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Ondry disliked what he smelled from Liam. He had grown distressingly used to the lack of contentment on Liam’s skin, but the sour stench reminded Ondry of illness. He had seen Liam with an illness once, and that had been before the Grandmothers had declared Liam a palteia, but this scent reminded Ondry of that sourness.
The Grandmother was finishing her negotiations, sorting out how information from the human database would be delivered to the Imshee and how much access they would have to human texts, but Ondry’s concerns about Liam’s scent forced him into action. With his hand around Liam’s shoulder, he turned and headed for the docking hatch. He hoped one of the Imshee would open the access and not leave Ondry and Liam to stand, trapped, inside this shuttle.
“Where are we going?” Liam asked. His gaze lingered on the Grandmother, even though he had to crane his neck to see her. Perhaps this twist in his body caused a lack of coordination because Liam’s feet tangled, and Ondry had to catch his weight before he fell.
“Well?” Liam asked a little louder. Several Grandmothers as well as most of the tuk-ranked individuals turned to look, but Ondry continued to guide Liam toward the access hatch. And since their destination was obvious, he did not answer Liam’s question. He also did not ask after Liam’s health. Such questions were private and best asked in the nest.
“Have We offended They and They?” the Imshee asked.
Ondry left the Grandmother to mend any offense Ondry might have given. One advantage of being smaller than other tuk-ranked was that the Grandmother could place the blame for Ondry’s poor manners on his lack of experience or age.
A voice called out in English, “Hey, wait. I’ll come with you.”
As Ondry turned, Mora fell forward, his hands flying out. Ondry paled and when Liam tried to go toward Mora, Ondry pulled Liam close and snarled. Several of the Rownt around him pulled back, but Ondry didn’t care.
Something was wrong.
His blood warmed, and he wanted to run or fight. He wanted to find a tree and put Liam up it and guard the base. But he couldn’t do any of those, so he tucked Liam close to his chest and ran for the access hatch.
Behind, Ondry heard a confused cacophony of Rownt hisses and Imshee clicks and chitters. Ondry had never studied the Imshee language, so he could not judge the Imshee’s reaction, but Ondry did not care.
“Whoa. Hey, slow down,” Liam said, but he spoke English. He seldom spoke English to Ondry. And his words sounded odd. Were Ondry not so fluent in English, he would not have understood because each word seemed to spill into the next. Liam drew in a large breath, and Ondry heard tightness in his respiratory system before Liam began to cough.
Ondry tucked Liam closer to his chest and ran toward the exit. Whatever was wrong, it was centered on the Imshee shuttle, and Ondry needed to get Liam off. He had covered three quarters of the distance in seconds, but before he reached the access point, one of the Grandmothers hurled past him, forcing Ondry to the side of the passage. He snarled his anger, but then the eldest Grandmother followed.
“Hurry. They open the hatch.” She didn’t have time for more before she was past. Ondry hurried after her. The access hatch slowly rolled to one side; however, Liam remained silent.
“Are you struggling to breathe?” Ondry asked.
Liam still didn’t respond, and Ondry shifted his full attention to his palteia. Liam was silent, his eyes closed and his mouth half-open as he continued his raspy breathing. Panic and rage curled around Ondry’s heart. He would not lose Liam. He would not.
But Ondry did not know who to threaten. When Diallo had attracted the kawt to the camp, Ondry could set his teeth and claws against that predator. He saw the enemy and knew how to fight the enemy, and while Ondry had felt overwhelming fear in that moment—fear of dying, of losing Liam, of living on after his palteia—he at least understood the enemy. Now Ondry felt every bit as much terror and rage and he didn’t know how to fight.
“Go!” the Grandmother called.
Ondry held Liam tight and ran through the half-open hatch after the smaller Grandmother who had gone ahead. A younger Grandmother carried Mora. No doubt the eldest guarded their retreat. Like Liam, Mora appeared unconscious, his arms dangling.
The Grandmother stopped, forcing Ondry to follow suit, even though his instinct screamed at him to fight and run until he could no longer do so.
“Let me see him,” another Grandmother said.
The one with Mora set him on the floor carefully, holding his head to cushion it as he placed him on the floor. The eldest Grandmother pushed in behind Ondry, forcing him to one side so she could reach Mora.
“He stopped responding shortly after tuk-Ondry fled the room. He was uncoordinated and spoke strangely,” she told the Grandmother examining Mora.
“What symptoms led you to remove tuk-Liam?” the Grandmother asked Ondry. This was the individual Ondry had helped to translate the medical information on the biological basis of human empathy when they had first traded for the full database of human anatomy.
Ondry knew that she was skilled in the area of anatomy, even human anatomy. He still struggled to find words when his brain wanted to focus on the killing rage flowing through him. “He smelled of illness and he spoke without leaving pause between words.”
