traced the outline of a clearly defined muscle. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Desire thrummed through her. The same desire glowed in his eyes. He nibbled along her wrist making her breath catch in her throat. She was in the middle of her cycle, ovulating. Had he, with his keen senses, sensed that or was this all emotional? Heartfelt? Did her body understand the rules of nature that prevented one species from breeding with another? She wrapped her arms around him wanting more than a few touches and the brush of his lips, but again he moved away, breaking the contact, leaving her bereft. Well, what could she expect? She’d pulled back with a shriek of horror the first time he touched her. Served her right that she now suffered a degree of sexual frustration as annoying as a full-blown case of prickly heat. It helped not at all to know he couldn’t get her pregnant. She had always pictured her future with a loving husband and children. She’d been confident she could blend her career as a physician with the demands of marriage and motherhood. But here? Now? With someone who wasn’t human?
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“We’ve had an animal escape,” she explained. “I thought it best to tighten the secure area around the clinic.” “A dangerous one?” Suttee bleated as he glanced around. “No, not dangerous. Just a honey bear. We’ll have her rounded up in no time.” “You’ve had a winter of misfortune,” Philtrane said with a measure of suspicion. She shrugged. “Just a few minor problems.” “Never before,” Philtrane pointed out. Not wanting to prolong the conversation, Tess excused herself and hurried away, acutely conscious of the way Philtrane looked after her. The absolute last thing they needed was for either of Itz’s snitches to decide she and Arnie were up to something. As much as Itz avoided the cold she had no doubt he’d show on their doorstep the moment he thought something was wrong. She relayed the conversation to Arnie. His scowl told her he shared her worry and, typically Arnie, he promptly blamed everything on her. “None of this would have happened if you’d kept that damn bat under lock and key like I told you to.” “Oh, right. Like you know the answers to everything,” she snapped. Arnie chuckled. “Ain’t you the touchy one. What’s the matter, not getting enough?” “You bastard!” His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Tessie?” “Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just being silly. Worrying. When escaping was somewhere in the distant future, I didn’t think about it much. But now that it’s almost within reach, I have this horrible feeling that we’ll be on the brink and something terrible will go wrong and we won’t make it.” “I know what you mean.” His agreement surprised her, for Arnie was usually positive and confident. They talked about the escape plans for a few minutes and then each went their own way, Tess heading for her apartment.
***** Roan emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp from his evening shower. Tess watched him brush it and gather the hair at his temples and braid it. They’d never talked about the hair brushing. It was time they did. She needed to understand what had taken place. “Roan, what did it mean when I brushed your hair?” He studied the brush in his hand for a moment before answering. “Grooming is bonding.” “Bonding?”
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“Mating. Two as one.” “Are you telling me that when I brushed your hair, I invited you to become my mate?” He nodded. “Oh, dear.” She sank down on the divan. “And when you brushed my hair?” “I accepted.” “Why?” “Why not?” he answered, shrugging. What had she done? He’d lost his mate, watched his people being slaughtered and been badly injured. So what had she done? She’d jumped in his face, demanding he take her as a replacement. “I refused to take no for an answer even though you made it plain you weren’t interested. I forced myself on you.” He didn’t deny the truth of her words. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.” He shrugged. “Is done.” “No, it’s not done. I wasn’t proposing anything. I was treating the sore that had developed beneath that snarl.” “No difference.” “Big difference.” She squared her shoulders. “I withdraw my proposal.” “Not possible.” “Of course it’s possible,” she said, alarmed. “I’ve changed my mind. Consider it unsaid. I’m not pushing anybody into a relationship they don’t want.” “I’m unpleasing?” he asked. She almost moaned out loud. How could she answer that? Unpleasing? Never. He was handsome, charming and intelligent. Strong, masterful and aristocratic. Thoroughly desirable, regardless of his species. “Of course not. You are very pleasing.” “Then no problem.” The words seemed right, but she sensed he stoically accepted the inevitable without a whisper of joy. That wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want him to take her out of a sense of obligation or duty. She pulled him down beside her on the sofa. “In my culture, among my people, it’s not right to demand mating from someone who is not willing. You don’t force your attentions on anyone. Not to mention that it is unethical for a physician to get involved with a patient. I’m still your doctor, you know. The hair brushing was just a big mistake on my part. My tribe goes around brushing hair all the time. It doesn’t mean a thing.” “You brush Arnie?” “He doesn’t have any hair to brush,” she said.
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He cocked an eyebrow. “You would?” “Sure, if he had hair,” she answered, thinking the conversation had headed in the right direction. He had to realize that hair brushing was a casual act, nothing more than good personal hygiene. Wrong. “You have hair.” He grabbed up the phone and punched out Arnie’s number. “Yo.” “You come. Now.” “What’s up?” Arnie asked. “Come!” Roan roared. “All right already. Don’t get your drawers in a knot.” A few minutes later Arnie stepped warily off the elevator. “Is this safe?” he asked Tess, who was waiting for him in the hallway. “I have no idea. He’s not listening to anything I have to say.” “I’m armed.” “Oh, that’s just great,” she muttered caustically. When Arnie reached the living room, Roan thrust the hairbrush into his hand. “Do.” “Do what?” “Brush my hair,” Tess said. “You know, just like you always do.” “Oookay,” he drawled. He approached her, keeping a wary eye on Roan, who stood with feet apart and arms crossed over his chest. The only thing that could have made him look more threatening would be if he snapped out his wings and rattled his claws. “What the hell is this all about?” Arnie asked under his breath as he dragged the brush through Tess’ short curls. “You don’t want to know,” she replied. She turned to Roan. “See. It’s no big deal.” “Right,” Arnie echoed. “No big deal.” “Both lie!” Roan snarled and leaped for Arnie. Arnie pulled out his stunner and blasted Roan, taking him down between steps. He crumpled motionless on the floor. Arnie turned on Tess. “You ready to tell me what’s going on here?” “Oh, damn. I didn’t want it to come to this.” She explained what little she knew about the courtship rituals of Nightflyers. “I tried to tell him nothing counted. That we brushed each other’s hair all the time.” Arnie snickered. “Arnie! It is not funny!” “It’s a hoot. You moved him in with you, sent him an engraved invitation to fuck and now that he wants to, you’re having a hissy fit. Women.” Arnie cupped her chin in
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his hand, lifting her face so he could look her in the eye. “It’s all right. I’ve known all along that you and I wouldn’t suit, even if we stayed here forever. Can’t blame you for falling for him. He’s a handsome bastard.” A crooked smile curved his mouth. “Hell, I bet he even smells pretty.” Tess flung her arms around Arnie and gave him a huge hug. “Oh, Arnie, I was truly blessed when I met you.” “Whatever,” he muttered gruffly. Roan stirred. “Look, you do what you need to do make peace with him. I’ll stay out from underfoot. Besides, I’ve got plenty to do if we’re going to get out of here before the tulips bloom.” As an afterthought, he added, “I don’t suppose zapping him with this stunner improved how he feels about me?” “Probably not.” He left and Tess turned back to Roan. How was she going to make this right?
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Chapter Nine The door to the tunnels opened and Arnie entered the clinic. Beside Tess, Roan tensed. She’d arranged a truce of sorts, but Arnie had little faith in it. He circled around Roan, keeping a wary eye on him. “The bloody bastard’s just marking time until he can take me,” he muttered. “You’ve got the meeting you wanted. Don’t quibble over attitudes,” she replied. “Maybe it’s okay for today, but mark my words, you’ll find me in a corner one day with my throat cut.” “Only if you do something stupid.” She’d never known Arnie to be afraid of anything, but he was afraid of Roan. He refused to speak to Roan without her there, although what she could do to protect him if Roan went back on his word was a mystery to her. As he’d requested, she’d set up a table. He laid out a star chart. “You want to come look at this?” “Why?” Roan asked. “Because I’m trying to figure out where you came from so we can go back there, okay?” Impatience sliced through his words. “Copping an attitude won’t help,” Tess warned. “Okay. Okay.” Arnie forced a smile so false it made Roan snort. Roan approached the table, pretty much ignoring Arnie and looked at the chart. He shook his head. Arnie tried several more with the same result. “I make…no, I draw,” Roan said. “I draw my sky.” “Get him something to draw with,” Arnie ordered Tess. She got paper and a pencil from her office. “I’ll bet he still thinks the Earth is flat,” Arnie said. “Of course, flat,” Roan confirmed as he drew a star-filled sky around a disk-shaped planet. “Does this help?” Tess asked Arnie. “Would be a lot better if he’d had a handle on solar systems, but this is better than nothing.” Arnie studied the drawing. “I might be able to put this in the navigation database and get a match.” “You weren’t able to backtrack on your route?” she asked. “I couldn’t retrieve all of it. But with this sketch and what I do have, I might be able to chart a course to his place. It’ll take a while, though.”
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Time was something they didn’t have a great deal of. Winter was loosening its grip on the caldera unusually early. They’d already had a thaw that had left a deep layer of mud behind. Today the sun shone and the temperature soared. They needed a long winter and a late spring and weren’t getting it. Roan stood beside her, watching Arnie’s departure. He gave a muttering growl. She feared his feelings about Arnie were never going to change. Hopefully, she’d convinced him that Arnie was the key to their escape. “Let’s go back to the apartment,” she said. As they walked, he caught her hand and held it. When they reached the apartment she tried to pull her hand free but not with any amount of authority. He had no difficulty drawing her close and wrapping his arms around her, hugging her. She stood motionless inside his embrace. She’d been very careful not to invite anything, but now, as waves of need crashed through her, she wondered why. She craved intimacy. Not with just anyone. With him. Her palm flattened on his belly. Roan pushed her hand down until her fingers encountered his rock-solid erection and wrapped around him. She felt the accelerated beating of his heart against her cheek and the light trembling of his limbs. Roan’s wings slipped around her and his unique tangy scent surrounded her. Sanity intruded for the briefest instant before Tess tumbled into an abyss of desire that refused to recognize any of the many differences between them. Only what they shared. Desire. Passion. Need. They tugged at each other’s clothing and it fall to the floor. Her hungry lips raced over his face, his neck and chest. She wanted him, her compelling need an undeniable force he shared. He lifted her leg and held it as he thrust into her, going deep and hard, driving a sound of pleasure from her throat. He cradled her with his wings and she lashed her legs around his hips and rocked with him. His flesh was hot and slick with sweat. She ran her hands up and down his back and dug her fingers into the supple, flexing muscles of his rump. In tandem, they made a short, molten trip to simultaneous climax. Aftershocks of passion still simmered through her when Roan carried her into the bedroom and laid her down. He lay down with her, pulled her into his arms. She nestled against his shoulder her arm draped across his chest. They made love again in the morning but more slowly. Roan was no less willing than he’d been the night before, but she quickly realized that he wasn’t sharing her free flight into passion. A part of him held back. Later she lay listening to the water running in the shower and wondered how much of his reserve was her fault. She’d inadvertently pushed him into this relationship when she’d brushed his hair, binding him to her with traditions she’d been unaware of. His whole world had been taken from him. He’d lost a mate he’d no doubt loved and had been given precious little time to mourn. She wanted to tell herself that as long as he enjoyed her and came to her on his own they had a durable relationship. In time, their closeness would ease the pain of his losses and he would stop grieving. But late that night, when she found him standing at one of the windows looking out at the darkness in brooding silence, she wasn’t so sure. She also knew that it now mattered because she was falling in love with him.
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***** Keeping secrets from Arnie was rarely possible. He had an instinct that guided him like a bloodhound on a scent. “You’ve got a hickey on your neck.” Her hand flew to her throat. He gave a whoop of laughter. “Gotcha.” Considering all the times he’d propositioned her and she’d refused him, she’d feared he would be angry. Not Arnie, although he did sober in the next breath. “Could he get you pregnant?” “Never,” Tess replied. “Nature doesn’t allow species to cross lines.” “You never seen a mule?” he asked. “Did you ever see one give birth?” “No, but they get born. Something to consider.” She squelched the twinge of uneasiness that fluttered through her. Dozens of wellfunded scientific attempts had been made to breed one species with another. It never worked. The only successes were between branches of the same genus. Tigers bred with lions produced ligers and cattle bred to buffalo produced beefalo. But there were no egg-laying pigs or bacon-producing chickens. Not only did she and Roan come from different worlds, they had evolved from different genetic foundations. She pushed the possibility out of her mind and concentrated on preparations for departure. The days grew longer, the nights shorter and the temperatures warmer. Winter was rapidly giving way to spring. “Are you ready?” Tess asked Arnie. “Near enough that you two should start packing,” he replied. “Get as much as you can over to the hangar and ready to be loaded.” The ground thawed and the snow pack melted. The runoff poured through the porous rock of the planet’s crust and accumulated in subterranean reservoirs. During the summer, wind-driven pumps lifted the water from the reservoirs to the surface where it was used for drinking, washing and growing. Tess sorted out what they would be taking and every evening she and Roan loaded up a utility cart and hauled it to the hangar. Every day, the weather grew warmer. The icicles were long gone from the eves and only isolated patches of snow remained on the ground. Tess felt a bone-deep sense of urgency. A conviction that time was running out. And it was. She stood at the sink one hand gripping the washcloth she’d just used to wipe down the kitchen table when Arnie’s voice filled the room. She turned and faced the intercom, dread a cold hard knot in the pit of her stomach, intuitively knowing she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. “Get your asses over here. We’ve got incoming.”
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She turned around. Roan stood in the kitchen doorway. They had talked about “what if”. They’d already packed everything but last-minute necessities. The bags were stacked beside the door. Now they worked in urgent harmony. Roan stuffed baby clothes into a bag while Tess gathered medical supplies and her surgical instruments. She cast a last longing look at the equipment she’d be leaving behind. It might be outdated but it was vastly superior to nothing at all. Tess wrapped Coee in a blanket and headed for the elevator, Roan followed with their luggage. They used the tunnels. “Wait,” Roan said when they reached the stairs leading to the clinic. He dropped the bags and took the stairs two at a time. “We can’t take them,” Tess yelled. “You know that!” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Damn him! They’d discussed this. He knew that the babies had to be left behind. Even if Arnie’s ship had room for them, it would be impossible to take the amount of food and clothing they’d need for a dozen rapidly growing children. The Houdins would take good care of them. He returned with Riza, the dainty baby girl who was Coee’s favorite playmate, tucked inside his shirt. Upstairs, Tess could hear the sorrowful wail of the Houdins. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she followed Roan to the train. They boarded the electric engine and she hung on tight as the engine rocketed through the tunnel toward the landing field. “Come on! Come on!” Arnie shouted when they reached the field. “They fell off radar five minutes ago. I don’t know where in hell they are. Get on board.” Tess and Roan made it halfway to the ship before Itz and Zima glided into view, weapons in hand. “Son of a bitch!” Arnie scooped up his rifle and fired from the hip. The shot caught Zima in the shoulder and he crumpled to the ground. Itz aimed for Roan. “No!” Tess screamed. She leaped forward to push him to safety, felt an explosion of pain and then nothing.
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Chapter Ten “How is she?” Arnie asked. Roan slipped into the co-pilot’s seat before answering, “Same.” Itz’s shot had been glancing, but the force of it had thrown her head first into a concrete wall. The impact was a sound Roan would never forget. Her skull had fractured in a dozen places. Now her head was swollen to twice its normal size. Roan and Arnie took turns caring for her. Roan cuddled Coee against his chest try to comfort him. Tess made sounds like a wounded animal, terrifying the children. He reached over and caressed Riza’s silky head. Tucked inside Arnie’s shirt, she clung to him, having refused to relinquish her hold on his neck since Roan had thrown her at Arnie in order to free his hands to scoop up Tess’ writhing body from the floor of the hangar. “She’s gonna die, you know,” Arnie said. “No.” “I’ve seen them like that,” Arnie said. “The fits. Even if she makes it, she won’t be right in the head. She’ll for sure be sick a long time. Let me drop you off and take her back. The Houdins will take care of her.” “What about them?” A Noran ship followed in their wake. “With Itz out of the way I don’t think they’ll attack. If that’s what the bastards were up to they’ve missed a dozen good opportunities. Besides, that gunship has twice the speed we have.” “Maybe they just want to see where we’re going,” Roan said. “Probably.” Arnie cocked an eyebrow. “Could be they figure on coming back with more firepower. You could let me keep her.” “No.” “Christ, you’re a stubborn bastard.” Since take-off, Arnie had predicted doom and failure. Claimed there wasn’t one chance in a hundred that he’d be able to find Roan’s home world before the ship broke down or fell apart. The ship falling apart Roan could almost believe. Not an hour passed without some sort of warning light coming on. Half the needles on the instrument panel hovered near the danger mark. But they remained airborne and Roan had finally stopped listening to Arnie’s predictions of catastrophe. Worrying about Tess and how they’d fare when they landed required all of his attention. “How near are we?” he asked.
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“Eight, nine hours,” Arnie replied. He thumped a temperature gauge and frowned. “You’d better start praying for good cloud cover,” he added. Roan understood how difficult it was going to be to get him, Tess and the children to the surface safely. On the outside chance Itz’s underlings didn’t know where Roan had come from, Arnie had swept in and out of the cloud covers on a half a dozen planets without ever landing. The Norans had given up following them down and appeared content to just track them. They hovered nearby until Arnie’s ship appeared again and then they took up the chase. The one time Arnie had lingered too long they’d come down to investigate. “Which means I won’t be able to land to unload you guys,” Arnie said. “So how do we get there?” “In the escape pod.” Roan trusted Arnie to do the best he could. Not for his sake, but for Tess’. Roan stroked Coee’s head. Coee’s turquoise eyes were pools of terror. Roan comforted him with a low trill, singing softly to drown out the unhealthy sound of Tess’ heavy breathing. “How’s it look?” Arnie asked, waving his hand at the stars around them. Roan shrugged, unsure. Looking up at the stars was a whole lot different than flying among them. “It could be.” “Well, that’s where you’re getting off.” He pointed to a blue-green planet partially shrouded by clouds. Roan looked around. Were these stars familiar ones? Maybe, but he wasn’t sure. He’d never had a reason to pay attention to the stars. Now he wished he had. “The probe I sent down says there’s good air and the clouds usually mean there’s water. And,” Arnie added, “I think this is where I picked you up. If my calculations aren’t a billion or so light years off, that is.” The last he muttered under his breath, talking more to himself than to Roan. They started down on the dark side of the planet. “That’s my moon,” Roan said when he spied the pale pink moon shining through a sheer curtain of clouds. “Home sweet home.” Arnie kissed the top of Riza’s head, pried her tiny arms from around his neck and handed her to Roan. “Go get loaded.” She began to cry. “Don’t you do that,” he growled and kissed her again. Roan trilled to silence her. Carrying the two babies, he went back to the rescue pod where he tucked them into a nest built of luggage and bedding. He carefully released Tess from her seat harness, lifted her out of her seat and settled her in the rescue pod and started to climb in beside her. “Roan.” “Yes.” “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”
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Roan jerked his head in acknowledgement, knowing Arnie referred to the slaughter of his people. Arnie cleared his throat. “You’ve got about two minutes.” “All right.” “Double check the latches on the hatch. Try the oxygen again.” Roan obediently followed Arnie’s instructions even though they’d gone over all of these things several times during the flight. He read off the checklist. “Then I guess this is it,” Arnie said. Roan reached out to pull down the rescue pod’s canopy. “Thank you.” Arnie flashed him a crooked grim. “Take good care of her. She’s fine people.” Yes, she was. A woman whom he’d learned to respect during his captivity, brave, intelligent and strong. If only she hadn’t leaped past courtship straight into mating. He still mourned his wife. And what of his other children? What had become of them? They’d been at the village with the other older children. Could any of them survived without the adults? “Roan?” Arnie’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “Yes.” He needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Reaching out, he latched the canopy, fastened his seat harness and put on the headset. Arnie had started the ship’s descent. “Are they following?” Roan asked. “Nope. Just sitting back there like a bad dream.” “If they stay back, we’re safe, right?” “Maybe yes, maybe no.” Arnie chuckled. “Hell, Roan, dropping that pod from this altitude is gonna be like dropping an egg off the Empire State building. If the fall don’t kill you, the landing will.” Roan replied in his native tongue, words with sharp edges. Arnie snickered. “I aim to please.” Roan shook his head. The man found humor in impossible places. The ship plummeted toward the planet’s surface, bumping through the upper atmosphere. Roan doubted he would ever be comfortable in space. “Hang on,” Arnie said as he nosed the craft into a storm cell of boiling black clouds. “This is where you get off. It’ll be bumpy. Storm cells always are.” Roan could smell the faint metallic odor of bottled air as the pod’s onboard air system took over. The ship’s cargo bay doors opened beneath them. He looked out the side window and his heart seized with fear. A bottomless abyss awaited them. But there was no going back. They were committed. Latch pins disengaged and the pod dropped like a stone. In seconds, the ship was out of sight. Roan whispered a prayer that included his promise to never again get higher off the ground than he could personally fly.
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The pod’s chutes opened, slowing its descent, and it settled to the ground, delicately balanced on four slender legs, passengers and contents unharmed. Lightning lit the sky, illuminating the small clearing tucked against a steep wall of rock. Rain fell in sheets and monstrous rumbles of thunder rolled in on the heels of every lightning strike. Roan pressed his headset closer to his ear and listened for some word from Arnie, but all he heard was the crackle of static and the storm. There was nothing to be done until the storm passed by. Hopefully by daylight it would have blown itself out. He checked on Tess and, then, with Coee and Riza snuggled into his lap, leaned back, closed his eyes and slept. In the morning he would set up camp and figure out where they were.
***** Tess lifted her arm. A length of bone wrapped in withered skin came into view. She looked down her supine figure and saw countable ribs flaring above her sunken stomach. Hipbones jutted like razorblades. Her head was too heavy to lift. The arm she held up trembled and fell back. Her left arm didn’t move at all. Neither did her left leg. I ought to be dead. The thought floated slowly through her mind, fragments of memory following like fading snapshots. Roan hovering, spooning broth and water down her throat when all she wanted to do was return to the darkness and escape the hammer blows of pain and storms of confusion that seized her each time she swam to the surface. She remembered vomiting violently without notice. A brain injury? Was her skull fractured? Had she fallen? She raised her right arm and felt her head. Her scalp was taut and bare. What had happened to her hair? Her mind filled with confusion as bits and pieces of memory played against a background of incredible pain. What had happened? She tried to think back, but her memories slipped into a kaleidoscope of confusion. How long? She had no sense of time passed, only a lessening of the pain and darkness. Where was she? Not at the zoo. Blue-green sky shone through a leafy canopy of unfamiliar tall trees. Vines with dark red flowers sagged off lower limbs and soft sunlight dappled a grassy meadow. The scent of pine and eucalyptus rode a light breeze. She savored the fresh, clean smell from where she lay. Turning her head slightly, she saw the mouth of a cave and knew that she’d lain here before. Been carried here. Fed and cleaned here. Fuzzy snippets of memory surfaced and lingered for an instant before fading. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped. Someone was approaching. Roan knelt beside her. “Hello.” “Hi.” Her voice sounded broken and rusty. He offered a beaker of water. “Thirsty?” “Yes.” The sweet, cold water soothed her throat.
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He stood and walked over to the campfire to fill a bowl with soup and bring it back to her. Skillfully, he spooned broth and bits of stewed vegetables into her mouth. She wanted to ask him a dozen questions, but all her energy went to eating and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Later, she thought as she slipped into the blissful nothingness of a normal sleep between mouthfuls. Roan crouched beside her, bowl in hand and, for the first time since their arrival, dared to hope she would live. Not only had she been truly awake, but she’d been coherent. Granted, she spoke with difficulty, her words somewhat slurred, but each one was sensible. The few times she’d seemed awake during the four weeks since their arrival he’d seen nothing but madness in her bright green eyes. Later in the day, she woke again. She ate and drank and told him she needed to relieve herself. He carried her to the privy and back, hopeful that there would be no more soiled bedding to deal with. For him, her recovery had begun that day. Each day since, she stayed awake a few minutes longer and ate a bit more. Each day he ran his fingertip along the sole of her left foot, looking for some sign of feeling and found none. Her entire left side was paralyzed. Her arm hung uselessly and the left side of her face sagged. A month passed before she asked him about her injury. “Itz shot you. Nicked the side of your head and the impact threw you into the wall. Your head was terribly injured and swelled to twice its normal size. You’ve not been aware.” “A brain injury,” she murmured, half to herself. “That would explain the paralysis.” “It’s going away.” “Really?” She sounded surprised. “How can you tell?” “Your mouth doesn’t sag as far. Neither does your eyelid.” Reaching out, he traced the edge of her mouth. “Your smile is still a little lopsided.” “And my speech is slurred.” “Not as much as before.” “I don’t remember anything,” she admitted. Roan picked up her good hand and held it. “Itz tried to shoot me. You jumped in front of me.” “When?” “Two months ago,” he answered. “I’ve been unconscious for two months?” He nodded. “I should have died.” “I feared you would.” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I’m thankful you didn’t.” “Where are we?” “Home.”
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She smiled even as her eyes drifted shut. “The bastard did it.” Roan tucked the covers up around her. “Yes. The bastard did it.” Later, much later, he would tell her that it was unlikely Arnie was alive. He would wait even longer before he told her that he’d found only ashes where the village had stood. His people were truly gone. Bitter grief lay in a hard lump in his chest. Leaving her to nap, he left the cave where he’d set up housekeeping for his small family and went to check on Coee and Riza. They spent most of their time in an enclosure he’d built at the edge of the tree line where they got the morning sun and afternoon shade. He found them sprawled face down, sleeping amidst their toys. With the cheerful adaptability of children, they found nothing unusual in their new environment. They had snug blankets to cuddle into at night, a fire to warm them and Roan’s constant presence to reassure them. He anchored their lives. Tess they weren’t too sure about. They sensed things were not right with her and it made them uneasy. Riza often caroled her location, asking to be found and reassured that he remained nearby. Infants were born knowing the old language of whistles, trills and barks. It bridged the communication gap that lay between birth and real speech. They would remain obedient to it their entire lives. He’d made camp in a cave a few feet up the face of the rock wall edging the meadow. It hadn’t pleased him to go underground. The Nightflyers had begun life in caves and had been driven aboveground in order to survive. For ten generations they’d lived above ground in lodges built of wood and roofed with pantano leaves. But he’d had no choice. Caring for Tess had left no time for lodge building and they’d arrived in early spring, the weather still cold and rainy. Protection from the elements had been imperative. In truth, the shallow limestone cave offered much. It was warm and dry and near a clear stream. Landing in the meadow had been pure luck. Arnie had had no idea where he was dropping them off. A mile to the north and they’d have crashed into the jagged rocks of Agar’s Ridge. A mile south and they’d most likely have gotten stuck in the dense canopy a hundred feet off the ground. In spite of what he’d told Arnie, he’d not expected Tess to survive. He’d known Arnie spoke the truth when he said her chances were slim, slimmer still that she’d be a whole person. He’d seen others whose heads had been crushed. Even when the body survived, the mind often did not. And she’d been desperately sick. Every morning he’d awakened expecting to and find her dead, but gradually the grotesque swelling went down and her head returned to its normal size. The nausea lessened and the insane babble, inhuman cries and terrifying seizures stopped. Still, he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for her recovery until she’d opened her eyes and spoken to him. No matter that she’d spoken with great difficulty, her words slurred. They’d made sense. Her mind wasn’t gone and, hopefully, in time, the paralysis would fade. What would she say when she realized that his seed had taken root? At first he’d thought her injury had interrupted her female cycle, but now he could smell an unmistakable essence clinging to her. One that spoke of motherhood. She’d 96
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told him that two beings from different worlds could not make children. And if they somehow did, the result would be tragic. He had depended on her knowledge in such matters so had given no thought to another child. A child she said would be unacceptable. Retribution for mating outside his own clan? He would hope for the best, prepare for the worst and say nothing to Tess. She’d know soon enough.
