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Alysha and Laelkii return to the living room where they left their respective mates, only to find the two men deep in a discusson of some moldy old air battle, their fascination with such “testosterone conversation” a matter of tolerant amusement for the two women. Maggie Hogarth commented that she “laughed a lot”, which pleased me. Paradox created by M. C. A. Hogarth and used with permission. Artwork is not necessarily canonical.
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The Visit
A vignette by Dave Bryant
Characters and background created by MCA Hogarth and used with permission
This work is copyright 2000 and is not in the public domain
May the gods grant you all things which your heart desires, and may they give you a husband and a home and gracious concord, for there is nothing greater and better than this—when a husband and wife keep a household in oneness of mind, a great woe to their enemies and joy to their friends, and win high renown.—Homer, The Odyssey, bk. VI, l. 180
“Almost there now,” the tall, wiry human commented absently, his hands dancing lightly, surely on the controls of the skylark as it soared above the mounting foothills. His companion and mate nodded equally idly, her gaze fixed on the thickly forested mountains ahead. Their destination was not quite that far into the back country, but the rugged, wildly beautiful sunlit vista drew the eye irresistably. The farther peaks, now hidden beyond the nearest ridgelines, still held snow on their highest reaches this early in the spring. “It’s beautiful up here. I’ll say this for him—he has good taste,” she murmured. A nod and knowing chuckle were the only answer.
They flew on in silence for another few minutes. At last, a display lit up, accompanied by a polite chime, and Fleet Admiral Matthew Brighthaven noted, satisfaction in his tone, “Ah. There it is.” A long, graceful finger flicked out to punch a key, and things began to happen. Below and ahead, on a small plateau, blue and white airfield lights flared to life, blinking or steady as their roles demanded, outlining a square expanse of dark asphalt. Rear Admiral Alysha Forrest glanced over to watch as the display changed and was echoed on the windscreen in front of the pilot’s position, delineating an invisible corridor in the air. Words and figures appeared and vanished helpfully as the man beside her guided the vehicle deftly toward the cluster of buildings served by the lit-up landing field.
The charcoal-gray feline brushed back her long, glossy black hair and drank in the sight of the peaceful-looking homestead toward which they descended. Left over from the early days of Selnor’s colonization, it had been mostly abandoned until nearly a quarter-century ago, when it had been refurbished to serve as both family home and outback medical clinic. Though it had received minimal maintenance during its long vacancy, a good deal of rebuilding clearly had gone into the rambling main house and the smaller outbuildings as well. Even the old siege-shutters had been replaced, the relatively new sheets of lightly armored alloy just visible in their normal open positions. Looking down at the steadily nearing settlement, a rush of excitement caught her by surprise, and she suddenly realized just how much she was looking forward to this reunion.
Another handful of minutes passed before the flyer touched down with barely a jar, but it seemed much longer to the now-eager Alysha. Immediately, she twisted the handle of the gull-wing door beside and above her and gave it a hearty push, swinging the portal up and away, then popped out of her seat with an alacrity that drew another chuckle from Matthew. She didn’t even bother to shut the door behind her, instead turning to look around, the soles of her boots clicking quietly on the pebbly tarmac. Her mobile ears flicked back at the sounds of muffled grunts and thunks—her mate fetching luggage, no doubt. She smiled a little, but felt no guilt; she’d been the one who’d packed it all into the vehicle before they set out.
She turned her attention again to the panorama before her and shook her head in mild wonder. The plateau was rimmed with forest, tall grassoids and other ground cover filling most of the balance of the flat ground. Backing it was a winding sweep of high cliff, rock peeking here and there from beneath a carpet of trees. At its farthest reach, where it retreated in a sort of V, a thin but spectacular waterfall provided a distant background thunder that only emphasized the alpine quiet. Opposite the rampart, the shoulder of the hill dropped away not quite so steeply, allowing a breathtaking view of the huge bay and port city-plex far below and miles away, hazy in the cool, bright early afternoon.
She was so absorbed in the spectacle that she started when Matthew appeared beside her, heralded only by the rumbling of the wheeled baggage he pulled. The planes of his rugged face were creased in a pleased smile, the short salt-and-pepper hair around it tugged by an errant breeze. “You’re right. He has very good taste, even if he was spending her money.” He chuckled again, and she couldn’t help but join him. “Let’s go. I’m sure someone’s coming out to meet us by now.”
They strode toward the main house with its all-round farmer’s porch; the thick, rough-looking stone walls rising out of the wild, though trimmed, yellow grassoid looked completely appropriate. Matthew’s surmise turned out to be correct. The double front door boomed open and small furry forms flooded out onto the porch, shouting and yelling, behind them a taller, lankier figure clad in blue jeans and work shirt. The latter paused and waved as the children swarmed down the short stair from porch to ground. In moments, the two visitors were surrounded by a bewildering crowd of white and black and calico kitten-children, clad in simple shirts and shorts or even in nothing at all, ranging from teens down to toddlers, their greetings a gabble of piping shouts and squeals.
