Chapter 1

**

The cool wind snaps through my hair, and I watch dolphins effortlessly leaping, keeping a body length ahead of the small yacht as we slash across the ocean. The intense salt-iodine-life aroma of the water washes over me like the waves as Gwen turns the ship into the wind, the deck slanting under my feet, white-caps reaching up. I yell with joy as the ship turns, slewing slightly, and the breeze hits us head on. The Ankh, a forty foot ketch, seems to gallop across the azure blue crests. I hear Gwen’s answering hawk-shriek, and shiver a bit, despite the sun beaming down.

Making my way carefully aft, I prop myself against a hatch near my muhmis, and watch her hair whip into a wind-tossed frenzy; her leaf-green eyes narrowing in excitement and exultant happiness as the ship responds to her commands so smoothly. I grin at her, the traces of salt on my face making it feel tight, hot. I lick my lips and taste the salt, and realize I’m thirsty. Muhmis, are you thirsty? I’m going below—want something? I send with my transducer, and smile up at her.

You, for one, her voice whispers in my head, but for now—a tall glass of lemonade would be divine. Thanks—and I get the blast of an image of the two of us, from last night, as she holds me upside down, my feet drumming helplessly against her shoulderblades, hair hanging down to brush the floor. I gasp, slightly, and know I’m beaming red like a beacon as I duck into the hatchway and go belowdecks.

Patrick’s daydreaming, leaning on a tanned, smoothly muscled set of arms, gazing out a porthole. His eyes are far away, with Alexandra on Mars, I think. I tap him lightly on the back, and he jumps galvanically. "Mom!" His aggrieved tone of voice tells me more than the obvious, and I grin. He’s definitely all teenager, just about to turn fourteen, and he acts that way sometimes. He’s also all man, at least in a physical sense, I think; I just disturbed a great fantasy…oops.

"You’re supposed to be finishing the navigation homework Muhmis gave you. When you’re done, and it’s right, she said you can steer…come on, why are you pouting?" I pour two glasses of lemonade, putting the crystal decanter back into the cooler, and pause before I go back up. "What’s the matter?"

"Nothing." Sullen. His head jerks up, and the dark, thick hair flows back from his face. His hazel green eyes are like mine, I realize; can’t hide much with those. "Nothing, Mom. Just thinking. I guess."

"Well, hurry up and finish that problem. I did mine last night, y’know—I miss you up top. It’s really great out today," I chuckle. I set my glass down, looking over his broad shoulder at the handcomp he has sitting before him. "Look, right here…get this value, and then plug it in the equation, like this…"

"Mama! I will, okay? I will. Say, this’s good," Patrick says, as he downs half my lemonade. I laugh, ruffling his hair, and pour myself another glass. "Well, Mama, I’m surprised she let you have time to do homework last night…"

"Pat—that’s not exactly much of your beeswax, now is it?"

He looks up at me, with a level gaze. "I know, I know. But Alice was joking about it, before she left with Alexandra… you and her" his eyes flick upwards, "you guys spend one hell of a lot of time together, especially now we’re on vacation…"

"I’m her Councilor, darlin’; half the time you think we’re rattling the walls and breaking beds, we’re really just sitting around doing policy stuff, or government stuff, or Space Force stuff…lots of stuff, some of which is less than exciting to me. Like the Financial Committee meetings. Bo-ring! But it’s my job, honey, as well as…" I pause. "I like being around her. I’m getting used to her, after almost fifteen years, now... but why does it bother you?"

He sips more of the sweet drink. "I don’t know. It’s like she… she doesn’t share you."

"But I go to all your games, and the plays you’ve written…I help you with those, doing editing and stuff… do you feel left out, Patrick, or is it something else? We’ve always had open communication, you and I. What’s up?"

"Nothing. It’s cool. You better take her the lemonade, before I drink all of it." He turns back to his handcomp, and I get the feeling I’ve just been dismissed. I shrug, remembering how moody Peter could be. I don’t do too badly in that area myself sometimes, either, I think. Carrying the drinks back upstairs, I ponder Patrick’s behavior. It’s unlike him to be so… reticent about telling me what he’s thinking. Odd. Maybe it’s just an adolescent thing.

"Mmmhh…thanks," Gwen says, gulping down the drink in one chug. "Good…that’s quite good. Tart, not too much; sweet…" She leans over and kisses me. "As you are, my sweet pony."

I laugh, softly. "You always have that on the mind?"

"Almost always. Hard-wired." She grins back, teeth startlingly white in her deeply tanned face. "Pat almost done?"

"He’s working on it. Doesn’t want help from his ole ma, though. Too big for that, y’know. He’s really turning into a teenager, the dread monster between the ages of 12 and 20…" I lean back against the railing, watching seagulls stitch the edges of the sky. "Will Alexa hit this too, or were your ancestors smart enough to engineer that out?"