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Chapter Eleven “Your clothes are different.” Tess formed the words carefully, speaking slowly. She was regaining better control of her speech and the shocks of pain sizzling along the nerves on her left side held the promise of recovery. Roan added more wood to the cooking fire before answering. “I returned to the gathering cave and collected what I could. There was nothing left of the village.” “But Arnie didn’t…” she protested. “Someone did.” His voice was flat and cold. “Burned it to the ground. All I found were ashes.” “The Norans.” “Perhaps.” The curtness in his voice told her he did not want to discuss the matter further. She changed the subject. “I like what you’re wearing.” He wore snug leggings and a long shirt that opened on the sides and belted at the waist. One tug on the belt would allow him to extend his wings. Colorful geometric designs decorated both garments. He fingered the sleeve of his shirt. “We are spinners and weavers. What leather we get we use for boots.” A smile quirked his mouth. “We don’t eat meat—or grubs or worms. “How was I to know?” she asked. “Real bats eat fruit and insects and so do lemurs. Vampire bats drink blood. I couldn’t be expected to know you’d prefer spaghetti.” He chuckled softly. “Arnie thought we were bats too.” Tess changed the subject again, not wanting to talk about Arnie. Roan was sure he was dead and she just couldn’t get her mind to accept the possibility that the stocky bald man had given his life for theirs. “The cooking pots came from this Gathering place, didn’t they?” she asked, indicating the trio of large pots set near the cooking pit. “Yes,” Roan replied. “I salvaged everything I could.” “But that wasn’t where you lived, was it?” “No.” His smile showed Tess how much it pleased him that she remembered. Two weeks ago she’d still been losing track between sentences. “We lived in a village in the center of the Kinto Plains by the Usak River. We only returned to the cave for the annual celebration. “Celebration of what?”
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“Our existence.” He got to his feet, closing the discussion. “Come. It is time for your exercises.” Tess made a face in half-hearted protest. She disliked the tedious manipulations of her arms and legs and the painful pulling and stretching of her stiff joints but knew it was necessary. The old adage that physicians made the worst possible patients was true. She complained with such regularity he threatened to leave her treatment up to the birds. “Whose opinions I’m sure you’d value more than you do mine. Not that these are even my opinions. You are the one who said all this needed to be done.” Chagrined, she’d apologized. “I’m sorry.” After that she made a sincere effort to curb her sharp tongue. Not only did she need to recover for her own sake, but he badly needed her well enough to help with the children. His time could be better spent tending the garden he’d planted using the seeds and starts in the rescue pod. Already there were wild spring fruits and berries to gather and dry for winter. He’d planted nothing in rows, everything in haphazardly placed clumps, so nothing distinguished the garden from the weeds around it. Never again would he trust the skies as he had in the past. Tess watched him going about the cave doing housekeeping chores. She moved and without warning a white-hot pain sizzled down her leg, driving a low moan from her. Roan’s head came up and he turned toward her, his eyes filled with concern. She wagged her fingers in dismissal. The swift, unexpected stabs indicated recovering nerves. Yesterday she awoke to find blurry sight back in her left eye. Today that sight was a tad clearer. Three days ago she’d moved the fingers on her left hand for the first time. She doubted she would recover all that she’d lost, but each day some small improvement encouraged her. She’d be grateful for whatever she got back. Some patients with brain injuries recovered nothing. She ran her hand through the tiny tufts of red fuzz covering her head. For some reason all of her hair had fallen out and was just now beginning to grow back. She felt ugly without her hair. It helped not at all that she was bone thin and crippled as well as almost bald. The days turned warm and sunny and the nights less cold. Each afternoon Roan carried her out onto the ledge in front of the cave to lie in the sunshine. Her appetite returned and the pale, withered look of her limbs eased. She stayed awake for long periods of time now and napped less often. Between naps she exercised her good side and swore at her bad side. After days of shying away from her as if she were some sort of monster, Coee and Riza had made up with her and she filled much of her time playing with them. One thing she was sure of. She’d never again order complete bed rest for a patient without remembering her own confinement. There was little to recommend it. She disliked being helpless. Disliked having to depend on Roan for so much. She knew it was difficult for him as well because, try as he might, he was sometimes unable to cover his impatience when she interrupted him with a request.
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There were bright spots. Bath day they both enjoyed and on those days she waited impatiently for him to finish his housekeeping and carry her to the creek. He refused to be hurried and kept to his own schedule. “Are you ready?” he asked when she’d almost given up hope. “Absolutely.” He helped her undress, laid a flannel blanket on her lap and then scooped her up and carried her across the meadow. “Today I will wash your hair,” he said as he waded into the waist-deep pool formed by the curving creek. “What little there is to wash.” The bony plates of her skull had gone back together and no longer shifted when touched. Roan had refused to touch her while they floated on top of her swollen brain. She didn’t blame him. The first time she’d reached up and felt a piece of bone move under her fingers, a cold chill had run down her spine. Roan waded across to a submerged rock and sat her on it. The water felt cold at first, but that soon passed. “I could purr,” she laughed as his long fingers massaged her scalp. She leaned back over his arm while he scooped handfuls of water over her head to rinse away the soap. Then he bathed her all over, lathering gently between her legs and up the shallow crease between her buttocks. A soft sizzle of desire throbbed through her. She grinned up at him. “That could get you in trouble in another decade or two.” He started to answer, but she cut him short. “Roan, behind you.” At the very edge of the wood bordering the meadow stood a slender silver figure. Roan gasped. “What is it?” “Adra. It’s Adra.” Hurriedly, he carried her out of the water, wrapped the blanket around her and deposited her on her sleeping pad. Then he approached the swaying figure by the trees, cooing softly. What had seemed at first sight to be a ghostly aberration was actually an emaciated young male with platinum hair. Clad in ragged knee-length trousers and barefoot, he cradled one arm in the other and swayed like a reed in the wind. Roan caught him as he collapsed, lifting him easily, his expression grim as he carried him to the ledge. “Who is he?” “Adra, the son of Lord Estes. Half dead, near starved and injured.” “Put me where I can reach him, Roan. Let me check his arm.” “Are you sure you have the strength?” “Probably not,” she admitted, “but maybe I’ve lain around like a beached whale long enough. Maybe something pushing me will speed my recovery.”
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Roan carried the unconscious youth to her. She trembled with fatigue by the time she finished probing his festering arm. “The bone’s not broken, but the wound’s badly infected. Without medicine….” She shrugged. There was little she could do. “I brought your kit.” “Get it!” she ordered, delighted. “I have antibiotics in it. And my surgical instruments. Wound powders.” Her energy restored by the possibility of doing more than watching him die from septicemia, she hitched over on her side, cursing her useless leg but thankful for the improving function of her arm and hand. The hand still required concentration to direct it, but it did move and her fingers could be opened and closed. “He needs to be washed,” she said when Roan returned with her kit. “The cool water will also reduce his fever. When you bring him back I’ll clean and dress the wound. A dose of antibiotics will stop the infection.” Roan carried Adra to the stream and bathed him. He carried Adra back into the cave and carefully laid him down on his side. Tears filled Roan’s turquoise eyes. “What is it?” “The arm is the smallest part of what ails him. He wings.” “I don’t understand.” “In their twentieth year, males reach maturity and their wings emerge. For Adra, that time has passed and now his wings decay. There is no hope for him.” “What do you mean, no hope? Why didn’t they emerge?” It made no sense to her. “They do not emerge on their own,” he replied with a tinge of impatience. “The wing master must release them.” “How? Is there a method? A procedure? Surely you aren’t going to give up without trying something?” She saw in his eyes that that was exactly what he intended. “There is nothing we can do,” he replied. “The membrane rots and he will soon die.” “How soon?” “A few days at most,” he answered. “The rot has already started.” She hitched herself up into a good sitting position and examined Adra’s back more closely. Yes, there was some swelling and the sealed edges of his wing pockets were inflamed, but she saw no sign of sepsis. No streaks of red to indicate fatal infection. “How is it done? Is there an instrument this wing master person used?” she asked. “The sacred knife,” he replied. “A knife is a knife.” “But…” “Would you see this young man die without my even trying to help him?” “You know nothing of winging,” Roan protested.
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“Maybe not, but I do surgery all the time. What did the master use to deaden the pain?” “The pain is expected. It’s not excessive.” Tess palpated the swelling. The pockets were spongy with fluid. Opening them would probably be messy. “Get my bedding out from under me,” she ordered. “I need a level surface to lay him on. Hell, I need two good legs and a surgical table.” “This is not right. You are not one of us!” Roan’s words stunned her. In her own mind she had discarded many of the differences between them. Obviously he had not. “It is forbidden,” he added. “No one but the wing master can bring wings forth.” “He’ll die of blood poisoning if something isn’t done,” she protested. “I need to at least try. I can’t just stand by and watch a painful death when I might be able to prevent it. Haven’t enough of your people died already? Do you give up so easily?” He paced to the edge of the ledge and back again, clearly torn. “Try,” he said finally. “A litter?” “I can make one.” “While you do that I’ll and clean and dress the wound in his arm. He can’t be worse for having that done.” She knew her strength was limited and prayed she wouldn’t run out before she finished what needed to be done. While Roan fashioned the litter, Tess cleaned the gash on Adra’s arm, trimmed away all the dead tissue and packed the wound with a mixture of antibiotics and healing gel. He regained consciousness and she bit back a smile when she heard a familiar feral hiss. Roan heard him too and responded with a reassuring trill and a few words. The youth closed his eyes and quieted, but his jaw muscles leaped as he clenched his teeth against the pain. By the time she stitched the gash closed and covered it with liquid bandage, Roan had returned with a litter made of two poles and a blanket. He’d padded it with some of the soft gray-green moss that draped the lower limbs of many of the trees. “Where do you want it?” Tess pointed to pair of flat stones. “Suspended between them. And then I’ll need something to sit against. A backrest.” Adra gasped and threw up. “It is part of the sickness of the winging,” Roan told Tess. “His will be worse because of the delay.” “I don’t think they should watch,” Tess said after Roan moved Adra to the litter. The children were huddled together in a worried cluster, wide-eyed and silent.
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Roan scooped them up and carried them out to their playpen. “It’s well you reminded me,” he said when he returned. “Winging is a very private matter. Not something that’s done with onlookers.” “What was it like for you?” she asked. “The wing master rubbed a musty powder on my gums when the vomiting started. I remember the pain and the sickness of my stomach, but from a distance. Within a few days it all seemed unimportant.” “Probably a mushroom.” “Fungi?” “Mushrooms have many medicinal characteristics.” He picked her up and carried her to where he’d suspended the litter between the two rocks. She sat balanced on her buttocks with her legs extended. Not the best position for performing surgery, but it would have to do. After unrolling the packet of surgical instruments, she picked out her favorite scalpel. Adra lay face down, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Seeing the scalpel, he pulled away, chattering and frightened. Roan cupped his cheek with his hand and murmured melodic reassurances. Tess washed Adra’s back with disinfectant. What had been barely discernible lines on the backs of the boy babies Arnie had captured were clearly defined on Adra’s back. A strip of transparent skin no more than a sixteenth of an inch wide now divided the inflamed lines. Hopefully, that line was the proper place to make the incision. “Put his arm out to the side,” she requested. Tess ran her fingertip down Adra’s back, following the striation. Then she took a deep breath, whispered a brief prayer and set the blade to the uppermost end of the striation and cut. Rank-smelling fluid gushed through the opening. “Yuck,” she gasped. “Get some water and wash him off.” Roan fetched a bucket of water and poured it over Adra’s back. Tess wiped him off with a towel, then continued cutting. The nearly bloodless incision reinforced her belief that she had guessed correctly when she’d decided to follow the marking on his back. Her hand trembled and the blade wavered slightly off the line, drawing blood. She pressed a compress against the cut until the bleeding stopped, then continued, pausing to rest a moment each time her weak muscles threatened to cause the scalpel to waver. Tess completed the incision then carefully spread the lips of the pocket and looked inside. Cupped beneath the hinged primary flight bone was a multitude of tiny bones covered by a glutinous substance. Where was the membrane? Had it rotted away, leaving only bones behind? She reached in and eased the clump of bones out of the pocket. Clots of decay clung to it and smelled like rotting meat. “It can’t be any worse for being rinsed off,” she said, holding the stinking, gluey mess by her fingertips. Roan poured water over the wing and into the pocket. Tess removed debris by hand.
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“We should have done this down by the stream,” she said. “And fouled our water supply?” “Good point. Move me to the other side.” Roan carried her around. Now confident, she slit the second pocket with a steady hand, prepared for the eruption of musty-smelling fluid. The second wing looked the same as the first one. She pulled it out and held it while Roan rinsed it off. Roan expressed his displeasure when fresh vomit bathed his foot. “The boy has a most very productive gut,” he muttered. “So did you,” she reminded him. “Maybe it’s a trait of the species.” “I would hate to think we will be recorded in history by the measurement of our puke.” She laughed in spite of herself. She was so tired she had begun to shake and suspected from the worried glances Roan gave her that she was as pale as their patient, but she’d made it from start to finish. That pleased her enormously, although the condition of the wings did not. They were nothing but heaps of bones covered with goo. “Now what?” she asked. Roan shrugged. “They will open in a few minutes or they won’t. There is nothing more you can do.” He wrinkled his nose. “And we are all in need of bathing.” “For sure,” Tess agreed. He carried her to where the stream exited the pond and immersed her, clothes and all. After bathing her and himself he carried her back to the cave and tucked her into her bedroll. Exhausted, she fell asleep between breaths. Roan returned to Adra and helped him to his feet and walked him down to the creek to bathe. Adra dipped his hand in the water and rinsed out his mouth. “Most foul,” he muttered. “Foul on my feet as well.” “Sorry, Lord.” “My feet have seen worse,” Roan assured him. “Has she finished with me? Is it indeed over?” “Yes.” “And?” “I can’t tell yet.” Hesitantly, Roan pried at the clump of bones. “They’ve not spread and the glut is very sticky.” He tugged on the primary flight bone. Nothing happened. He pulled again, harder. The tiny bones, suspended on fibers as fine as spider web, clicked into place one after the other. Liquid glut spread from bone to bone, carried by the fibers and the wing’s slight shivering. 104
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“I must lie down,” Adra said and sank to his knees, too weak to stand. The wing spread out beside him. Roan extended the other flight bone. Again, liquid glut flowed from bone to bone, covering the wing from top to bottom with a translucent sheet of silver-white as thin as the finest silk. In spite of the decay and without the aid of a wing master, the glut had flowed perfectly. Adra’s wings were intact.
***** Revived by a short nap, Tess limped to the edge of the ledge. “How is he?” “Better.” “Are his wings all right?” she asked. “I think so.” She sat on the ledge, feet dangling. Roan came and sat beside her. “They’re beautiful,” she said. “True silvers are rare,” Roan told her. “Adra is perfect, as was his father.” Something disturbed Adra’s sleep and he twitched and squeaked like a mouse. Tess giggled, green eyes shining in her lovely, slightly crooked face. It was the first time Roan had heard her laugh since the accident. The sound warmed his heart and, at the same time, tore his conscience. Mating outside the tribe was strictly forbidden and for good reason. Not even mating within the tribe guaranteed purity. Many babies had been lost. If she gave birth to a wingless boy the child would not be kept. Several times in the last few days he’d seen her lay her hand on her stomach and he knew she was forming bonds of affection with her unborn child, bonds Nightflyer females avoided. “You’re with child,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder if it was possible.” She ran her hand over her abdomen, brows drawn together in a worried frown. “It shouldn’t have happened. It might not be a good thing.” “We won’t know that until it’s born.” “Yes,” she agreed. “And that’s months away. We’ve enough to worry about without that.” Then she changed the subject. “What should be done with him now?” She nodded in Adra’s direction. “He still has a fever, but his stomach is beginning to settle,” Roan replied. “He just needs rest. In a few days, he will recover. Perhaps not as quickly as I did, for the rot was well advanced. The glut may have been damaged, although I didn’t see any holes. It was a near thing, though. He was lucky.” Roan lined the litter with fresh moss and eased Adra onto it, taking care not to disturb the drying wings. Adra slept so soundly that even his snores weren’t disturbed.
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“When the lad sleeps, he sleeps,” Roan chuckled. Tess rested her chin on her hands and smiled. “He’s had a rough day.” Roan gingerly touched the lower edge of one wing, testing the membrane’s strength. It wasn’t unheard of for glut to spread properly only to turn brittle, shredding at the slightest touch, but Adra’s held up to the pressure of his touch, stretching slightly just as it should, then springing back resiliently. “Should he be inside?” Tess asked. “I don’t believe so. I remember sleeping in the sun for hours on end. I think that’s where he belongs. I will cover him with a blanket for the night.” “If he’s okay, the kids are hungry and, I hate to tell you, but the kitchen is kind of a mess.” Enough of a mess to prompt Roan to move their lunch outside. They picnicked in the meadow on a simple fare of cakes made from pounded wild oats seasoned with honey, fruit with a wine-colored rind and boiled peahen eggs. After they finished eating, Roan settled Tess and the children in the shade of a wide-leafed, red-barked kursha tree. “While you sleep, I will clean,” he said. Tess kept talking until he silenced her with a gruff bark. Smiling, she tucked her face into the crook of her arm and then wagged her left foot. The paralysis was fading and she’d saved a life. She’d had a good day.
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Chapter Twelve “There will be no more surgery in the kitchen.” Roan’s tone of voice left no room for discussion. Not that Tess considered any. It had taken over an hour of industrious scrubbing for him to clean the kitchen area and a faint unpleasant odor still lingered. “We could make better arrangements if it becomes necessary,” Tess said. Roan sank down cross-legged beside her. “He said there were others and many of them adolescent males. When word got back to the village about what was happening at the Gathering, everyone fled into the forest. The village burned that night.” Tess knew Roan believed Arnie had set fire to the village. Arguing the point with him was pointless. Once his mind was made up, it didn’t change easily. She doubted Arnie had had anything to do with the fire. Arnie would kill a threat to his well-being in a heartbeat, but she’d never known him to be maliciously destructive. “Did Adra say where the others were? Why he wasn’t with them?” “No. I’ll ask him when he’s better.” “Adra slept through that day and the following night, waking only when Roan shook him awake to force water or juice down his throat. In the morning, Tess checked the raw edges of the slits. They already had a healthier color and the inflammation in his arm was markedly reduced as well. “He even smells better,” she said. “But I wish he’d wake up.” “This sleeping is natural,” Roan said. “Is it?” “Yes and he does eat when I make him,” Roan pointed out. “That’s true. Perhaps I worry unnecessarily.” She looked across the meadow to where the children were playing with a pile of pinecones and twigs. “They’ve been so good they’ve hardly seemed to be around.” “They’re happy. I’m glad they’ll be raised here.” That evening they sat side by side at the cave’s opening Roan working on carving a crutch so she could get around on her own, Tess sipped hot tea as she watched the skillful way his long fingers handled the knife, peeling away fat curls of wood. “Tell me more about the winging.” “It’s the coming of manhood,” he answered holding up the crutch checking its straightness. “The formation of wings signifies male maturity in the same manner that a female’s bleeding indicates her womanhood. “Does it often go wrong?”
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He shook his head. “Rarely, in fact, but occasionally the glut decays instead of maturing, causing infection and sickness. It is a painful death.” Tess shuddered, picturing the ravages of septicemia. “That no longer happens,” Roan continued. “When the wings do not mature properly the wing master sees to a peaceful death.” A mercy killing. Tess bit her tongue to keep from saying how wrong that was. Wrong for her, but not for him for he spoke with sadness, not disapproval.
***** A storm moved down from the mountains the next morning and by midday a chilling rain formed a curtain of water over the entrance to the cave. Roan moved Adra inside where his extended wings made movement next to impossible. “Tomorrow he must wake up and stay awake,” Roan announced as he picked up after supper. “It is time for him to pocket his wings.” “Beautiful as they are, it would be nice to have them out of the way.” “Silvers are the handsomest of any in the tribe. For five generations his clan has produced a silver.” Sorrow broke his voice. Tess reached out and caught his hand. “You are beautiful.” Her words were not empty flattery. His masculine beauty awed her. Creamy skin covered with a sheer layer of ebony body down encased sinewy muscles. His longlegged stride was graceful, the angular cut of his features distinguished. Since their arrival she’d noticed an inner change. His attitude had undergone a subtle alteration. Now she was the stranger and he the confident authority. He remained kind and considerate and had certainly saved her life, but she sensed an element of reserve in him, a lessening of the tentative intimacy that had been growing between them back at the zoo. Back when he’d had no hope of returning home. The storm blew out during the night and the sunrise drew a cloudless sky over a freshly washed landscape. Birds bathed in the pools of water accumulated in the broad, bowl-shaped leaves of the red-barked trees surrounding the clearing and a foot-wide column of blue-gray insects emerged from the forest and marched determinedly across the meadow. “They dwell underground,” Roan said. “Their nest must have flooded. You don’t want to get in their way. They have a nasty sting.” Tess added that to her notes. Since regaining consciousness, she had been keeping a record of what Roan told her about his world. She noted the plants and described their appearance and uses adding the tidbits of history he disclosed. At first it was simply a means of filling her time and warding off the boredom of inactivity, but when she discovered that books were rare and handmade, most of his people’s history oral, she began paying closer attention and making more extensive notes. Unfortunately they’d
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brought very little paper with them. She compensated by writing small and covering every centimeter of space on each page. Roan came for her after he finished his morning chores. “Come.” He drew her to her feet and swung her into his arms. “Soak in the pond for a bit.” “I could walk,” she said. “You’ve walked enough for one day.” The day had turned warm and she welcomed a dip. Roan carried her out to the submerged rock and sat her there, leaving her alone while he swam. He swam with a modified breaststroke, the structure of his shoulder muscles making an overhand crawl impossible. It wasn’t a graceful stroke, but it carried him efficiently through the water. Tess considered herself a good swimmer but knew she’d be hard pressed to keep pace with him. Coee and Riza toddled to the water’s edge where they stood trilling imperatively until Roan took pity on them and went and got them. They’d both started walking and were into everything. Coee’s curiosity was insatiable and where he went, Riza followed. They shared mischief with little regard for their own safety. Roan played with them until they began to tire, then wrapped them in dry towels and dropped them into their beds for their afternoon naps. “You ready to go in?” Roan asked Tess when he returned. “Yes.” Fatigue chilled her. He helped her back to the cave, dried her off and helped her dress. She lay back on her pallet. Both babies were asleep and Adra continued to snore softly. The song of birds and the humming of bees formed a peaceful lullaby and Roan too stretched out on his pallet. They hadn’t slept together since their arrival. At first she’d been too sick to care, but now that she felt better she missed his warmth curled around her and the weight of his hand resting on her hip or stomach. She missed the sex. As she turned on her side, a nerve in her leg jolted her like an electric shock. Caught unaware, she cried out. Roan came and lifted her leg onto his lap and massaged it, his long fingers easing her discomfort. It was good pain, the activation of injured nerves in recovery, but still pain and difficult to hide because it caught her unawares. She lay back against her blankets and closed her eyes, savoring his closeness. “Roan.” “Hmm?” “Higher.” “Higher?” His gaze met hers. He was as high as he could get and still be on her leg. A half smile curled across his mouth and he ran his fingers through the soft russet curls of her thatch and along her warm, moist cleft. She gave a purr of pleasure and moved against his hand. With the heel of his thumb and his fingers, he caressed her. “Umm,” she murmured.
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He bent down and kissed her while he continued to caress her. Much too soon, his skillful fingers brought her to a swift, hard climax. “That was selfish of me,” she said, then ruined her apology with a giggle. “But I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” “Leaving me in this condition?” He placed her hand on his erection. “Poor darling,” she cooed. She turned on her back and held out her arms. “Come to me, sweetheart.” He settled between her legs, entering her in a thrust that took him to the mouth of her womb. She grasped him with her muscular walls, driving the breath from his throat. “I have missed this,” he murmured. This, not her. Disappointment bit, but she shoved it aside. She would take whatever small pieces he offered her. Perhaps in time he would come to feel differently. He buried his face against her neck, nipping at her skin with his teeth and holding her hips, steadying her for his assault. In moments his climax exploded and he gave a muffled cry and bucked against her. Tess turned her head to the side and found herself looking straight into a pair of very clear, very alert, ice-blue eyes. Well, Roan had said he wanted his nephew awake, but she doubted he’d meant just now. A giggle pushed up her throat, but she dared not laugh. Not with Roan still solid and pumping inside her. Adra turned his head away, a scarlet flush staining the back of his neck. Tess pulled the blanket up around Roan and whispered, “He’s awake.” Roan’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Later, he rearranged their sleeping pallets, tucking his and Tess’ off to one side behind a small outcrop of rock. Not exactly private, but far enough away so they’d no longer be making eye contact. During the next few days, Roan assisted Adra in pocketing his wings and got him started exercising the wing muscles. The procedure was more complex than Tess had realized, with much to be learned and little coming instinctively. After a couple of false starts, Adra’s shimmering silver wings were folded and out of sight. His appearance shifted from winged creature to a young man with ice-blue eyes and a too-thin body. The gash in his arm was healing nicely, but there would be a significant scar. Usually, Adra gave Tess a wide berth. She suspected he didn’t know what to think of her. Certainly, she was different, with her kinky red curls and freckles. Roan had told her that red hair was unknown among his people. What they didn’t have, to her surprise, was a communication problem. She had absorbed much more of Roan’s native tongue then she’d realized. Several days after Adra’s successful wing pocketing, he lingered at the cave instead of accompanying Roan on his morning hunt for spring bulbs and field greens. He cast curious glances her way, looking away when she caught him at it.
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“Okay, what’s on your mind?” Tess asked, unable to stand his haunting presence a minute longer. “Was it pleasant?” Adra blurted. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. When she did, she grinned. “Very,” “It looked difficult. Painful.” She dared not laugh. He was so deadly serious. “I really think you should discuss this with Roan.” “Yes, perhaps so,” he said, sounding relieved. “He is an elder, after all.” “An elder?” “A lord. One of the rulers.” His expression turned bleak. “The only one left. They were all at the gathering cave that night.” “But not you?” He shook his head. “We remained at the village.” “Who got away?” “The older children and the aunties. The newborns and nurslings were in the cave with their mothers. “ Tess shuddered.
***** Adra approached Roan a few days later when Roan accompanied him to the stream while Tess was busy with the children. Forewarned, Roan listened to Adra’s painful disclosure with tongue in cheek. His nephew stumbled over the words, mumbling some, muffling others. His face scarlet. “When I saw you and her going off together, I experienced a cock stand that wouldn’t go away. I realize that now that I’m sexually mature, females should be attractive to me. But not one such as her.” His distaste for Tess did not surprise Roan, but it worried him. Would she be accepted by the survivors of the Noran’s brutality? Or would she be shunned? “Yet.” Adra continued drawing Roan back to the matter at hand. “All she has to do is walk by and I come erect. She…” “I get the picture,” Roan said, smiling to himself as he thwarted further description. How quickly you forget the agony of youth. “It’s not that I find her attractive or even slightly appealing,” Adra blurted. “I suspect it’s because she is the only female on hand. Or it might have to do with my winging. It was not done properly, as you know. Surely I suffer from an affliction. Looking at her should not have this result.” “You are very normal,” Roan assured him. He paused, knowing he must choose his words carefully. So much had been lost with the death of the wing master. Not just the 111
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bringing forth of wings and peaceful deaths for those unable to, but all the wisdom the wing master imparted during the young men’s stay in his lodge. Their maleness crashed down on them with brutal force and everything changed with a few days as they stepped from youth to maturity, the transition eased by the guidance of the wing master. “You’re simply becoming a man. Were things as they should be, you would have received instructions in manhood at the time of your winging just as I received them at my winging.” “I know nothing of females. Should I ask her to instruct me?” “No,” Roan replied, almost choking on the thought. “Perhaps you could instruct me?” Adra suggested. “I would be honored,” Roan replied, greatly relieved. Far better him then Tess. “We’ll begin your instructions tomorrow morning when we come here for you to clean your wings and exercise.” Roan cautioned Tess that she would be well advised to steer clear of the lower pond when he and Adra were there. “We’ll be having some discussions not fit for female ears,” he told her. “Oh, sex,” she said wisely. “Yes.” The next morning he began Adra’s education in the fine art of cocksmanship as well as sharing what little he knew about females and the mysteries of mating. “When you find the others, what will you do with her?” Adra asked during a lull in their conversation. “She and I are mated,” Roan told him. “She is with child.” “But she is not of us.” “She saved my life not once, but twice. First by caring for me when I was captured and later by accepting a grievous injury meant for me. I cannot cast her aside. It would not be honorable. And Una is dead.” “The baby is yours?” “Yes.” “But the law…” “You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.” It startled him to realize that he had repeated the same words Tess had said to him, words he’d rejected at the time. He’d been wrong to judge her actions, but what of Arnie’s? “I’m obligated to protect her,” he added. “At least until the baby is born. If it is a male and unwinged…” He shrugged, letting his words hang in the air. Adra brightened. “Of course. Your alliance with her is only temporary.”
