Chapter Twenty Two

Wisdom, Eden thought wryly, was something that was supposed to come with age. Although she made it a point not to spend a great deal of time dwelling on her own age, she certainly had enough years and experience under her belt that she should have attained the wisdom to know better than to take on a half a dozen men in one night, she thought ruefully as she roused enough to begin to feel pain in every joint and muscle in her body.

There was no getting around the fact that the pazaan was inspiration enough to behave without restraint. At every moment that she was within the menooku she was surrounded by gorgeous males catering to her every need, caressing her whenever the opportunity arose and watching her hungrily whenever they thought she wouldn’t notice, making her hyperaware of her femininity and their masculinity. There was also no getting around the fact that Baen’s brood in particular sent her sex drive through the roof.

Her empathy for their discomfort and her sense of fair play had driven her to act against her better judgment.

And of course Ivy had planted the intriguing notion in her mind of indulging herself in an orgy of debauchery.

And she still didn’t know why she’d hatched the idiotic notion to ‘take care’ of her brood.

Actually, she did, but she didn’t particularly want to examine why it mattered so much to her to make them happy, why she was trying so hard to please them when she knew very well it wasn’t expected of her.

Groaning, she struggled to turn over onto her back and lay panting for several moments when she heard the brood enter her suite to attend her morning ritual. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw that Cal, Trar and Vladiv were standing beside the bed, wearing almost identical expressions of concern.

Smiling up at them wanly, Eden pushed herself up on her elbows with an effort, letting out a hiss of pain as did so and her muscles and joints protested the movement.

Someone settled on the bed beside her and she turned to see it was Baen, looking as disturbed as the others. Lifting his hands, he fitted her translator onto her head.

“You are hurt?”

She felt hot color seep into her cheeks. “Just … sore,” she admitted a little lamely.

“We will make it better,” Cal said promptly, leaning down to scoop her up before she could protest and carrying her into the bathing room.

He was disapproving when she insisted that she could attend her personal needs without any assistance, but she ignored the look as she hobbled a little stiffly into the little nook where the toilet sat.

The three men were standing just outside when she emerged again. She noticed, though, that Trar and Vladiv refused to meet her gaze and looked a question at Cal.

Cal, she saw, was glaring at both of them accusingly, but his expression softened to a look of concern and empathy as he met her gaze again. “The heat of the water will soothe,” he murmured, lifting her carefully into his arms and carrying her down into the bath.

Instead of settling her on the bathing bench as they generally did, Cal sat down in the water with her in his lap, pulling her back against his chest. Trar and Vladiv joined them. Settling on their knees on either side of her, they began to stroke their hands over her in a soothing massage, beginning with her feet and working their way upwards.

Cal’s movements were as tender. He stroked her arms for several moments and then focused on working the tension from her shoulders and neck.

She was half asleep by the time Trar and Vladiv had worked their way up to her thighs. Their ministrations then, however, were far more stimulating than relaxing. Before they’d spent more than a handful of minutes stroking her from groin to knee, tension had begun to coil low in her belly, and her sex, the insatiable hussy, was demanding to be fed--again.

She was relieved when they finally ceased stroking her, helped her from the bath and dried her.

She was still stiff and sore when she emerged, but far less so than before, and in any case her body was buzzing cozily for more, which was enough of a diversion that she managed to dress without too many grunts and groans and settled to break her fast.

Typically, she had no appetite in the morning and only nibbled at the food to appease them because she’d discovered early on that they seemed very unsettled about her size. She supposed it was to be expected. Obviously, their concept of beauty and health was their own queens, and she doubted any of the Xtanian women were under seven feet tall or even close to thin. She only had Sademeen to go by, of course, and she, poor thing, had already borne many broods--reason enough to be more than a little overweight even for her height--but she thought that Sademeen was typical, not unusual. And if that was the case, it certainly explained the impression she got that the Xtanian men thought the Earth women in general were unnervingly puny and weak.

She thought her pazaan was probably fearful that she was going to keel over dead and that was why they looked so upset when she displayed so little interest in eating.

It was far worse today, though, she discovered because she felt vaguely nauseated even looking at the food. Girding herself, she struggled to eat enough to satisfy them and left with a strong sense of relief to be free of observation--or relatively free of it--for a few hours.

