Текст книги "Over a Torrent Sea "

Автор книги: Christopher Bennett

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It was an awesome spectacle when the asteroid chunks finally drilled into Droplet’s atmosphere some ten minutes later. Melora had taken the shuttle up into the tenuous outer fringes of atmosphere to avoid the effects of impact, planning to dive back down to retrieve Riker and Lavena. Ra-Havreii’s eyes were glued to the aft sensor display as the first chunk cut a fiery swath through the atmosphere at startling speed and then became a blinding fireball at the bottom of its dive. When the light faded, an enormous cloud of pulverized and vaporized rock and water was expanding into the air, with one long pillar of dust streaming out beyond it, sucked up into the tunnel of vacuum the asteroid had carved into the atmosphere. Spectacularly, the second chunk came in just behind it, colliding with the outcoming chimney of dust and splashing it outward. A string of brilliant flashes strobed through the dispersed pillar, a mix of lightning within the dust and explosions as the force of the impact vaporized parts of the asteroid and detonated its heavy elements. The third, smallest chunk came in close on their heels, vanishing from view before the light of the second impact, and then creating its own smaller blast of light seconds later. Then there were only the turbulent clouds of dust and vapor spreading through the atmosphere at multiple levels, billowing out from the disrupted vacuum chimneys.

It would have been beautiful, Ra-Havreii thought, if he hadn’t been in that exact spot less than half an hour earlier. As always when he had a close brush with death, he found himself dwelling on what might have happened, his keen mind letting him imagine it all in vivid, clinical detail. It would have been quick this time, perhaps taking him be fore he even realized it. His whole brilliant life cut off in its prime, with so many problems unsolved, so many ambitions unrealized, so many regrets…

“Melora?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

It was a moment before he realized she was staring at him, which in turn led him to realize what he’d just said. Had that really come out of his mouth?

“I love you too,” she said, and that confirmed it.

Their hands clasped, and they turned back to monitoring the impact.

DROPLET

The squales remained deaf to Lavena’s desperate pleas until the horizon lit up with a series of bright flashes. “Now do you believe us?” Riker called. Not waiting for the unlikely event of an answer, he decided to take advantage of their confusion, bringing the gig’s motor to full power and running the distracted blockade as soon as she was back in the boat. He had to swerve between two squales’ tentacles, but the creatures were taken by surprise and made only a token effort to snatch at the boat.

“Can we get far enough in time?” Lavena called over the rush of the waves as she pulled her hydration suit back on.

“No way of knowing. But if we’re too close now,” he admitted, “that’s not likely to change. I’m basically trying to gain enough speed to ride the wave.” He threw her a glance, noting her unease. “Wish you could just dive down and swim away?”

“With that shock wave hitting me? I’m safer in the air.”

“Don’t be so sure. There’s going to be a hell of a hot wind blowing our way—and that’s after the atmospheric shock wave hits. Try to cover your ears.”

Lavena looked worried. “Captain…if storm winds can kick up heavy waves…then what…”

“Say no more,” he said, pushing the engine to its limits. So much for riding the tsunami.

The airborne shock wave came first, thunder pounding into them with the force of a phaser barrage. He almost lost control of the boat. He wasn’t even sure when the noise passed, for the ringing in his ears was nearly as deafening (not literally, he prayed, though that was the least of his worries). Within a few minutes, he felt the first surge of hot wind from behind. “Here it comes!” he cried, barely hearing himself. He looked back and saw a turbulent wave racing toward them, spanning nearly half the horizon and looming higher and higher as it drew near. And it would just be the first. “Brace yourself!” he cried. He hoped that at the right time he’d be able to angle the boat sideways, to ride along the swell lengthwise like a surfer.

But he didn’t have a chance. Darkness loomed over the boat, darkness that hauled back and kicked the whole gig into the air, and the next thing he knew, he was in the water, turbulence spinning him, disorienting him. The roaring noise tore into his head, pummeled his body like fists. A cloud of red billowed out from over his eyes. Trying to right himself, he saw the gig well out of reach and being carried farther along the front of the swell. But it was inverted, empty. A moment later he thought he saw Aili’s form flailing in the water, unwieldy in its hydration suit. He thought her hands were clamped to her ears, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t hold on to any perception, any thought, for more than an instant before the roaring washed it away. He couldn’t hold on to…

Breath…

Knocked from his lungs on impact…He tried to stop his body from gasping for air, but it was already too late…water choked him…choked his thoughts…

Imzadi!