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“Yes,” Roan murmured, although the thought of separation was not entirely comfortable. Since leaving the zoo he’d become more and more conflicted between her ways and his own. When he saw her pause in what she was doing to spread her hand across the growing curve of her belly, he wondered what she would say if she knew what her fate might be. Females unable to produce winged males were taken to the high desert and left there without food, shelter or tools. It was a strong law, a vital one required to protect the purity of the tribe. But the thought of Tess staggering through knee-deep sand under a sun that could bake the meat off living bone curdled his stomach. He pushed that possibility out of his mind along with the fate of the babe should it be male and wingless. Now was not the time to dwell on the distant future. He must take care of the present, which brought him to the second subject he needed to discuss with the young man. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I go to search for the others, leaving Tess and the children in your care. Can I trust you with that responsibility?” “Yes,” Adra replied. “For all that she is crippled and not of the people, I find her agreeable. I will let nothing happen to her or the children.” “And no flying.” Adra’s solemn expression turned into a broad grin. “I like my bones as they are, my Lord. I’ll wait until you return to instruct me.” “Good thinking.” Roan kept his skepticism to himself. Flying was not instinctive but required instruction. Adra had an impatient nature and chances were good Roan would return to find him nursing a broken head, or at least a limb or two.
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Chapter Thirteen Leaving a gestating female alone violated all Roan’s training, but if he waited until after Tess had the baby, winter would be on them. The aunties did not build, protect or gather. They nurtured. They were the tribe’s caregivers. The older females beyond childbearing and in the final stage of their lives. Another winter in the open would be a death sentence to them and those they cared for. He must find them, find shelter for them and help them gather and store for the coming winter. As the sole surviving elder, he was responsible for them. Adra said that the older youths had stayed behind to create a diversion if the attackers reached the village. What had become of them? Where had they gone? Some would have been on the brink of maturity, ready to wing. They’d not have survived without a wing master to tend to their needs. And what of the ones Adra’s age? The ones due to wing in the coming months? If his kind was to survive, he had to bring the maturing males to Tess so she could save them. And he must go now before spring turned to summer and the opportunity to harvest the land was lost. Already there were spring berries that needed to be picked and dried. Soon the early summer fruits would ripen. Roan’s light touch on her shoulder woke Tess. “Hmm?” she murmured sleepily. “Come walk a way with me,” he whispered softly. She slipped from between the blankets, got her crutch and followed him out into the lemon-yellow dawn. “I’m leaving now.” She nodded. The anxiety building in him since Adra had told him there were survivors had grown daily. His decision did not surprise her. “I have to find the others. Adra said many escaped. I must find them and secure safe lodging. Organize forages for food. Already the spring fruit is ripening.” “I understand.” She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s all right. Go.” She probably could have stopped him by pleading her own needs and those of the baby, and she was tempted but only for a moment. Coming between him and his duty would not endear her to him. Far better to let him go. Roan stepped to the edge and spread his wings. With powerful thrusts, he lifted into the air. She’d not seen him fly before. He spiraled into the bluing sky, a picture of graceful power, ebony wings iridescent in the pale sunlight. The sight took her breath away. “He seeks air currents,” Adra explained from behind her. “When he finds the one he wants, he’ll glide.”
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High above them now, he moved in an ever-widening spiral, his sheer wings silently cleaving the air. Then he executed a brief, wing-tucked dive, backpedaled and touched wingtip to wingtip. Adra gave a clear two-note whistle. “He bids us farewell in the ancient way by bowing.” He touched his thumb to his forehead in a gesture of reverence. “Blessings on your journey, my Lord.” They watched until Roan disappeared into the misty haze of morning. Tears spilled down Tess’ cheeks. He wasn’t just leaving to find his people—he was leaving her. Once he was reunited with his own kind, would his first act be to set her aside? Fear knotted in her belly. Adra patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Don’t cry, Auntie, we’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.” That brought a shaky smile to her lips. Adra was barely more than a child himself, but with utmost confidence he declared himself to be the proper guardian of two children and a thirty-two-year-old “auntie”. Coee pulled himself up on the side of his crib and let out an inquiring chirp. Adra answered him in ancient speech. Reassured, Coee snuggled back under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t such an impossible arrangement after all.
***** Tess paced back and forth on the ledge fronting the cave. Waiting was hell. She slept poorly and the slightest noise startled her. She couldn’t sit still, so she paced, seldom thinking about the fact that every step she took strengthened her leg. With no idea how long Roan would be gone, she found herself constantly scanning the sky. During the day, she and Adra scoured the nearby countryside for food. The fruit and berries they sun-dried. Adra erected a smoker and they smoked the fish they caught and didn’t eat. He raided the nests of ground birds for eggs. After cracking an egg and discovering a developing chick, Tess made him hold them to the sun to make sure there was nothing inside the shell but an egg. One evening as they sat side by side on the ledge, Coee and Riza playing quietly nearby, Adra told her what he’d not told Roan. He, his five younger brothers and sisters and Roan’s four children had fled through the woods together. For days the nine of them hid every time they heard footsteps or rustling bushes, afraid they were being pursued. “We probably ran from one another,” he admitted. “But we had no way of knowing.” “You couldn’t use your sonar to find each other?” “Not in the woods,” he answered “It bounces off the trees. It’s mostly used when flying. I haven’t learned how to use mine yet. I’ll learn when I learn to fly. “ Another learned skill. So many more than she’d realized.
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“We spent the winter in a cave near the sulfur springs and ate what we found. There were eatable mushrooms growing in the cave.” He shuddered. “As long as I live, I shall never eat another one.” In the spring, having seen no sign of the Norans, they’d returned to the forest to search for other survivors, eating whatever they could find. Their inexperience in harvesting made for some bad choices. “The purple fruit was sweet and juicy,” Adra told her. “But within an hour we were all sick. I cramped until I bled. So did Sojana and Tavish. We’d eaten the most. We were just beginning to recover when we caught a fever and broke out in rashes. The fevers were enough to burn us alive. Lissa and my two younger sisters had fits. I was certain they were going to die, but they didn’t. When they were strong enough we built a raft and took to the river.” His narrow face tightened as he continued and his silver eyes turned dark as charcoal. “The river was wide and like a slow-moving lake. Late in the afternoon, it began to pick up speed and when we came around a bend we saw this cloud of mist.” “A waterfall.” He nodded, tears rolling down his face. “We tried to make it to the bank, but the current was too strong. The raft hit a rock and tipped. I was thrown into the water and went over the falls. I woke up in a tangle of driftwood downstream with my arm cut.” Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks and he rubbed his face with his hands as if that could mitigate his grief. “I followed the river for miles and never found them. Nothing. Not a scrap of wood or a blanket caught in the weeds. It was like they’d never been. I’d lost them all.” He was silent for several minutes. “I turned inland, away from that cursed river and began walking. I didn’t know where I was going and didn’t care. My winging was on me and I knew I was going to die.” His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. Tess put her arm around him to comfort him. Riza and Coee toddled over, curious. She motioned them back with a wag of her fingers. For once they obeyed her without question. In a few minutes, Adra straightened up, sniffled and dragged the back of his hand across his dripping nose. “I just wandered after that, not paying any attention to where I went. I stumbled into your camp by accident. I could just as easily have gone in another direction.” “You were meant to find Roan,” she said. “He thought everyone was dead. Without you he’d not have known the difference.” “And I thought he’d died with the others,” Adra said. “I suggested the raft.” His voice was so low she barely heard him. “On account of me…” “No! Never!” Tess cupped his chin and looked him in the eye. “The Norans are to blame for all of this, Adra. Every single bit. You were too weak to carry your luggage and your campsite was fouled. If you’d stayed there, you would have gotten sicker. You did the smart thing.”
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***** Tess watched Adra exercise his wings. He reminded her of a fledgling eaglet left too long in the nest. She knew that in spite of his promise to Roan he’d not stay long on the ground and she was right. He started with mini flights across the meadow, more often than not landing in a tangled heap but flying nonetheless. His landings improved and his flights got longer, but not without incident. Once he got caught in a draft that swept him into the side of the mountain and knocked him senseless. Flying certainly didn’t come naturally. Initially she’d been irritated with him for disobeying Roan, but her irritation soon gave way to respect. He was determined to go and help Roan but knew he’d be of little use unless he was a competent flyer, so he practiced. She stood by to tend his scrapes and bruises and kept him stuffed with solid, nourishing food. Exactly a month after Roan’s departure, Adra announced his intention to leave. Tess wanted to tie him to a tree, but she kissed him instead and gave him a bag filled with grain cakes that she’d baked the day before. She prayed that he wouldn’t crash land somewhere and break his fool neck. Coee and Riza, sensing the diminished numbers of their small family, clung to her legs. She cuddled them close. “Well, guys, I guess it’s just the three of us.” Because of her injury, she’d done little fire-building and Roan or Adra had taken care of the killing and cleaning of game. She would never be comfortable cleaning fish or killing and cleaning the rabbits she caught in the snares Adra had shown her how to set. But in spite of her reluctance, she became adept at delivering quick, near-painless death. Being adept did not mean she didn’t feel like an assassin. If a steady diet of bird’s eggs and water lily bulbs hadn’t become intolerable, she’d have given up fresh meat as a source of protein. She picked greens in the fields and along the creek bank. Dug tubers that were tasty boiled or baked or added to stew. Clumps of wild onions were abundant and a wide variety of herbs grew on the grassy hillside above the cave. She made stews, soups and hashes, saving the dehydrated rations they’d brought with them for winter when there would be little game and nothing growing in the fields. What she missed most was bread. Fresh-baked bread, warm and fragrant, dripping with butter, washed down with cold milk. She pulled her wandering mind up short and turned over the fish sizzling in the pan. Yearning for what couldn’t be was a waste of time and energy, but oh, what she wouldn’t give for vanilla ice cream drenched in chocolate sauce and topped with nuts. Lots of nuts. “Stop it, you idiot,” she said out loud, startling Coee and Riza. “It’s okay,” she assured them. “I’m not crazy. Yet. Finish your lunch,” she urged. “When you’re done we’ll go pick berries.” A large patch of red berries grew south of the cave and they’d raided it several times since the small, sweet fruit had begun to ripen, sheltered from the sun by broad green leaves. Coee and Riza ate most of what they picked and before long retreated to 117
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the shade of the nearby trees. Tess kept on picking, intent on taking what ripe berries she found back to the cave to be sun dried and stored for winter. Her bucket was nearly full when she heard a noise in the bushes. Rising from her stoop, she found herself on eye level with a large furry beast using long sharp claws to scoop handfuls of fruit into its mouth. It seemed unaware of her and the children. Or maybe they just didn’t concern him. He definitely had the advantage of size, claws and teeth. Using a low-pitched warning bark she silenced Coee and Riza. The animal feasting on the berries flicked a round ear toward her but otherwise paid no attention. Tess backed cautiously toward the children. Reaching them, she scooped them up and fled. The next day when she crept back to the berry patch the beast was gone and so were the berries. The weather turned hot and sultry, making movement difficult. Roan had been gone three months, Adra for two. Thank goodness she had the children to occupy her time, although they were a mixed blessing. The playpen no longer contained them and they had the curiosity of kittens and were into everything. They wore her out, but she no longer had to plan exercise. She got all the exercise she could handle getting them out of the mischief they got into. Her limp remained the same and she doubted it would improve. A minor detail, all things considered. She’d found a weed-choked patch of corn-like grain some distance from the cave. The fresh ears, roasted in the fire, were like nectar. Those they didn’t eat she left on the stalks to mature and dry. Once dry, they could be ground into flour. Cornbread loomed on the horizon like manna from heaven, but only if none of the planet’s native inhabitants ate it first. Competition for food was fierce. Birds, rodents and herds of herbivores ate many of the things she wanted to harvest, but in spite of the competition, Tess had a good-sized store tucked into the back of the cave. Summer turned dry and hot. The leaves on the trees developed yellow tips and drooped in the afternoon heat. Tess tried not to give in to her loneliness or her growing worry. Where were they? Had Adra found Roan? Were they all right? The heat made it impossible to do much during the afternoon except loll in the creek. Clad in nothing but a short top and underpants, Tess summoned the children with a come-along click and headed for the water. They both dogpaddled proficiently, though not for any great distance. Now when they inadvertently stepped in over their heads, they bobbed to the surface like little corks, thrashing vigorously, completely unaware of the fact that if she wasn’t there to give them a shove into shallow waters they’d most likely drown. Halfway across the meadow, a shadow passed overhead. A moment later, Roan crash-landed in the creek, his wings outstretched. She broke into a lumbering trot, but he motioned her back. “I’m covered with fleas. Don’t come near me.”
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Coee was ready to jump in and swim to his father, but Tess snagged a handful of hair and dragged him back from the water’s edge. Roan rolled over on his back and sank down until he was completely underwater. Tess watched in horror as dozens of large, shiny, brown fleas, some as big as her thumbnail, floated to the surface. Roan had described the trees that were home to a variety of bark flea perfectly willing to move onto any warm blooded creature that made the mistake of touching them. “A squall forced me to land, he told her. “Right in the middle of them, it would seem.” He nodded. While he soaked, she returned to the cave and got a pot of her first attempt at soapmaking. It was a disagreeable shade of brown and blisteringly strong. Just the thing for fleas. “Here,” she said, tossing him the pot. He floated neck-deep in the creek letting the current carry off the marching horde that scampered down his long, aristocratic nose and leaped into the water. Those that remained would perish in the caustic soap. “Welcome back.” She yearned to touch some part of him. Even a wing tip would do. “Wait until the current carries them off. If they see you, they’ll try to climb on board.” He ducked completely underwater once again, then dug into the soap and rubbed it into his hair. “Long time no see,” she said a little cryptically. “You’ve grown,” he replied with a faint smile. “It was bound to happen.” His eyes were dull with fatigue and he was bone-thin again. “You look awful. Are you sick?” He shook his head. “Just tired. I could sleep for a month. Ah,” a half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Here comes trouble.” She turned and saw Adra gliding over the trees. “Was he? Trouble?” “No. Thank you for letting him come.” Her smile slanted across her mouth. “I didn’t have any say in it.” Adra tucked his silver wings and made a graceful upright landing on the grass. He was in better shape than Roan, having avoided the flea-infested grove of trees, but he too was thinner. Both looked exhausted. Riza and Coee, denied a reunion with Roan, hurled themselves at Adra and wrapped welcoming arms around his legs. His fair skin had tanned to glowing umber. Although he looked thin and tired, there was pride and maturity in his stride as he approached her. “How many did you find?” she asked Adra.
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“Not enough. Barely three hundred,” He made no attempt to conceal his bitterness. “But that’s better than just the five of us, right?” “Yes, better than just the five of us,” she agreed. “I take it you didn’t get into the fleas.” “No. I was searching another hillside when he made his unfortunate landing. I could eat, though. Food’s been scarce.” “There are honey cakes and fruit in the cave.” Roan slumped on the rock in the middle of the creek, his chin on his chest, eyes closed, so limp he swayed in the current like a wet rag. “Roan!” His chin jerked up and his eyes opened but only momentarily. “I’d better rescue your illustrious leader before he drowns,” Tess told Adra. She waded toward him. “It will take the riders four days to get here,” Adra called after her. “Tess.” The sharp tone of his voice stopped her. She turned back to face him. “There are a dozen coming up on their winging. Twice that many have already died.” That said, he ducked inside the cave. Tess reached Roan just as he inhaled a nose full of water. He choked and sputtered. “Come out before you drown.” She took his hand. “Tired,” he muttered, exhaustion slurring his speech. “Then let’s get you out of here and into bed.” “Can’t yet.” “More fleas?” “Ticks.” He pocketed his wings. Glossy black ticks, engorged with blood, peppered his back. “My, you do believe in feeding the natives,” she said. “Not voluntarily. I brushed off the ones I saw.” “Come on. You can nap while the fire burns down.” The best way to dislodge ticks was to set the red-hot tip of a burning stick on them. Thus assaulted, they relinquished their hold and could be plucked up and disposed of. Tess spread a blanket on the grass and waited as Roan gave the children belated hugs. Then he stretched out, face down on the blanket, closed his eyes and fell asleep between one breath and the next. Adra came out of the cave stuffing honey cakes into his mouth. He scooped up the children, one under each arm. “I’m going back now and Roan asked me to take them with me. It will make your trip easier. Remember, they’ll come for you in four days.” Roan had expressed a desire to sleep for a month. Four days fell way short of that. She gathered kindling and dry grass, pulled some embers from the cooking fire pit next to the cave and got a small fire going at the edge of the creek. Before long, there 120
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were twigs with glowing tips. She attacked the ticks, tossing each one into the fire where they burned with a sizzling pop that sent shivers down her spine. With the last tick dispatched, she woke him enough to get him into the cave where he sprawled on the sleeping pallet dead asleep the moment his head reached the pillow. “Ah, my graceful flyer,” she murmured as she tucked his arms and legs up off the stone floor. He slept as profoundly as Adra had after his winging. Waking him proved difficult. He wanted no part of it, but she shook him until he was awake enough to tell her to leave him alone. “You need food and water just as much as you need sleep,” she told him as she stuffed chunks of fruit into his mouth. “Chew and swallow.” “Kerva,” he accused. “Be thankful someone cares whether you live or die,” she replied, unperturbed that he’d likened her to a cantankerous mammal notorious for its relentless persistence and high-pitched shrieking. He managed a faint smile. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” When he’d finished eating, she got a comb and brush, sat beside him and gently combed the tangles from his long black hair and plaited it into a single braid. “Nice,” he muttered. “Can’t stay awake.” “I noticed.” What a pace he must have set for himself. For the next two days and nights he slept, waking only long enough to eat, moving like an arthritic old man when nature demanded. Tess massaged him with warm oil, working the knots out of his flight muscles, back and legs. The third evening, as she worked over the top of his shoulders and up his neck, he lay awake. “I’m almost alive tonight. I should perform my husbandly duties.” Her smile hid her disappointment that he hadn’t said “make love”. “You’d go to sleep halfway through.” “Probably, but I wanted you to know I’d not forgotten. That I was thinking of you.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I thought of you often.” “I thought about you too.” Stretching out alongside him, she put her head on his shoulder. He draped his arm over her belly. The baby stretched and tumbled inside her womb. Roan chuckled when his arm was pummeled. Feeling the strong movements of the fetus, Tess found it hard not to visualize a normal healthy child. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t hope. The likelihood of a good outcome was slim, but the promise proved hard to keep. More than anything, she wanted to present Roan with a child. Ease the grief he felt for those children he had lost. No child could replace one lost, but another could become equally precious to him.
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The third morning Roan woke up and stayed awake. He bathed in the stream, taking his time, using one of her more successful batches of soap. He ate warm cereal and fruit for breakfast, slept an hour and woke again, ready to eat some more. Although greatly improved, he needed more than the single day that remained in order to recover his full strength. She didn’t bother to attempt to delay him, knowing that once his mind was made up there was no changing it. “We must leave in the morning,” he informed her as they lay arm in arm outside the cave, watching the moon rise in pink splendor, softening the landscape with a pale rosy mantle. Night-flying insects buzzed about them and the distant bark of a hunting fox mingled with the near-silent swish of bats feeding on the insects. To her amusement, Roan waved them off when they swooped too close. “Lord Hebron escaped the slaughter at the gathering cave,” he said after a lengthy silence. “He alerted the village. They gathered what they could and fled into the forest. He stayed behind and set the fire. None of the others saw him after that. He was old. Without shelter I doubt he survived the winter.” “So it wasn’t Arnie who leveled the village.” “No, not Arnie,” Roan admitted. “But there were more ships in the days after Arnie’s raid. The frightened survivors scattered, hiding in the forest. We’d never anticipated an attack from the sky. There was no plan. The adults were at the gathering Cave and died there. Arnie’s Minitars are butchers.” He spat the words bitterly. Then took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “Too terrified to attempt to contact each other, they stayed in small scattered groups living off the land. By winter they began to find each other, but they had few stores. Some of the young men, like young men tend to do, thought they knew a great deal more than they actually did. Drawing on their great store of ignorance they built shelters that leaked when it rained and collapsed when the wind blew. Many died from the cold and its sicknesses.” He added somberly, “Those who survived last winter will not survive this winter without proper shelter and adequate food. There is a great deal of work to do before the snow comes.” “Are the winters here severe?” she asked. “Not like at the zoo,” he replied, “but bad enough. And our winter coats aren’t enough to prevent chills and lung fevers.” Roan’s fingers moved restlessly along the outside of her arm. “Those who fly no longer live in holes in the ground and what is a cave if not a hole? Yet, that is where we must go, for there isn’t enough time to rebuild the village and gather food for the coming winter. Caves are abundant in the western mountains. I found one overlooking the Soveat River, situated at the end of a highsided canyon. The space is more than adequate and there are many escape routes should we need them.” He sighed. “We never anticipated death coming out of the sky. We’d never heard of flying ships or weapons such as the Norans possess. We are defenseless against such as them. If they or others like them come again we must have escape routes and hiding places in readiness. We must be invisible to eyes in the sky.” “I don’t think the Norans will return.” They had the babies to display and had destroyed the village. There was nothing for them to come back for. Claiming territory 122
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was not part of their agenda. But Roan had a legitimate reason to worry. There was no reason to think the Norans were the only ones zooming around space. “I pray you’re right.” In spite of his words he did not sound hopeful. “Adra helped me search for other survivors. When we were convinced there were no more to find, we led them to the mountains and the cave.” He gathered her into his arms. “I wanted them settled before I came for you. I didn’t want you to make the trek with the others.” “Why?” she asked uneasily. What hadn’t he told her? “You are taking me with you, aren’t you?” “Yes, my little round one,” he replied. “I’m taking you with me.” He nuzzled her neck. “My night dreams were filled with you. I woke with your name on my lips. I tried to enter you and found myself stroking the air, my skin cold without you there to warm it.” His hands caressed her breasts. His erection pressed against her leg. Desire shimmered in his turquoise eyes. “I did not live well without you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, wishing he sounded happier about not living well without her. He moved over her and took her with a fierce hunger. Later that night they made sweet love, taking the time to touch and taste and savor. Surely he wouldn’t handle her so tenderly if he didn’t hold a small spark of love for her. Would he?
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Chapter Fourteen The next morning they packed. Roan said their escort should arrive by midday. She stacked things together to be placed in the luggage containers Roan said would be provided. Finished, she went to the ledge fronting the cave and heard the sound of riders approaching. She hoped they were friendly, for it was much too late for her to hide or flee. Between her weak leg and blossoming pregnancy, she was as agile as a rock. Then she heard Adra’s sweet, clear trill. She grinned. A friendly voice. Roan leaped lightly up onto the ledge beside her. He answered Adra with his own trill. Her hand dropped to gently caress him, for he was still undressed, naked and easy to find. He pressed against her touch for a precious moment. He might not declare love for her, but he desired her and enjoyed the passion they shared. “I must dress. Only with you is it proper for me to be unclad.” They’d done each other’s hair during their morning bath in the creek, Roan’s jetblack mane swept back into a flat glossy tail secured by a leather lace. Her hair had grown, but slowly. It was still too short to braid but she had managed to pull it into a topknot of curls on top of her head. Roan had brushed it for her, interrupting his grooming now and then to brush his lips along her neck. He’d not been aroused and she’d cherished his rare display of affection. He’d barely finished dressing and rejoined her when a mounted column burst into the clearing. “Oh my God!” Tess gasped. She backed up and collided with Roan, who stood behind her. He had talked about the domesticated luggers his people used for both work and transportation. She’d pictured something similar to a llama, only perhaps a bit larger. Nothing had prepared her for the reality. Roan chuckled. “They’re herbivores.” “Sure they are,” she said skeptically. Luggers may well have evolved from a gene pool with similarities to Earth’s horses and llamas, but to her the long-legged, golden-eyed beasts looked more like hunting wolves than beasts of burden. Lightly furred, in a variety of colors, they crowded into the clearing with stomping hooves and great huffing breaths glaring about with regal distain. Rolled-back lips displayed huge yellow teeth and the huffing sounds they made sounded belligerent, in her opinion. The pictures in the Noran database had not come anywhere near portraying the reality of them. Adra threw a leg over his saddle and leaped lightly to the ground as did the four youths accompanying him.
