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“Oh.” The men exchanged glances.
“Is easy on Kalquor,” Jemi said, his tone musing. “Remove baby while small. Freeze for later to have.”
“On Dantovon and Plasius, they stop pregnant easy,” Rusp mused. “Can’t go there if Nil search for us, though. He find us quick.”
“Irene can’t have child. Earth would punish her. Who know what they do to child?” Sherv’s expression darkened. “We check for baby on Rexadux. Easy to test, right? Then we do what have to so Irene safe.”
“If it could be retrieved and frozen, could a Kalquorian woman carry it?” Irene’s mind whirled. It would be strange, downright heartbreaking, to think she had a child being raised by another woman on another planet. A child she’d never hold.
Sudden tears stung her eyes. Things had become so complicated in the blink of an eye.
“One step now,” Jemi said, hugging her. “Get to station. Then learn if you pregnant. Decide then.”
Irene nodded, sniffling. “Right. Okay.”
One step at a time. She had no other options.
* * * *
The Kalquorians settled into a routine Irene discerned to be their usual way of operating when they flew from one far-flung gig to the next. A pair of men always sat in the pilots’ seats day and night, taking it in shifts.
They shared cooking and cleaning responsibilities as well. Irene helped where she could, but her lack of familiarity with Kalquorian food meant she did more assisting than actual preparation. She also hung out in the cockpit when a member or two of Clan Sherv flew, though she had little luck understanding how to pilot the ship. “Is old,” Rusp consoled her when she failed to catch on. “Voice commands in Kalquorian only, and controls complicate. New ships easier, probable you could fly those if we had one.”
There weren’t many opportunities for the clan to instruct her where flying was concerned anyway. The former military transport was still keyed to recognize what had once been its fellow fleet vessels, and the navigation alerts were constantly pinging. It seemed Kalquorian destroyers and other fleet ships were everywhere the first half of the week, and they often changed course to avoid encountering them.
“We probable not showing up on their alerts as fleet ship, but Nil might transmit an alert to watch for us,” Sherv said. His tone was mild, but his forehead creased in worry as he adjusted their heading for the third time in an hour. “Best to stay clear.”
Because she was unable to contribute much, she began learning to speak Kalquorian. It was difficult, though Sherv loaded a children’s primer teaching basic lessons on her handheld. Clan Sherv likewise took the opportunity to improve their grasp of Irene’s language. They made noticeable progress almost daily.
She was making a little headway herself and was soon able to wish Lorj, Taru, and Anez good morning. The trio, unlike Clan Sherv, spoke no English.
She’d learned the three Nobeks of the stage crew had no interest in women from a sexual standpoint. It made their willingness to help her avoid capture by the fleet more precious to Irene. They had nothing to gain and plenty to lose by sticking out their necks on her behalf.
“Surely the opportunity to outwit destroyer crews isn’t the whole reason,” she told Sherv.
“They believe empire act cruel to steal women. As Taru say, what if Earth take his mother because humans dying out? He be angry to think of it.”
“Too bad the same idea hasn’t occurred to the fleet officers who are going along with it.”
They watched news vids obsessively to learn the latest information. Earth had threatened war if Kalquor didn’t return the approximately fifteen hundred women it had kidnapped in a matter of days. During emergency hearings the Galactic Council of Planets had ordered, the ambassador from Kalquor, a charming Dramok named Ospar, countered by claiming imminent peril to human women. He insisted the majority were going willingly to the empire and claiming sanctuary from their fanatical government. He presented three Earther women who detailed the horrors of living under the Church’s regime. They’d had female relatives who’d been falsely accused of carnal behavior and executed for their “crimes.”
“It’s as bad as they say,” Irene admitted. “But it’s certain not every woman on her way to your empire is going willingly.”
Her heart throbbed painfully for the other women of the company. Especially Meg and her mother. Where were they now? Were they okay? How were the Kalquorians treating them?
She couldn’t help them, and as callous as it felt to set thoughts of them aside because of her own situation, she worried more about her eventual return to her home planet. She’d run off with Kalquorians to escape Kalquorians. She’d be interrogated, at the very least…and interrogations were cruel.
It’ll be all right. Fausto will vouch for me. Sherv and the rest will tell everyone nothing happened between us, that they were only interested in helping me. No one will know how far we went while we were on the station.
A voice whispered she was lying to herself, but thoughts of her parents remained foremost. Irene brushed her concerns aside. It had to be okay.
She drowned her worries in doing what they loved: writing, playing, and singing the music they’d fused together. When she, Sherv, Jemi, and Rusp gathered in the music room, their concerns vanished on waves of astonishing songs.
Sherv’s compositions were as intricate and emotional as anything Irene had heard in opera, though with a harder edge. At his urging, she explored what her voice could do during those golden hours. Often, her soprano rang as clear and pure as any aria she’d ever sung. For some songs, she belted from the gut and chest, powerfully filling the room. She played with glottal fry and growls. She explored her range as she never had in the past, and loved every second of it.
She practiced playing various instruments, but she admitted it would take her years to approach her companions’ abilities. Rusp was a master when it came to playing his massive spenruk collection, his work in lemanthev barely the tip of the iceberg of his drumming abilities. Jemi’s main role was playing the trasbu, but he was adept at a handful of different instruments. Sherv had the greatest skill, however; she swore whatever he picked up, he played expertly.
If it hadn’t been for the ongoing drama between Earth and Kalquor, the fear of getting caught, and her worries she’d never see her family again, Irene would have called it was the best time of her life. She loved opera, but the hours spent creating and laughing with the clan were paradise.