TITAN

“Will!”

Deanna jerked awake, knowing she was in sickbay, but she was somewhere else too. In the water, drowning…

“Counselor, what is it?” Tuvok was in the next bed, looking at her sharply. He understood the bond she had with her husband, knew her cry was no nightmare.

“Will’s in danger, on the planet. We have to…”

Ree had arrived, his fearsome hands closing gently on her shoulders as she tried to rise. “Easy, Counselor. I advise against undue strains.”

“Will’s in danger,” she repeated. “Tell the bridge.”

The ship shuddered, and Deanna’s heart raced, still on edge from the explosions before. “I fear we are in some danger as well,” the doctor said. “Our maneuvering ability is limited, and we are currently in the outer atmosphere and attempting to remedy the situation.”

“But Will…” His voice was gone, an echoing void remaining.

She felt a surge of terror, of grief, of despair. She knew it wasn’t fully hers—a pang went through Tuvok at her words, touching a deeper well of empathy than he would ever admit to—but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t focus her perceptions to discern between loss of consciousness and loss of everything. She could only feel dread certainty that Will was dead, as her child was dead… my last child…no, her first, the baby was still in her and silently wailing in resonance with her emotions…not born yet and already she knew grief… Imzadi!

“This is no place for an unborn child,” Ree growled, bringing her awareness outside herself again. The doctor was agitated, his breath rasping, his yellow eyes darting ceilingward as the ship continued to shudder. “This is insane, letting infants face perils such as these! We have to do something.”

Contrary to his earlier actions, he began helping Deanna to her feet, cradling her against his large, strong saurian frame. “Come with me, please, Counselor. We must get your child to safety.”

She let him lead her, her mind and spirit numb, until she realized Tuvok was blocking the exit. “Doctor Ree. Where are you taking her?”

“Away from this ship of death! Away from this vile system!”

“Doctor, you are behaving irrationally. I suggest you release her.”

“So you can keep her here? Keep her child in danger? Stand aside!” Matching actions to words, Ree flung the Vulcan into the wall as though he were a toy.

Nurse Ogawa rushed over to Tuvok, checking him, crying, “Ree, please, stop this! What are you doing?”

“Do not interfere, Alyssa! Nothing is as important as protecting this baby. Nothing.” The last was a predatory snarl, and Ogawa quailed in fear of her friend.

But when Ree dragged Deanna out into the corridor, draping her over his back as he launched into a run, she heard dainty footsteps following after and Alyssa’s breathless voice calling, “Ogawa to bridge! Send security…”

Tuvok had just been dazed, and Doctor Onnta was on hand, so Alyssa Ogawa had grabbed a medkit and headed after Ree and Counselor Troi at the best speed she could manage. Perhaps there was a personal bias involved; Troi had been a colleague of hers on the Enterprisefor years, a bond that wasn’t easily broken, and Ree had been a good friend and trusted senior officer for over a year and a half. But there was obviously something wrong with the Pahkwathanh CMO that might threaten Troi and her baby. Personal or not, Alyssa saw her choice as a simple matter of triage.

After calling security, she quickly lost sight and sound of Ree. But from his rantings, it was clear he would be trying to leave the ship, even the whole system. That meant he was heading for the shuttlebay.

No security fields sprang up to stop Ree along the way; that system must still be down, like so many others. Ogawa caught up to him only because he was delayed by a security team. The team was headed up by Lieutenant Feren Denken, a large Matalinian male whose right arm was a biosynthetic replacement for the original lost during Titan’s first mission. His religious beliefs had forbidden the use of prosthetic limbs, threatening to end his security career; but Counselor Troi had persuaded him to consider the possibility that Titan’s multiculturalism could go both ways, and that maybe there was room in his beliefs for interpretation. Captain Riker had helped by getting an old friend of his, then-Captain Klag of the I.K.S. Gorkon, to put in a good word. Klag had also lost an arm in combat and had been persuaded to accept an allograft from his deceased father, in defiance of any number of Klingon beliefs and traditions. His example had persuaded Denken to study his scriptures and realize that his reading of them had been too self-directed; he could better defend the integrity of the living by restoring his full capability to preserve numerous other lives.