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“Stay in front of me,” Roan said quietly. She stood there, grateful for his hand on the small of her back as the young men approached. All save Adra eyed her with critical, unfriendly gazes. “What’s wrong?” Tess asked. Roan gave a small sigh. “I’ve mated outside the tribe. It’s forbidden. But don’t worry. They’ll accept you. They have no choice.” A prickle of apprehension skated along her spine. Not only had she forced him into mating before he’d finished grieving for his dead wife, but her invitation had caused him to violate tribal tradition. Had the affection he’d shown her these last few days been an attempt to prepare her for the hostility he knew she would face today? In spite of their undisguised disapproval, the youths bowed in polite greeting when Roan introduced them to her, each murmuring the required words of welcome. When they turned away she saw their backs and knew why she would be tolerated. Why Roan wouldn’t abandon her. He needed her surgical skills if he hoped to save these young adult males whose wings had not yet emerged. He might enjoy the sex she provided. But love? Not now and perhaps never. “She’ll ride with me,” Roan told his nephew. “She knows nothing of luggers and she mustn’t fall.” The young man called Len turned his jade green eyes in her direction. His eyes tilted more than Roan’s and his face was longer and narrower. An expression of overt hostility ruined his handsomeness. Instinctively, she dropped her hand protectively to her belly. He rolled back his lips and spit. Anger curled through her. Why you arrogant little bastard! He read her thoughts as easily as she read his. “It’ll pass,” Roan promised her, having caught the exchange. He cupped his hand to give her a step up into the saddle. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” she said. She grabbed the saddle horn and, with Roan’s help, hoisted herself into the saddle. Roan sprang up behind her with disgusting ease, reached around her waist with his arms and grasped the woven rawhide reins of the simple hackamore. “Juju! At ease!” Roan commanded when the animal humped its back and stiffened its knees to display his disapproval of two riders. He gave a single hop, ears laid flat. Roan cuffed him alongside his neck. “Enough! Settle.” To Tess’ surprise, the beast settled and moved forward in a smooth ambling gait that elevated her opinion of him considerably. Adra had overseen the loading of their belongings onto pack saddles. He issued curt orders to the other youths who obeyed without hesitation. During his absence he’d acquired an aura of authority. Roan had told her that winging was the ascent into manhood. The changes were tangible. The immature males had a slight forward cant to their shoulders and an inward tuck to their chins that testified to their immaturity. All
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save for Len. He sat straight backed with head high, his gaze direct. Once he winged he would be a force to be reckoned with. His bright marigold body-down and vivid green eyes distinguished him from the other young males. All of them were colorful and handsome, but Len was exceedingly so. They wore calf-high riding boots, breechcloths and no shirts. Len and Adra led the mounted column, riding side by side in relative silence. She and Roan were next, followed by a pair of blonds who led two pack animals. The final pair, one dark chocolate brown and the other cocoa colored, brought up the rear. Close to Roan’s height, although somewhat more slightly built, they were handsome, well-built young men. Men who represented the future of Roan’s race. Men he wanted her to save. As the day wore on and the swift pace continued, Tess learned that not even a gait as smooth as silk could save her from an aching back, a sore bottom and scalded thighs. Her feet and legs went numb and when they stopped at midday to eat, rest and relieve themselves, she’d have gone straight to the ground in a heap if Roan hadn’t been holding her. He deposited her on a blanket and spent a few minutes rubbing the circulation back into her legs. “Can you take it from here?” he asked. She nodded in spite of the fiery needles of restored feeling bringing tears to her eyes. No way would she let them see her weaknesses. He had enough on his mind. Nor would she let him know that riding anything, horse or lugger, was not the best thing for a pregnant woman. The rest was too brief, the remainder of the day a blur of pain. “How are you?” Adra asked when they dismounted for the night. “Don’t ask,” she muttered wearily. “We would go slower, but…” He shrugged eloquently. “I know. I’ll be all right, Adra. Just let me complain and whine a little.” He looked toward Roan, who skinned a brace of rabbits for their evening meal. Tubers and greens gathered along the trail already boiled in a pot of water. “He’s well.” “He needed more time. He’s still thin as a rail and half the time he’s been asleep with his face buried in my hair.” Adra grinned. “That’s why he rides with you.” Tess hadn’t considered that. She’d assumed he rode with her for her sake, not his own, and was grateful to Adra for enlightening her. The next day, her aches and pain diminished as she took care to support Roan’s relaxed weight against her back. Sometimes he slept so deeply he snored. Toward midday of the third day of travel, they emerged from the forest onto rolling grasslands. The American heartland had no doubt looked like this before plows and overgrazing, a vast sea of green waving in the wind. The luggers picked up the pace breaking into a smooth rocking canter, ears forward, gazes alert. Roan slept on and the
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animals held the pace effortlessly, hour after hour, their glittering golden eyes scanning the landscape. “What do they look for?” she asked Roan that night. “Therbers. Big cats,” he replied offhandedly as he spread their bedrolls. “Luggers are their primary prey.” “Big ones like these? Grown ones? What about smaller things like us?” “They’ve been known to attack people but seldom in a group. But there’s nothing to worry about. The luggers will sound the alarm if any come close.” Roan’s words turned the deep-throated woofs that she’d found so annoying the previous night into a comfort. She snuggled tight against him, tucking her sore bottom against his flat belly, and slept. When a particularly deep woof roused her, Roan stroked her arm. “Len stands guard tonight,” he said. “We’re safe.” She relaxed, confident nothing would dare challenge that young man. She closed her eyes and slipped back into her dream. A night of guard duty did not soften the young man’s stiff posture. He slept in the saddle, swaying slightly as his lugger cantered steadily along an invisible trail. Len’s firm seat in the saddle even kept him from falling when his mount jumped over a small stream. Tess didn’t care for him, but she admired his riding ability. They left the grasslands to follow a riverbed. The luggers waded through the knee-deep water, snorting and tossing their heads in disapproval. Roan explained that they rode in the center of the river in order not to leave a trail. They’d reach the cave late tonight. Toward mid-afternoon, they rode along a table-flat rocky river bank. The luggers wide, cushioned hooves left no trace of their passage. No trail for invaders to follow. Never again would Roan’s people fall victim to beings coming down from the sky. “By nightfall we’ll be at the cave,” he promised. Tess looked at the range of jagged saw-toothed peaks framed against the afternoon sky, lower slopes green and forested, upper peaks capped with snow. “Those are the Peneras Mountains. We are aiming for the stone foothills.” Rimming the lower edge of the mountains was a ring of barren stone peaks devoid of trees or vegetation. They did not look the least hospitable to Tess, but she said nothing. That night, when they stopped for their evening meal, the bedrolls weren’t unpacked and Tess realized the day was far from over. She rubbed her aching back and rump in an effort to restore some circulation. Len passed by her and showed his contempt by spitting again. Roan reprimanded him by snapping his fingers in his face. Tess wondered how much more Roan would take before he knocked Len’s impertinent and disrespectful head off his shoulders. Figuratively speaking, of course. Roan wore his authority like a clock, but the only time she’d seen him display violence was during
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his first encounter with Arnie. He could be pushed to violence, but not with his own kind, something she was not. After seeing the flare of shock in Len’s eyes when he first saw her, she realized that Roan had not told any of them that he’d mated with an outsider. Apparently neither had Adra. She turned away and started toward the river to wash up, pausing when she saw Antee flex his shoulders and wince. “Let me see your back,” she requested. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned around. His back was slightly swollen, the striation marking the wing pockets inflamed. Someone had applied pale green ointment to his back. “Where did you get this?” she asked. “Auntie Tursa gave it to me,” he replied. His voice trembled as he added. “It doesn’t really help. All the others…died.” She patted his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “Adra’s winging went well. So will yours.” He accepted her words without comment, but a little later he offered to refill her tea cup in the first show of friendliness anyone had made. Mostly they’d looked right through her, except for Len, of course and his acknowledgment of her presence she could have done without. After they finished a cold meal of fruit, cheese and bread, Roan disappeared. Tess used the time to walk the stiffness out of her muscles. “Mount up,” Roan ordered when he returned with a bag of freshly picked fruit. He handed the bag to Adra then reached down for Tess, this time setting her behind him. The planet’s pale pink moon had dipped toward the horizon by the time the luggers came to a stop. Above them, halfway up the side of the mountain, Tess saw the wide oval mouth of a cave. From where they were it looked empty. Deserted. Yet everyone dismounted. The luggers were unsaddled, hobbled and turned loose to graze in the tall grass meadow beside the trail. The packs were unloaded and distributed among the riders. In single file, they entered a narrow slit in the cliff face that led to the cave. Tess, numb with exhaustion, welcomed Roan’s strong arms around her as he carried her up the incline and into the cave where, well back from the entrance, cooking fires burned and clusters of strangely silent people stood watching. There were no introductions. Without pausing Roan carried her to another part of the cave and a bed where she sank into softness with a blissful sigh.
***** She woke to find Coee hovering in the entrance of the room. She held out her arms and he leaped into them babbling gleefully in toddler nonsense. “I’m sure you know exactly what you’re saying, sweet pea, but I haven’t a clue. Oh, how I missed you.” She nuzzled his silky belly and planted kisses on his face. Riza
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joined them and, unable to pretend she was older and more dignified, she hurled herself into Tess’ arms as well. “Oh, I’ve missed you precious things,” she assured them. “And you’re so clean and look so lovely.” Riza’s blonde hair had been brushed neatly off her face and tied at the back of her neck with a ribbon. She proudly held out clean hands with trimmed nails. “My, a manicure,” Tess admired. “You’re obviously being treated like the young lady you are.” Riza lowered her lashes and looked shyly away. “She’s the daughter of Clan Vivian,” said the woman who’d stepped into the doorway. Her tone implied that Riza’s lineage was reason enough for her to be particularly well cared for. Tess scooted up in the bed, drawing the covers over her belly. The tall, slender woman in the doorway wore a simple knee-length shift with a narrow band of embroidery along the hem. Her face was lightly lined with age and her golden hair streaked with gray. “I’m Matild.” the woman introduced herself. She made a soft click with her tongue and Coee and Riza gave Tess quick goodbye kisses and hurried out of the room. “My Lord requests I show you the baths,” Matild said. “I’m to assist you if you desire it. Clothing and towels have been set out.” She spoke the correct words, but her tone of voice told Tess that the woman found her assignment offensive. “If you’ll show me the way to the baths, I will take care of myself.” Matild gestured in the opposite direction the children had taken. “The bath is that way.” “Thank you.” “I’ll send a girl with a tray so you may eat when you return.” Confined to quarters? Tess looked around. The roof of the roughly oval sleeping room was covered with luminescent lichen that gave off sufficient light to see by and filled the air with a pleasant spicy scent. Tess levered herself out of the low but comfortable bed, gathered up the towel and pot of soap Matild had left for her and headed for the bath. A covered chamber pot and a clay basin sat on a narrow ledge. A trickle of warm water ran down the far wall forming a shallow pool. Tess set the pot of soap at the edge of the pool, undressed and stepped into the water. It felt heavenly. “I thought you’d like that,” Roan said from the doorway. He looked fit and rested, the trip not having been as hard on him as she’d feared it would be. “Are you well?” he asked. “Nothing more damaging than saddle sores and a tired back,” she assured him. He had a change of clothes in hand. “May I join you?” “Please do.”
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What a pleasure. They spent an hour bathing. They washed, soaked and shared grooming, fingers lingering in each other’s hair. Roan showed no embarrassment over his nudity when a girl appeared carrying a tray of food. “Sojana, this is Tess,” Roan said by way of introduction. “Good day, ma’am,” the girl murmured. Tess estimated her to be in her early teens. A lovely youngster with blue-black hair and turquoise eyes like Roan’s. “Good day to you,” Tess replied. Sojana’s smile reflected shy curiosity but no hostility. Tess smiled back and cautioned herself to take each encounter with these people one by one. Surely a few would prove friendly. If not friendly, at least not bristling with hostility. “My oldest daughter,” Roan said after Sojana left the room. “But I thought…Adra said…” Tess stammered, stunned by the revelation. “Only Adra went over the falls. The others stayed on the raft and it got hung up on some rocks at the rim. They made it to shore but didn’t look for Adra, thinking him dead. He never considered looking upstream.” He smiled. “Theirs was an emotional reunion.” He said nothing about the emotion of his own reunion with his children, but his affection for Sojana had been plain to see, if somewhat subdued. Tess settled between Roan’s knees in the warm water, aware that these moments of solitude would be rare. She would now have to share him with many others. As the only adult male left to lead, his duties would be many and she but a very small part of his life. She shivered, suddenly afraid for both of them in a way she could not explain. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “It’ll be all right,” he promised her. “Do you read minds in your spare time?” “Only when your thinking is so loud and so close to my own I can’t miss it.” He sighed. “This will not be an easy thing.” “I’m beginning to see that,” Tess said. “It will be difficult for you,” he admitted. “Why do they hate me?” she asked. “To many you’re no different from Arnie. And, even without that, you’re an outsider. Be patient and be quiet.” “Be quiet? Me? I babble when I get nervous and nasty glances make me nervous.” He chuckled. “Yes, you talk a great deal when you’re uneasy, but you’re not unwise, nor unfair. And you are my mate. They’re obligated to accept you.” She would just as soon not be an obligation.
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He stepped out of the bath and offered her his hand up. “I must get back to my duties.” Still, he took the time to carefully dry her. “We’ll eat and you’ll rest and tonight we’ll be together some more.” “In other words, stay put.” “Please.” She gave him a light kiss of assurance. It would actually be nice to spend time alone with a soft bed to nap on after the exhausting trip.
***** Lunch was a marvelous indulgence, a savory vegetable soup and fresh fruit, served in her room. A girl who brought and retrieved the tray came and went without saying a word. Tess sighed. Was she going to be treated as a pariah by everyone? If so, she would have a very lonely life. She was accustomed to being busy and idleness did not suit her. Restlessly, she examined their quarters more thoroughly. They consisted of four small caves branching out from a common hallway that led back to the main cave. There was a sparsely furnished sitting room, the sleeping room and what looked to be the Nightflyers version of a kitchen. There was a free-standing fireplace similar to a barbecue pit. On top of the fire box was a sheet of ceramic material that served as the cook top. On a nearby ledge was a row of ceramic pots and pans of various shapes and sizes. On another ledge were plates, bowls, cups and ceramic flatware. They had developed ceramics rather than metallurgy. The sitting room furniture was made from something similar to bamboo, along with woven reeds and grasses. Very simple but comfortable, she realized when she tried out a chair. The mattress on the bed was made of woven reeds and, she suspected, stuffed with soft grass and moss, for it rustled slightly when she moved around on it. There was a single, hand-woven blanket. She walked out into the hallway. Where was Roan? What was he doing? He’d been gone when she awoke. Surely he didn’t intend to leave her stranded here. She followed the sounds of talking and activity and arrived in the central cave. Side caves branched out on all sides of her. More personal areas like where she’d slept? Probably. The main cave appeared to be a community area. There were several cookers. Large ones suitable for large pots. Off to one side were tables and benches. The crudeness of their construction surprised her and she said as much to Roan when he joined her. “All our craftsmen are dead,” he said, bristling at her words. “We have to make do with apprentices. They do the best they can.” He hurried off in response to a request for his attention to some problem with the water supply. Tess returned to their quarters. Obviously Roan had serious, pressing duties that did not include her. At least she still had the children. Or did she? She hadn’t seen them since morning.
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When Coee and Riza didn’t return by suppertime Tess went in search of them. She found them with a group of children their same age getting ready to eat under the watchful eyes of the aunties. “I came to take the children home,” Tess explained. Kara, the eldest of the aunties, offered a thin smile. “Those no longer nursing remain in our care. You need not concern yourself with them.” “No,” Tess said firmly. “Coee and Riza will take their evening meal with their father and me.” “You add to our work,” Kara said. “Now we will have to come and get them when it is time to sleep.” “No, you won’t,” Tess said, forcing a smile. “They will also sleep in our quarters.” No way was she handing these children, or the one she carried, over to someone else to raise. Taking Coee and Riza by the hand she led them away, stopping only long enough to dip into the communal cooking pots for their evening meal. She’d barely gotten the children started when Roan arrived obviously displeased. “You defy tradition,” he said. “Once nursing is over the children reside with the aunties.” “They are still being bottle fed,” Tess countered. “Which the aunties can do as well as you can. And they eat other food.” He glared at her. “You will not break tradition.” “I don’t care a fig about your traditions,” she informed him. “They can be with the others during the day. That’s fine. But they are our children and we will raise them.” “Changing our customs will not improve your situation here,” he cautioned. “I have a few customs of my own, especially in regard to mothering,” she said. He opened his mouth, then closed it and with a shrug of his shoulders left. She’d been asleep for hours when he slipped into bed beside her. For several long minutes he lay rigidly on his back, then, finally, he turned on his side and curled around her, one arm draped around her waist, his hand covering hers. She snuggled closer and went back to sleep.
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Chapter Fifteen Five days of inactivity turned Tess restless and edgy. She was loitering in the doorway giving serious consideration to violating her “house arrest” when Roan came hurrying toward her. “Bring your kit and come on,” he ordered. She grabbed up her medical kit and hurried after him. “I’ve fashioned a surgery for you,” he explained as he led her through the maze of tunnels. “Surgery?” “This way.” He started up steps hacked out of the stone, forced to slow his pace. She climbed stairs awkwardly, one step at a time, unable to support her body weight with her partially paralyzed leg. Her bad leg supported her on flat land and even on slight inclines, but lacked the strength need for stair climbing. Tess feared it would never be much stronger that it was now. Her recovery seemed to have reached a plateau. She struggled to keep up with Roan, a dozen questions coming to mind, top being why she hadn’t been consulted about this so-called surgery. The questions would have to wait until later, for she had no breath for talking, needing all she had to keep up with his long strides as she followed him up another incline to a higher level of caves. They entered the area set aside for her surgery to find a reluctant Adra holding a basin for Len. “How long has he been doing that?” Tess asked. “Since yesterday,” Adra answered “Since yesterday?” She turned and looked at Roan. “He resisted treatment.” “I’ll need your help,” she told Adra. Adra went from gray-green to fish-belly white. “I’ll help,” Roan offered. Adra fled. Tess took a quick look around. Bedding and sleeping pads had been stacked against one wall, crockery and linens covered a ledge. Oil lamps provided barely adequate light. A clear stream of fresh water ran down one wall and pooled in a shallow basin of rock. There was an abundance of water throughout the cave, some clear and cold, some hot springs smelling pungently of sulfur.
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She had time for no more than a cursory glance around, Len demanding her full attention. Fever flushed his face and his back was disfigured by swelling, pus oozing from wing pockets that looked close to bursting. Adra had been nowhere near this bad off. “Stubborn bastard,” she muttered. “He came into it more quickly than most,” Roan said. “I watched him during the trip because he’s older by several weeks than Adra and past his time, but I saw no swelling until yesterday.” “Antee had some swelling on the way here,” Tess said. “Have you checked on him?” “Yes. He took to his bed this morning but is not ready for you yet.” “Maybe you need to let me be the judge of when they need treatment,” she snapped, “because this magnificent young man may well die. Bring my surgical instruments.” Saving Len’s wings was not possible. The glut had rotted and festered, his wings so decayed they fell apart, many of the smaller bones washing out with the suppuration when she opened the pockets. “I’ll have to amputate what’s left,” she said. “No! You can’t!” Roan protested. “Excuse me?” Tess rocked back on her heels and looked Roan in the eye. “The males without wings die.” He said the words as if they were edicts handed down from the gods. “Who says?” “The wing masters. There are herbs, medicines that you can give to ease his passing.” “Euthanasia.” Tess closed her eyes for a moment. “Give me patience,” she murmured under her breath. Then she looked up at Roan. “I’m not one of your wing masters and I’m not about to let this boy die. Not if I can save him. Now you can either assist or leave. Your choice.” Roan offered no more resistance possibly realizing that this was an argument he would not win. Tess had medical ethics she would not sacrifice even for him. He stayed and helped but made no effort to disguise his disapproval. Fortunately, the surgery itself went without incident, amputating the wings a simple matter of snipping them off at their root and tying off bleeders. The effects of the infection were more long-lasting. Len ran a high fever and the infection in the pockets continued to fester, forcing Tess to give him one of the few doses of antibiotics left in her medical kit. Replenishing his lost fluids without the aid of an IV drip meant spooning a solution of water, berry juice, salt and honey down him at fifteen-minute intervals around the clock. No easy task with him face down on the bed. She got barely an ounce down him when he gagged.
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“Damn you, don’t you dare puke that up!” she ordered. His eyelids fluttered over his jade eyes as he swallowed against the heave of his stomach. “Keep it down, Len. You must. You’ll die if you don’t.” “Sick.” “You are very sick.” “Hurts.” Tess felt confident that if she could get his stomach settled he would survive. Whether he would thank her was another question entirely. She smoothed his golden hair off his forehead. Gradually he relaxed and his color improved. His breathing evened and he slept. She drew the covers up around him before struggling to her feet. Her back ached like a festering tooth. Next order of business would be platforms to put the pallets on. She couldn’t continue to practice medicine on her hands and knees.
***** Tess heard a rustle of movement in the corridor, one she had heard several times during the last few days of tending Len. She went out to investigate. “Who’s there?” she called. “I know someone’s here. Show yourself.” A girl in her late teens crept timidly from a notch a few feet beyond the door. “What are you doing here?” Tess asked her. “I…he…” “Len? You’re here about Len?” She nodded. “Are you a sister? A relative?” “No.” “You care for him?” Tess asked more gently, beginning to understand. “Yes. Deeply.” “And does he share your feelings?” “He has sworn for me, yes.” “What’s your name?” “Luria.” Tess took the girl’s hand and led her to a sitting place. “Do you know what’s been done?” “His wings.” Her voice caught in a sob. “They couldn’t be saved.”
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“What will he do? They’re his manhood. He is…was a warrior hunter like Lord Roan.” “The only thing he can’t do is fly,” Tess said even as she absorbed exactly what Luria was telling her. “He’s still the same beautiful young man as before. He has the same fine mind. He can sire beautiful children.” Luria shook her head. “No, without his wings he’ll die.” “No. No he won’t. His life has been saved.” Tess took Luria’s hands in her own. “Listen to me, girl. Do you love him? Really love him? Love him enough to stand by him?” “Yes, yes I do,” Luria answered, head up, voice firm. The arrogance of youth, Tess thought, well aware that Luria had no idea what lay ahead. “Then convince him that the love you have for him is worth living for. Convince him to survive. I don’t care what you tell him or how you do it, but convince him there’s more to life than wings. Get him to eat.” Tess felt a ripple of pain girdle her, pain that had been subtle earlier in the day and now had a determined edge. She was in labor weeks too early according to her count. “Come on,” she said, motioning Luria to her feet. “I’m going to give you a crash course in nursing and then I think I’ll go downstairs and have a baby.” Tess showed Luria how to brew the lightly sedating herbal tea that had the best chance of staying down and showed her the juice dilute to alternate with the tea. By the time she showed her where the clean towels, blankets and basins were kept, sweat greased her forehead and her contractions had turned strong and regular. “You’d better go,” Luria said, eyeing her apprehensively. “I think so.” She got as far as the doorway when her water broke with the loud pop of a ruptured balloon. “I’ll get Lord Roan,” Luria bleated, her eyes huge. Tess retreated into the surgery and found a towel to sit on. When Roan arrived with Tursa, the tribe’s midwife, Tess was bent forward grasping her knees. Without someone to monitor her dilation, she had surrendered to instinct. The need to push was so strong she marveled that any woman had ever paid any attention to someone yelling “Don’t push! Don’t push!” How could you not push? She clenched her teeth and gave it her all. “Oh damn…” she yowled as a crushing bearing down pain wrapped around her. She grabbed her knees and curled into the contraction, squealing against the pain of the baby’s head pressing hard. “She must push again,” Tursa ordered after checking the position of the baby. “Again,” Roan told her. She managed not to swear at him. Like she didn’t know she had to push some more. At least now he sat behind her, giving her his wide chest for support. She braced,
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sucked in a deep breath as a contraction set its teeth into her, pushed and screamed. Not that screaming helped. It just seemed the right thing to do. “I don’t like this,” she said between clenched teeth when the contraction eased enough to allow her to take a breath. “Oh God!” she howled as another contraction seized her. “You go quickly,” Tursa said. “Very fast for first child.” Tess didn’t answer. She didn’t have time. She coiled into the next contraction, her high, grunting scream escalating as the contraction gained strength. The scream became a shriek as the baby’s head emerged. “Once more,” Tursa ordered. On Tess’ next contraction, Tursa tugged gently and the baby slipped the rest of the way out. When the cold air hit him, he sucked in a gurgling breath and let it out in an indignant howl. Tursa held him aloft by his heels. “A male, my Lord,” she said. She turned the squalling infant and examined his back. “A flyer, my Lord. Small but sound,” she added in an awed tone. Roan buried his face in Tess’ sweat-damp hair and wept. Tursa cut the cord, wrapped the baby in a clean towel and laid him on Tess’ belly. The baby sputtered and gurgled. Tess cuddled him close. “Poor babe,” she said affectionately. “He’s drowning.” Roan composed himself enough to wipe the baby’s face and mouth with the corner of a towel and then he sat, still shuddering with emotion, his arms around Tess as she fingered their son’s perfect hands, perfect feet, narrow butt and beautifully symmetrical skull. He appeared normal, waving his arms and voicing his displeasure in soggy howls. When she ran her fingernail along the sole of his foot, his toes curled. When she offered him her finger, he suckled eagerly. His tiny fingers gripped her finger. His responses were normal. Happiness spread through her in a warm tide. Oblivious to her sweat-soaked hair, the rawness between her legs or the cramps in her belly as her uterus contracted to expel the afterbirth, she cuddled her newborn son. Nothing mattered except him and the warm drip of Roan’s tears on her cheek. Roan moved her and the baby to their quarters, leaving Tursa and Luria to care for Len. Tess went reluctantly. Clinically, she felt Len was out of danger. Emotionally was another thing entirely. Everyone, including Len himself, felt she should have let him die. It was a matter she would address later. For now she had a small portion of time for herself and her mate as they spent the remainder of the day worshipping the small life they’d created. The perfect life she’d not dared to hope for. Tess slept in Roan’s arms, his soft breath on her face, and the baby on her chest. Roan made no move to leave her that night, the next day or the following night except to go to the kitchens and get them food. It was a private, peaceful time of bonding with their son, whom Roan named Senji to honor his brother.
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The second morning Coee and Riza were drawn into the circle. Later that day Adra came to inspect his new nephew. It was clear that he was not particularly impressed with the wrinkled, red-faced newborn. Roan chuckled. “Your day will come, lad.”
***** After all of her worrying, she had ended up with a perfectly normal baby who didn’t suffer colic. He slept like an angel and needed nothing more than a full tummy and a dry bottom in order to be happy, which was fortunate because sooner than she’d planned she was forced back to the surgery. “He goes crazy,” Luria said, eyes wide with fright. Tess had expected reality to come to Len before this. She handed Luria the baby. “If I don’t come down before he gets hungry, come for me.” Even as she rounded the corner and headed toward the surgery, she could hear the sound of breaking crockery. She stepped inside, ducking whatever it was Len had just thrown. Crockery, judging from the sound it made as it smashed against the wall behind her. With nothing left to throw, he sank to his knees and pounded the cold stone floor with his fists. Tess gathered him into her arms as his horrible rage, the pain that pierced his very soul, turned into great, heaving sobs. “Listen to me, you stubborn bastard,” she said as she rocked him back and forth in her arms. “You can let this destroy you or you can fight it. You’ve still got your cock. You can fill Luria up with babies every year for the rest of your lives. You’re strong and smart and you’ve got a will of iron. You managed to hate me, sight unseen, until it’s a wonder Roan didn’t throttle you. There’s so much more to you than a pair of damn wings.” He stilled and she knew he heard her words. But did he believe them? “You’re alive, Len. Alive. Dead is forever. There’s no coming back. No second chance. How can you choose death when you haven’t lived yet? Think. Why were you spared? There’s a reason. I can’t believe this has all happened without some purpose. In time you’ll find out what it is.” His sobs had quieted, so she kept talking. “I lost my whole world. I’d have died if I hadn’t ended up with Arnie. He knew how to live as a prisoner. I certainly didn’t. He told me I had to have something that made me useful to the Norans. Worth keeping. And I did. I was a doctor. I could heal. Arnie kept telling me to be useful and follow the rules. Then he broke all of them when he dropped Roan in my lap and told me to save his life.” She shifted to a more comfortable position. “I’d never seen anything like him. Arnie said he was a bat, but what a glorious bat he turned out to be. Beautiful. Smart. Regal. How could I not love him? He was strength and gentleness, sweet warmth and avenging fury.” She smiled at the memory of him at the clinic going after Arnie, wings
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spread, lethal claws gleaming, his growl sending Arnie diving for the door in a blind panic. She stroked the side of Len’s damp face, wiping away the tears pooled on the side of his nose. “I know you hate me for saving you, but you’re too fine a life to waste over a pair of wings. You can’t throw your life away, Len. Let Luria love you. Let her strength be yours for the moment.” She put her hand on the side of his neck and felt the slow even rhythm of his pulse. He sat up, dull-eyed, still trembling, but calmer. She draped a blanket over his shoulders and left him sitting there in the middle of the mess he’d made. Finding Luria was her next task. As it turned out, an easy one. Luria sat just outside the door to the surgery, Senji on her lap. “He’s calm now,” Tess told the girl. She took Senji from her. “Maybe you could help him clean up in there.” She gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder and left. She wouldn’t help him kill himself but if he remained determined to end his life she probably couldn’t stop him. She’d learned that bitter lesson from Arnie’s Minitars. They lived as couples and if one died, the other soon followed. She’d tried to keep the survivor alive using every trick she knew to no avail. They bonded at birth, grew up together and they died together. By the time she reached her own quarters, Senji rooted across her shirtfront like a starving piglet. She perched on the ledge in the bedroom, pulled up her shirt and guided her dripping nipple to his greedy mouth. Roan found her there when he came looking sometime later, having heard what had taken place in the surgery. He sat down beside her. Full, his tummy stretched tight as a drum and barely awake, Senji still managed to tug occasionally on her nipple, a bubble of milk blowing in and out of his tiny mouth as he breathed. She lifted him to her shoulder to burp him. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” Roan asked. “Len? Well, he listened to what I said. I just don’t know if I said the right things.” “If there were words to find, you found them.” “But you still think he should have died.” He sighed heavily. “I have spent considerable time trying to imagine my life without wings. I can’t. Not that I would have lived. The wing master wouldn’t have allowed it.” “Well, I’m not your wing master and I’ll never let a life go if I can save it.” “You don’t understand,” Roan said. “He’s lost his manhood. Why would he want to live?” “Am I less because I don’t fly?” she asked. He frowned. “You’re female. Females have never flown.” “What a chauvinist you are.” She shook her heard. “You’d better hope, Roan, my beloved mate, that our crossbreeding doesn’t produce a daughter with flaming red wings and the ability to fly circles around your male ego.”