"No…" Muhmis laughs, tossing her hair back. "No, they didn’t design it out. She’ll be touchy, a bit moody; horny as hell…but she’s already that. I thought Patrick as well as some of the other House saafn could use a break from her, for a week or so, which is one reason I sent her to Mars. The other reason was to let her do some shopping as part of her birthday present. Fourteen, already… in a week, anyway. Alice will certainly enjoy the visit, won’t she?"

"Oh, yeah…we’ll probably have to add another room onto our suite, when she gets back. Rosta’s feet will be worn to nothing with all the walking and shopping they’ll do. Power shopping…feh," I shrug expressively. "Give me a day like this, anytime, over that."

"And so today shall be your day, saafn mine. What would you like to do, and where?" Gwen puts the wheel over, slowly this time, and we curve into the sea, rainbows shining in the spray from the bow waves. She grins at me, and winks broadly. "Name your pleasure, missy…"

"Hmmm…put that way…" I slide an arm around her waist, and snuggle against the steel-strong body, the heat from her washing over me like a warm body rush. "But then again…perhaps later?" I glance down toward the hatch, as Patrick’s black hair peeks out. He ascends the ladder in two brief hops, and lands on the teak deck with a skip. I feel Gwen’s purr rumbling as she holds me lightly against her; her head rests on top of mine.

"What else would you like to do?" I hear amused indulgence in my muhmis’ tone, and smile in response. We know each other well now, after all this time.

"How about some snorkeling? I’d like to do some shelling, maybe, along the beach… maybe lunch in Nassau?"

Patrick looks over our way, wrinkles his nose slightly, and walks over to lean over the port side, holding a hand out to feel the spray. "Snorkeling sounds cool."

"Well, then, my sweets, that’s what we’ll do. I know just the spot," Gwen says, giving me a gentle pinch on the fanny. "Erin, go below and break out your gear, and remember the nets this time. Get me my speargun, as well…" She sets the ship on a new course, and I scamper below.

**

**

I look up and grin at the swordfish in the bows as the ketch noses into the Marina docks in Nassau Town. Patrick helped me in the hand-to-hand with that one, and it was a fighter; he got a scrape across the ribs. Delicious fish, too – raw, sliced thin, and with a little salt and lemon.

"Sailed on the sloop John B.

Erin chimes in with the ancient song she taught me, and after a moment Patrick does as well; the snorkeling shook him out of his mood. He’s basically a sunny youngster. Turning out as handsome as his parents or more so, and perfectly conditioned. With those green eyes and the long black hair that falls to the small of his back he’s cutting a swath through the local human femininity; which says something for his stamina, considering how busy Alexa keeps him.

"Please leave me alooooone—

The docks are bright with gulls, the light pastels of clothing, sails, polished brightwork. The water smells almost absurdly clean, compared to what it was like before the Arrival – there isn’t an internal combustion engine within a thousand miles, now, and every town has its own plasma-jet waste breakdown system. I could drink this water, and humans are swimming in it. Two slender figures are waving from the docks; then then dive into the water and eel towards us as the boat comes in at dead slow on soundless momentum-drive auxiliary, sails furled and wind thrumming through the standing rigging. Further offshore a platform is hovering four feet over the waves; there are sun-umbrellas on it, other bathers basking in the sunlight, or diving off into the crystal blue water.

"Hi, mom!" Ariadne says, erupting from the surface like a dolphin, catching the railing and swinging herself aboard, breathing deep and slow. She turns and gives May a hand up over the railing; the human is panting, but that’s very creditable time from the docks. Trying to keep up with a Draka tends to push humans to ten-tenths of their potential.

"Hi, tantie-ma Erin. Lo’, Pat," my daugher says. She seizes Erin and plants a smacking kiss on her cheek; May hits the other side.

May also gives her half-brother a hug, and he retreats a little from it. The body-language is unusual enough – they’re very fond of each other – that I focus and really look at the my daughter and her saafn. Three months short of twelve, and very handsome young specimines of the Race and humanity, lithe and graceful with just a hint of coltishness. They perch side-by-side on the coaming over the cabin entrance, facing me at the wheel, the sun glistening on their wet skins. Ariadne’s hair is bright copper-red, May’s sun-faded tow; they’re an almost identical shade of tanned brown, and…

I take their scents. That confirms the light dusting of hair that’s appeared at the base of their bellies, and the slightest beginnings of curves at hip and breast. I knew what was happening, of course, but I haven’t noticed this strongly before, or that they were so closely in synch. Uh-oh. Ariadne’s broadcasting pheromones without being aware of it – the surges around puberty are always a trial, to the child and everyone else too. And Erin’s going to have to give her daughter the sexual-duties-of-a-personal-saafn talk really soon or there won’t be any point in preparations.

Ariadne, I transmit over a closed link. Take your own scent, girl!

So will all the humans be feeling good, if you don’t watch out – you’ve got a surge building there. That’s not fair to them. Remember the feedback training. Not to mention it’ll scramble your own brains if you’re not paying attention.