Unable to proceed without tripping themselves or the youngsters, they paused. Alysha took the opportunity to try to count them—a doomed effort; like all children, they did not remain still long enough for such adult concerns. A grown-up voice cut through the babble. “All right, kids, that’s enough. Let them come in.” She looked up to see Ashley Browning, now standing nearby, shooing children back toward the house.
Alysha caught her breath. If it weren’t for his glossy black pelt and long, wavy black hair in its accustomed pony tail—both now streaked with more white and silver than she remembered—she might not have recognized him. Family life and the fact that his wife was also his personal physician had been good to him. His manner, his voice, his gestures were warm and animated, a far cry from the weary, dispirited man that had boarded Stardancer all those years ago, when war had come to the Alliance.
When he turned back, the littlest of the brood now swept up in his arms, her own small, chubby ones thrown around his neck, he was smiling broadly. “Nii-Ana, it’s good to see you two!” he told them heartily, his orange eyes clear and sparkling. “Come on in. Have you eaten?” He winked at Alysha. “Lael will be along in a minute; she had to clean up first. You know medicos—always on call.” He fell in with them as they resumed walking toward the house.
“Yes, we had a late breakfast before we left,” Matthew replied politely, unable to hold back a grin of his own at the irrepressible energy and good humor he’d witnessed. Alysha knew just how he felt; her own lips stretched in a bemused smile.
Ash nodded as they clumped across the planked porch. “Good, good.” He led the way through the still-open front doors, observing in a chiding tone, “Tsk! They didn’t shut the door behind them. They know better.” Once inside, he called out, “Lael? Lady-love, they’re here!” The half-timbered cathedral ceiling of the large main hall attempted to throw back his voice, but the echo was muted by the rugs arranged here and there on the rammed-earth floor, around and under unpretentious, comfortable-looking wood-and-fabric furnishings.
The two visitors exchanged an amused glance, realizing Ash himself had not shut the door either. When they turned back, another familiar figure was hurrying in from a small arch serving a hallway off to the side of the room. “Arii-sen!” cried retired Commander Laelkii Takara happily, rushing across the room to embrace each of her guests in turn.
Her figure, clad in practical clothing little different from her husband’s, was softened and rounded by age and repeated pregnancy, but she was still vibrant and beautiful, and her manner was even more warmly maternal than Alysha remembered. Laelkii, for her part, was equally appraising, and not bothering to hide it—something that certainly hadn’t changed. “You both look wonderful, arii-sen,” she added more quietly.
After releasing the toddler he’d been carrying to trundle off in search of playmates and at last pulling shut the outward-opening front doors, Ash returned to his wife’s side. He nuzzled her cheek and put an arm around her waist, letting her lean into him comfortably, then chipped in, “It seems strange to see you two out of uniform. But Lael’s right. You look great.”
“Ah, thank you.” Alysha self-consciously smoothed down the smartly cut leather jacket she wore—originally bought as a gag gift, but kept because it really did flatter her—and glanced down at her elegantly simple slacks-and-blouse ensemble. Beside her, she could sense Matthew’s gentle amusement, and she gave him a sidelong ironic glance. Truth to tell, though, she had to admit that his poet’s shirt, vest, and trews suited him very well indeed. “You two look . . . ” She shook her head, at a loss for words. “ . . . so alive! It’s amazing. And the children!” The charcoal-gray Karaka’an looked at both proud parents. “Just how many are there, anyway?”
“Lots!” was the smug response from the white-furred Asanii who’d borne them. Ash laughed, tsked again, and elaborated, “A even dozen, but not all of them are here—the oldest are off at school. She wanted more, but . . . ” Ignoring Laelkii’s gentle open-hand blow to his shoulder, he shrugged. “ . . . I didn’t think it was worth the risk to her.” He nuzzled her again, adding, “Well, you’re the doctor, love. You should know better.”
After a rebellious moment, Laelkii nodded. “It’s true,” she confessed to Alysha and Matthew. “I’d still like a few more, but I’m old enough now it’d be a strain.” Another smile lit up her face. “Here we are, keeping you standing around! Let’s get you settled in.” She stepped away from Ash, who grinned and brought up the rear as Laelkii bustled toward another archway, leading the guests off into the wing of the house that served as living quarters.
They abandoned the luggage in an untidy pile atop an expansive but uncomplicated bed. It nearly filled a small, cozy guest room, cheerful and homey like the rest of the rambling house through which they were conducted on a whirlwind tour. Appropriately for a growing family, everywhere was sturdy burnished wood, thick, brightly upholstered cushions, afghans, and rugged knick-knacks both historical and sentimental. Only the library, its heavy folding doors closed, and the handful of single-bed wards of the clinic were bypassed—the former because several of the children were at lessons, and the latter for obvious reasons of privacy and hygiene.