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“That’s not possible.” “Really? Look closely. This son of yours was not a biological possibility. After him, I figure anything can happen.” Even a red-headed daughter with wings, she thought.
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Chapter Sixteen Len suffered from a recurring fever and depression, but didn’t sink into the dangerous black despair that had afflicted him initially. Tess moved him from the main surgery into a small adjoining chamber that provided him with a measure of privacy and separated him from the other patients. She asked him the questions normally asked of recovering patients. He answered with the same sullen reluctance to her prying as Roan always had. “I know you’d prefer not to go through this, but it’s all necessary,” she told him. “Your whole body needs to be in good working order, not just a piece here and there.” He nodded, indicating that he understood the necessity but still didn’t like it. She was more than willing to accept his cooperation and not worry about his attitude. “I no longer need a nurse,” he said as she started to leave. “Are you sure? I won’t always be near to see about your meals and all.” Roan had helped her restore order to the surgery and she had two new patients, Antee and Esta. In spite of fever-dulled eyes and upset stomachs, the lips of their wing pockets had just begun to turn red and, for the moment, the pair needed nothing except rest and a handy bucket. “I can tend to my own needs,” he replied. “All right.” “Thank you.” He turned away, but not quickly enough to hide the brightness of tears in his eyes. She returned, sat on the edge of his pallet and lightly rubbed his shoulder. “The pain in our souls is the worst pain of all.” “Aye,” he agreed. “Sometimes at night I think it will kill me. Then I fear it won’t.” “Your death is a long way off.” “Do males fly in your tribe?” “No.” She smiled at the mental picture of a businessman zipping about in suit and tie, clinging to his briefcase as he zoomed through the intersection of 5th and Rondell, high above the normal morning traffic jams. “The only flying Earthlings do is in ships.” He sighed heavily. “I try to picture your world and cannot. I try to picture my fate, but there’s nothing there to see.” “When we journeyed here, you rode beside me, so upright and proud in your hatred. So regal. That’s not changed. You’re still that person. There’s a saying among the people of Earth. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It’s true, you know. You’ve lost your arrogance, but you’re stronger than before and I see a dignity about
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you that wasn’t there earlier. Len,” she continued seriously, “I don’t know what the future holds for you. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring. Our futures are unwritten. But I can’t believe we arrived here to fail or that you survived for no reason. There’s a plan for you.” “I wanted children,” Len said with a faint, sad smile. “You’ll have many children.” He turned his face to the wall. “I’ll sire none.” “Luria isn’t the only girl in the world.” His answer was stony silence. Tess left him and went in search of Luria. “Len no longer needs a nurse,” she told the girl. Luria nodded, showing no surprise. “What happened between you?” Tess asked. Luria wrung her hands. “I had to tell him.” “Tell him what?” “That the flatness of his back sickens me. That I can’t imagine his life. He has no place. No use. I’m sorry.” No use? Tess thought. He had many uses, but not with Luria if she couldn’t see them. Out loud she said, “Your relationship wasn’t meant to be or it would have survived this.” “He should have died.” That pricked Tess’ temper. “If nothing else, you people are consistent, although I fail to see what’s so blasted important about flying.” “It’s his manhood,” Luria said. “His manhood?” The girl flushed. “You know…he can’t…do it anymore.” It was on the tip of Tess’ tongue to say she’d never heard anything so absurd, but she bit back the words, realizing that this was what she hadn’t understood from the start. Roan’s people tied male virility and fertility to the presence of wings. Roan had told her that the males came to their winging as virgins. Why hadn’t she put it together? Without their wings, they thought they were eunuchs. Could it be a physical fact or was it something they’d been taught? She went in search of Roan, finding him where he usually was these days, in the midst of settling disputes and assigning tasks. He looked up as she hurried toward him, a fleeting frown of irritation crossed his face. He still preferred she stay apart from the main population. “This won’t take long,” she promised him, “but it’s important and it’s private.” “What?” he asked when they’d moved a few feet away from the others. “Are your wings your virility?” He looked confused. “What are you talking about?” 142
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“Can you have sex with a female if you don’t have wings?” “Of course not.” “Why?” “You just can’t. That’s the way of it.” “Damn stupid way of it, if you ask me.” She left him standing there with a puzzled expression on his face. Tess returned to the surgery and excused Tursa who, since Senji’s birth, had admitted to being the tribe’s healer. Not only was she a skilled midwife and caregiver, she also had extensive knowledge of the native medicinal plants, information Tess would need more and more as the meager supplies in her kit were depleted. After Tursa left, Tess went to the private alcove Len occupied. She’d moved him there so he wouldn’t be side by side with others whose wingings were successful. Ignoring his pretense of sleeping she sat down beside his cot. “They’re wrong, you know. The precious gift of fertility given to you by your creator has nothing to do with having or not having wings. I know that you wake up in the morning with your cock hard. I’ve seen you.” His breath hitched and she knew if she could see his face it would be red with embarrassment and a bit of anger as well. Anger that she had not only violated his privacy but admitted it out loud. Still, she plunged ahead. “I know that the sight and smell of Luria makes you erect. I’ve seen that too. Your body is flooded with something called testosterone. That’s what made the hair in your crotch grow. It’s why you have night dreams you can’t control. Why your sweat smells. Like most young men I’m sure you’ve privately explored all your new feelings. Figured out how your body works.” His legs jerked and Tess knew that if he could have figured out how to do it he would have gone through the wall to get away from her. “All this has happened before your wings were ready to emerge. Before,” she repeated for emphasis. “The wings are just a bonus, not a necessity. You are a whole man with or without them. A beautiful, intelligent man. And you will find a mate and you will have children.” She left his room as quietly as she’d entered, praying that he believed her. And praying that she was right.
***** A virus swept through the tribe and Tess kept busy handing out bundles of eucalyptus bark along with instructions on how to use it in steaming water to reduce coughing and how to mix the boiled down water with salve for a chest rub. She had two patients in surgery, Aden and Vess. For both the virus compounded the malaise that normally accompanied winging. Aden had a cough a seal would have envied. Poor Vess had a pair of tonsils pitted with pockets of infection and breath vile enough to peel paint. She’d been forced to give him a dose of her dwindling supply of antibiotics.
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When she ran out she would have to rely on the dubious efficacy of the moldy soups Tursa brewed. His fever dropped and by the next day she felt his wings could be released. Tursa arrived to assist with the operation sporting fever-flushed cheeks. She felt her forehead. She was on fire. “Go back to bed.” Tursa gave a rasping cough. “Who’ll help?” “Not you,” she replied. “Go. Get. I don’t want you breathing germs all over everyone.” Tess shooed the woman out of the surgery and made a mental note to check on her later in the day, then turned her attention to Vess. She now knew when wings were “ripe”, so to speak. Detection required combining how ill they were with how swollen their backs were and a certain shade of red coloring the lips of the pockets. But the surgery was not something she could do alone. She hated to ask Roan. His days were long and hard without helping her. Len had remained in residence in the surgery, an oddity to his own people, alive but not whole. She wanted to shake the whole lot of them, but it would have done little good. They shunned him. Sometimes, in the evenings after she left for the night, he provided water or a bed pan to a patient. He watched the activity in the surgery with a glimmer of interest. She couldn’t imagine it was an interest that would last, but tonight she needed another hand and the commotion in surgery had already wakened him. He answered her soft call promptly. “Tursa is too sick to help,” she said. “I know it’s asking a great deal, but could you assist me in surgery? Vess is ready and Aden nears it, probably before the night is out. I hate to wake Roan.” She knew full well the cruelty of asking Len to take part in a procedure that had ended in such catastrophic failure for him, but he didn’t hesitate before nodding. “Let me dress,” he said. By the time the night was over, she knew she would not be asking Tursa back if Len would agree to stay. He had watched the goings on in the surgery more closely than she’d realized. Not once did she have to remind him to wash his hands when he went from one patient to the next, something Tursa had objected to. He expressed a natural curiosity, asked intelligent questions and had a strong stomach. Best of all, he had a gentle touch with the patients. He carefully spread Vess’ wings so the glut flowed evenly from section to section and assured him that all went well with his winging. Here, in the surgery, his opinions were respected and his presence welcome. Every patient came to Tess out of desperation, not confidence. Len bridged an important gap because until they viewed their wings, dry and whole, they feared the worst. He was able to ease their concern. Tess released Aden’s wings later that day. Len used the time between the two surgeries to build a simple tripod stand with a loop attached. It suspended the new 144
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wings over their owner’s back, the wing claws caught in the hemp loop, instead of leaving them sprawled across the floor. “Not perfect,” he said as he hooked up Vess’ wings, “but out of our way.” “Certainly beats climbing over and around them,” Tess said, pleased with his initiative. Aden came through his winging with no difficulty. His stomach settled immediately, his temperature returned to normal and he slept peacefully on his stomach, his wings hanging from the second tripod Len built. By the next morning he was ready for a soak in the sulfur spring and by nightfall he would be able to pocket his wings. Those who wouldn’t look Len in the eye when they encountered him in the corridors had no difficulty accepting him as their nurse. “You do this very well,” Tess complimented Len. “Would you like to be my apprentice? Learn how to be a physician’s assistant? I’d be happy to ask Roan.” “I could stay here? Keep my room?” “I don’t see why not.” “It would be nice to have a place to be,” he replied. His softly spoken words revealed the depth of his dilemma. Without his wings, he’d become a non-person with no place in the social hierarchy of the tribe. “This isn’t work to take lightly,” she cautioned. “I attended school for years before I was licensed to practice medicine. There’s an awful lot to learn.” “I learn easily and it interests me. I’d be pleased if you’d ask Lord Roan on my behalf.” “Then I’ll do it.” Roan called Len in for an audience, questioning him until he was satisfied Len hadn’t agreed to the post without giving it serious consideration. They reached an accord and Len’s new status was noted in the record book Roan kept in an effort to keep track of who he told what, on which day and why. Tess hated that he was so busy. So driven. Sometimes as she watched him sleeping, she wondered if it was just fatigue that kept him from reaching across to her or something more. The emotional distance she’d sensed since their arrival hadn’t diminished and each time they clashed over his traditions and customs, the distance increased. She’d hoped that once he had the tribe gathered together where he could tend to their needs he’d find more time for her. Instead, he found less. Her solution was to bury herself in her work and caring for Senji, Coee and Riza. Although Coee and Riza were cared for by the aunties during the day, Tess insisted that they return home every evening to have their supper and to sleep. And she refused to be separated from Senji for even a moment until he was weaned.
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***** Len proved to be both a good student and a creative craftsman. If she expressed a need for something and could describe it, Len soon came up with a reasonable facsimile. The surgery now had cupboards and shelves, box frames for the pallets and a wheeled stretcher for transporting patients back and forth to the sulfur spring for healing soaks. Her continuing need for IV setups prompted him to trap half a dozen quill hogs that he put in the storeroom in cages with the intention of breeding them. The housekeeping aunties complained to Roan, who passed their complaints on to Tess. “The adult quills are larger than most veins,” she explained. “Len is hoping to make needles from the quills of very young hogs. He tried to trapping them, but the adults keep the babies in the burrows until they’re almost fully grown and digging them out was impossible. He decided to grow his own.” “I’ll speak to housekeeping,” Roan promised. Roan spoke to housekeeping, but the result wasn’t quite what Tess had hoped for. The next morning the quill hog cages were stacked outside the surgery. She had to laugh. “Well, goes to show having clout with the headman is really worthwhile,” she told Len as they moved the cages to a room off the surgery. When they completed the task she stood a moment in the small room, looking at the row of cages and was reminded of the zoo and Arnie. Roan was convinced he was dead. Tess mourned him and missed him. They’d been best friends and had shared so much. She missed their talks and his ribald sense of humor. The hours they’d spent discussing everything and nothing. Roan rarely had time to talk. Unlike her and Arnie, she and Roan had little in common and no past to share. With Arnie a grin or a shrug and a couple of words spoke volumes. With Roan the grin and shrug meant nothing without the volumes of explanation and even then he often didn’t really get the point. Still, her loneliness had more to do with the emotional distance between them than it did their cultural distances. Summer turned to fall and other than the respiratory virus there had been no serious illness, which made the death of Adra’s youngest sibling, Ty, a total shock. He’d not been sick or complained of any discomfort but had collapsed while playing a game similar to kickball. Tess administered CPR and cursed her lack of such a basic medical tool as a defibrillator. She suspected he had a congenital heart defect or an aneurism and wanted to do an autopsy. Shocked outrage greeted her request. “No!” Roan said. “But…” “No.” Roan refused to bend. Ty’s body would not be violated. The aunties prepared him for burial and held the service the following day. Roan, as reigning elder, conducted the
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service and sang the chants in his marvelous voice. It was the first time she’d heard him sing since their days at the zoo when he would come and serenade the babies. The vibrant sorrowful notes lifted the hairs on her arms and sent chills down her spine. The entire tribe joined in the responses. At the end, Roan kissed Ty’s forehead and implored the gods to accept him into heaven. “He was young and without serious sin.” The pallbearers then carried the body down to the river where a pyre had been prepared. The tribe watched from above, scattered along the sloping paths that rose from the riverbed to the entrance of the cave, watching as the flames rose into the darkening sky. Tess, with Senji to her breast, stood inside the circle of Roan’s arms, feeling the vibration of his soft humming against her back. As the pyre burned down, he gave full voice to a grieving song so sweet and sad it made her cry. One by one the others joined him. Their voices seemed to rise to heaven, carried on the smoke of the fire, carrying Ty’s soul with them. After they retired to their own quarters, Roan made slow, tender love to her. His kisses were soft and sweet and the touch of his hands gentle caresses. She so wanted to tell him how deeply she loved him but stayed silent for fear her words would ruin the magic of the night. Roan thrust deeply into her, his climax coming in a full, hard spilling of his seed. Could a man make love with such gentleness and not have some feelings for the woman he held in his arms? She didn’t think so. “Len must have a mate,” she said as they lay arm in arm, savoring the aftermath of their passion. “Somewhere there has to be a female who’ll accept him for the fine, decent person he is. He can’t go through his whole life alone.” “Sleep,” Roan muttered drowsily. “You did enough damage when you delayed his death.” Delayed his death? No. She had saved a worthwhile life and she’d do it again.
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Chapter Seventeen Summer had ended. This morning they’d had their first frost. Tess paused halfway across the main cave and looked out. The leaves of the white-barked trees lining the river shimmered golden in the sunshine. Autumn had arrived and winter waited just around the corner. There was still fruit to harvest, scattered patches of ripe grain to cut and thrash, roots to dig and nuts to gather. The entire summer had been spent gathering food for the coming winter. Fruits and berries had been sun dried, fish and poultry smoked. The north side caves were dry and cool, making them suitable for use as root cellars. A variety of tubers were stored in them, each layer protected by mats of dried leaves. With the addition of two groups missed in Roan’s initial search for survivors, they now numbered over five hundred. All the young males had winged successfully and with the virus on the wane, Tess found time to join in the fall harvest. With Senji tucked into his nursing sling, she followed a group heading for a grove of genja trees to gather nuts. The slightest breeze sent the leathery globes to the ground where they split and spilled their cache of nuts. The trick was being alert enough not to get clonked by the plummeting globes while beating the wildlife to the bounty. Their baskets full, they returned to the cave. Tess dropped off her basket and returned to the cave entrance to share a moment with Roan. “Come spring I will have to decide if it’s safe to replant the fields,” he said. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “They can be seen from the air,” he replied. She looked up at the shimmering blue sky dotted with streamers of white clouds. As long as the Norans or anyone like them traveled through space the beauty of such clear skies also held danger. Roan pointed to a rock jutting from the side of the mountain. “A lookout watches the sky. We’ll not be taken unawares again.” His voice was grim. “We’ll move out of the cave come spring. For now, we have no choice. Food couldn’t be gathered and a village rebuilt at the same time.” He looked at the ridge of mountains in the distance. “When we rebuild, we will go far from here. Perhaps clear to the other ocean.” Tess didn’t have the heart to remind him that there were no safe places to move when a spaceship could circle a planet in a matter of minutes, seeing everything there was to see. Even as limited as Earth’s space ventures were, they’d photographed the surface of every major planet in their solar system.
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Would the Norans come back? She almost wished they would so she could ask about Arnie. Beside her, Roan scratched his shoulder, then his side and his leg. “What on earth is wrong with you?” Tess demanded. Roan squirmed, twitched and scratched. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you gotten into the pine fleas again.” “Worse.” He began to pace. “I hate this. It’s never any better from one first frost to the next, but you tend to forget.” “Forget what?” “How miserable it is when outer hair sprouts.” He raked his fingernails over the top of his shoulders, drawing blood. “Stop that,” she scolded. He almost danced in his distress. “This is the worst it’s ever been. I feel as if a horde of fire ants cover me. I’ll soak. Maybe that will help.” When they reached their quarters, he went straight into the bathroom and the sulfur bath. For a few minutes the hot water seemed to give some relief, but soon he was back to clawing and scratching. He left the bath and paced the floor, miserable. “How long does this growing of outer hair take?” she asked. “A week. Sometimes more.” “Great.” In the early evening hours, the cave was usually quiet, everyone in their own quarters, tired after yet another long, hard day. Tonight the normal silence was disrupted by the restless movements of the cave’s uncomfortable occupants. Roan was not alone in his discomfort. “Is this the hair I washed off you when you arrived at the zoo?” she asked. “It is.” He smiled. “No one could have been more surprised than I was when it began falling onto the floor. It sheds rain and I had no idea warm water and soap could destroy it. “You see,” he went on to explain. “Once the outer coat is fully grown, a secretion of glut separates it from our skin. We cut a placket up the front and remove it carefully in order to retain our body shape. Flyers cut a back flap to allow for wing extension. When the coat is thoroughly dry the front is threaded with laces and the wing flaps get ties.” “And you never wash them?” she asked. “No. They’re only used for only a few months. There’s no need.” “Is everyone as miserable as you are?” “No.” He scratched the top of his shoulder. “This is the worst I’ve ever been.” “I’ll fix you some tea.” He shuddered. “No thank you.” Tess sighed. Why did everything the man got insist on dragging his stomach into the act? Back at the zoo, she’d thought he was reacting to strange foods, but she’d since realized that he simply had a touchy stomach. 149
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During the next two weeks Tess decided she was blessed to have come from Earth, where winter coats came off hangers in department stores. The smaller children fought, wept and scratched. The young men hissed at each other and scrapped like tomcats. Even the normally tranquil aunties grew short-tempered. Tess medicated only those in dire straits, leaving the rest grumbling and scratching as the coarse outer hairs broke through their skin and grew to full length. Roan was like a black bear with fleas but she thought his discomfort worth the effort in the end. His pelt was exceedingly handsome, the blackest of blacks overlaid with silver-tipped cat hairs. The aunties grumbled but nonetheless made Tess a full-length coat of material made of hair sheared from the luggers every spring. The aunties made no effort to hide their disdain for her pale, hairless skin. By the time her coat was finished, the leaves had fallen and ice edged the river. “It will freeze solid by mid-winter,” Roan told her. “Thick enough to walk on,” The winter fruit turned wine-red and they stripped every tree in the area. The storerooms were crowded with clay pots full of dried fruit, beans, maize and coarsely ground flour. Twists of wild onions and garlic dangled from ropes and the ledges held dozens of small clay pots filled with herbs and spices. Beans picked from bushes growing on the upper slopes of the mountain were roasted, ground and used to make a rich, flavorful brew similar to Tess’ beloved coffee. The young men hunted down the village’s scattered poultry, pulling them from their roosts after dark and caging them in a pen built along the river under the shelter of a thicket of brush. They’d have fresh eggs through the winter and occasionally a fat hen to stew. The river could be fished when frozen and the cave’s underground river had an abundant supply of freshwater shrimp and gray-shelled mussels. It seemed like the greatest of plenty when they walked through the storerooms, but Tess knew it wasn’t. With over five hundred souls, the majority of them growing children, they would have to ration carefully to make it through until the next harvest. “And next year?” she asked Roan as they toured the storerooms. “We can’t live off the land,” he replied. “We’ve picked and pulled everything with a five-mile radius of the cave and it isn’t enough. So we must cultivate, although I’m not sure we have the means. We lost everything when the village burned. I understand why they did it, but it does us no favor now. We lost too much.” “You need help,” she said. “You can’t do it all alone.” “And where would I find it?” he demanded. “From the young men and women? They can hardly figure out whom to fall in love with from one week to the next and the aunties have their hands full with the smaller children.” Not counting the aunties, she and Roan were the only adults. Her voice didn’t count, which meant Roan was the sole decision-making adult. He desperately needed other adults of equal rank and authority to share the responsibility of leadership, but it would be a long time before any of the twenty-year-olds were mature enough to be of 150
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any use. Right now they were self-involved and self-centered, paying little heed to anything outside their own sphere of activity. The young men mainly occupied their time ogling the young women while the women ogled them. Thank goodness the raging hormones were a temporary condition. Hopefully, by this time next year at least some of them would be settled with mates and able to ease some of the workload off Roan’s shoulders. Since she had failed in only one winging, Len’s, Tess’ worth as a physician had been tentatively accepted. The aunties still sought out Tursa for minor illness and to treat the children’s bumps and scrapes, but they came to Tess to have broken bones set and they cooperated when she quarantined a half-dozen children who had what looked like a form of measles after she explained that separation would prevent the spread of the malady. She did have to enlist Roan’s help in explaining how to individuals could prevent the spread of contagious diseases. The measures were simple, anchored in basic cleanliness and good sanitation. The Nightflyers were, by nature, clean, but her lectures on not sharing drinking cups or washcloths met with considerable resistance. Everyone knew that sickness moved on cold night air, seeping through cracks and dropping down chimneys to attack the unwary. That’s why there were more fevers during the winter than in the summer. Tess used her ultimate weapon to gain compliance. She had Roan issue an order compelling everyone to abide by her instructions whether they made sense or not. She would have preferred that he’d said she was right. Maybe next time.
***** The days grew shorter and the nights longer. Wind slithered down the mountainsides carrying a promise of snow with it. The illuminating lichen in the cave began to fade, making the use of their precious stash of beeswax candles more necessary. The Nightflyers were less bothered by the fading light than Tess was, guided by both their superior night vision and built-in echolocation. She often felt the shimmer of an echo in the air warning her that someone approached. On her way to the surgery to check on a patient, Tess felt no such warning, only the heart-stopping sound of the general alarm. The Norans? In a matter of seconds, the main cave emptied, everyone pressed into the cracks and crevices along the corridors, ready to flee out the back if need be. Tess went with Roan to the narrow slit above the entrance and looked out. “Tessie! Roan!” Arnie’s bellows echoed along the walls of the river canyon and bounced off the rocks. “Get your asses out here. I know you’re up there. I seen you on my scanners. Tessie!” “Arnie!” Tess screamed. She hurtled down the trail and threw herself into his outspread arms, planting kisses on his bearded face.
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“My God.” He beamed. “For a welcome like that, I’d stay away another year.” With a surprisingly tender hand, he brushed her hair off her temple, revealing the scar that ran up through her red curls. “I never thought to see you like this, Tessie.” There were tears in his eyes. “Roan was sure they’d killed you.” She hugged him again. “Wishful thinking. Nah, they just buggered up my ship a little to make sure I went back to the zoo.” “You went back?” She found that unbelievable. “Why?” “Lots of reasons. I’ll tell you later.” Roan approached more slowly. Arnie had indeed saved their lives, but a lot of history had come before that saving. Arnie understood that and extended his hand with a measure of reserve. “Roan,” he said. “Good to see you again.” “Arnie.” “You did good,” Arnie said, indicating Tess. “She’s a strong woman.” “What brings you back?” Tess asked him. “I brung you something.” He put his fingers to his mouth and gave a high, piercing whistle. Tess burst into tears as the Houdins came into view, carrying the babies that they’d left behind. “Damn idiots insisted on bringing everything they had with them,” he grumbled. “I’ve been making air drops all week.” “We never heard a thing,” Tess said. Arnie flashed a lopsided grin. “If you had, my surprise would have been spoiled. Helps that I got a new ship. Runs pretty quiet when I want her to.” The Houdins handed the children over to the aunties. Deng, the alpha male, gave a lengthy speech. Fortunately, Roan understood the essence of it. “They’re going to set up their own village nearby,” he told Tess. “They will serve as before but live on their own.” “And they’ve got a lot of setting up to do,” Arnie said. “They brought everything that wasn’t anchored in cement.” “And the zoo?” Tess asked. Arnie shrugged. “Well, it’s still there. Kind of.” Their talk had roused the soundly sleeping Senji. He poked his head out of the nursing sling and regarded Arnie with bright, curious eyes. “Oh my God,” Arnie whispered. He looked up at Tess. “The impossible?” She couldn’t help grinning. “The impossible.”
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***** The evening, well fed and with a glass of fine Houdin wine in hand, Arnie told them his story. “After I ejected the pod, they took a couple of shots at me, even managed a pretty good hit but nothing fatal. I’d pretty much decided they weren’t out to kill me or I’d already been dead. Zima had the fire power. He could have blown us to kingdom come any time he wanted. So I just beat it right back to the zoo. Itz was dead, so old Zima was in charge. When he landed and found me kicked back having a drink, he just glided right by like I was invisible. In a way it was funny. He acted like nothing had happened. “The next day he took off and a couple of days later some highbrows showed up. The whole zoo thing—all the raids, the captures, everything—was Itz’s thing. The powers that be knew about the zoo, but they didn’t know how he was populating it.” “Give me a break,” Tess said, finding that hard to believe. “Did they think we were stepping up and volunteering?” “No, I think it was more them having a problem bigger than Itz,” Arnie said. “The Norans ain’t the only ones that are flying around out there, Tessie. And whoever the other guys are, they had the Norans in a sweat.” “So what did they do?” Tess asked. “They canceled the capture runs but left the zoo open. Nobody paid any attention to me as long as me and the Houdins kept their equipment working, so I divided my time between the zoo and putting together the biggest best damn ship I could.” Roan listened for a time and then excused himself. Arnie watched him go with a frown. “He can’t get over it, can he?” “No. But he at least didn’t go for your throat.” Tess shifted Senji to her other breast. Arnie watched, his gaze gentle, almost tender. “I didn’t think you’d have a baby.” “Neither did we.” Senji nursed with closed eyes and clenched fists. “He’s a beauty, Tessie. Of course, you ain’t too hard on the eyes and that Roan’s about as pretty a man as I ever seen.” “He is,” Tess agreed. She leaned across and kissed Arnie’s cheek. “Thank you for the children, Arnie. I’ve thought about them so many times and prayed they were all right. And the Houdins.” “Is this it? All that’s left?” he asked, referring to the people he’d seen cautiously emerge from the cracks and crevices when Roan had sounded the all clear. “Yes. The adults, except for the aunties, were at the gathering cave. Convinced they were still in danger, the aunties fled into the forest with the children. They were in such a panic they took few provisions. One of the injured elders, fearing they’d be pursued, set fire to the village. Half of them died of starvation and disease during that first winter.”