"OK, mom," she says aloud.

A couple of laborers greet us, handing the girls their tunics and taking off the swordfish for the cooks at the Household over on Andros; an aircar can get it there in ten minutes. There’s no Security to speak of, thank the gods, just a Constabulary trooper in the background, making a respectful salute. We walk up from the waterfront, Erin sandwiched between her daughter and the child she bore for me, listening to their school gossip – Ariadne has just finished Junior Section this spring. Formally May was there as her servant, but of course that meant going through most of the same process, apart from the physical parts beyond her capacities; I want her to have a first-rate education. Transducers and downloads can handle most transfer of raw information; the educational setting is for discussion and comprehension, and of course the social aspects. The school’s not far away at all, on Grand Abacos.

We walk up Frederic to Marlborough Street, and then over to Blue Hill Road where Greycliff is located. Draka are a common enough site in Nassau Town; several dozen live here, what with the school and the IngolfTech labs, which I’ve kept on and developed as part of the Archonate’s Technical Directorate. The humans there have made some surprising contributions… I’m familiar here too, and there’s none of the milling and pointing that there would be if the planetary Archon were to stroll around a major city. Just respectful bows, and waves to the humans, smiles for my daughter. Electrobikes zip by on the roads, with a cheerful heralding of bells; an occasional floater goes by above.

The staff at Greycliff greet us, and show the party to a table outside on the terrace, with a view of Government House’ roof, and the quite sweet-scented flowers along the base of the wall, bouganvillea like a shower of crimson, hibiscus… Right after the Arrival I loaned the chef here enough to buy out the company that owned the place, on condition they always keep a table for me. I’ve never regretted it.

"London broil, salad, steamed vegetables, a bottle of the Merlot," I say, eating a few rolls to start with.

Transmission, my transducer alerts me. There aren’t many codes that will get through to me at lunch, and I screen it immediately. Not an emergency, I think, relaxing. But…

"Erin, Patrick," I say. "Message for you. Everyone link."

The pickup is on a balcony; I recognize it, the new Mariott in Marsdome. This won’t be a conversation; there’s too much time-lag. The sky behind is blueish-pink, and the horizon closer than on earth. It’s a bit eerie sometimes, seeing Alexa now; she’s starting to look the way I remember myself from my teenage years… But no, I think. The body language is different. She’s… more relaxed than I ever was. I had a happy enough childhood, but there were… tensions around Tantie-Ma Marya and Yolande that were never there for Alexa. Fourteen, just fully entering into her inheritance, out to seize life and the universe with both hands…

"Hiyo, mom! Tantie-ma, sproutlings – here we are in beautiful downtown Marsdome."

She turns and waves, at a city of low-rise buildings of reddish sandstone picked out with tile. It’s grown fantastically in the nine years since its founding, far faster than the equivalents did in the Prime Line’s history, but then it has advantages – unlimited cargo-carrying capacity, for one.

"There’s nothing left in the stores, because Tantie-Ma Alice here has bought it all. We’re sending for two heavy cargo craft to get it home – the drive ripped out of the yacht when we tried to lift."

Alice is laughing. "Hello, muhmis dear, Erin-love, Pat, missy Ari, May. I’ve gotten some very nice things and they’re mostly compact. If this imp of Satan weren’t an Overlord I’d accuse her of teasing. They’ve got some lovely semiprecious stones here that are out of the world – literally."

Another figure steps into the viewer. Vicki, Alexa’s saafn; she’s wearing a sarong and a flower wreath, and her smile is brilliant against the chocolate-brown prettiness of her face.

"Hi, y’all." Her voice has never lost the Kentucky accent; well, we’ve spent a lot of time at Gwendolyn Hall over the years. "Pat, boyfriend, we’re missing you." She grins wickedly, and she and Alexa smooch the pickup – a startling closeup of two pairs of lips. Everyone at the table is laughing, and so is Alice in the background. "Can’t wait to get back to you… and if we don’t soon, I’ll be wasted away to a wraith. Eeeek!"

She jumps aside, and Alex’s green eyes fill the screen. I can feel the flow of a private transmission just below the surface of my consciousness, and Pat blushes under his tan, grinning.

"Anyway," she says aloud, "The Stormbringer handles like a dream. The AI and Cap’n Harkness said I conned her perfectly. C’mon, my sweet thang, get that qualification and we’ll take her out to the moons of Jupiter. Oh, and maybe I’ll let Ari polish the hull, if she’s very good."

Alice chimes in: "We’ll be leaving Mars tomorrow – we’ve seen all the sights, the Marineris Canyon, skiied Olympus Mons, seen the polar cap, had the guided tour of the terraforming headquarters, done Barsoom City –" a Disney project, and bemusing to the Draka; the humans love it, though "—and we’re longing for the fleshpots of earth. Say hi to Jenny for me, and see you all on Tuesday."

**