Alysha felt a little dizzy by the time their energetic hosts ended in the courtyard at an umbrella-sheltered outdoor table-and-chair set of a design that had remained in style for centuries. She and Matthew sat gratefully, catching their metaphorical breath and stretching out a little, relaxing for the first time since rising hours before. It was only after a few moments, as Ash settled into another seat opposite them and Laelkii bustled back into the house, that they realized just what a spectacle the other couple had chosen to climax the rapid-fire peregrination.
Originally a landing field similar to the one on which their skylark currently rested, the courtyard had been turned into a beautifully landscaped atrium, flagstone walkways delineating concentric sectors given over to different purposes. The area in which they sat, extending from the arcade that formed the counterpart to the exterior perimeter’s covered porch, was paved with rammed-earth blocks much like those inside the house, but beyond, to left and right of the central path, were sandbox and grassy playground—both currently unoccupied—then riotously colorful beds of flowers and other plants, wild species but well-tended. The far side seemed to be a mirror image, aside for the lack of a sandbox—but what drew the eye, and the paths, was the tree at the middle.
It was one of the largest nelligrays Alysha could remember seeing. The smooth gray trunk soared up gracefully from near the exact center of the courtyard and exploded into a sheltering canopy stretching halfway over the roof of the nearer wings of the surrounding house. Dappled sunlight reached the patios at the long ends of the courtyard, explaining the umbrella at this and the other scattered tables. The foliage had been visible during their aerial approach, but it had only hinted at the dramatic setting below.
Following their gaze, the lanky Asanii man grinned. “We don’t know where Old Graybeard came from. It wasn’t there when the place was abandoned, but it’s been around at least for the last century. Satellite imagery records of this area are pretty spotty, so it’s anybody’s guess. The Historical Commission figures some transient planted it accidentally or on purpose when he squatted here for a while.”
Returning with a tray of tumblers and a pitcher of iced herbal tea, Laelkii overheard and nodded, laughing. “At first they wanted to cut it down. Part of the contract is that we have to maintain certain things as they were historically. But when some of them came up here for an inspection, they changed their minds, so we got to keep him.”
Both Alysha and Matthew murmured appreciatively in agreement—it was hard to imagine anyone with a grain of aesthetic sense being immune to the tree’s charm. Laelkii set out the tumblers and filled them with the brisk and efficient manner Alysha remembered so well before settling herself next to her husband, their hands seeking one another, fingers twining with unconscious, unerring accuracy. The cool, spicy-sweet tea and quiet, easy conversation interspersed with gentle laughter was amazingly soothing, and lazy hours passed punctuated only by the sudden bang of doors.
Tides of children ebbed and flowed across the playground and sandbox, and even the porch, noisy but rarely so loud as to drown out their elders’ talk. One or a few of the youngsters occasionally lit temporarily in some of the other chairs, to be introduced or even to take part in the discussion before shyness or other concerns took them away again like a flight of birds. It was a magical time, and Alysha drank it in with the tea, feeling a luminous peace that she knew from sideways glances Matthew seemed to share, for his expression glowed with a faint bemused smile.
Evening approached, the sun westering behind the house, bringing shadows to the courtyard, not yet deep for the sky overhead was still bright. The kittens melted away gradually in ones and twos, returning to the haven of the sheltering house. Finally, Laelkii leaned over to kiss Ash’s short muzzle, breaking in with, “It’s time we got dinner on the table.” She turned and added, “Alysha, come and help me supervise the kids. Matthew, you’ve been looking around all afternoon like you’re trying to set up watches and strongpoints. Ashley can tell you all about this place, if you want.” She shot her spouse a tolerantly amused expression as he affected innocence for a moment before chuckling and nodding.
The two women watched for a few moments as their mates wandered down one of the paths, the Asanii pointing and gesturing as he explained the architecture and background of the homestead to the human who, of the four of them, knew relatively little of the Alliance worlds’ early histories. They turned and strolled toward the Dutch door that opened on the kitchen, neither quite willing to give up completely the tranquil mood of the day.
It was Alysha that broke the companionable silence. “You two have been so good for each other. If it weren’t for all that grizzling in his fur, he’d look younger than he did when we first met him. And you, Snowhide . . . how long has it been since you stopped having the nightmares?”
Laelkii drew up short, her hand on the doorknob, and stared at Alysha. “What?”
Her voice gentle, the Karaka’An elaborated, “The shuttle. Justin. Your daughters. Their father.” She enumerated the shocks that had, for so long, haunted the white-furred woman and troubled her sleep, even her sanity at times. But Alysha’s knowing eye saw no sign of them, just a peace and a quiet pride that had always been there, but now had blossomed into almost an elemental force.
Laelkii’s brown eyes unfocused as she looked into the past. “I . . . “ she started, then paused, her ears tipping outward a little as she thought. “I don’t remember. A long time. I never really thought about it before.” She returned her astonished gaze to her friend of so many years. “I haven’t forgotten them, though,” she added hastily.