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Arnie studied the low burning fire. “Makes it easy to see why I give him indigestion.” “He’ll never harm you.” “No, but he wouldn’t give me his piss if I was dying of thirst.” She said nothing, knowing he spoke the truth. She also knew she and Arnie had ties Roan would never truly understand. Arnie spent the night and the next morning. Before leaving, he hunted up Roan. “I’d like to come now and again. See her. Check on the brats. You get attached, you know.” Roan stood for a moment staring off into the distance and then he turned to Arnie. “You may visit.” “Thanks,” Arnie replied. “I brung her some stuff. I left it down the river a piece not knowing if she’d be here to give it to. You’ll want to haul it up to her.” “I’ll see that she gets it.” “Good.” Arnie extended his hand and after a slight hesitation, Roan took it. “Thank you for the children,” he said. “No problem,” Arnie muttered. Tess joined them and she and Arnie walked to the landing site. Arnie’s Minitars had unloaded a dozen big bubble packs. “The Houdin’s stuff,” Arnie said. He reached into the ship and pulled out the polished wooden box containing Tess’ microscope. She pressed it to her breast with tears in her eyes. “That was supposed to make you happy, not make you cry,” he blustered. “These are happy tears.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hard hug and a fierce kiss. “Godspeed.” “I’ll be back now and then. He said I could.” “I’ll be waiting.” Arnie’s ship was disappearing into the mist when Roan came up behind her and put his arm around her waist. “You know he loves you, don’t you?” She nodded, too choked up to speak. “He brought back the children,” Roan said. “And the Houdins.” “He makes hating him difficult.” She smiled up at him. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”
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Chapter Eighteen The Houdins wasted no time establishing their village. Armed with axes and bucksaws, they felled trees, stripped them of their branches and within a week had erected the common lodge that was the center of every Houdin village. They also dug privies and erected a community bathhouse. Personal houses would have to wait until spring. Deng told Roan that they would also build water pipes and install plumbing, having already found a deposit of clay that could be fired and use to make strong waterproof piping. They’d brought their canning kitchen, the small solar power plant to produce electricity for their stoves and refrigerators. Clay sections needed to rebuild their bakery ovens were uncrated and put back together. They’d brought their looms, spinning wheels, needles and thread. By the time the first snow fell the village had a look of permanence about it. They were willing to share and work, but they stayed apart from the Nightflyers, carefully preserving their own culture in this, the third land in which they found themselves. Tess enjoyed having neighbors who greeted her with warm hugs even if their babble was unintelligible. Several of the females were pregnant and patted their rounding bellies and smiled broadly. The children Arnie had brought were quickly integrated with the other children. Tess wished Len had been accepted as easily. He remained in residence in the alcove off the surgery, friendless and solitary. At least he had Senji, who made him smile and laugh. They were often together and Tess frequently found her son clinging tightly to Len’s body-down as Len went about his work and tended to patients. An excellent student, Len would soon be as deft at incising wing pockets as she was. It vexed her that he was destined to live his life as a bachelor. Not a female came near him. Of course, he never went near any of them either. The Houdins had brought seeds and cuttings to plant in the spring. Their luggage had also included a small granary that they assembled and used to grind the Nightflyers’ grain into flour. Hunting was good and as long as the Houdins could hunt and had flour, they stayed well fed. The Nightflyers’ refusal to eat any meat but poultry and rabbits meant they didn’t fare as well. As winter tightened its grip on the land and in spite of careful rationing, the storerooms became repositories for empty clay pots. The tribe’s health deteriorated as they were forced to eat more and more meat. Not only did it disagree with them, it didn’t meet their nutritional needs. Tess continued to nurse Senji and he thrived. She wasn’t eager to wean him in any case because Roan still talked about turning him over to the aunties when she did. 155
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Separating children from their parents explained why Roan’s older children treated him with reserved respect rather than affection. His interest in them was more that of a patriarch than a parent. The older children’s emotional ties were with Philpa, the auntie who had raised them. Tess refused to give the children to the aunties and made her feelings clear. “I can see it during the day when we’re both busy,” she said. “But our children will eat with us mornings and evenings and they’ll sleep in our quarters and I’ll hear nothing more on the subject.” He gave in reluctantly, even though she could tell he enjoyed having the children there to greet him when he arrived at their quarters each evening. They offered him warm hugs and cheerful chatter, taking his mind off his worrisome days. It wasn’t unusual for him to help with their evening baths and to sing them to sleep. Tess had Len move from the surgery into their spare bedroom. She wanted a more normal family life for him and knew his continued isolation in the surgery was not a good thing. “I find it interesting that the youth who was so openly hostile now has you as his mentor,” Roan said, smiling. “He does play a good game of cargo. Of course,” he teased. “I could teach you.” “Thanks, but no thanks,” Tess replied. “Once was enough.” “It’s a game of skill and wisdom. I’m sure if you tried again…” She silenced him with a wave of her hand. “It’s just like chess. Two hours after you know I’m beaten and I know I’m beaten, we’re still playing the stupid game.” “Delaying your demise is half the challenge,” said Len, eavesdropping on their conversation. “Delaying my demise is not a challenge,” Tess retorted. “It’s torture. I’d prefer you just took me out and shot me.” That said, she settled down with some sewing. She looked up from her sewing as Roan excused himself from the board game for the third time in an hour. “He’s unwell,” Len said. “I know,” Tess agreed. “It’s this damn diet. Too much red meat and not enough other things.” She set aside her sewing. “How are you?” Len eloquently shrugged his shoulder. “Fair. I’ve some trouble, but not much. Spring is not that far off. The days are growing longer and the nights not as cold.” “The minute you think we might be able to find watercress along the creeks, fresh greens or early spring tubers, let me know. I don’t care how far we have to go for them or how few there are. Anything will help.” Two weeks later Len came to tell her that places with southern exposures ought to provide early spring greens and a few varieties of tubers ready to harvest. “Excellent.” “I will round up the luggers and make ready.”
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Tess made a face. The luggers, still sporting winter coats, looked like long-legged, hairy barrels. They’d spent the winter in sheltered fields on the south side of the mountain being cared for by the Houdins. Well able to survive the cold and snow, they pawed down to the frozen grass and stayed fat and healthy. Tess had become a skilled rider while making trips to the Houdin village to treat injuries and illness, not something she could do on foot in the deep snow. Still she had no liking for the ambereyed beasts and did not look forward to the required ride. “An hour after breakfast,” she said. She then went in search of Roan. He lay on the bed, one leg up, a hand laid flat over his belly. She lay down beside him. He turned into her arms, molding his sore belly against the soft warmth of her hip. She kissed the top of his dark head. “Not so good?” “Not so good,” he admitted. “I have the fiercest bellyache.” “Len and I are going out after breakfast to see what we can find.” “Please find something. Tubers that can be steamed and will lay comfortably in me.” He spoke with longing. She stayed with him until he fell back to sleep. She knew more dragged him down than bad diet. He was too few, the people too many and too young. Roan oversaw a tribe of undisciplined, bored and restless troublemaking young males who had yet to settle into useful adulthood. The most recently winged and their female counterparts were the most difficult. They went on sentry duty and forgot why they were there and the importance of staying alert. More than once Roan had caught them sliding on the ice and indulging in snowball fights. Lacking adult models to follow, they acted more like children than adults. They quarreled endlessly and Tess treated a parade of bleeding knuckles and noses, cuts and bruises. Roan’s patience fell in direct proportion to his health—the worse he felt, the quicker his temper flared. Last night he’d eaten little supper and she knew he was very close to being too ill to function. There was nowhere to turn for help. Adra had left them and joined the gang of twenty-year-olds. Most days she could have cheerfully strangled him and his snotty nest of winged Nightflyers. They’d become an arrogant clique, disdaining ordinary chores and providing little help with the younger children. Their primary interest was in sex play with the females. A set of soft breasts, a flirting glance and rounded hips turned their heads into brainless voids. They strutted, preened and practiced flying, often with catastrophic results. “You think with your cock!” she accused Adra when she caught him fondling a young female in a shadowy corner. He had the grace to blush but did not mend his ways, for later that same afternoon she saw him stroking a different female. “Cockmanship, yuckmanship,” she muttered.
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Roan had refused breakfast, forcing Tess to confine him to bed. She knew how ill he was when he turned his face to the wall without a whisper of protest. “We have got to find either tubers or stem hearts to boil,” she told Len as she accepted his hand up onto the back of the stomping, woofing lugger. Tess kicked her mount into a canter along the rock flat bordering the river. The animal moved eagerly, knowing there would be succulent patches of new grass in the sun-warmed pockets of the grassland where the snow had melted. Grass they found, but little else. They did find enough watercress on the banks of a thawed creek to make a pot of soup. The handful of edible tubers Len pried from the frosty ground could be steamed and mashed. Freshly sprouted thick-stemmed reeds filled a small swampy area and she and Len both had a string bag filled with their starchy hearts. Enough for Roan and some of the more seriously debilitated, but they’d traveled miles from the cave and found nothing in abundance. Tess pointed out a second small patch, green sprouts marking the existence of tough early tubers Len could dig. “Then we’d best start back or we’ll get caught in the dark.” “We can’t get lost,” Len told her. “Turned loose, luggers head straight for home.” He dismounted and had begun digging when Tess saw movement in the sea of waisthigh grass. Riders! She gave a quick warning bark and Len went flat in the grass. She’d already been seen so there was no point hiding, but if he could get away…he could what? Drag Roan out of his sickbed to fight a dozen armed men? They wove single file through the tall grass quivers of arrows over their shoulders and longbows in hand. “They’re mounted riders,” she told Len. As they came nearer, they gave a trill greeting that sounded very much like the greeting calls of the Nightflyers. Len immediately got to his feet, his face twisted in scorn. “Who are they?” she asked. “Vasheers,” he sneered. “Our enemies.” “No one has said a word about other people living here.” Totally unbelievable. “We see through them. Discount the air they breathe.” “You shun them,” she murmured, understanding. “How many other tribes live around here?” Len cocked an eyebrow. “No more. There are only the empty cities. No people.” Cities? Something to pursue if they survived this. At the moment, Tess didn’t have a great deal of confidence these grim-faced warriors were the least friendly. They formed a circle around them, making Tess glad she was mounted. They too rode luggers. Taller and heavier built luggers, much as the men themselves were heavier built than the tall, lean Nightflyers. Darker skinned, their complexions more copper toned, they had the same well-shaped heads, high cheekbones, long, straight 158
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noses and large, sloping eyes. They wore winter pelts belted at the waist with wide leather belts and heeled riding boots. The leader of the column, an older man with silver-streaked dark brown hair, stopped in front of Tess. His golden eyes shone with intelligence. Len had remounted and shoved his lugger in Tess’ direction. “Come on. We should leave. They won’t come after us. They’re cowards. Weaklings.” Right, she thought. Especially the fellow with the javelin pointed straight at Len’s head. “They look very well fed and not the least bit weak,” she said. The steady stare of the leader displayed no weakness. He seemed amused by Len’s bravado and nudged his mount forward until he was between them. “You are far from home, mistress,” he said. The language was the same, the accent different. “So?” Tess replied, trying not to show how intimidated she felt. “I am Sye Grendeneer, Senior Elder of the Vasheer. Who might you be?” “Tess, the wife of Lord Roan of the Nightflyers.” The man spat. Len growled. She considered the man’s eloquent response for a moment and then said, without further formality, “They’re starving to death. I desperately need tubers, soft grains and flour.” “They,” he pointed a finger into the sky, “killed them.” “Yes, they killed them.” He considered for a moment and then offered her his hand. “Welcome, wife of Lord Roan. We already have some of your people. Young ones we found lost in the forest after the raid. Those who would have flown died through the summer.” “Thief! Butcher!” Len growled. Grendeneer ignored him. “If I’d known you were there, I would have returned them to you.” He turned to the rider beside him. “Take the supplies to the mountain.” Three of them, leading luggers with heavily laden packsaddles, took off at a gallop “You know where we’re living?” she asked. “Now we do. The bald one told us.” “Arnie?” She couldn’t have been more surprised. Grendeneer chuckled. “A most interesting person. He sent us searching for you. He feared the worst and I grew weary of his whining. Come along.” He turned his mount and started off. “We’re dead,” Len hissed. “I don’t think so. If they’d wanted to kill us they would have already done it.” “They’re scum. Not to be trusted.”
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“Why hasn’t anyone mentioned the fact there were others living here?” “Because they’re animals. We do not consort with animals.” “No, you’d rather starve to death,” Tess snapped back. Why does this sound so Godawful familiar? she asked herself. Len started to speak, but a prod in the back by a rider’s javelin silenced him. Len turned on the man with a furious hiss. Unperturbed, the man gestured toward the marsh on their right where a group of large herbivores grazed. They lifted their heads out of the water from time to time, long streamers of greenery dangling from curled tusks. Across the top of their broad heads were bony helmets that tapered into horns. “Nasty-tempered beasts,” Len told her in a whisper. “I’ve seen them run their tusks right through a lugger.” “True,” Grendeneer agreed, speaking just as quietly. When they were safely past the herd, Len rode up beside the man. “What do you intend to do with us? Kill us?” Tess shook her head in dismay. Losing his wings hadn’t changed Len’s confrontational attitude one bit. Grendeneer snorted. “If that was my intent, you’d already be carrion.” He kicked his lugger into a ground-covering cantor, riding with athletic grace, his hand on the reins casual, the beast responding to the pressure of knees and toes. The pace was punishing after the long months of inactivity in the cave, but she and Len held to it without complaint. Just as darkness approached, the lead luggers swung left and vanished. Tess could only hang on as her mount leaped after them, plunging down an embankment and onto the smooth rock where the luggers ran flat out, ears forward. They must be nearing their destination, but all Tess saw ahead of them were the black folds of stone. Then Grendeneer turned into an opening in the stone where, once past the entrance, widely spaced low-burning oil lamps lit the way. They galloped at a steady pace for another ten minutes, now and again passing sentries who greeted the column with high-pitched trills, before they emerged into the open. Tess looked up. High above them was the night sky, stars beginning to poke through the thickening darkness. Around them were towering walls of solid rock. She was once again inside the burned-out caldera of an ancient volcano. Her heart skipped a beat. Grendeneer and his men dismounted. Strong hands pulled her from her mount and set her on her feet. She tottered momentarily, stiff from the long ride. A few steps loosened her enough to keep pace with the Senior Elder. He led them past stables and along a path paved with irregularly shaped pieces of shale and lined with cottages. The second time she tripped, he tucked her hand over his arm. “Is poor eyesight a burden of your kind?” “We see very well in the daylight,” she retorted.
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“We took Arnie on a night hunt,” Grendeneer said. “He rode off a cliff. Fortunately, he did not kill himself or his mount. Now we lead and he follows.” “How long has he been here?” “Since midwinter.” Curious onlookers stood in doorways and peered out windows. They looked well fed and healthy. Small children clung shyly to their mothers’ skirts. Older children stood together finding safety in the company of their companions. This was a large, healthy-looking community, “How did he know about you?” she asked. That brought a belly laugh from the man. “He didn’t. But when a slight miscalculation brought him down in Ceal Laslow’s back field and Ceal’s dogs treed him, he quickly made our acquaintance. By the time we were able to remove his fine ship from Laslow’s field, he’d grown accustomed to Druza Tanyer’s cooking and decided to stay.” He noticed Tess looking up the sides of the caldera. “We are skilled at hiding ourselves from hunters. We’ve had generations of practice.” He glanced at Len. “Right, boy?” “We’ve never hunted your kind,” Len said, lip curled. “Your ancestors did,” Grendeneer said. “And your ancestors killed us at birth,” Len snapped. “Obviously we were not totally successful,” Grendeneer retorted. “Enough,” Tess said with growing disbelief. “Yes, enough,” Grendeneer agreed. He’d stopped at a house, opened the door and waved her inside a dimly lit hallway. Len tried to follow but was forcibly escorted in a different direction by two muscular youths and a girl. Tess hesitated, fearing she’d led them into a trap. “Never fear,” Grendeneer said, chuckling. “He will be quite safe with my children, who only wish to see him properly bathed and dressed before he sits at our table. If he gets in trouble it will be of his own making. He has a quick tongue and the arrogance of youth.” “He has,” she agreed. “You and I, wife of Roan, will discuss this bargain we will make between our tribes without his interference.” “Roan is true spokesman,” she cautioned. At the end of the hallway was another door leading into the main part of the house. Both doors had heavy bars that could be dropped to prevent all but the most dedicated intruder from entering. “You must have many enemies.” “Only the winged ones,” he replied. He opened another door and waved her inside. “Welcome to my home.”
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It was cozy and well furnished, and clean-burning oil lamps providing an abundance of light. She could smell the aroma of cooking food and her mouth watered. A woman, her well-rounded girth covered by an apron, appeared in the doorway. “My mate, Hura,” he introduced. “This is Lord Roan’s mate, Tess.” “Welcome to my home,” Hura greeted, smiling. The woman’s skirts stirred and Tess caught a glimpse of sloped blue-green eyes. “This is Lea,” Hura said. There was a note of challenge in her words. One of the foundlings? Probably. “How do you do, Lea?” Tess said. The youngster made a muffled sound and evaporated into the kitchen. “There were eighteen, all told,” Grendeneer said in answer to her unasked question. “Four died. They’ve all been fostered, just like the others.” “What others?” “We’ve been taking their discards for over a hundred years.” “Discards?” “The boy babies born without wings are left in the forest to die, as are their female siblings. The girls are discarded because they are unlikely to bear winged males when they reached womanhood.” Tess wanted to deny the man’s words but couldn’t. They fit too well with the Nightflyers’ custom of euthanizing males with defective wings. “Not only are the wingless newborns cast out to die, but they stole women from us and if they did not bear winged males, they were killed as well. For generations they dedicated themselves to our extermination. You heard your young man. Hatred between the tribes is real and long-standing. The Nightflyers are heartless killers who deserve to die out. Unlike them, we do not stand by and watch needless suffering, so we take their discards.” Tess leaped from the chair he’d seated her in and began to pace the floor, so angry she wanted to kick things. She turned on Sye. “Idiots! Damn idiots! All of you!” He blinked in astonishment. “Tribes so filled with hate Roan never even mentioned your existence,” she fumed, the heartbreak of the starvation-filled winter boiling over in anger. “I can’t believe the absolutely idiotic stupidity of you boned-headed cretins…” “In fine voice, are you, Tessie?” She swung around to find Arnie standing behind her. “You!” she cried. “You’re here! You bastard! You could have done something. I’ll sic him on you, I swear I will! See if I don’t. Wings, claws…” By that time Arnie had his arms around her and was rocking her back and forth against his chest, patting her back with his meaty hand, as she sobbed out the fear and
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stress of the long winter and a life being lived in a manner so far beyond her imagination she often wondered if it—or she—was real. “If you’d take a breath and let me get a word in,” he said. “I’d be able to tell you that I asked Sye to go check on you folks. I didn’t think he’d find you down on your hands and knees digging in the mud.” “Arnie, they’re all so damn sick,” she wailed through her tears. “Roan most of all.” He led her to a chair and sat her down, then handed her a relatively clean handkerchief. “I told Sye about the stores and all and he said if they ran out of veggies they’d be getting belly gripes and not doing so good.” “They have.” “Sye claims that their tricky guts go with their wings. No cast iron gullets like you and me, huh kid?” He offered her a cup of something warm and spicy smelling. Tess sipped and felt the fiery heat of alcohol slide down her throat. “Don’t get greedy,” he snickered, taking the cup away from her after the second swallow. “Don’t want you dancing on the tables before bedtime.” “Roan will be frantic if we’re not back by dark.” “I sent messengers back,” Sye told her. “Come. My wife has set out clean things for you. You’ll feel better after a scrub.” Unlike the Nightflyers’ cave, which was watered by a multitude of small streams and warm sulfur wells, Hura explained that their water supply was gravity-fed. Piped from holding basins along the rim of a nearby caldera. Clay pipes handled sewage and there was even a toilet with an overhead tank that flushed at the pull of a rope. When Tess emerged clean and considerably calmer, Hura summoned them into the dining room. It was apparent Arnie was a frequent visitor and often at this table, the children chatting with him until silenced by a hiss from their father. Six children of varying ages gathered around the table. They were more roundly built than their winged cousins, but with the same finely drawn features and tilting eyes. Last to arrive was an older girl with Len in tow. Sye made the introductions. “That one is Jeni,” he said, a sparkle in his eyes as he introduced the girl who had a firm grip on Len’s arm. “Next is Lil, the freckled one is Evna.” The girl blushed and giggled. “Sanga, my namesake Syeet and his twin Juv. The little one you saw earlier is Rena and she’s in bed.” Len’s marigold hair was damp, freshly brushed and tied back off his face. He wore clean clothing and looked a bit rattled, Tess thought. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. Sye chuckled and Jeni blushed. Tess questioned the man with an arched brow, but he only shook his head before bowing his head and offering a blessing. Immediately after the blessing, two girls wearing white aprons began setting heaping plates of delicious-smelling food on the table. Tess watched with amusement as Jeni filled Len’s plate for him. He bent to the meal with undisguised hunger.
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“Slowly,” Tess cautioned him. He sighed with reluctant agreement. She found it very difficult to follow her own advice. The well-seasoned food was perfectly prepared and she gobbled down a boiled tuber smothered in cream sauce like it was ambrosia. Immediately after the meal, Len was towed away by Jeni, her sisters strung out in a giggling tail behind them. Arnie, too, left claiming to have a chore to tend to. “Jeni has taken a shine to that one,” Sye said without concern. “You don’t object?” “You would have to know my daughter in order to understand how little I object,” he replied. “My firstborn is much too intelligent for her own good. Stubborn and willful from the cradle. All my objections would do is strengthen her determination. A dozen very suitable young men have courted her and she’s not had a kind word for a single one. Her mother is convinced she’ll die unwed. I fear I’ll be ninety and she’ll still be sharpening her tongue on my graying head.” Tess doubted anyone, least of all his children, gave the man much grief. “We find it entertaining that she has already forced your young companion through the baths and attacked his hair as if it belonged to her,” Sye concluded. “She groomed him?” “Yes.” Tess laughed. No wonder Len had looked so dazed. Apparently, customs were not the same in all places. “Your daughter doesn’t know it, but she just asked Len if he would mate with her.” “She what?!” “You needn’t have a stroke,” she chuckled, enjoying his shattered composure. “Len will be very circumspect, for he’s in a very awkward position.” “How so?” “I was unable to release his wings in time. They rotted and I had to amputate them.” “And they didn’t kill him?” “I wouldn’t allow it.” Sye’s eyes narrowed. “They’ve no wing master?” “Just me.” “And you’re not Nightflyer. Like Arnie, you come from the sky.” “Yes.” “We’ve seen his flying machine,” Sye said, “but have not accepted his offer to ride in it.” He freshened their drinks. “The wing master would have killed him,” Sye said his tone cold and bitter.
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“It is not something I agree with,” Tess said. “My training as a physician does not allow me to take a life. I’m duty-bound to save lives. Besides, it would have been a needless waste of a fine young man with an excellent mind. He studies as my apprentice in healing and has a gift for it. He will one day be a fine healer.” “I cannot believe that they allowed you to do this,” Sye said. “There was some discussion,” she admitted. “And he’s shunned. Even Roan finds his presence disquieting.” “Yes, he would,” Sye said. “From what I’ve heard about him he suffers an excess of pride. What has he told you of the Separation?” “Nothing. Until you rode up on us I had no idea anyone else lived on this planet.” “One day, when we have time to spare, I will tell you the history of our tribes, but not tonight. It is a sad and bloody tale.” Then he changed the subject. “Arnie is a crude man with a surprising wisdom. He told me of your capture and your escape.” “I’d have died if he hadn’t protected me.” “He has great feeling for you.” “I know.” “But he’s also not a man to chase what he cannot have,” Sye added with a smile. “He respects the choice you’ve made for yourself and has found comfort here, among my people. Druza, whose mate died five winters ago, hopes to keep him. She’s even been able to convince him there are benefits in being well washed and neatly dressed.” “I thought he looked especially neat and clean.” “It wasn’t easy,” Sye said cryptically. “I’m glad for him. Everybody needs someone.” Tess smothered a yawn behind her hand. The long day, the warmth, good food and a second cup of the tasty drink had turned her heavy-eyed. “Hura, show her to her room,” Sye said. Tess followed the woman to a room down the hall. “My daughter’s,” Hura said, indicating the nightclothes laid out on the bed. “There is a necessary across the hall. Sleep well.” Tess pulled on the nightshirt left for her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sometime during the night, she woke up enough to crawl between the covers. It seemed she had barely gotten back to sleep when Hura, still in her in her nightdress, her graying hair in a single narrow braid down her back, woke her. “My husband summons you,” she explained. “You must leave within the hour. I have hot tea and cakes in the kitchen.” Len was already there, eating quickly, his hair neatly braided. Jeni handed him a particularly tasty-looking cake with a proprietary air. She did not wear a skirt, but trousers and an over blouse, furred boots and leggings. What Tess had thought were coats of outer hair proved to be the tanned skins of fur-bearing animals combined with
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brightly dyed fabrics. The riders had discarded their fur-lined riding boots at the front door, exchanging them for soft-soled house shoes. Sye, having noted the thinness of Tess’ footgear, presented her with a pair of the sturdy-soled, fur-lined boots. Tess knew she would cherish them. As they started out of the house, Jeni was brushing a crumb from Len’s cheek and straightening the hang of his coat. “The lad hasn’t a chance,” Sye chuckled. “Would he be accepted here?” “Of course. Why wouldn’t he? He’s not winged.” “But he had wings and he has the soul of one,” Tess reminded him. “And what of the children he sires?” Sye gave her a glance and she knew she’d given him something to think about that he’d not considered before. Not that his considerations would be taken into account. As she watched Jeni maneuvered her lugger into position beside Len, Tess suspected the only opinions that would sway the young woman were her own. Tess wasn’t at all sure Len, for all that he was strong-minded, would be able to stand up to this determined and opinionated young woman who rode beside him with an easy grace and head-high arrogance. Jeni’s knee frequently brushed Len’s and she kept him engaged in animated conversation. Tess watched them with amusement. They took a more direct route to the cave, the caravan of mounted riders and pack animals moving at a steady pace. By midmorning they were at the riverbed where they encountered yesterday’s messengers. Sye rode ahead to greet them. They held a brief conference and then he returned. “Your wise man refused them hospitality.” Sye bristled with anger. “I told you he was a hard head,” Arnie snickered. “Let me pave the way,” Tess requested, certain if she went on ahead and spoke to Roan she could get him to listen to reason. “No woman paves way for Sye Grendeneer,” the Vasheer snarled. Tess sighed. This was not looking good. She followed as Sye sent his lugger forward at a hard gallop shoulders back, sloped golden eyes glittering with hostility. Roan, flanked by several of the young winged males stood at the entrance of the cave, feet apart, arms folded over his chest, wings extended. She saw no sign of the Houdins. They had probably retreated to their village. Sye reined back his mount, dismounted and strode forward, refusing to be intimidated. They stood glaring at each other and then Roan’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed in a heap at Sye’s feet.