But even with two good arms—the new one perhaps better than the old—Denken was no match for a determined Pahkwa-thanh, even one weighed down by a pregnant, struggling Betazoid. Ree’s heavy, rigid tail swung around and smashed Denken into the corridor wall, and Ogawa winced at the sound of a probable rib fracture. “I suggest you have that seen to promptly,” Ree told him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Balim Cel, a purple-haired Catullan woman, leapt onto Ree’s back and attempted a Catullan neck pinch—actually more a sort of temporary psionic shock induced by touching the thumbs to the base of the skull. But it didn’t work on Pahkwathanh, or maybe Cel just had the anatomy wrong, since she went flying too, skidding to a stop before Ogawa’s feet. “Please, stay out of my way!” Ree growled. “You threaten the child!”

“I threaten you, Doctor!” It was Pava sh’Aqabaa, whose phaser was drawn. “Now put the commander down so I can shoot you, throw your fat tail in the brig, and talk this out reasonably.”

“No need to be rude!” the doctor snarled, knocking the phaser aside faster than Ogawa could see and striking Pava down with a sweep of his large, elongated muzzle. “Apologies, but I cannot spare the time!” he called back as he resumed his flight down the corridor. “Alyssa, see to them, will you?”

“We’re fine!” Denken gasped. “Go after them! Do…something.”

Alyssa hit her combadge. “Ogawa to transporter room. Beam the security team at this location directly to sickbay.” She looked them over briefly before resuming the chase. Sorry, but I have two other patients to take care of. Maybe three.

But there was one thing she had to take care of first. Tapping her combadge as she ran, she called, “Ogawa to Noah Powell.”

“Noah here,”came the reply after a moment. “Mom, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, honey. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m not hurt, Mom. We’re with T’Pel—Totyarguil and me. He was crying, but she calmed him down. She’s good at that.”

“That’s good.”

“Mom? You sound like you’re running.”

“I’m…pretty busy right now, Noah.”

“I understand. You probably have people to take care of. You should go do that.”

Her eyes stung. “I appreciate it, sweetheart. You keep yourself safe, okay? I love you.”

“You too, Mom. See you later.”

“I promise, honey. Ogawa out.”

She wanted to say more, but there was no time. Ree had led her to the shuttlebay, and she caught up with him at the entrance of the Horne: Titan’s new Flyer-class heavy shuttle, a midsized craft based on the Delta Flyerdesign created by the crew of Voyager. Ree confronted her at the hatch, apparently having already strapped Deanna in. “Stay out of this, Alyssa! I will do whatever I must to protect this child.”

Despite Ree’s fearsome dinosaur-like aspect and predatory habits, Alyssa had never once been afraid of him—until now. For the first time, she looked into his eyes and knew that he could kill her without hesitation.

But she had patients—she couldn’t hesitate either. She met his gaze evenly and held up her medkit. “If you’re going to deliver her safely, you need a nurse,” she said in a voice remarkably free of tremolo.

Holding her gaze for a moment, he then stepped back and let her in. Her thoughts were of Noah as she entered; she hated herself for leaving him. But he was in good hands, and he was wise beyond his years. He would understand.

If I come back,she answered herself. If I don’t…if he has to go through that again…She forced the thought down. Well, I’ll just have to make sure I come back.

She saw that Ree had torn out the pilot’s seat to make room for his large, nonhumanoid frame. “Make sure she is secured in the aft compartment,” he said as she entered. “Our departure is likely to be turbulent.”

“Can you prevent the launch?” Vale demanded.

Keru’s heavy fingers worked his console. “The systems are still too damaged, but I may not have to. The door mechanisms are still…” He broke off as a faint shudder went through the deck.

“Report!” Vale snapped.

“That was the shuttlebay depressurizing. He shot his way out. He’s clear.”

Vale knew that Titanwould be in no condition to go to warp for days. “Send the shuttles after it.”

“The Horne’s the fastest shuttle we have,” Keru said. An indicator on his console bleeped, and he looked down at it and sighed. “And it’s just gone to warp.”

At times like this, Christine Vale hated Will Riker for fast-tracking her into a first officer’s post. It was so much easier when she was just a lieutenant waiting for Riker and Captain Picard to make the decisions and tell her what to do. They made it look so easy.

But now, half her ship’s systems were failing, its orbit was unstable, the ship’s CMO had just abducted the captain’s wife and unborn child, and the captain himself was missing in a planet-sized ocean with no safe harbors. Which absolutely urgent crisis took priority over the others?

No—Vale knew that wasn’t the problem. The priorities were actually quite clear. Living with them would be the hard part.