Alysha laughed, a warm, happy sound, and hugged the older woman for a moment. “Good!” Then both of them smothered giggles as her stomach growled in protest, and they went inside to take charge of the incipient chaos of children setting out food and utensils.
Dinner was every bit the adventure Alsyha anticipated. It was all she could do to appear as composed as her old friend while children of all sizes flew hither and yon, seemingly missing disaster by inches as they bore stacks of plates, bowls, tumblers, silverware, and all the other necessities of a gracious meal to the long, heavy, and very old-looking trestle table that ran the length of the high-vaulted dining hall. Laelkii presided with the same calm air that had served well in the tiny clinic run by her first husband, Nathan, and for so many years on Stardancer, directing her offspring and tending to the final preparations.
The menfolk reappeared, chatting and laughing, as the white-furred Asanii woman deftly filled platters and serving bowls with generous abandon, dispatching them to table in the arms of young bearers with the efficiency of an assembly line. Without missing a beat, Ashley took charge at the other end of the journey, directing the dishes to their destinations and assigning seats. Matthew met his mate in the wide arch that joined the hall to the kitchen, both of them carefully edging well to the side lest some small furry projectile carom off them, perhaps consiging china and contents to a shattering doom on the rammed-earth floor.
“Oh, you’re finally back!” Laelkii called out cheerfully. “Setting out the food is better than a magical spell for summoning the men,” she added mock-solemnly to Alysha, who nodded equally solemnly in return, lips quirking with the effort to suppress a smile.
“Sexism!” cried Ashley, waving a finger in the air. “Shame on you. And in front of the children, too. Tsk!” This was greeted by high-pitched giggles from said children as one after another they set down their last burdens and clambered into seats, watched benevolently if carefully by their father.
“Well, dear, who is it that did all the work while you were off playing with your friend?” riposted Laelkii in an all-too-sweetly reasonable tone. She dried her hands on a large, fluffy dish towel, tossing it into a small laundry chute on her way to join her family, and winked at her guests, eyes twinkling merrily and tail-tip swinging lazily. They followed, needing no further invitation.
Straightening from the delicate task of fastening a high chair around the youngest and dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head, Ash assumed a creditably indignant look. “I’ll have you know I was being a good host, my love. Besides, we went out and moved the skylark.” His tone, though still light, was a little more serious with the latter statement.
Matthew cleared his throat and interjected, “Ash mentioned you might need the room on the pad, and we took the opportunity to tie down the ’lark while we were at it.”
“Good,” the older woman replied with a nod, no longer joking. “Sometimes the winds can kick up unexpectedly. It would be just our luck they’d choose tonight, if you hadn’t.” She rounded the end of the table and leaned up to kiss her husband, their pelts, white and black, a striking but pleasing contrast even with the fading of age. Alysha was startled by the insight and unsettled by the reminder of her friends’ and by extension her and her mate’s mortality, but it was a momentary uneasiness in the face of laughter and boisterous energy, and she sat down beside Matthew in the midst of happy noise and chatter.
As the meal progressed, she understood why the night-and-day couple had taken the time during the afternoon to talk with their guests. What with the eating itself, the passing of dishes, the firm but good-humored parental guidance, and the vivacious, sometimes contrary children, there was little chance to carry on a coherent conversation. Matthew and Alysha exchanged glances of amused resignation and shrugged fractionally, then emulated the hearty appetites around them and dug in.
The flurry of reaching and passing seemed intimidatingly like a free-for-all, but gradually they realized there was a sort of rhythm to it, and she couldn’t help smirking as Matthew visibly gritted his teeth and plunged his hand into the fray. When he pulled back not only a whole limb but the platter for which he’d reached, his apparent mild surprise drew a snort—then unabashed laughter at the brief glower he shot her from under lowered brows.
The food was simple but plentiful and delicious—fresh warm sourdough rolls and chilled salad and fruit, a rich lasagna prepared the day before and allowed to age to perfection, and sweet, tender sleekfish, all topped off with a rooderberry cobbler that, relying only on the berries’ natural sweetness, pleased the palates of adults and children alike. When at last the dust settled and the wreckage lay strewn across the long table, peace returned temporarily as the younger set trooped off to attend to after-dinner ablutions.
“Do you always eat like this?” Matthew asked, one hand gesturing widely at the remains. His tone was determinedly casual, but Laelkii grinned back mischievously, divining the astonishment under it.
“Well, we don’t usually put on something this spectacular, but we do try to make sure the kids have a good, healthy diet—and one they’ll like well enough to eat without fussing too much,” she replied complacently. “Tonight, though, we wanted something special, both for you and for them.”
“It was wonderful, Snowhide,” Alysha said with quiet sincerity, and Laelkii’s grin broadened.
“You’re welcome,” was the impish reply. Then a white ear cocked, and she added over Ash’s soft chuckle, “Here comes the thundering herd again, back to help clear the dishes.”