“Smelled of what illness?” she spoke sharply and left Mora to come over to Liam. Ondry had to fight every instinct to allow the Grandmother to help him lower Liam to the floor.
“I do not know.”
The eldest Grandmother spoke, and fear made her words sharp. “Has an Imshee virus infected them?”
“Unlikely,” the medically-trained Grandmother said. “Most disease does not cross species lines, and even fewer can cross between two species that evolved on different planets. Humans are ill far more often when they are around their own species. They are normal in that regard.”
“Poison?” Ondry asked. If that was true, Ondry would tear the Imshee ship apart, and from the paleness of the eldest Grandmother’s cheeks, she would assist him.
“Perhaps something in the Imshee ship caused a reaction. Human immune reactions can have deleterious effects,” she said. “Come, bring them to the temple so I can take measurements,” she urged them.
This time the eldest Grandmother picked Mora up herself, and the younger Grandmother moved to the side of the corridor and tried to make herself as small as possible.
Ondry was surprised when she remained to the side and allowed him to pass with Liam; however, he appreciated her willingness to ignore protocol. They moved quickly through the ship, and when they did encounter other Rownt, those others moved aside and went respectfully silent. Perhaps the expression on the eldest Grandmother’s face was enough to warn them to avoid conversation.
They passed the outer temple, and Ondry followed through the curtains of light into the area where only Grandmothers and those seeking the Grandmothers’ protection trod. One of the Grandmothers huffed, but Ondry didn’t care. He accompanied the eldest, holding Liam so his arms were tucked close to Ondry and could not dangle as Mora’s did. They headed into a large living space, only instead of seating for two as most Rownt houses would in the front room, a dozen different couches sat around.
The medical Grandmother hurried past this room into a passage that opened into an area clearly intended for healing. Several of the machines Ondry had seen at the human hospital sat in one corner, and the Grandmother went to those first, rolling them closer to the tables.
The eldest Grandmother laid Mora out on one table, and Ondry settled Liam on the second one. The bright lights gave Liam’s mouth a bluish tinge, and Ondry stroked Liam’s arm. If belief in the gods would bring Liam back, Ondry would built an altar and take up the ancient art of holy storyteller. Trade meant little if he could not trade for Liam’s health.
“They are small, and I need space to work. You must leave,” the Grandmother in charge of this place said.
The eldest gave a distressed trill.
The second Grandmother had been tending a machine, but now she turned to the eldest Grandmother. “I am skilled and I have studied the human body extensively. However, I cannot work around you because you are not small. Let me work, and if I cannot find an answer quickly, I will call you both in to sing to their souls and tempt them back. But for now, you must remove yourselves for the health of the palteia.” She was not a particularly large Grandmother, but she drew herself up and stood full height and twitched her tail in aggravation.
The eldest Grandmother showed all her teeth before she spun around and rushed from the room.
“Tuk-Ondry, you are not a third her size, but you are still in the way when I need hands trained in this equipment,” the Grandmother said. She looked toward the far corner, and Ondry followed her gaze. A far older and larger Grandmother stood there.
Ondry fought himself. An instinct that ordered him to stay battled the wisdom of allowing those who knew more to act. Ondry forced his fingers to uncurl and his feet to back away from the table where Liam remained. Feeling like he was making an error in judgment, Ondry retreated down the corridor to the Grandmothers’ sitting room.
He had no business being there. No healthy adult did unless they were one of the Grandmothers. However, Ondry could not bear to be farther from Liam. So he stopped in the middle of all those couches and stood. His teeth ached, and Ondry realized he was snarling at the universe. He shook his head and tried to relax his lips. He was only partially successful; air dried the tips of his fangs.
Toenails clicked against the floor, and Duke trotted into the room. The dog stopped, his head cocking to one side. It gave a small whine and approached the eldest Grandmother. She sat on the couch nearest the medical corridor and called to the animal.
“Your Zach will be here soon, eggling,” she told the beast. She ran her fingers over the dog’s head and touched him gently as though he were a real eggling, and for the first time Ondry could understand the use of such an animal. Right now, Ondry wished he could touch some child, soothe her and promise to make the universe fair for her. It would be illogical for Ondry to lie to himself, but he wished for someone to whom he could offer soft lies like prayers. If the Grandmother were not here, perhaps Ondry would do so with the Mora’s animal.
“The Grandmother will send word,” the eldest Grandmother said, nodding toward the computer she had set next to her. Even though it was an unforgivable breach of privacy, Ondry watched the display. The Imshee were sending messages in their looped script, but the Grandmother did not have her computer translating it, and Ondry could not read their language. The Grandmother in the medical suite had not sent any word, though.
Even when Ondry had received word of his mother’s death, he had not felt this helpless rage. And he could do nothing but wait and snarl at the universe in general.