“We must go after them.” It was Tuvok, just back to the bridge from sickbay and still looking rather shaky. She doubted Onnta had released him voluntarily, but only Ree had ever been able to keep him in sickbay when he was determined to leave. Obviously not an option now. “Ree must stop somewhere, sooner or later. He is seeking a safe haven in which to deliver the child. He cannot do that while piloting a shuttle at high warp. Once he stops, we can catch him.”

In fact, Tuvok’s sentences were not delivered in a single block like that, but interpolated between Vale’s rapid-fire orders to the engineering and repair crews, squeezed in when she paused for breath. Sure, every instinct in her body, as a woman and former cop, was screaming at her, Save that baby at all costs!But she had three hundred and fifty other lives depending on her right now, including two other children, one not even old enough to walk. And those three hundred and fifty lives needed their captain.

“We need the shuttles to search for Riker and Lavena,” she told him when she could spare a moment. Titan’s sensors would be useless even if they weren’t damaged; the impact had sent a shroud of dust and vaporized ocean spreading over the planet, and the minerals in the dust still blocked sensors as well as they ever had, an effect made even worse by the intense static charges in the cloud. And the haze made optical imaging from orbit useless as well.

“What about the captain’s skiff?” Tuvok pressed.

“Its drive and shields were overtaxed in the deflection effort. It couldn’t handle warp, and could never go fast enough if it could.”

“It does not need to. Assign it to the search for the captain and let me take a shuttle after Troi and Ree.”

She realized he was right; the La Rocca’s engines would not be unduly taxed by a planetary search-and-rescue effort, and what shields it had left could handle wind and residual radiation better than high-velocity space debris. “I’ll send a team in the Armstrong,” she said. “But not you. Get back to sickbay.”

“I am fine. Merely dazed.”

“No offense, Tuvok, but after all that’s been done to your head in your career, I’m not willing to take chances after you got it slammed into a wall.”

He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Commander, I need to go.”

“Look, I understand that you of all people need to protect that child right now—”

“It is more than that.” She was startled that he didn’t deny his emotional stake in this. But then, he was in no more mood to waste time than she was. “From what I…perceived, I believe Ree’s irrational behavior was somehow triggered by Commander Troi’s extreme fear of losing her child, coupled with her perception of the danger to her spouse. And…” He looked away for a moment. “She was counseling me just before this. I believe her fears were amplified by my own…experience of loss. I am partly responsible for what has occurred. I must take responsibility for resolving it.”

“Tuvok—”

“ Please, Commander.”

She had reservations about his objectivity, but she had no time to argue. Besides, maybe a Vulcan who admitted his own emotions to himself and spent every moment working to manage them would be more objective about them than most Vulcans, or humans, for that matter. At least, she was satisfied to pretend for now that that made sense.

She nodded. “Go. Bring them back safe.” She caught his arm, halted him as he started to depart. “Including Ree—if you can.”

His eyes showed nothing but determination. “If circumstances permit.”

CHAPTER T

EN

TITAN, STARDATE 58541.2

“It’s been thirty-six hours,” Keru told the others in the observation lounge, fighting the weariness in his voice. “All available shuttles have searched the area as thoroughly as possible, above and below the surface. All we found is the capsized, empty skiff.” He took a slow breath. “We’ve dropped hydrophone probes, sending out hailing signals to catch Lavena’s attention or hear her calls if she’s down there trying to reach us. But the ocean’s still too disrupted from the impact to have a stable deep sound channel. Even so, the squales don’t appreciate the noise pollution—they’ve been knocking out the hydrophones.”

“What about…what about the squales?” asked Kuu’iut, filling in as tactical officer in Tuvok’s absence. “We know they’ve interceded when our people were in trouble before. Could they have taken them somewhere?”

So many absences,thought Vale. It was odd looking around the table and seeing Kuu’iut sitting there for tacti cal, Huilan filling in as diplomatic officer, Onnta representing medical… and me. I shouldn’t be in the big chair. Not this way.

“Where?” Pazlar countered. In contrast to the past few months, she and Ra-Havreii were sitting as far apart as possible and hadn’t even looked at each other since entering. Even they weren’t the same anymore. “We’ve imaged every floater and seaweed island within a thousand kilometers of the skiff’s location,” the Elaysian went on. “The squales couldn’t have taken them that far in that amount of time. And they would’ve had problems of their own after that impact.”