That was all the warning they got, but in fairness the activity was far less frenetic, and Alysha and Matthew felt reasonably secure about staying in their seats. When at long last the tablecloth was folded up and whisked away from the bare table, it was well past nightfall and a cool breeze carried the somnolent buzz and creak of insects from outside.
Left to their own devices temporarily while Ash and Laelkii tended to evening parental duties, tucking in the younger children and settling the older ones in quieter activities, Alysha and Matthew wandered back into the main hall aimlessly. “Make yourselves at home, arii-sen,” Laelkii had invited them. “This will only take a little while.” After a few minutes luxuriating in the cool, quiet evening and the deep sense of security exuded by the stoutly built house and furnishings, they both noticed the invitingly open doors of the nearby library, now empty of students, and exchanged a glance. With the instant accord of a long-established couple, they strolled over to the wide doorway, peering in curiously.
The ancient perfume of paper and leather wafted to their noses, clean and soothing as the room from which it came. Computer terminals dominated the center of the room in their neat carrels of wood and frosted double-paned windowplast, surrounded by chest-high wood shelves for storage media. Surprisingly, though, the bookshelves and reading tables that in turn surrounded them and lined the room's perimeter were little higher, the tops of the oversize books in the highest shelves no more than five feet from the floor.
Both of them caught their breath when they raised their eyes and saw the reason why. The walls of the entire room, aside from those shelves and the airy clerestory windows near the high ceiling, were occupied by framed portraits and photographs in profusion, winding like a mountain stream along the walls. They stepped fully into the welcoming quiet and turned in place, following the progress of the artwork around the room, realizing that part of one wall was still mostly bare, only a few perfunctory wall-hung knick-knacks balancing the space, obviously only until more portraiture came to fill it.
Alysha’s brows drew together thoughtfully and she drifted forward to the old, old photographs closest to the door—actual film-and-paper photos matted with brittle yellow newsprint clippings. She was hardly conscious of Matthew’s presence behind her and his fading puzzlement as she read the headlines, reaching out to trace her fingertips lightly across the glass sealing one from the ravages of open air. “St. Petersburg Times, January 27, 2008. ‘Fox-Girl Symbol of Genetic Engineering Debate’,” she read under her breath. Her tone was surprised, almost reverent. “Joy.”
Matthew’s sharp breath of sudden recognition drew only a flick of her ear as she turned and started pacing slowly along the flow of pictures. It fell into place then as she saw pictures of Triple Helix scientists, of their creations, of Holly in her proud, grieving defiance—the last in a style she’d come to know: Ashley’s. She moved on, a mix of emotions gathering in her belly, her human mate trailing behind.
There were a few more historical works, marking the rise of the Alliance, the return of humanity, and more recent ones, clearly of childhood family and friends, both Laelkii’s and Ash’s. Beyond these, though, Alysha stopped dead in front of a cluster of viseo stills and pen-and-ink studies, astonishment writ large in her face and stance. Matthew stepped closer and was struck still by the same spell, and it seemed like minutes later that they turned their heads to exchange incredulous looks.
A much younger Alysha Forrest looked back at them, positively radiating determination, Ashley’s lovingly detailed inks seeking to capture the mingled pain and joy of those tumultuous years in the Academe when she was Fleet cadet by day, illicit dancer-prostitute by night to pay her way. Everyone else was there as well: Matthew with his Olympian patriarchal distance, striving to present a beacon and example as his own doubts raged; quiet, competent Alastar, even a small one of roguish, charming Baner.
The obvious centerpiece of that part of the arrangement, though, was a finished sketch of Nathan Lifeweave, Laelkii’s long-gone first husband, flanked by two pictures of Laelkii, the first laughing and carefree in a flowing gown-dress of the sort she’d worn so often then, the other shadowed with gentle sadness yet unbowed in her immaculate Fleet cadet uniform. Their eyes moved again, moving forward through time, picking out faces and scenes familiar and not—the latter probably belonging to Ash’s life rather than Laelkii’s. When distance made the art hard to make out, the silent watchers walked as if patrons in a museum, occasionally pointing out something of particular note to one another as they passed or paused.
Finally, as they had come to expect, babies and children began to appear, many of them the same boys and girls they had met only that day. Family scenes dominated, but still the occasional friend or current event appeared, including one of Alysha’s elevation to flag rank. At last, as they faced the wall opposite the entrance, she shook her head and half-whispered to Matthew, “History. It’s a history lesson for the children.”
“It’s almost as effective as a textbook in some ways . . . and far more satisfying to create,” came a quiet voice from behind them. They pivoted to see Ashley silhouetted in the open doorway. He waved a hand to bring up the lights a little more before moving toward them, hands clasped behind him. In an absent tone, he added, “Laelkii’s off making evening rounds in the clinic. She’ll be back in a bit.”
For a moment, his glance lingered on the grouping at which his guests had paused before he turned back to them with a curious intensity. “In a way, you could call it a family album, too,” the Asanii went on in the same gentle tone with which he’d begun. He swept out a hand, palm up, to encompass the exhibit. “But Lael and I wanted something more than just another viseo soft-archive . . . and we wanted to teach our children that our history didn’t start in the laboratory.”