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Chapter Nineteen Startled, Sye stepped back, his hands out in front of him. “I didn’t touch him. I swear.” “I know,” Tess said. She knelt at Roan’s side. He was white as death, his pulse ragged. She looked up at Adra. “He’s not been able to keep down spit,” he told her. Roan stirred and his long lashes fluttered. His turquoise eyes were dull, but he managed a faint smile. “Little dizzy this morning,” he murmured. “Just a tad,” she agreed. “Damn stomach, you know.” “Isn’t it always?” She beckoned to Len. “Will you and Adra cart our fearless leader to his quarters and tuck him into bed? I’ll be right there.” She looked around the empty hall, then summoned the hiding people with a commanding trill. The aunties emerged slowly, sheltering the children behind them. The gang of newly matured males and females strutted forward with a great display of bravado. Compared to the well-fed Vasheers, they looked thin and bony, their strutting more pathetic than impressive. “How many?” Sye asked her in a low voice as the group approached, chests out and heads high. “Twenty-three.” He made a grimace of sympathy. “No wonder you were in trouble.” “There were two deaths yesterday,” the nearest auntie said. Tess felt her heart stop. One death she had expected, but not two. “Senji?” “In good health. Teething.” “My son,” she told Sye. Hostility emanated from the Nightflyers. There wasn’t a friendly face to be seen, but they couldn’t ignore the bulging packs on the restless luggers. “Let’s see if their dispositions improve when they’ve got full bellies,” Sye said. He instructed his men to unload enough supplies, start fires and begin cooking. They’d brought tripods and kettles. The gang of young men was given the task of carrying the remaining supplies to the storerooms. They hesitated, but just for a moment. Sye moved and spoke with an authority that did not encourage debate. “When you’re finished, you can eat,” Sye told them. That was an invitation they couldn’t refuse. Already, the smell of tasty seasonings filled the air as the water in the cooking pots suspended over the fires began to boil. 167
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Tess headed toward her own apartment with the stomach powders Hura had given her. The first dose would go to Roan. His stomach was so unsettled she had to mix the powders with mint tea and spoon it down him, one tiny swallow at a time. She added a touch of poppy oil to calm him and sat with him until he fell asleep. Then she hunted Len down and sent him to sit with him. “As soon as we’ve cooked the rice, I’ll send a serving,” she told Len. “If the powders have done their work, he should be able to eat.” “Right.” As he started away, Jeni followed him. “Jeni,” Tess called, halting the girl who turned with a challenging glare. “My mate is a man of extreme modesty and he would be humiliated to have someone not of his family seeing him when he is unwell. He has a distressing stomach complaint. It would be a great kindness if you would leave him to Len, whom he looks on as family. Perhaps you could help me here?” “Of course,” Jeni agreed, adding with her usual prickliness. “I’m not a stupid child. I can be reasoned with.” “No, you’re definitely not a child,” Tess murmured under her breath. She had prayed for a mate for Len. If this arrogant young woman with the flashing brown eyes was the answer to that prayer, God still had a sense of humor. Sye and the Vasheers took charge of everything. By the time the supplies were stacked in the storerooms, four kettles containing a mixture of boiled rice, whipped eggs and honey were ready to eat. Tess had administered powders to those who needed them and did her best to convince the starving that moderation was the key to success. She also made a mental note to ask Hura for the source of the powders, which were much more effective than anything Tess had. Within minutes, those who received them were standing in line for a bowl of rice. Tess returned to Roan and found him peacefully sleeping. “He’s had juice and a bit of the plain rice,” Len told her. “His belly’s quiet.” “Thank goodness. He about scared me witless when he fainted.” “Adra said he’d not eaten since you’d left. Not even tea.” “The children?” She could hear Coee’s cranky voice in the adjoining chamber. “Coee’s cutting molars. They’ve been fed and are supposed to be napping.” “Loud sleepers,” she said with a smile. Len glanced toward the doorway leading to the outside corridor. “What did you do with her?” Tess would have laughed out loud if she hadn’t feared waking her peacefully sleeping spouse. “I convinced her Roan would be highly offended at having a stranger around while he was urping up his lunch, so she stayed to help her father.” “He would have—been embarrassed, I mean—but he hasn’t.” “She seems to have taken a shine to you,” Tess remarked, tongue in cheek.
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“A shine,” Len snorted. “She’s latched onto me like a half-starved constrictor.” The words voiced complaint, but not his tone of voice. “Sye holds her in high regard.” “It would be easy to have a high regard for her.” “It wouldn’t be an easy course,” she cautioned. He looked up at her, his jade eyes calm. “Nothing has been easy for me. Why should this be different?” “You seem to weather every storm.” She patted his shoulder. Roan, disturbed by their low voices, opened his eyes. She knelt at his bedside. “Hi, sweetie.” “Hi,” he murmured. She kissed his forehead. “Go back to sleep.” “Ummmh,” he managed before his eyes slid shut. Leaving him to Len, she went back to the main hall where Sye was organizing the disorganized. He made no secret of his disapproval of the chaos that had grown as Roan’s strength faded. She wanted to defend Roan, but it was difficult after seeing Sye bring obedience with a half dozen curt barks and a bit of ancient-speak tongue-lashing. From the start, Roan’s problem had been twofold. His was but a single voice among many and he couldn’t be everywhere at once. And he lacked the aura of command that made his wishes law. The tribe respected him as an elder but had never looked to him for leadership. Tess had not realized how few his leadership skills were until she saw Sye directing and assigning. Of course, he also had a dozen men to see that his orders carried out making it impossible for the young adults to disappear from sight, instructions ignored. Everywhere they turned, they were confronted by an older authoritative Vasheer. “This cannot continue,” Sye told her later when they found time themselves to eat. “They are overgrown children running amok.” “There were just the two of us and the aunties,” she reminded him. “Who do not order, instruct or command. Only nurture.” He set aside his plate and took a long swallow of hot tea. “You have a critical need for teachers and masters.” “Would any of your people be willing to serve in that capacity?” He chuckled. “They would leap at the chance and take great pleasure in ordering about herds of ill-mannered Nightflyers.” “Shame will only breed anger,” she cautioned. “If this has any chance at all of working, you’ve got to go at it a little gently. The older ones, especially the young men who’ve winged and their ladies, are very proud they’ve survived. They’ll not accept being looked down on or humiliated.”
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“I’ll not humble them,” Sye promised her. He stirred more honey into his tea. “Theirs is a proud, if bloody, heritage.” “You said that before. Bloody in what way?” His gaze met hers squarely. “We were a single people, born and bred in the underground, small in number but sturdy.” He settled into a more comfortable position. “Kisner, wife of Alocan, blessed their union with six boy babies. Slender, handsome youths that she was unusually proud of. When their eldest turned twenty, his back swelled and he fell ill. Kisner, desperate to save her son, lanced the swellings. Luck or perhaps divine guidance, steered the blade of her knife and she released his wings. The wise ones of the time had never seen such an aberration and declared the young man a demon. They burned him at the stake. Our mistake.” He paused and refilled his cup. “Kisner turned against her mate and fled with her other sons, vowing revenge for the death of her firstborn. That’s how it started. From there it got completely out of hand. “Kisner’s sons kidnapped young girls and got them with child. The ones who birthed winged males they kept. The ones who had normal babies were either killed outright or abandoned in the wilds and left to die. They killed all male babies who did not have wings.” “At Kisner’s instruction?” Tess asked. Sye nodded. “She was a woman of exceptional strength on what she considered to be a righteous mission. We retaliated, naturally.” “Naturally,” Tess echoed. “Raids and counter raids were a way of life for generations. Long enough for both sides to realize that we were killing each other off. The Nightflyers, fewer in number to begin with, would be the first to go, but in the process we were becoming a tribe of the very young and the very old. Death is never the right solution. Fortunately, wiser heads prevailed and a peace treaty was drawn up. It officially separated the two tribes, outlawed bride raids and the killing of innocent women and newborns.” Tess wished she could tell him that the killing of wingless males had also been discontinued, but she couldn’t. Generations of allowing the wing masters full control had perpetuated the practice. What had changed was the handling of the wingless male babies. Instead of having their lives snuffed out at birth, they were taken to the boundary between the two tribes’ territory and left there. She shuddered to think how many had not been found before they starved or wild animals found them. The women who bore them were not allowed to breed again, though they were no longer driven out, most of them serving as aunties. If Len and Jeni mated and had children, perhaps the Nightflyers would rethink the fate of wingless males. Or not. Theirs would be a marriage defying the traditions in both tribes for the hatred and hostility went in both directions. And where would the children of such a mating fit? Change never came easily and there were always innocent victims. As much as she
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disliked considering it, she knew that the children she and Roan created also faced an uncertain future. Later that night, as she padded barefoot to the bathroom, she heard quick breathing and low whispers in the darkness beyond Len’s doorway and knew any opinions she or Sye might have about this pairing were irrelevant. Jeni Grendeneer of the Vasheers had chosen her mate. Len’s low cry of completion told Tess he had no objection.
***** Medicine and proper food soon restored the tribe’s health. Even Roan was back on his feet within a few days, eating lightly but well. Settling his stomach proved child’s play compared to settling his disposition. Dumbfounded, Tess listened to him rant. She’d seen him cranky and irritable at times but never in a royal rage. Today he was in a royal rage. “I’m a figurehead!” he roared as he paced their quarters. “He sits me at that little table and trots all his decisions past me leaving me no say so. It’s all said and done. I’ve no voice in anything.” “Roan, calm down,” she pleaded. He whirled on her and hissed, “Don’t you patronize me! It was you who brought them. Are you pleased? Is this what you wanted? To see me disgraced?” “Don’t be an idiot.” “You’ve betrayed me. Brought in the enemy and let them take over!” “I saved your stupid lives!” she retorted, her own temper now lost. “Or should I have turned my back on you and let the wingings end in death? Maybe that’s the way it ought to be. Killed off in a single generation. Brought to ground and stripped of your damn pride and your infernal wings!” She stood with hands on her hips and chin thrust out. “Well, guess what? I’m sick of worrying about you. Sick of watching you kill yourself in the name of your idiotic duty. I’m just sick of you in every way I can think of,” She concluded recklessly. “Even sick of this?” He grabbed her arms and backed her against the wall. She could have refused him but she didn’t, her emotions as high as his. They coupled with a ferocity that left them both gasping for breath. They woke Senji with their racket and he began to cry. She gathered him up and muffled his sobs against her shoulder. Thankfully, Coee and Riza never stirred. Tess carried Senji into the kitchen to nurse. By the time he finished, both Roan and his possessions were gone. She stood in the center of their sleeping chamber looking at the empty shelves and wept. “I want to go home,” she whimpered, tears flowing. She yearned for the life she’d lost years ago. If only Arnie had been able to take them back to Earth. Then she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “Great solution, Tess old girl. Portland’s more than ready
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for flying men.” Unhappily, she accepted the fact that she and the children would no more fit on Earth than they did here.
***** Things were unusually quiet the next morning and it took only a few minutes for Tess to learn that Roan hadn’t just left her, he’d left the tribe. With a backpack of supplies, he’d flown off at dawn. “Is it a serious matter?” Sye asked her when he joined her for a cup of tea. Tess shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” She’d lain awake a long time last night thinking about all that had happened in the past two years and trying to view everything from Roan’s perspective. “Three years ago he was a young married man with a sweet wife and four children,” Tess told Sye. “Since then he’s lost most of his people, a wife he loved, and thought, for a time, that he’d lost his children as well. And he was nearly killed when Arnie captured him.” She pointed to the sky. “He was taken to another planet and exposed to things beyond his wildest imagination—space flight, electricity, computers.” “Things that would no doubt frighten me,” Sye admitted. She smothered a smile imagining his astonishment if confronted with current technology. “Then I entered his life,” she continued. “I demanded things he was not emotionally ready to give but was unable to refuse because of his loyalty to the traditions of his tribe. I challenged those things he believed in, disregarded his traditions concerning winging and saved a life he still feels should have been lost.” “One day I would like to hear more about your world,” Sye said. “I am particularly interested in the panels that make the electricity you use for light and heat.” “Arnie is the one to talk to. And the Houdins.” “Interesting people. Eager to serve regardless of who orders them about. But they retain their dignity. Do you speak their language?” Tess laughed. “No one but Roan and the Houdins speak Houdin. I can’t even pronounce their names.” “They have tools made of metals far superior to any we have.” “You can’t begin to imagine what’s available,” Tess said. The industry, the technology and the pollution, she added to herself. Sye refilled their cups. “Arnie told me how you came to be at the zoo. That he brought Roan to you badly wounded and asked you to save him.” “I managed to do that,” Tess said. “And then I leaped into his face and inadvertently demanded mating when he was sick and grieving. I tried to retract, but his stubborn honor and pride wouldn’t allow it. Since then we’ve not had two consecutive days of peace. I was badly injured in the escape and barely conscious for weeks. When I did recover consciousness, I couldn’t walk or take care of myself.”
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She carried her tea out to the sun-drenched ledge beside the entry. Sye followed her. “He has great strength and a marvelous mind,” Tess explained. “But he wasn’t prepared for leadership and, as I’m sure you know, it’s a craft like any other. He was the tribal singer, not its leader.” “There are many excellent singers among the Vasheer, but good voices are rare among the Nightflyers.” They sat down on the edge of the ledge overlooking the riverbed. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Will he be all right?” “Yes, I think so.” What she didn’t know was if their marriage would be all right. “On Earth, where I’m from, people go on pilgrimages to restore their spirits and contemplate the state of their souls. Maybe that’s what Roan is doing. Contemplating his soul.” “He comes from good stock,” Sye said. “His clan is an honorable one.” “That from you?” she teased lightly. “I’ve near a hundred years behind me, Tess. You can’t live that long without gaining a clear eye.” He looked up at the sky. “You can even learn that death rains down from the heavens.” “You knew what the Norans had done?” “Aye,” he replied. “We watched but were helpless to stop it. We tried to gather up the survivors, but they ran from us. We gathered up what children we could and prayed the rest would survive under the care of the aunties.” His brows pulled together in a frown. “You should know that many of my people felt that the same force that created them had finally seen fit to end the Nightflyers’ existence. Some of the elders still call them the baby killers.” “Often older people find change difficult.” She cast him a sideways glance. “I’d not have guessed you were almost a hundred.” “We enjoy long, fruitful lives. The women bear healthy young into their late fifties.” “Then they’ll share good stock.” “They?” “Your daughter is no longer a virgin.” “Ahh.” He was quiet a moment and then chuckled. “Well, now I know why young Len came to me this morning and formally asked for permission to court Jeni. A bit after the fact, it would seem, but the lad’s intentions seem honorable. More or less.” “They’ll be the first of a new tribe.” “They will, won’t they?” He tossed what was left of his cooling tea to the wind. “I’ll return to my own house today. I’m leaving my people behind and I’ll send others. Perhaps, between us, we can drag the tribes, kicking and screaming no doubt, but back into oneness once more.” Arnie left with him, gruffly admitting that he missed his “old lady” and, now with the improved weather, was eager to start construction on a hangar for his ship. Tess bid
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them goodbye and stood a long while looking down the winding river they followed. How long would she be alone?
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Chapter Twenty Roan had no destination in mind when he fled. Anger, frustration and emotions he couldn’t identify snarled his insides until they ached. Still, he wasn’t surprised when the familiar shape of Mount Etok loomed before him. There, on the south side, in the small meadow hosting an equally small creek with a hip-deep backwash pond, he, Tess and the children had spent a peaceful summer. She’d lived when she ought to have died and he’d been content with her, comfortable with their lovemaking and more hopeful than she that Senji would be born whole and winged. He glided down and landed lightly on the lip of their cave. A quick inspection showed that neither bears nor cats had moved in during their absence. A few native bell bats hung from the ceiling, but they’d be no trouble. In fact, they were an advantage, for they fed on insects. After dumping his pack he set to work, enjoying the simple physical labor of cutting bamboo and fashioning a bed frame and filling the frame with gray tree moss. He tossed the blankets he’d brought with him over the moss and knew he would sleep comfortably. Soon tubers, carrots and onions would grow in abundance in the meadow. Already, on the sunny side of the creek watercress was sprouting and he found a few cattail hearts and freshwater shrimp. He gathered what he needed for a meal and set it to simmer in one of the tin pots that he’d left behind. Crouched on his haunches, he studied the assortment of cookware that they’d brought with them and he’d left here, never telling Tess, unable to put into words his reason. He knew what it was now. He’d wanted nothing of the other world to touch his world. He’d naively thought that he could gather up his scattered tribesmen and get right back into the life he’d lost when Arnie and the Minitars swarmed into the gathering cave. And there lay the struggle he’d waged every hour since their return. His world and her world. He snagged the teakettle from the edge of the fire and poured boiling water over black tea leaves. He’d run away but that had accomplished nothing because the things that troubled him were inside him. He’d brought them along.
***** He enjoyed the solitude. Relishing the privilege of doing what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it without interference or interruption. He flew daily, savoring the peace that filled him as he glided from one thermal to the next. He did the aerobatics that had been traditional during the Gathering and would never be flown again unless he taught the younger ones. The mere thought of teaching what he and Arok, Adra’s father, had flown so joyfully, challenging each other’s skill, brought the sting of tears to his eyes. 175
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Turning his thoughts away from the past, he considered the future. Considered it without the constant demand of daily decisions or Tess’ shock over things he took on faith, having learned them from the Elders of his own father’s time. Things that went back generations and she refused to honor. Her refusals had made him question the unquestionable. Her quick tongue had opened huge holes of doubt in the traditions he’d grown up with and left confusion behind. What was right? Wrong? Good? Bad? And where had everything he believed in come from? He repeated this mental debate more often than he liked, unable to shut his thinking down because in his soul he knew that he had to make peace with himself and with Tess. Their ways of living had to come together in harmony or he might just as well keep on flying and never turn back. They couldn’t live the way they’d been living. Well, he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what Tess thought because he hadn’t asked her, wary of bringing their conflicts out into the open. Who knew what the result would be? Would she leave him? Did he want her to stay? What about their children? They were laws forbidding mating outside the tribe to reduce the birth of unwinged males. He’d mated with a woman from an entirely different world. Granted, their firstborn was a winged male, but what of the child she now carried? He was sure she had conceived that last day when he’d backed her against the wall and taken her. Even through the anger and frustration clouding his mind he had recognized the sweet scent of her fertility. She knew so much. Told him so much. He missed the wisdom she so willingly shared with him. He missed her. Her quirky smile, quick tongue, caring concern. He even missed the way her red curls refused to be tamed and most of all he missed the laughter that made her eyes sparkle. He buried his face in his hands and moaned aloud as questions without answers spun around in his head.
***** Roan had spent the morning fishing and three plump fish simmered on the fire next to a kettle of cattail hearts seasoned with herbs he’d brought with him. Reaching out, he snagged a kettle and poured boiling water over a pinch of leaves resting in the bottom of his cup. He’d also brought salt and flour. Everything else he ate, he got from the land. “I’d take a cup if you have one to spare.” Roan turned, startled. The Vasheer, Sye, approached leading his mount, a sorrel lugger. They’d approached so quietly Roan hadn’t heard them. He was strongly tempted to tell the man to go, that he wasn’t welcome. But curiosity kept him silent. Why had he come? Unless… “Has something happened?” he asked. The possibility rushed into his mind and chilled his insides.
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“No, nothing,” Sye replied. He left his mount to graze and leaped up onto the ledge. “She’s in good health and bad temper.” He grinned and shook his head. “Never met a female who consistently refused to back down from a fight. Young Len says it’s on account of her red hair.” “He might be right.” Roan fixed the Vasheer tea as he spoke and handed him the steaming cup. Sye took it and helped himself to some honey. “She’s wise, your lady.” “My lady.” Roan let the words roll through his mind. “I’m not so sure of that.” Sye snorted. “I married young,” Roan said. “Arnie and his Minitars killed Una just to get our week-old son away from her. She needn’t have died.” “Arnie regrets everything that happened that day.” “But he’d do it again if necessity demanded it,” Roan countered. “He’s a man with a deep sense of self-preservation. Even Tess said that when the time came for us to escape, if Arnie had to choose, he would protect himself no matter what.” “And did he?” Roan thought about that for a moment, remembering the scene in the hangar. Tess’ desperate dash toward the ship, arms laden with last-minute things she wanted to bring with them. Itz had entered from the opposite door and Tess had thrown herself between them, taking the shot the Noran intended for him. Arnie had saved them all, wounding Zima, killing Itz, getting them into the ship. The last to board, Arnie had guarded the door so the rest of them could board safely. Not that Zima had mounted an attack. He’d fled. “No. He saved our lives.” “People change.” Sye took a swallow of his tea. “It’s necessary.” “Are you saying I must change?” Sye nodded. “And everyone in both tribes.” He set down his cup and folded his hands together, his expression serious and thoughtful. “We cannot go on as we have been.” “We had good reason to cut you out of our lives.” “And so did we,” Sye replied. He sighed heavily. “Generations have passed since the killings…” “That you started.” “No,” Sye said emphatically. “Not us. The Vasheer of that time. What they did was wrong, but they were frightened and superstitious, driven by fear. And how do we know but what the stories they told of that first winged male weren’t true? He might have been a vicious killer who preyed on children. Does your history say nothing about her sons?”
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“There are whispers,” Roan acknowledged. Whispers of insanity that had afflicted two of the original winged males. Joko, the oldest of the historians, had once told Roan that only four of the Mother Moseec’s sons were accounted for in the oral histories passed from one generation to the next. Still, he resisted the possibility that two of the six had been tainted. “Can you deny that the Vasheer planned to kill Moseec and her sons fearing they’d be like Turnac, her firstborn? She and her children were forced to flee into the forest without weapons or food, wearing only the clothes on their backs.” “Sadly, that is true,” Sye said. “If she’d not run, you would not exist. But what she did in retaliation for her son’s death cannot be excused. You hail her as your hero. The mother of your tribe. We see her as a bitter, ruthless woman who killed without hesitation anything that did not measure up to her idea of perfection. Stop and think about it, man. Our elders killed one adolescent male who had already brutally slashed two females with his claws because they displeased him. Turnac shared his mother’s ruthlessness and her arrogance, possibly even the taint of insanity that afflicted two of his brothers. He wasn’t just winged—he was flawed. A born killer.” Roan couldn’t deny the truth of the man’s words, but what Sye called ruthless savagery, he’d been brought up to believe was heroic defense. His people’s retaliation had been necessary. “Had we not struck first and fiercely, you would have annihilated us. And we had to steal females to breed with and eliminate those unable to bear winged boys. “You could have sent them back,” Sye said. “That’s what Tess says,” Roan admitted. “She argues against most of the Canons.” Canons written by Moseec, mother of them all. Canons he’d been taught in the cradle. He’d never once questioned them until Tess began to pull them apart, challenge their logic. And violate them, refusing to adhere as she ought to. By the time Adra’s cousin died, he’d refused to allow her to search for the reasons. She’d not lay ruin to one more of his beliefs. So much of what she’d done had violated those things he believed to be right. In spite of that, no great evil had befallen them as he’d been taught to believe. That had come before Tess, not after. “Would you have put the babe out if he’d not been winged?” Sye asked. “Senji? No,” he replied honestly. “Tess brought the children into our household and kept them there. She refused to let the aunties have them. Insisted I be present for Senji’s birth. I can’t explain what happened inside of me when I held him still wet and messy from his birth, screaming in outrage.” The memory made him smile, the warm, glowing, indefinable emotion as strong today as it had been back then. “You bonded with your newborn as fathers are meant to do. Makes setting them out in the forest to die difficult.” “Impossible,” Roan admitted. “And we no longer do that. We leave them for you.” “You sure don’t carry them to our doorstep and hand them to someone to look after,” Sye bluntly pointed out. 178
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“No, we don’t,” Roan admitted. “I have arrived at the rock twice and found nothing but scattered blankets.” Roan thought of Senji’s plump body and fat thrashing arms and shuddered. Then smiled. “Share the joke,” Sye requested. “I was thinking back to Senji’s birth,” Roan said. “Tess made me stay with her and I held him when he was still covered with birthing blood. I cut his cord and while the midwife tended Tess, I dried him off, wrapped him in a blanket. No one could have taken him from me by then, with or without wings. Tess knew that. That’s why she made me stay.” “You’re lucky to have her.” Sye studied him over the rim of his cup as he sipped hot black tea. “I haven’t always realized that, but yes, I am lucky to have her.” “So why are you out here?” Roan refilled his cup with more hot water, buying time to assemble his thoughts. “I was exhausted. I’d been sick for weeks before your arrival. She marched in, having single-handedly destroyed the Separation Treaty. She didn’t just go to you for food, but she brought you back, in person, to change everything I believed in. Or, more truthfully, what little was left for me to believe in. And she wasn’t sorry. She didn’t care.” “That’s not true and you know it,” Sye snorted. “She knew long before you fell flat on your face that you were half-dead. She loves you enough that she wanted you alive. And you fault her for that? You’re an ass.” Roan sputtered in indignation for a second and then began to laugh. “Loving Tess is not easy. And I do love her. I hadn’t realized how much until there was some space between us.” “Then you’ll go back?” “Not right away, but yes, I’ll go back.” Roan smiled. “I’ll let her stew a bit longer. She’ll send Adra to spy on me, you know. She won’t turn me loose. Not completely.” “You can be thankful for that,” Sye said. “Yes. I can.” Sye drew circles in the dirt with a stick for several moments before he spoke again. “There is a great deal of work to do. Bringing everyone together. It will be easier for you because you have fewer adults. Harder for us. Hatred does not die easily.” “So we will take it one day at a time.” “We have a fall celebration to give thanks for a good harvest, food in storage and seed for the coming year. Perhaps this year it can be held halfway between our villages and new light can be thrown on old traditions. Ours and yours. Elders on both sides could discuss past history and lay it to rest. It’s past time both tribes made a new start.”
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“The Elders for the Nightflyers would be me and me,” Roan said dryly. “And Tess,” Sye corrected. “They need to see her as being of the People and not as an outsider. You’ve protected her but done little to smooth the way for her.” This was true, Roan realized. “I seem to have failed in a good many things.” “Don’t beat yourself up,” Sye said. “You were one man trying to do ten jobs in an impossible situation. If you’d managed everything, we’d have to proclaim you a deity.” Roan spread his hands in protest. “Oh no, I have no interest in being a deity. I’ve my hands full being ordinary.” “You have never been ordinary,” Sye said firmly. “You lived when you ought to have died. You gathered your people together and saved their lives. No, Roan Lowenthal, you are not ordinary.” “But I’m no leader,” Roan said with complete honesty. “She understands that.” “I suppose I’m going to have to apologize to her.” Sye chuckled. “I’d say you might even have to grovel. But she’s worth it.” He drained his cup and stood up. “I’d best be on my way. By the way, Arnie says he’s seen some ships. Not like the Norans. Probably someone else. Keep an eye out.” He looked up at the sky. “We might wish we were alone, but we aren’t. We’ve more to prepare for than the unity of our tribes.”
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Chapter Twenty-One A month after Roan’s departure, Tess sent Adra to look for him. “I just want to know he’s all right,” she told the youth. “I don’t want him or anyone else to know I’m looking, understand?” “Yes.” He came and put his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. “You and Lord Roan are my family. I too worry about him.” He stepped back, grinning. “If you’d not sent me today, I would have gone on my own tomorrow.” “Miserable brat.” She gave him a quick hug and shoved him out the door. He was back before nightfall. “As you thought, he’s at the creek. He’s made a good camp and was sleeping in the sun when I passed by.” “Maybe that’s what he needs. Rest and solitude.” She wouldn’t pressure him, simply wait and worry. Her hand went to her stomach, where she knew a new life grew. Nursing Senji had not interfered with her fertility. Two so close together would be hard on her. On her best days, her left leg ached as a constant reminder of her injury. The weight of another pregnancy would only make it worse. She’d been forced to use her crutch the last few weeks before Senji’s birth. She could do it again. Sye had sent supervisors, teachers and farmers. The Houdins had welcomed everyone with equal enthusiasm, providing a reliable buffer of cheerful cooperation between the tribes. The ever-complaining luggers pulled the plows for the spring planting. All of the carefully stored seedlings the Houdins had brought went into the fertile ground where they would flourish. Now and then Tess found herself looking to the sky, a shiver of apprehension skimming along her spine. Arnie thought the Norans had acquired enemies of their own and wouldn’t go raiding again. Maybe not, but what if the Norans’ enemies were worse than they had been? And to think she’d once thought the greatest things to fear existed on Earth.
