Rift in the Sky

She’d look for the Oud Speaker later, Aryl decided.

“Sorry for the mess.” Objects flew in every direction as the Human burrowed to what should be a table. “Don’t spend much time in here. Oops! Thanks.” As Enris intercepted the flight of what looked fragile and gently deposited it on a crate. “Mustn’t break another densitometer this early in the day. It is early, isn’t it?” He looked uncertain. “Breakfast?”

“Lunch,” Enris supplied willingly, despite knowing full well the Human ate reheated rations from small boxes. He’d eat anything, Aryl thought fondly. She wouldn’t. She offered the small packet of baked turrif she’d obtained from Rorn: sweet, crispy, and his latest triumph using Sona’s stores. Best of all, the ingredients were ones that wouldn’t make the Human, in his words, turn green and die.

Marcus Bowman, Triad First, Analyst, Human, took it with a glad expression that needed no translation. “You’ve picked a very good time,” he assured them again, hunting a clear space to put the treat. “No one needs me. Vogt and Tsessas are cataloging.”

Fewer of his words were unfamiliar. It wasn’t that she’d learned them, Aryl decided as she helped toss clothing from the benchlike chairs that sprouted from the floor. Marcus spoke less about his work each visit, preferring to ask about Sona, about their fields, about her.

Well, not her exactly.

“May I?” There he was again, bioscanner held hopefully to his chest. It had been on the table. “See baby?”

Aryl sighed and sat down, arms wide. “Humans.” Her fond, if exasperated, use of the name always made Marcus smile.

Enris leaned forward, eyes intent. Noticing, Marcus offered him the ’scanner. “You see?” Now there was an Om’ray smile to dazzle the sun.

They conspired against her. Aryl grumbled to herself, but didn’t object as first Enris, then Marcus, waved the device over her abdomen and made various approving noises.

Until Marcus frowned distractedly at the ’scanner, and played with its lighted buttons.

Enris frowned, too. “I thought it said Sweetpie was healthy.”

“Yes. Oh, yes. Very healthy. Perfect.”

“And not a dessert,” Aryl muttered.

The Human ducked his head to look at her in that sidelong way he had when he wanted to ask an awkward question. “How much longer?”

“Until she’s born?” Aryl shrugged. “Up to her.” Mother and unborn were tightly bound. When physically mature, the baby must relax her grip on that link for birth to take place. Not all had the courage or will, leaving it to a Birth Watcher to convince the unformed mind that freedom did not mean loss. Theirs was Seru.

“Human mothers, nine monthgestation.” He smiled at her frown. “Sorry. Three seasons, Cersi.” A lift of the bioscanner. “This says your baby grows quicker than Human. How long for Om’ray?”

Three seasons? That, she didn’t envy his Chosen. “This summer. Why?”

“Oh.” He looked unhappy. “I wanted to be here.”

Both Om’ray stared at the Human. “You’re leaving,” Enris said at last.

He couldn’t leave, Aryl assured herself, swallowing hard. Her belief in other worlds was a fragile thing. Easier to believe in Marcus slipping into the abyss of the M’hir than taking flight beyond the sky. “I thought the Oud had found your Hoveny ruins. Didn’t they?”

“They did,” the Human said in such a bleak tone Enris came to sit beside Aryl, sought her hand. “So I must go home. Stonerim III. Present preliminarydata to fundingcommittee. Orders. No one else qualified.”

No one else could be trusted. That’s what he meant.

She hadn’t guarded the thought. Aryl sensed agreement from Enris. This Human knew about the Om’ray, what they could do. He knew and cared.

Would anyone else?

She gave him back his question. “How much longer?”

“Soon.” His hand floated toward the sky. “Starship coming. Special, for me. Cersi to be priority site.” There was a wry twist to his mouth. She understood. If he hadn’t met her, if they hadn’t become friends, he’d be celebrating. “A fist, less, then I go. Don’t worry. We’ll close site, temporary shutdown, pack all this. I won’t allow work here while I’m offworld. No one will disturb you.”

“You’ll come back.” She didn’t let it be a question. Beside her, Enris nodded in Human fashion.

“Bet on it! Yes,” to their uncertain looks. “They can’t keep me away. But I don’t know how long all this will take.” A shake of his head. “My people like to talk.”

She’d noticed. To distract them all, Aryl reached for the turrif and broke it into equal pieces. “Then we must celebrate, Marcus.” At his blank look, “You’ll be with your family again.” He’d shown her the images he carried: his Chosen, Kelly, their son Howard and the baby Karina, his sister, Cindy. To be so far from them—she’d had trouble imagining it. Better to think of their joy. “They must be glad—”