“Doesn’t it?” Matthew asked, his tone curious rather than accusing. “What about Joy and Holly and the exodus?” He nodded toward the first exhibits.
Ashley’s answer was characteristically oblique. “One of the women I . . . knew on Stardancer was a young Hinichi ensign on her first deployment. Like most of them, she was fairly devout, if somewhat, ah, flexible in some of her interpretations.” Alysha hid a knowing smile behind a hand, but the Asanii man’s rueful expression acknowledged her reaction. As a participant in the wartime artist-observer program, he had been the only male on the battlecruiser—and a civilian at that—so he couldn’t help but cut a swath through the all-female crew. Until one Doctor Takara had extracted a promise from him, one neither of them had ever regretted.
He went on with a slightly dogged air. “We talked about it once, which isn’t surprising, really. But I’ve always remembered one of her comments, because it expressed perfectly exactly how I felt. She said that if humans are the children of God, and made in His image, then the Pelted must be the grandchildren of God, because we’re made in man’s image. I never found out if she was serious or joking, because she died not long after in that submunition-minefield ambush.” For a moment, remembered pain flickered in his eyes, echoed by the veteran admirals whose orders had sent so many to similar fates over the years.
“We’re family, all of us, every bit as much as if we Pelted were your own flesh and blood.” The Asanii gestured to Matthew, the only human present. “I could make a case that we are—you two could have children if you wanted them. The differences from one of us to another is only a handful of genes in a thousand.”
Alysha frowned thoughtfully and tilted her head. “You’re teaching your children that they’re human?” she asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral.
Orange eyes narrowed briefly in a keen look. “Genetically, we are, mind and body, if that’s what you mean. We have the same angels and demons in us, and understanding them is a lot easier if you study human history.” Suddenly another faint smile quirked the blunt muzzle. “But you should know that—you read Sun Tzu and von Clausewitz and Niccolo Machiavelli too.”
A small laugh was startled out of the Karaka’an woman, and she had to nod. “Yes, I did, and I think you’re right. But there are a lot of people who would disagree rather vigorously.”
A flick of the hand and a snort dismissed the naysayers. “They just want to feel superior to humans. So they stick their noses in the air and remind everyone of all the horrible things that happened just before the exodus and how terrible and lonely it was for our ancestors to exile themselves on all those distant worlds with almost no equipment.” Trenchant disgust colored Ashley’s tone.
“They carefully forget the rest. The Balance knows there must have been more than enough sadists and plain thoughtless idiots among the public, let alone the genetic engineers. But even at the time there was a lot of argument over the ethics. You can see that just in the Times article. And, of course, creating Joy was technically illegal under United States federal law of the day, which only added to the mess.” Somehow it didn’t surprise Alysha that Ashley knew the name of the long-vanished nation in which the tumultuous events had started.
“Still, most of those scientists saw themselves as pioneers, trying to understand how life itself worked, and they honestly loved the people they created as their own children. I can’t imagine why else they would call that first little fox ‘Joy’.” Ashley shrugged, hands once more behind his back. “Anyway, I believe we have a stake in human history, too, just as much as we do in Asanii history. So we teach our children both.”
A familiar laugh sounded from the doorway. “Preaching again, dear?”
The three of them turned to see a gently smiling Laelkii leaning against the door frame, arms folded. She had changed from her tomboyish work clothing of the day, and Alysha blinked as vivid memory overlaid for a moment the image of the older woman, stirred by the simple, graceful lines of the gown-dress she wore now, so like the style she had favored those decades ago in Selnor’s suburbs. The spell was broken when the white-furred Asanii straightened and approached, her step just that faint bit crisper from habit ingrained by a long career in uniform.
She shook her head, her eyes on her husband, drawing her guests’ eyes back to him as well; Ash's tail-tip and triangular black ears had sagged in chagrin, and he shrugged sheepishly. Laelkii laughed again and reached up to tug on one of those lowered ears. “I’m just teasing, Ash-arii.” Her warm, tender tone burnished the nickname with far more than the simple affection it usually merited.
Laelkii favored Alysha and Matthew with the same quiet smile. “We’re both proud of it,” she added sincerely. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but when Ash suggested it, it seemed like a wonderful idea.” She looked up at her spouse once more, eyes twinkling, and tweaked his ear again as his natural good humor reasserted itself.
“Rounds are over for the evening, and all the kids are settled,” she announced briskly. “It’s a bit chilly to go back out to the porch, but we can talk some more in the living room.” Taking charge by the simple expedient of looping her arm in Ash’s, she started off.
Just as they were about to leave the room, Matthew paused, frowning at an oddly mismatched picture hanging near the door on the wall obviously reserved for future expansion of the unusual “family album”. He waved a hand at the ancient sepia-tone, its subject in the stiff, artificial sort of pose that characterized portraiture at the dawn of photography. “Who is this?” he asked curiously.
