It was a pathetic account, but the clan listened as avidly as if she shared a high-stakes action-adventure or medical drama. They didn’t seem to mind her interrupting herself with frequent yawning, or when she lost track of what she was saying. They only interrupted to explain she wasn’t their maid, or when she began to share the funny or interesting things another aspirant or nun had done. They insisted she talk about herself.
I wish I had a real story to relate. I wish I’d accomplished something. She thought of her favorite actress, who’d been homeless with her family as a little girl and grew up to be lauded as the best performer of her generation. She had wonderful stories.
Tina realized she’d stopped talking. Her eyes were closed, and she couldn’t force them open. Someone stroked her hair. A gentle kiss fell on her forehead.
“Thank the ancestors. I was afraid she’d be too wound up to rest.”
“She’ll sleep well tonight. Tomorrow we’ll have to work on this notion of hers—”
But whatever Tukui wanted to work on, Tina never heard. Sleep claimed her in an instant, and she dreamed of walking the red carpet and waving to her adoring fans, with her tuxedoed Kalquorian masters escorting her.
* * * *
Tukui left long before his shift the next morning. Tina was still asleep when he headed down the corridor, his mind running a mile a minute, as it tended to.
At least whatever strain had erupted between Osopa and Yorso when they went to fetch dinner the night before had eased by that morning. Having a Matara to concentrate on put everything else in the background.
He could imagine what might have caused them to be temperamental with each other. Osopa had been running hot and cold with Tina, depending on how uncomfortable the given situation had been for him. Nobeks found it difficult to show tender urges, and Osopa had the added barrier of a troubled family history. It was easy for him to hoist up barriers and hide behind an impassive façade. Tina needed better emotional support than that, and it had been obvious Yorso had dragged their Nobek out to discuss it with him. The talk must have gone badly.
Or maybe there’d been an encounter between Yorso and his many admirers. That was all too possible, and one Dramok in particular had an issue with being disrespectful to Yorso’s clanned status. Tukui’s Imdiko was more apt to eat up compliments, like a kid given candy, than to insist a jealous ex behave.
The joys of being clanned. He snorted laughter to himself. Osopa and Yorso were worth the small irritations. He hoped his clanmates felt the same about him and his quirks.
He frowned as his concerns homed in on Tina. Her issues were no mere quirks. As much as he hated to, Tukui admitted he was worried about his new Matara. He needed help, and that was why he was hurrying down the corridor rather than waiting to greet her when she woke.
When he neared the captain’s quarters, he slowed. When the door came into sight, he stopped. He stood there for a minute or two, considering whether he should trigger the door announce. It might be better to wait, in the hope a member of Clan Tranis would emerge without Tukui having to disturb them. Preferably Dr. Degorsk. Definitely not Weapons Commander Lidon.
The captain? Maybe. If Tukui didn’t say something stupid, his commanding officer was approachable. Yet there had been that hint that Tranis didn’t believe Tukui was ready for a Matara, and Tukui had clanned Tina anyway. It would be embarrassing to consult with the captain after the subtle warning he’d been given.
When he’d first joined the crew, Tukui had pushed the limits of Tranis’ patience. The younger Dramok had a habit of acting before he thought. That, and an unconscious habit of answering questions in an irritable-sounding manner, had landed him in hot water more often than was comfortable thinking about.
His abrupt replies to orders were something of a joke on the bridge nowadays. Soon after becoming the spyship’s navigator, Tukui had stammered an apology to a livid Tranis.
“I’m working on it, Captain, I swear. I didn’t realize how I sounded until someone pointed it out a few months ago.”
“You realize it now. There’s no excuse for that tone.”
“I agree. I’m having a hard time breaking the habit. It’s how my Dramok and Nobek fathers always answered me, so it’s out of my mouth before I realize what’s happening.”
“Your fathers?”
“I guess I bugged them with a lot of questions when I was younger. My Nobek father still calls me Jabber-jaw.”
That earned a grudging half-smile from Tranis. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Navigator.”
It had sorted itself out, as things tended to for Tukui. He was luckier than some when it came to getting out of the hot water he occasionally dunked himself in. Nowadays, when he snapped a reply to an order, Tranis would give him a warning glare, accompanied by, “Tone, Navigator.” A sheepish, “Sorry, Captain,” was all the penance that was required. Since it was happening less and less often, Tukui usually got away with the increasingly infrequent lapses.
As Tukui paced the corridor where he could keep an eye on Clan Tranis’ door, he hoped it would be Degorsk who ventured out first. If Tukui had to, he’d deal with the captain. His need was too great to reject a chance to discuss Tina’s difficulties, though it meant judgment.
Not Weapons Commander Lidon, though. Even though he was the oldest and wisest man on the spyship. Just the idea of trying to elicit advice from Lidon sent a shiver down Tukui’s spine.
Maybe lurking outside his clan’s door wasn’t such a smart idea. Tukui checked the time on his handheld. He doublechecked it against the display on the computer station set in the wall. He’d have to go on duty soon. It seemed he’d given up precious minutes with Tina for nothing.
Only then did it occur to him that Captain Tranis’ clan might be on the moon’s surface rather than on board the ship. Last he’d heard, they were still trying to track down a missing Matara. Plus, Dr. Degorsk was busy with that re-education center of unclaimed women.
He was cursing himself for failing to take that under consideration when the door opened. Dr. Degorsk emerged from his quarters. The head medic appeared every bit as cranky as a Nobek. Tukui winced, then offered a hopeful smile as the other man caught sight of him.
Degorsk grimaced, then dredged up a more pleasant expression. “I bet I can figure out why you’re stalking me. Matara troubles, Dramok?”
Tukui fell into step with him as they headed towards Medical. Degorsk’s long legs and quick pace meant he had to trot. “In a sense, I suppose. The bite worked yesterday.”
“But when the intoxication wears off, it’s another matter. Accusations of forcing her to do evil, crying, screaming, fighting…all the sweet moments of love.”
“Uh, no, actually.”
Degorsk’s surprised glance replaced his sour mood. “No? Did you actually clan a woman open to her desires?”
“She’s willing. But that’s the problem.”
Degorsk lurched to a halt to stare in disbelief. “How? Because, my young friend, you are in possession of an incredibly rare Matara, and you should be howling your success at the top of your lungs.”
“I think she’s only doing it because she’s afraid. I doubt she’s offering herself because she wants us as her clan.” Stating it hurt Tukui inside. He yearned for Tina to like him. He hoped for even more, though actual love lay in the future, if at all.