“And that’s something we have to face,” Vale said. She understood the crew’s desire to see a miracle happen; it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had occurred. She shared their hope, their refusal to give up on the captain and Lavena. But as acting commander of Titan, she couldn’t let her crew dwell on scenarios they could do nothing about. “We’ve done all we could to find our people…and we’ll keep looking for as long as we can.” It wouldn’t be easy, with the shroud of dust and haze still blinding orbital scans. The thorough survey Pazlar had mentioned had been achieved only through the efforts and exhaustion of many shuttle pilots, determined to find one of their own and their captain as well. “But we’re not the only ones hurting. We couldn’t prevent the impact, but maybe there’s something we can do to mitigate its damage.”

“It’s possible we already did, just slightly,” Pazlar said, her voice subdued. “Normally in an impact event, the vacuum chimney effect sucks a great deal of the dust into the stratosphere, where it can linger for months, blocking the sun and cooling the planet. But because we broke the asteroid into pieces, the successive impacts disrupted the chimney effect, and so the majority of the dust was splashed out into the lower atmosphere, and it’s already precipitating out. The sky should clear within weeks.”

“But what about all those heavy radioisotopes suddenly injected into the biosphere?” Onnta asked. “We could be seeing mass die-offs as a result.”

Chamish, the ecologist, answered the Balosneean doctor. “Actually that does not seem to be a concern. Keep in mind that impacts of this type are relatively common on Droplet. The biota have evolved sophisticated methods of DNA repair that protect them against radiation damage and heavy-metal poisoning, at least in limited amounts.”

“And this stuff is dense,” Pazlar said, “so it’s sinking pretty quickly—or rather, the water that it dissolves into is sinking quickly. If there’s any cause for concern, it’s that all that surface water suddenly sinking might disrupt circulation patterns, drag nutrients out of reach of the life that needs them.”

“But presumably the biosphere has adaptations to that as well,” Chamish said.

“Maybe. In any case, the stuff that’s radioactive—or still charged with residual energy from our weapons and tractors—is sinking pretty quickly out of the inhabited levels of the ocean. It should settle down all the way to the ice-seven mantle, or at least the hypersaline layer just above it. It shouldn’t be a lasting problem for the biosphere.”

“Can we assume that?” Vale asked. “The whole reason this planet is a mystery is that metals somehow remain in the biosphere even though they should sink out of it like you say.”

“But most of them do—hence the hypersaline layer.”

“But is it enough? We shouldn’t assume anything. We need to continue to observe the situation on Droplet.”

“With respect, Commander,” asked Kuu’iut, “shouldn’t our priority be to pursue Doctor Ree and Counselor Troi?”

“In what, Ensign?” Ra-Havreii asked. “I can’t repair the engines any faster just because it would be convenient.”

“Tuvok’s team has that matter in hand,” Vale said. “Until we can get Titanup and running, our job is to stay here and monitor the situation on Droplet. And…to continue the mission of exploration that Captain Riker set for us. That Aili Lavena threw herself into with her whole being—literally. That’s what we owe them. To keep looking for them…but also to keep looking at Droplet on their behalf.

“Because that’s what we do. We explore. Sometimes it seems pointless, trivial. But let’s remember, people, it was our pure exploration that found the Caeliar and saved the whole damn Alpha Quadrant. And…and Beta. You guys from Beta know what I mean.” She cleared her throat. As a motivational speaker, she needed practice. She would’ve rather left it to Riker. “So let’s get out there…and get the job done.”

SOMEWHERE ON DROPLET

A sensation of warmth is the first thing to impinge upon his consciousness. Warmth, and a gentle pulsing sound…or is it a feeling? Is it from without or within?

Where is without? He tries to open his eyes but fails. Or is it that his eyes are open but there is no light?

He seems to be totally immersed in fluid. A part of him feels alarmed, tries to struggle, but his muscles do not obey. Besides, he has no trouble breathing. Indeed, to some deeper part of him this feels perfectly natural.

How did he get here? What came before? Noisy, turbulent memories clamor distantly, impinge on what little awareness he has, flash at him uncomfortably before dispersing back into the miasma of his mind. He barely thinks. All he knows is that he inhabits a warm, dark, pulsing place immersed in life-giving fluid.

Now why does that feel so familiar?

And why does it remind him of the cry echoing in his mind?

TITAN

“Hey! You know we don’t like malingerers on this ship.”

Eviku opened his eyes to see Doctor Bralik standing alongside his sickbay bed, wearing a crooked-toothed smile to offset her teasing words. “So you better get out of that bed and get back to work soon,” she went on.