Ashley Browning turned back, glancing up at the bowler-hatted, fiercely mustached man casually holding a lever-action rifle muzzle-up. A lurking grin lit his muzzle as he replied nonchalantly, “Him? Oh, he was probably the single most important firearm designer of the three centuries before the Exodus.” He paused for effect before adding, “His name was John Browning.”
Ash straightened just a touch stiffly and stretched. The merry blaze he’d just built crackled and popped in the huge ashlar fireplace, warming the otherwise unlit great hall as much with its cheery red light as with its heat. He returned to the rugged wood-frame couch set at right angles to the hearth and settled into it with a tired but happy sigh, spreading his arms along its back and crossing his ankles on one of the several hassocks occupying the space normally reserved for a coffee table. Immediately, his wife hitched over to lay the back of her head on his shoulder and cross her own ankles atop his with a proprietary air.
Alysha, lounged back on the matching couch opposite beside her own mate, chuckled at the easy affection of her old friends. Privately, she marvelled at how different it seemed from the more formal, albeit no less loving, atmosphere of Laelkii's first marriage—yet she had no trouble reconciling the two. The old adage that couples often took on one another’s traits certainly seemed borne out in this case.
The white-furred Asanii grinned at her as broadly as the Cheshire cat, radiating contentment. “So, you two. I'm glad to see you finally took my advice . . . but you’ve never explained how you managed to overcome your stubborn nobility.” Her tone was gently teasing, but behind it was a genuine curiosity and an undeniable satisfaction.
The other couple glanced at each other. Matthew smiled crookedly and gestured for Alysha to tell the story. The charcoal-furred Karaka’an took a deep breath, as much to gather her thoughts as anything else.
“Well . . . you both know I got my first star and my assignment as Academe commandant at the same time. I was informed of both in the same despatch, as a matter of fact. The Admiralty decided, after the war, that they wanted commandants with experience in combat as well as diplomacy and exploration. If it happened once, it could happen again. I think they’re right,” she added parenthetically.
“I was nervous.” She paused a moment, surprised at her own frankness—but these were people she could trust, and had trusted, with her life. “Everything went off without a hitch, though. They combined the promotion and the transfer of command in one ceremony, so it was very public, with more officials and senior officers than I could count.”
Alysha grinned suddenly, her teeth flashing in the firelight. “A certain someone was missing, though.” She reached to dig a knuckle hard into the ribcage of the human sitting beside her, earning a grunt and an injured look.
“What she isn’t telling you is that the Admiralty, in its infinite wisdom, had called me away to serve on a board of inquiry,” Matthew interjected with great dignity. He favored his mate with a haughty expression and added, “I certainly would have been there otherwise.”
“We believe you,” the dark-pelted woman assured him with mock condescension, patting his knee. “Anyway, I felt wonderful, of course—even exalted. But it was a little disappointing that the only stuffed shirt I wanted to see wasn’t there.” Matthew rolled his eyes melodramatically but held his peace.
“I didn’t find out until later that he’d insisted they use his old rank tabs and commandant’s pin in the ceremony.” Alysha paused, memory of her astonishment still bright. When she continued, her tone was softer. “I was wearing the earrings he gave me, too. It made me realize how far we’d both come—and it made me realize I wasn’t a cadet any more, looking up a high cliff of rank at an admiral. All the obstacles had faded away one by one over the years, and it was only then I noticed.”
Her look this time was gentler and not at all teasing, and Matthew smiled back, eyes crinkled. “Most of all, though, I realized that through it all, he’d waited, and patiently at that. He was always there, and I knew it, but he never put any pressure on me.” Alysha sat up, pulling her digitigrade legs from the half-height footstool she’d been using, and leaned forward, ears perked.
“I met him at the shuttle port when he came back. It was a formality, but when I saw him step out of the boarding tube, I looked at him with fresh eyes, I guess you could say. I noticed all the creases and silver hair I hadn’t really seen before.” She shrugged and held up her hands again. “I thought back to things you said, Snowhide, about letting too much time go by, and suddenly I couldn’t stand it any more. I didn’t do something dramatic like jump into his arms, but he knew anyway.”
With his accustomed smoothness, Matthew caught up the thread of the story. “It’s not hard to read expressions and body language on a Pelted after decades of practice, especially someone you know as well I as knew her. So I offered her my arm, and she accepted. All very proper and dignified, of course, but it was different this time.” His sudden grin was surprisingly shy, and Ash and Laelkii both responded with smiles of their own.
Alysha chuckled again and sat back. “Dinner was very romantic . . . and so was breakfast in bed,” she finished with an admirably straight face.
Ash, ears perked attentively, had begun nuzzling Laelkii’s ear. Now he mumbled something, too softly for the other couple to catch, and his wife’s face abruptly puckered into a startling mix of outrage and suppressed laughter. She pinched his shoulder hard and scolded him sotto voce, “Ash! Be nice!” Ignoring his posture of innocence, she cleared her throat and turned a bright-eyed expression on her bemused guests. “Good for you. I really was worried you’d never work it out. It was so hard watching you never reaching out for the happiness I could see was right there in front of you.”