Deborah Pugh, Stacy Sessions, and Brenda Coleman, sector chiefs for med techs, engineers and agriculture respectively arrived midmorning for a meeting. Glad for the diversion, although she expected trouble since they’d come to speak with her in person, Eden told her assistant to show them in.

Deb went straight to the point. “The natives are getting restless,” she said tartly.

Eden’s brows rose almost to her hairline. “What makes you say that?” she asked sharply.

Stacy sent Deb an irritated glance. “Our natives,” she said pointedly. “They feel like they’ve waited long enough. They want to know if it’s safe to choose their own men.”

Some of Eden’s tension ebbed, but only some. Acutely aware of Baen, she struggled for several moments to figure out a way to speak with them without him present and finally accepted that trying to do so would only make him suspicious.

“I’m not sure it is safe,” she said hesitantly.

Brenda’s expression was disbelieving. “You’re alive. The others that were allowed to pick a harem are, too. I haven’t seen anything to indicate any of you have had trouble.

“In fact, just the opposite. With Marion Lynden and the others strolling around and preening themselves over their ‘punishment’ for what was clearly dangerous behavior, and you, and Liz, and Ivy floating around with sappy happy looks on your faces, everybody, including me, is beginning to resent being excluded from having a choice in whether or not they want to mate up with the Xtanians.”

Eden’s expression hardened. “A little professional courtesy would be appreciated,” she said tightly.

Brenda reddened. “I apologize for what might have seemed like criticism,” she said stiffly.

“I was referring to respect for the office I hold,” Eden said pointedly. “You have the right to criticize. You do not have the right to speak to me as if I was one of your inferiors.”

Brenda’s blush deepened, but the anger in her eyes was replaced with discomfort and guilt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Eden surveyed the other two women coldly for a moment and finally unbent slightly. “Regardless of what you may perceive to be the case, we’re walking on egg shells here, and all is not as it seems.”

She stopped, considered for several moments and finally decided that it would be far better to explain the customs of the Xtanians in excruciating detail than to allow the others to make their decision blindly. Very likely, they would dismiss it, but they could not later complain that they weren’t warned.

When she’d finished describing the mating process, she saw that all three women were staring at her with varying degrees of horror, revulsion, and disbelief.

“I find that hard to credit,” Brenda said finally.

Eden grew angry at the not so subtle implication that she was lying. “Nevertheless, I will expect you to explain this to the women in your sectors so that they know what to expect. If they’re still interested, we still have to consider security for the colony at large. Names will be drawn by lot, but only one at the time per sector per week. Until we have had time to be absolutely certain that there will be no danger, or at least a very minimal danger, integration will only be allowed slowly and cautiously.

“The Xtanians are showing signs that they are both willing and able to adapt to our customs--at least to a degree. Splitting up the broods is not an option. The bond between them isn’t at all like anything any of us has ever encountered, but it’s obvious they’re inseparable and trying to do so could create problems we don’t want to have to deal with. As long as the women fully understand as much as we do know of their customs, though, and are careful not to push too quickly, there should be no trouble.

“But it will be your responsibility as sector chiefs to see to it that you don’t send any loose cannons.”

“You mean like Marion Lynden and her cronies?” Stacy said tartly.

Eden gave her a look. “Exactly like Marion and cronies,” she said coldly. “Unfortunately, they left us with no choice but to send them since they’d already done so much damage sending them was the only way to try to mend the breech.”

Stacy looked away uncomfortably, but Eden doubted she felt any real guilt that the majority of the group in question belonged to her sector.

Dismissing the remark after a moment, Eden considered the situation carefully, trying to decide if she’d covered all angles and finally came up with another potential for disaster. “There aren’t enough broods to go around,” she said finally. “Men certainly, but now that we know they will not be separated from their brood brothers--not enough broods. This isn’t something we need to be particularly worried about at the moment since there are some who are very much against mixing anyway. But it still has to be considered for the long term. We don’t want the women inadvertently favoring men from several different broods, as Ivy, and Liz and I did. And we don’t want them fighting over the men. They will single out the one man that interests them most, one at the time, and then make certain that all the men of the brood they’ve chosen have identified themselves before the next chooses.

“They will be sent out under military escort to make certain order is kept.”