“Doctor Onnta says I still need another day of rest,” he said.

“Aww, rest is no way to get better! Rule of Acquisition Number Sixty-three: ‘Work is the best therapy—at least for your employees.’”

“Bralik, please…if you are trying to amuse me, I am not in the mood.”

“I’m trying to get you back on your feet and doing science. Nothing to cheer you up like solving a problem.” The Ferengi gave a sad smirk. “Well, most of the time. I just got my biggest problem solved, but it’s hard to be happy about it, because it was the asteroid that solved it for me. Rule One Sixty-two: ‘Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.’”

Eviku raised his head, curious despite his mood. “What do you mean?”

“Why this system has so many asteroids and so few large planets for its metallicity. It’s all those explosive elements—bilitrium, anicium, voltairium, yurium. They can absorb energy from the accretion process, or from sunlight, until it triggers explosions that blow apart the accreting masses. So you end up with a reduced rate of accretion overall, giving you smaller planets and more leftover debris. Simple as that.”

“I see,” Eviku replied. “Well, I’m glad you solved that.”

“That’s it?” Bralik asked after a moment. “Don’t deafen me with your cries of enthusiasm.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, with more weariness than heat. “I said I was glad.”

“Ev, you haven’t been glad about anything for months. What’s been going on with you?”

He stared at her. “After what happened months ago, can you really ask that?”

“I know, I know. We all suffered in the invasion. But the rest of us have faced it, talked it out, worked through it. We’re moving on. But you just keep it bottled up, whatever it is. Don’t you think you’d feel better if you told somebody about it?” She gestured at her largish ears. “Ferengi are famous for being good listeners, you know.”

“It is…a gracious offer, Bralik. But I really would rather not talk about it.”

Setting her jaw, she loomed over him. “I could quote a whole passel of Rules of Acquisition at you about why you’d be better off letting it out. The only way to prevent that is to tell me.”

He almost laughed in spite of himself. But it wasn’t his laughter he was worried about. “I haven’t told anyone because…it’s embarrassing. It seems so petty.”

“Ev, you’re obviously grieving for somebody. That can’t be petty.”

“But I didn’t lose a mate or a son or a mother or…anyone like that.”

“I’m listening,” she said, crossing her arms.

He sighed. “It was…Germu. My wadji.”

“What’s a wadji?”

“My…pet. A small furred mammal native to Arken. She had such beautiful fur, so many colors…” He was silent for a moment. “I left her with my brother on Alrond when I went on this mission. I hated to be without her…we were so close. Wadjiare a self-sufficient breed, often aloof, but she was so affectionate when the mood struck her. I felt honored that she would bless me with that. But wadjicannot stand being cooped up in small spaces, so I had to leave her behind.”

“What happened? I assume your brother survived…”

Eviku nodded. “When the Borg attacked Alrond and the evacuation was called, Germu…escaped in the turmoil. My brother lost his grip in the push of the crowd, and she fled for some safe hiding place, no doubt—she never did well with strangers. I don’t blame my brother—he almost missed the evacuation shuttle searching for her. He did everything he could.” He lowered his head. “The whole planet…its entire surface was rendered lifeless. Germu…Oh, she was so beautiful.”

A moment later, he felt Bralik’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ev. You loved her.”

“But so many others are mourning families, cities, whole worlds that were lost. To tell them I am mourning for a pet and claim my grief is comparable with theirs…it seems arrogant.”

“Hey. It doesn’t matter what they think. It doesn’t even matter if they disapprove. She was a part of your family, as much as anyone. Just because she couldn’t talk or count latinum doesn’t mean your pain is any less meaningful. Don’t be ashamed that you loved her.”

Eviku couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured out of him for a time he couldn’t measure. When it was over, he didn’t feel particularly healed or cleansed, but there was a sense of release, as though a sealed door had finally broken open, letting in fresh air.

“Thank you, Bralik,” he finally said. “You’re very understanding.”

“Hey. I grew up on a world where females were treated as little more than pets. So I guess I have a soft spot for underappreciated creatures. It’s nice that you loved her so much.” Her hand rested atop his. “I bet you gave her a very happy life.”

“I tried to.” He was quiet for a time. “But I will never get past the fact that she died alone.”

“Hey—like you said, she was self-reliant. She made her own choice. Maybe it didn’t turn out well, but she owned her own life at the end. I admire that.” She sat on the side of his bed, still clasping his hand. “I bet I would’ve liked the gal. Why don’t you tell me about her?”