“I know, Snowhide,” the younger woman replied in a gentle voice. “I just wanted to be sure that happiness would be on my terms.” Her hand sought Matthew’s and squeezed it, lingering there in a rare open display of affection. “In fact, I remember telling you my idea of happiness wasn’t a husband, a farmhouse, and an army of children.” Now it was Alysha’s turn to question without asking. “Obviously it turned out to be yours, though.”
Laelkii momentarily looked as puzzled as her husband, then her eyes widened and her ears perked. “Balance! I’d forgotten all about that conversation.” She laughed and shook her head at the irony. “Where to start?” she mused.
“At the beginning?” the irrepressible Ashley interjected. He was rewarded for his pains with another poke in the ribs, and he dutifully fell silent.
The white-furred Asanii gathered her thoughts for another moment. “Everything was pretty confused after the war ended—you remember.” The other couple nodded. “Terracentrus was a madhouse.” She waved a hand. “All those bureaucrats, diplomats, and returning Fleet personnel everywhere. We couldn’t even get a slot in BOQ, even after we were married, and once I mustered out, we were’t eligible any more, anyway. All we could find was a loft apartment clear across the city.” A grimace flitted across her face.
Into the brief pause, Ash interjected quietly, “Personally, I think it was just as well. It was also across the city from where you first met, Alysha.” For all his occasional awkwardness or clowning, the black-furred Asanii also displayed an adroid tactfulness at need: that fateful meeting had taken place at the suburban clinic and home Laelkii had shared with Nathan.
His wife nodded, her long, long hair sliding against his shoulder. “I wanted to start a family right away, and Ash was more than willing—” She smiled up at the black-furred face nearly silhouetted in the dim, ruddy light. “—but we couldn't do that in a single room, no matter how big it was. Besides, I wanted to start my own practice just like Nathan’s.”
She sighed and leaned back against her husband’s supporting shoulder and chest. “It was hard on the nerves, crowded into that little flat, but Ash was so patient. He knew what I wanted, but he never really let on what he was looking for, except that he wanted a little more room too.” Another glance tacitly passed the narrative, and Ash cleared his throat.
“I knew what I was looking for, in a general sense. Mostly it was sort of aimless, wading through the u-banks. I couldn’t have done it without one of the D-per research librarians at Terracentrus University. We got to chatting a couple of times, partly because I was so vague about my search parameters and she wanted to get a better idea of context.” He fidgeted and tugged at one ear in a familiar gesture of embarrassment.
“She found this little soft-news article on some of the old settler homesteads, talking about how they were crumbling away and going on about their historical value. She said it was the name of this one that caught her eye.” He smiled again, raising a hand palm-up. “The Second Chance.”
Alysha threw her head back and laughed delightedly, and after a moment of thinking it through, Matthew joined her. The other couple’s laughter was quieter, and when it had run its course, Ash continued, “I liked the name enough that I looked it up. It was . . . perfect: mountains, a view of the sea during the day and city lights at night, and lots and lots of room, inside and out. So I got in touch with the Historical Commission. The rest, as they say, is history.” He spread his arms.
His wife, white fur and gown-dress stained a shifting kaleidascope of reds and yellows by the slowly lowering fire, shook her head. “What he isn’t telling you is that he handled all the negotiations himself, with the help of an acquaintance in a legal clinic . . . and without giving me even a hint he was doing it! I think he would have waited even longer before telling me, but he had to spoil the surprise because—” She broke off, looking uncharacteristically uncertain, and glanced up at him again.
“Because I owned nothing more than what I had carried with me from Stardancer. Everything we had, aside from that, was Laelkii’s, including the money.” Ash's reedy voice was sober. “I needed to make sure she would like it too before we made a financial commitment.”
Matching his mood, Laelkii’s voice was equally soft. “All he told me was that he had a surprise. We rode up here in a Commission bluejay, which was confusing enough, but he insisted on keeping the windows shuttered and made me close my eyes when I got out.” Her eyes misted and her voice wavered for a moment as she relived the moment of revelation, and she finished, “I liked it too.”
“It wasn’t much to look at then, of course, being half-ruined,” Ash added hastily.
“But he took me through the house, along with a couple of commissioners, and told me where he thought the clinic could go, and where we could live, and how we could get everything fixed up.” She reached up a slim hand to touch Ash’s cheek and muzzle. “I didn’t care about the missing windows or fallen timbers or sagging walls, because he told me how beautiful it could be. And he was right.” The same hand gestured at the sound, homey room around them, and despite themselves, the spellbound guests glanced around once more.
“We went out to the courtyard last.” Now Laelkii’s voice was impish again. “It was Old Graybeard that clinched it for me. We signed the papers there in the shade of the tree.”
More to come . . . Ω
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