Stacy and Brenda obviously had mixed feelings as they left, but both women seemed more at ease, no doubt because they finally had something solid to appease the women in their sectors.

Deb lingered behind, studying Eden speculatively. “It’s been rough?” she said with a touch of sympathy.

Eden reddened. “An adjustment, certainly. I don’t know that it would exactly qualify to call it ‘rough’ when they treat me like a queen, wait on me hand and foot and always put my needs before their own.”

A slow grin curled Deb’s lips. “That bad, huh?”

Eden couldn’t help but smile back, but she sighed wanly. “In all honesty, it’s wearing and more often than not irritating. I’m used to doing things for myself--we all are. Being pampered like a helpless infant might sound appealing from the outside, but its nerve wrackingly awkward--like trying to feed yourself with your left hand.

“And I ….” She broke off. “They’re so sweet, all of them, so eager to please and so hurt when you don’t want their help that I spend most of my time worrying about pleasing them.”

Deb shrugged. “I expect it wouldn’t be as wearing if you didn’t have to contend with quite so many. Is there no way to get out of that?”

Eden frowned. “I’m not sure. Eventually, assuming it just doesn’t get to be too much for all of us, and mixing doesn’t lead to violence and all sorts of unpleasant repercussions, maybe I’ll figure out a way.”

“You wouldn’t be against it?”

Eden stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I care about them, too much to take a chance that they’d do something to themselves because they were rejected, or be banished, or anything awful like that. But one brood is certainly enough.”

“Mmm,” Deb responded noncommittally. “Almost too much, I’d guess. Why don’t you stop by the clinic and let me run a check on you?”

“I look that bad?” Eden asked jokingly.

Deb chuckled, but shook her head. “You look tired and a little pale.”

A blush climbed Eden’s cheeks. “Maybe I’m overdoing it--a little.”

Deb burst out laughing. “Almost certainly. I’d still like to give you a checkup.”

Eden gave in to the inevitable. “Let me check my schedule,” she muttered, somewhat irritably. “Next week? Say midmorning?”

Deb nodded. “I’ll make sure I have an opening for you. Promise?”

“Unless something comes up that I can use as an excuse,” Eden murmured teasingly.

“I could always bring a portable and come to you,” Deb retorted chidingly, “And I will if you don’t show up.” She hesitated at the door. “We know their food isn’t harmful to us, but you’re primarily on an alien diet. It might not be meeting your needs.”

Nodding, Eden waved her off. She wasn’t particularly disturbed about it. She felt fine, as she’d admitted, tired because she’d overindulged, but otherwise fine. She was far more worried, in any case, about the exodus of the colonists toward the Xtanians. Problems were bound to arise no matter what they did to circumvent them.

Eden’s edict was received pretty much as she’d come to expect from the colonists. Everyone grumbled. Even the angriest among them, though, were at least able to look forward to a specific point in time where they would be allowed to chose a ‘husband brood’, or a harem for themselves, whichever way they preferred to look at it.

As she’d also expected, they also tended to ignore the down side to the Xtanian’s customs but the first to have the opportunity discovered quickly enough that it wasn’t merely propaganda devised to manipulate them and they were no happier than Eden, Ivy and Liz had been.

Eden was secretly glad, because it quieted the mob and dampened their enthusiasm--at least temporarily. She knew, though, that it wouldn’t last any longer than it took for the brood to begin to adjust to the preferences of their ‘queens’.

Regardless, the unrest was enough to keep her busier than usual, and she might have forgotten her promise to Deb to go in for a checkup except for one circumstance.

The vague sense of nausea became a regular occurrence.

Eden wasn’t certain whether Baen had caught the gist of her conversation with Deb, but after Deb had finally left and she flicked a glance at Baen to see if he seemed to have understood any of what had been discussed, she saw that he looked a little ill himself as he examined her face searchingly.

Disconcerted, she considered asking him point blank if he’d understood the conversation--or any part of the conversation she’d had with the others.

She hesitated to back him into a corner, however, because there were only two possibilities that she could think of. Either he’d picked up only a handful of words and had grasped enough to understand Deb was concerned about her, or he was trying to hide the fact that he’d learned far more than he’d given her reason to believe and he’d understood everything, or pretty much everything, that had been discussed.