***** Roan watched Adra glide to the ledge above the camp and land. “You could come down and join me,” he invited. His voice nearly startled Adra off the ledge. Roan chuckled. “Come along. You’re late this week.” He stirred a thick stew of vegetables simmering over the fire. “Hungry?” Adra shrugged, clearly embarrassed at having been caught. Roan fixed him a plate. “How go things for the tribe?”
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“Very well, my Lord,” Adra answered. “Well, mostly. We have to attend classes four hours daily.” He grimaced in distaste. “The instructor is a Vasheer the color of old leather, but,” his expression brightened, “he knows more than I thought a Vasheer would know. We study the stars and Lady Tess tells us about other skies and more stars.” He squinted into the brightness of the sun. “She tells us things not even the Vasheers knew.” “She comes from another world,” Roan said. “Should she go back?” Roan stared thoughtfully into his cooking fire. “I don’t know.” More to the point, did she want to? “She’s with child again.” Roan smiled. He’d suspected as much. “Then she has something to keep her busy.” “The surgery takes most of her time. With all that’s going on, there are more cuts and broken bones to tend.” Adra cleaned his plate and sipped the tea Roan handed him. “The Vasheers have made many changes. Sye said things were out of control.” “We were busy surviving.” “Tess told him that.” Adra grinned. “She doesn’t take kindly to anyone finding fault with you.” “Was there a planting?” “Fields and fields, but at the edge of the grasslands, far from the mountain. The Vasheers brought plows and many teams of luggers. The Earthling, Arnie, brought another electricity machine and says we now have a warning system that will tell us if ships come from the heavens again. Tess uses this electric in the surgery. Arnie makes trips and brings back many things. Even a box that does a thing called sterilizing. Tess says it kills the invisible things that cause infections and sicknesses. There’s another box that keeps things cold, a refrigerator.” “All things she had at the zoo,” Roan said. “Arnie says we will learn to use and appreciate the new things.” Adra shook his head doubtfully. “It’s enough to give a person a brain ache.” “I’ve seen his ship come and go,” Roan admitted. “Len has flown with him to these other places. He was most impressed. The Vasheer, Sye, is away with him now. He talks about everyone having this electricity. He holds classes even the Vasheers must attend to teach us about all this. Tess calls it modern technology.” Adra traced circles in the dirt with his fingers, eyes downcast. “Much has changed. There’s a Common House.” “Common House?” “A new place between the tribes where none of the old ways are allowed. If one speaks unkindly to the other, they lose the privilege to come to the Common. Those with crafts and skills bring their goods and produce and things are traded. Important things. Good things.” 182
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“What if you have no craft and have nothing to trade?” Roan asked. “Then you trade your time and labor.” “You work for them?” “They work for us too,” Adra said in his own defense. “It’s a fair exchange.” “I didn’t mean to criticize.” “There are many, in both tribes, who don’t approve of this togetherness,” Adra admitted. “And, to be honest, it benefits us more than them.” “All this is Sye’s doing?” “Not alone. He brought others in to help, but he is in charge. Tess says he’s spent most of his life leading. That’s why he’s so wise. But it hasn’t been easy. Not everyone approves.” “And Tess?” “She is much in favor of all the changes. She says we must learn to live together without prejudice.” “She is well?” “Yes. Her leg bothers her some. And she worries for you.” Roan looked off into the distance. “I had a need for time alone.” “She understands. I haven’t come to ask you to come back.” “Just to spy on me?” Roan asked with a smile. “Like I said, she worries.” “She’s done very well to leave me with just you to snoop over my shoulder.” Adra’s face fell. “You’ve known all along?” “I was looking for you,” Roan consoled him. “I doubted she would leave me alone for long. That’s not her way. You see, she loves me.” “I don’t understand,” Adra said. “If you love each other, why have you quarreled? Why are you here while she’s there?” “Feelings are difficult to understand. I needed time to sort through mine. Too much happened too quickly for her and me. But I’m ready to see her.” “I’ll help you pack,” Adra offered. “No,” Roan said after a moment’s hesitation. “Not there. Is anyone due to wing within the next few days?” “No one,” Adra replied. “Bring her to me.” Adra grinned. “Oh yes, my Lord. Gladly.” After Adra left, Roan sat at the mouth of the cave until the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the clouds painted with vivid streaks of rose, orange and amber. He listened as the daytime sounds of the glade turned to the sounds of night.
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Why hadn’t he demanded Sye step aside and let him have the leadership of the tribe back? Because he wasn’t a leader. He never had been. He was a singer. His world had been a safe, uncomplicated one. He’d wedded the only female he’d ever courted and fathered children. He’d been content. Should he have died with Una? Arnie had certainly intended him to. He would forever hear the sharp click of Arnie’s gun and see the astonishment on the man’s face. Una haunted him. Even the day when he and Tess had consummated their union with a wing wrap and Tess’ bright green eyes had glazed with passion, a passion he’d shared. Later he’d cursed his lust. He’d withheld his love but he’d not hesitated to use her. He’d brought her into the tribe knowing they’d resent her presence and view her with contempt. He’d given her no choice. Never asked her what she wanted to do. He’d brought her to the cave and handed her her duties. He’d felt guilty about that. Guilty about caring for her. Guilty about the traditions he’d violated by taking her. Everywhere he turned, he’d found guilt and confusion. Sye’s visit had made him realize that there was a void in his life without her laughter, her quick intelligence and feisty determination. He missed her company. He missed watching her with the children. He missed the way she watched over him and cared for him. He loved her. It was that simple. But did she love him? She said so, but he couldn’t forget the look on her face that first time he’d kissed her. The revulsion. The quick way her hands had wiped his touch off her skin. She’d backed away so quickly she’d almost fallen over her own feet. It had taken her weeks to accept his touch.
***** Adra cupped his hands and gave Tess a hand up to mount the lugger, Ascot. Len and Jeni had come to see her off. Len stood with arms crossed, scowling. Jeni kissed her cheek and told her to be careful. “Len is not happy you’re leaving,” Adra said when they were a way down the river bed. “Len is turning into a bossy old hen,” Tess said without rancor. “If you lived with Jeni you might be too,” Adra said. Tess smiled. Few understood the bond between the fiery Jeni and Len except possibly herself and Sye. Sye had known since Jeni’s early childhood that she would require a strong, intelligent man to challenge her and she had found that person in Len, for her love had restored his somewhat arrogant self-confidence. They shared a rare love. Tess saw it daily in their glances, touches and low-pitched, laughing conversations. Jeni had become Len’s able assistant in the surgery and shared his keen interest in medicine. She was already with child. Tess had examined her and been pleased to tell her she was well-suited for childbearing. Her pelvic flare was wide and comfortable, her general health good. The
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girl experienced no morning sickness and felt uncommonly well. She’d confided to Tess that Len was worried. “Men in love worry,” Tess assured her. “I believe that’s their duty.” “Even Lord Roan?” “Of course,” Tess lied, having no idea how Roan acted when he was in love. Jeni laid her hand on Tess’ arm. “Len says he will be back when he has found some peace. What my father has done here was needed but painful. There are many in my tribe who still view all of this as treason. When I last visited, a girl I’ve known since birth spat on me.” “You and Len have chosen a hard path.” Jeni straightened and smiled, her golden eyes twinkling green. “We’re up to it.” Tess didn’t doubt that for an instant.
***** Adra reined in his mount at the fork in the trail. “You can go on alone.” “Yes, I know the way from here.” The place they’d spent the summer lay on the far side of the next hill. “Thanks for the company.” He waved as he started off, straight-backed and erect in the saddle, a strikingly handsome young man with his silver hair and glacial blue eyes, maturing nicely. But not quite the same youth he’d been before the raid, according to Roan. Small wonder. Adra had lost every member of his family save for Roan and their closeness did not erase a thread of sadness that hovered behind Adra’s smiles. There was no sign of Roan when she reached the meadow. Tess unsaddled the lugger and released it to graze, front legs hobbled. There wasn’t a lugger alive that couldn’t run as fast with hobbles as without, but the devices seemed to establish an agreement between man and beast and they rarely bolted. She walked through the sun-dried grass up to the cave and looked inside. Tidy as always, Roan’s things were neatly arranged on various ledges. She settled down to wait. It was nearing dark when he finally appeared, walking slowly from the grove of trees at the lower stream, carrying a string of gutted fish. She stood up, suddenly afraid. Was this to be goodbye? She’d told herself that she would be able to handle it if he left her. She had no ties on him. They’d not been formally wed. Grooming was only the invitation. Len and Jeni’s wedding ceremony had made her realize that marriage was the most serious of ceremonies in both tribes and that she and Roan were mated, not married. He stopped in front of her. Reaching out, he brushed a wisp of hair off her cheek. His fingers trembled and matched the emotion in his voice. “I shouldn’t have left you.” “I shouldn’t have said such awful things.”
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“My soul was so weary, Tess.” He put his arms around her and leaned his forehead against the top of her head. “I know.” He felt so good to touch. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “You’ll soon be an awkward armful,” he teased as he ran his hand over the firm curve of her belly. “You don’t seem surprised.” “I suspected my seed took root.” He kissed her cheek. “Come. Let’s cook and eat.” They ate in silence, Tess with little appetite even though she’d not eaten since early morning. When they finished, Roan collected the plates and set them aside and then fixed them both tea. He offered her a wedge of honeycomb for dessert. She refused with a shake of her head and watched as he broke off a piece and put it in his mouth, licking the sticky sweetness from his fingers. The man did have a sweet tooth. Cup in hand, he sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him. Other than pushing that single stray strand of hair from her cheek and the light kiss, he’d not touched her. She shivered in spite of the warmth of the evening. “Una was the love of my youth,” he said. “We grew up together and neither looked to another. We married within a few weeks of my winging and come spring Rontor was born. She nursed him for a year, he went to the aunties and we made another baby. Four, one right after the other, Trazie the last. Or so we thought.” He paused and stirred his tea. “Coee was a surprise.” He was silent for a moment, then said. “I never courted another. Never wanted to.” Her heart sank. “And it was a good mating. Our love was like a slow-moving river, steady and undisturbed. We were blessed with offspring. I would never have looked away from her.” “But Arnie killed her and then I came along.” “Yes and you came along. Bright and strong and different from any female I’d ever known. You had your own ways and your own opinions and you were not easily pushed in any direction other than the one you chose.” Had she been too strong-minded? Too stubborn? “You intrigued and excited me and you angered me as well. I’d watch you cross a room and my cock would rise in anticipation. I told myself these feelings were lust. A male’s response to the scent of a female.” His hand cupped her cheek. “But it was so much more than that. When I found my way inside you, a great thirst was satisfied. You were comfort and sustenance and that scared me to death. How could I feel that way so soon? What was wrong with me? Guilt became my constant companion and it warred with my desire for you.” He stood up and paced around, clearly agitated. Tess could only wait.
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“Being reunited with my people increased my guilt tenfold. I saw accusation in every eye turned in my direction. But still I couldn’t leave you alone. I got you with child again.” He looked down at her swollen form and smiled. “Motherhood suits you. It softens you. You are so lovely. So perfect of face and figure.” “I am?” She’d never considered herself beautiful. He reached out for her. She took a step toward him and then stopped. Together they watched three sets of bright blinking lights descend from the star-filled sky. “Norans?” Roan asked, his arms tightening around her. “Or someone like them.” The three wedge-shaped aircraft leveled off and turned on search lights that lit the ground more brilliantly than the sun. They skimmed the treetops flying in tight formation. Friends or foe, the outside world had once again arrived.
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Chapter Twenty-Two “Into the trees!” Roan ordered. He kicked dirt over the cooking fire and followed her. They waited several minutes but the ships didn’t come back. “I don’t think they saw us,” he said. “I should…” He stopped. “Go,” she said, answering the question in his turquoise eyes. “I’ll follow on Ascot. He knows the way back.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a moment, kissing her forehead before he released her. “Don’t ride in the dark.” “I’ll wait until morning,” she promised. “I’ll be fine. Truly.” She gave him a gentle push. “Now go. You must warn them.” Tess hugged herself, shivering, as she watched him lift into the air. No leisurely flight this time. Strong, purposeful sweeps of his gossamer wings carried him aloft where black blended with black and he disappeared in the night sky. She stood a moment listening for him but not even a whisper of sound betrayed him. Turning away she began her own preparations for departure, having no intention of waiting until daylight. Ascot knew the way back to the cave far better than she did and his night vision was as good as any cat. She took him a measure of grain. As if sensing something was amiss he gave a soft chuffing sound and nuzzled her shoulder. She patted his neck. “Don’t worry. We’re going after him.” Leaving him to eat, she gathered the cooking utensils and carried them to the creek and washed them. When she returned them to the cave she saw that Roan had left her world’s things behind when they had left the cave. The significance was not lost on her. His world. His people. His things. He still withheld a part of himself from her. She was not, and never would be, truly a Nightflyer any more than he could be truly human. She rested for an hour then saddled Ascot and left, alternating riding with walking for both their sakes. Shortly before dawn she stopped beside a small stream in a grassy meadow. After hobbling Ascot so he could graze, she curled up in a blanket and slept for a few hours. Several times during the four-day ride, she saw the ships overhead, sometimes all three together, more often singly. She was fairly sure they weren’t Norans. The Noran ships she’d seen at the zoo were cylindrical and had rear-mounted propulsion units. These ships were flat and wedge shaped with swept-back wings and tall tails. The crew compartment rose like a bubble from the midsection. What were they looking for? She couldn’t imagine that they’d missed the Houdins’ village. The cottages were out in the open in the center of a grass-covered plain. The
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thatched roofs might blend with the grassland but surely these ships had heat sensors. She wasn’t sure about their ability to peek inside caves, but they’d hardly miss the trading center sitting as it did in the middle of a field with only a few trees nearby. It would be plainly visible from the air. Surely everyone had fled, either hiding deeper in the cave or taking to the woods. Perhaps the ships stayed in the area hoping the occupants of the village and the trading center would eventually return. Or had she led them here? Having missed Roan had they been quietly following her? She considered heading in the opposite direction but decided against that. Roan would expect her to come to the cave. Even if he had everyone else hidden he would stay there waiting for her. Besides, what if the individuals on these ships posed no threat? Midmorning of the second day she reached the woods edging the river valley. She reined Ascot to a stop at the top of the incline. Below, parked side by side on the tableflat volcanic rock bordering the river sat two of the planes. The third approached, following the river, moving in near silence before landing as delicately as a dragonfly setting down on a lily pad. The engine pods mounted on either side of the cabin pivoted—horizontal for normal flight and vertical for landing. Even before the ship eased to a stop beside the other two, it began adjusting its outer skin to blend with the surroundings. The transformation wasn’t perfect, but if she hadn’t known they were there she would have missed seeing them. They’d become blurred images against the nearly black rock. Three uniform-clad bipeds emerged from the exit hatch beneath the plane. They joined four others and together the group walked toward a camp of portable habitats set up in the field just across the river from the entrance of the cave. Surely this was too small a number to be invaders, their aircraft too small to house captives. She wished she had binoculars so she could make out the markings on the ships. One of them looked her way. She started to rein Ascot back deeper into the trees, but it was too late. One of the individuals pointed, directing everyone’s attention toward her. They simply stood and stared making no move to draw their weapons. Then one stepped forward and waved her down. She nudged Ascot with her heels and started him down the trail. She ought to be afraid, but she was more curious than fearful. They could be friendly. Surely the Norans weren’t the only aliens in space and not all aliens would be dangerous. She hoped. Ascot snorted uneasily letting her know that these were strangers. She patted his neck to reassure him. He ignored her and gave a sharp alarmed bark. She kept a tight hold on the reins, maintaining control, stopping him several feet away from the group. “Christ almighty, Colonel. That’s no alien!” The words circled through Tess’ mind for several long moments before she fully understood what she’d heard. English. English with a southern accent. She slipped from the saddle and stood on trembling legs. “I…you…” she stammered.
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“Morning, ma’am,” the spokesman drawled. “I’m Major Jeb Wilcox. This here is my commanding officer, Colonel Milton Crawford. We’re part of the aerial wing of the Council of Mertah.” He got no further. Tess looked from one face to the next. Two, the major and the colonel, were obviously from Earth. The others were aliens. The buzzing in her ears drowned out the major’s words as her legs gave way and she sat down with a thump. And all hell broke loose. “Oh shit,” she heard Colonel Crawford mutter, military posture momentarily forgotten. The “empty” cave had come alive. On point was Arnie carrying his handmade rifle. Flanking him were Nightflyers with wings spread, displaying their lethal claws. With them were almost as many Vasheer with cocked crossbows. One misstep and the encounter would become a bloodbath. “Don’t anybody get stupid,” Colonel Crawford said quietly. “I expect the lady belongs with them,” Major Wilcox said. “That would be my guess,” Colonel Crawford said. “Let’s us all step back a bit and let them come get her if they want to.” Tess struggled to restore function to her shocked mind. Arnie and Roan approached her, keeping a wary eye on their visitors. Roan knelt beside Tess and took her hand. “Are you all right?” he asked. Tess managed to nod. “We aren’t here to hurt anybody,” Colonel Crawford said. “We’re looking for some folks captured by the Norans…” Norans. Roan’s head snapped up and his lips rolled back in a feral growl. “I think you just said the magic word, sir,” Major Wilcox said. “I’d say we’ve found the folks who escaped from that zoo.” “Damn straight,” Arnie said. “And you jokers got ten seconds to drop your side arms and assume the position.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “’Case you don’t know what that is, it means get face down on the ground, hands behind your heads.” “We’re no threat,” Colonel Crawford said. “Last time some asshole in a uniform said that I served five years of hard time,” Arnie snarled. “Arnie, stop it,” Tess pleaded. Hanging onto Roan’s hand, she got shakily to her feet. She stood beside him swaying slightly. She took a deep breath. “You’ve got them outnumbered. There are only six of them. And, Arnie, they’re from home! Home! Don’t you get it? We’ve been rescued!” “I don’t need to be rescued,” Arnie said with grim delight. “Not when I’ve got me a fucking US of A high and mighty colonel and his flunkies by the balls. Sweet!”
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Ignoring him, Tess took several steps in Colonel Crawford’s direction and held out a shaking hand. “I’m Tess Lockhart, originally from Portland, Oregon. That’s James Arnet.” She pointed to Arnie. “We were abducted by aliens on J-j-june the…” Tess’ composure deserted her. Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. Roan hugged her while Arnie awkwardly patted her shoulder. He turned on Colonel Crawford. “Now look what you done!” He shoved his gun in the officer’s face. “Arnie, just stop it!” Tess demanded, sniffling as she brushed tears off her cheeks. “You can’t seriously be threatening a United States officer. Someone from home.” She looked around at the Nightflyers and Vasheer still poised to attack. “Stop it! All of you. These are people from my home world. You don’t need to be afraid of them. They didn’t come here to hurt anyone.” Slowly, with obvious reluctance, wings were pocketed and crossbows lowered. Only then did Tess see the Houdins who had been crouched down in the waist-high grass. “Damn,” murmured Major Wilcox. “We knew there were folks around here someplace, but we didn’t have a clue as to how many.” “There are a few Houdins, a thousand Nightflyers and several thousand Vasheer,” Tess said. “The ones with the wings are Nightflyers. The ones with the crossbows are Vasheer. There are no other sentient inhabitants on the planet that we know of.” “We didn’t see any others either,” Colonel Crawford said. “Of course, now that I see what we missed here, I’m not so sure we did such a good job of looking.” “Hiding is something we do very well,” Tess said. “Considering what we know about the Norans, I can understand why,” Colonel Crawford said. “I’m sure nobody here was interested in a return visit.” He turned to the men standing behind him. “Allow me to introduce my fellow officers. Majors Det Aknaw and Kitzy Henrane, Delorets from the Quini solar system, and Majors Turkelit and Spendrah Jabnoflits, brothers from the Bessica solar system.” The Delorets were tall and muscular with bright bronze skin and golden eyes. The Jabnoflits brothers weren’t as tall and their arms and legs were long compared to their compact torsos. All six of them wore headsets which, she realized, had to be some variety of translators. Nothing either pair said made the least bit of sense to Tess, but she could tell that the six understood each other. “Handy gadgets,” Major Wilcox said noting her interest. “I don’t begin to understand how they work. I just know that when I set mine to speak to me in English, that’s what it does.” “We’ve got a program that acquires new languages and translates them,” Colonel Crawford said. “All we have to do is establish some fundamental key phrases and the program does the rest. Won’t take long.”
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Tess smiled. “It will be interesting to see what you make of the Houdin’s language. So far my husband is the only person who understands even a fraction of what they say.” “We’ll give it a try,” Colonel Crawford said. Major Wilcox leaned closer. “Did you say husband?” “I’m sorry. I didn’t finish the introductions, did I?” She rested her hand on Roan’s arm. “My husband, Roan. This is his home planet,” she added. “Arnie brought us here because the environment was friendly. And he knew how to get here. He had no idea how to get back to Earth. Besides, Roan and the children…” “You have children?” Colonel Crawford interrupted, startled. “A son and another child on the way,” Tess replied. The colonel glanced in Roan’s direction. “Senji is definitely his father’s son.” Roan barely acknowledged the introduction and ignored the colonel’s outstretched hand. “I should make sure everyone is all right,” he said to Tess before moving away from the group. He headed for the cave where the aunties and children clustered back from the entrance, unsure about the intruders. Tess barely noticed. She plied their visitors with questions. Hours later, the sound of voices speaking English still sent a pulse of uncontrollable emotion throbbing through her. The night was half gone before Colonel Crawford and Major Wilcox said goodnight. The others had departed soon after Tess finished telling about her and Arnie’s capture and providing them with a sketchy idea of what life at the zoo had been like. Arnie contributed very little to the conversation, content to sit back and let Tess do the talking while he made deep inroads in the Colonel’s bottle of well-aged bourbon. Tess knew Arnie was not as pleased with their rescue as she was. He’d found a life here that gave him dignity. Even before they’d escaped from the zoo he’d taken pride in the fact that he could keep the zoo’s mechanical systems in good running order. He’d even found a measure of pride in his capture activities explaining that someone would be doing it if he wasn’t. Arnie’s single rule was survival. Whatever he had to do to insure his survival was justified. And it wasn’t as if his turning Itz down would have changed anything. Returning to the States would mean going back to being less than a second-class citizen. Here he was a person of importance. “Our primary mission,” Colonel Crawford said, drawing Tess’ attention back to the conversation at hand, “Is to stop advanced planets from preying on less developed ones. The Council’s first agenda is dealing with collectors like the Norans. The Council’s ultimate goal is peaceful coexistence.” “Like we have on Earth?” Tess asked. Colonel Crawford offered a half smile. “You have to give points for trying. Actually, Earth is pretty well united these days. Seems we humans are kind of like families. I can call my brother an idiot, but don’t you even think about it. Facing an outside threat like the Norans got pretty much everybody’s attention. They came back, 192
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you know. After your capture. But we were waiting for them. The second time they didn’t get past anybody’s early warning systems.” “How did they get through the first time?” she asked. “They used a cloaking device. Fortunately, the techno geeks worldwide put their heads together and came up with a counter measure.” “I think choosing Earth was considered a mistake,” Tess said. “The only other sentient species they collected were the Nightflyers.” “What happened to the other folks that were captured with you?” Major Wilcox asked. “Dead,” Tess replied. “How did you find us?” Arnie asked. “We planted bugs in some of the stuff the Norans left when they abandoned it. When the bugs went active we followed you right to your own front door.” “I never saw you,” Arnie grumbled, “and I kept an eye out.” “Our ships have full camouflage capabilities,” Colonel Crawford explained. “You aren’t supposed to see us.” “Then why did we?” Tess asked. “Because we felt it was time to make our presence known.” Colonel Crawford leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “Once we realized there were people living in this area and they didn’t have a high-tech society that might include a stash of lethal weapons, we wanted you to know we were around. Give you a chance to wrap your minds around our existence.” “How did you know we didn’t have high-tech weapons?” Arnie asked. “Easy,” Colonel Crawford answered. “There isn’t that kind of pollution in your atmosphere.” Arnie waved his hand at the parked ships. “Who’d you steal from?” “Excuse me,” Colonel Crawford replied, confused. “You guys were light years away from real space travel. Still working on orbiting space stations. How’d you figure out how to get here? We haven’t been gone that long.” Crawford shuckled. “Well, you’re right. We did steal, but it wasn’t robbery. The Norans weren’t the only ones who’d developed propulsion units we’d never even dreamed about. The Theocians were even a step beyond the Norans, but dedicated pacifists. They figured, rightly, that if they shared their technology with us we’d stop the Norans. And we did. I guess you could say that the United Nations of Earth, along with several other planet populations, are the armed guard. The inter-galactic police force.” Tess sat quietly letting their conversation flow around her listening not as much to what they said, but soaking up the sound of English and seeing familiar gestures and hearing laughter. Sounds of home. Across the way, Arnie met her glance. He shrugged
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and shook his head. She knew what he was telling her. He wouldn’t be going back. Not voluntarily. His life was here now. She’d considered that possibility but never doubted her own return. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d created a fantasy homecoming. Not so much because she felt she deserved accolades but because she’d survived. Her return would be a triumph. More than sufficient cause for a tickertape parade. Wouldn’t it? She spied Roan standing on the periphery of the group, Senji in his arms. The baby reached up and tugged on Roan’s ear. Roan ducked his head down to listen to Senji’s still mostly unintelligible babble. Senji spoke with absolute confidence in being understood and having his needs satisfied. Roan answered him and hugged him. Senji snuggled against him, his head on Roan’s shoulder. Something inside Tess twisted. As the conversation swirled around her, Tess studied the tall, leanly muscled being with whom she’d made a life. She’d walked with him, worked with him and slept in his bed. He’d given her children. She’d become so accustomed to his appearance that she’d stopped really seeing him. Now she saw. The pointed foxy chin, wide mobile mouth, sculpted nose and high cheekbones. Luminous eyes of pure turquoise set under slanted black brows. A coating of silky soft, sheer body down. And wings. Almost, but not quite, human with senses she barely understood. Echolocation and flight. The itchy discomfort of growing a winter pelt. She’d stopped seeing their differences. Until today. Today they had leaped into her consciousness with vivid clarity. She’d compared him to the two Americans. The others didn’t count. They were aliens. Like Roan. The memory of the night at the zoo when he’d folded his gossamer wings around her claiming her as his own came vividly to mind. She got up and walked to where he stood. Reaching up she cupped his cheek in her hand and said, “I love you. I love who you are and what you are. I’m proud of you and respect you. I don’t think I’ve remembered to tell you that before now. I should have.” Tears shimmered in his eyes, “And I love you. But they are…” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “They are people from where I used to live. I don’t live there anymore. I live here with you for as long as you want me.” “That would be for forever.” Tess smiled. She didn’t need to go home. She was home. The End
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About the Author Born in the Pacific Northwest, Isabel L. Martens crisscrossed the United States numerous times, first as an Air Force wife and then as the wife of a factory rep. She raised five children, worked, owned her own title abstracting business and wrote to preserve her sanity. When she retired, she turned her writing from a hobby to a vocation and enjoys nothing more than exploring the complexity of human emotions both today and in the future, when space travel becomes an everyday occurrence and different species and cultures collide. She currently lives in Georgia, snug in a downstairs apartment in her son’s house. Her constant companion is a Rhodesian Ridgeback named Eve. When she isn’t writing, she’s reading or watching one of her two favorite channels, Animal Planet or Discover Health. At least once a day, Eve takes her for a walk around the neighborhood. On good days, Eve gets to play with Molly, a Golden Retriever, or Caesar, a standard black poodle. Isabel thinks the only thing better than curling up with Eve and reading a good book is writing one. She hopes you enjoy reading her stories as much as she enjoyed writing them. The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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