He might only have understood enough that, put together with Deb’s tone and body language, he’d figured out she was concerned.

She wasn’t certain she wanted to delve into any reasons he might have for keeping it secret from her if he had learned enough to follow her conversations.

Besides, how much faith could she place in her interpretation of his expression?

He would only be unsettled if he cared about her and she wanted to believe he did.

Dismissing it after a time, she focused on her work.

Sooner or later, she would know for certain just how much Baen understood and in the meanwhile she was taking all of the precautions she possibly could to protect the interests of the colony.

Despite the problems of the day, and the fact that Eden had begun the day feeling much the worse for wear, she found herself looking forward to spending ‘quality’ time with Baen and his brood. She might not have if not for the fact that Trar and Vladiv had stirred her up just enough to tease her throughout the day with possibilities, but they had and she wasn’t at all reluctant to engage in a little more sensible recreation.

Baen, to her surprise and a touch of both amusement and irritation, nixed that idea. As soon as she’d been carried to bed and settled, he’d ordered his brood out to allow her to rest.

She didn’t protest. She was tired, a little randy after her invigorating bath and massage, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with. She was a little less pleased and amused the following night and became downright indignant by the third night.

“I’m not that tired,” she protested.

He pretended he had no idea what she’d said, but he made no attempt to fetch her translator to find out either.

Deciding after several tense moments that she really didn’t want to fight with him about it, she finally flounced onto her side and stewed over it until she fell asleep, but she was resolved to confront him about it by the time she’d reached her office.

The problem, she discovered, was that it was a rather delicate subject--at least as far as she was concerned and once she’d marched over to him to give him a piece of mind she simply stared at him for several moments, trying to decide how to phrase her complaint. “I’m the – uh – head of the pazaan, right?”

He studied her warily for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then it’s my decision whether or not I take one of the pazaan – uh – into my bed, or more than one,” she said, stabbing him with the point of her index finger for emphasize.

Anger glittered in his eyes. “No.”

Eden gaped at him in surprise. “What do you mean ‘no’?” she demanded indignantly.

“I am high warrior, and you are my responsibility. At any time that I deem it necessary to protect you, even from yourself, it is my duty to do so.”

Taken aback by the response, which she certainly hadn’t expected, Eden went back to gaping at him. “I don’t need to be protected from--that!”

“You were hurt and ill the day after,” he reminded her. “And for two days since you have scarcely eaten.”

Eden felt her face heat. “Sore, not injured,” she retorted. “I’m not as weak as you obviously think I am.”

His expression softened after a moment. Amusement took the place of his anger. He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek gently. “You are not nearly as fragile as I had believed, nor as strong as you believe.”

Disconcerted, uncomfortable with the conversation anyway, Eden decided to drop the subject. “Maybe not,” she muttered as she turned away and settled at her desk, “but I don’t need someone else to tell me when I’m hungry, sleepy--or horny, damn it! I’ve been teased for days, and next week I won’t be with you--and your brood,” she added after a considerable pause.

She was somewhat mollified by Baen’s explanation, but as grateful as she was for a reprieve to recover from overindulgence and a little more time to rest, his behavior seemed inconsistent with what she’d thought she understood about the Xtanians and it made her more than a little uneasy, made her worry that she was seeing changes within her brood that weren’t at all customary for the Xtanians.

Baen and Cal made love with her that night with infinite care, but with a thoroughness that left her breathless and completely sated and the following night Vladiv and Trar. It seemed indisputable that they were all chastened by her condition the morning after her wild romp, or had been castigated by Baen, because thereafter all of the others vanished as soon as she’d made her choice for the night and she didn’t get seconds, much less thirds.

It annoyed her, in more ways than one, but mostly because she couldn’t help but feel that she and Baen were locked in a power struggle to see which of them was actually in charge of the mezooku.

On the bright side, Baen was equally strict with the other broods, denying them nightly access to her, giving her one night to rest undisturbed every other night. They yielded to his orders without any apparent anger or resentment, but they seemed surprised, which seemed to her to indicate that his behavior was not the norm.

She might have spent more time worrying about it except for the fact that she discovered the vague nausea she felt every morning not only didn’t go away, it got worse and she began to wonder if she was being poisoned.