Living With Syn (3 page)

* * * *

::Why do you lead with your chin,
Syn?::
Anya had asked. It was the first time she understood
mind speech. Syn was startled.

“I don’t lead with my chin, princess, I state
the obvious.”

“No, you neglect to say what makes you
remarkable.”

“And that would be…”

“You have a PhD in clinical psychology
specializing in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had access to the
manifest. You graduated from Temple at the top of your class and
received your PhD from the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy
League School, last time I looked,” Anya answered with a smile.

“That just makes me a well-educated
prostitute.”

“And being a physician makes me a
well-educated bastard as Sister Edwana took great pains to remind
me.” Anya linked her arms through Syn’s and they moved to sit on
Syn’s bunk. As I said, I am an empath. I
see
you. You are
tough on the outside, but soft and loving beneath the hard
exterior.” Anya smiled.

“I’m embarrassed I came on so strong. I
expect disdain, therefore I shoot before I get shot. For example,
that hulk that brought you here…”

“TeZaron?”

“I suppose that’s his name. He visibly
reacted to my presence. I felt like he lifted his nose as if he
smelled something off. He was in such a hurry to leave, he didn’t
even make you sure you were comfortable.” Tigger jumped up onto
Anya’s bed.

“According to Jonal and Tonas, he is a Sarran
Elder and traveling incognito. I don’t think he was happy to be
outed.”

“He sure had a funny reaction to me.”

“They all have funny reactions to the
Earthen fems
as they refer to us. Half of them don’t know
whether we are the best thing that happened to their planet since
the tragedy or an inferior race destined to bring down their
culture. Once they bond, however, they are loving, kind, and the
most noble of men.” Tigger began to purr.

Anya explained the process of the bond, in so
much as she could. From what the princess told her, the bond became
metaphysical as well as temporal. It came with complete acceptance
of all of your past and future. Syn didn’t know if she would be
capable of dropping her shields or subjecting herself to the level
of commitment that it would entail. Even if she could, she didn’t
want to open herself to heartbreak. Despite what Anya claimed the
bond could be, no man could overlook the fact that Syn lived with a
pimp who trained her to become a whore.

Anya was now the highest ranking fem on
planet since none of the Elders’ spouses survived the Zyptz attack.
Since she became Syn’s friend, Maddy hated Syn even more.

Anya had shied away from the physical; the
idea of bedding two men caused her great distress until she
accepted her own desires. Syn saw no problem with the physical act
of mating with two men; but she didn’t know if she could let her
guard down long enough to permit the intense intimacy the bond
required. She didn’t trust men and nothing in her experience gave
her the slightest inclination to change her mind.

Back home in Philadelphia, after entering the
shelter, she had little to do with men. When she attended the
University of Pennsylvania, she shunned all of them except for her
professors and the unavoidable discourse necessary to earn her
masters, then doctorate in psychology. During the summers and after
her graduation, she went
home
to the Women’s Retreat, the
shelter that had rescued her from the street and worked to help
others like herself overcome their pasts.

* * * *

As Syn’s mind traveled back to the present
she noticed that Maddy’s audience looked a bit irritated when Maddy
mentioned Syn to be a friend of Anya’s.

“They aren’t really friends you know,” Maddy
continued. “Anya met Cynthia only because the Elder TeZaron put
Anya with her the night before the hearing and he did that because
they both owned cats. Disgusting creatures, cats, they make me
sneeze.”

Syn didn’t dare go forward to defend herself.
Even when Jonal, Tonas, and Anya all came to her rescue on a
previous occasion when Maddy got mouthy, it didn’t matter. It
seemed as if Maddy felt Syn to be a permanent pimple on her ass
that Maddy was determined to pinch until Syn erupted and did
something to prove her right. So far, Syn thwarted Maddy’s venomous
mouth by not reacting to the vitriol, but she was nearing her
breaking point.

The buzzing in her head that began on the
Brightstar
generated an unknown song and became louder and
more painful. A tinny voice jabbered in her brain. She actually
conversed with it occasionally, giving in to the compulsion to
soothe…and now she was talking to the cat. Perhaps she did have the
beginnings of a psychosis as an aftereffect of the plague.

Fuck, I need a cigarette.
There was a
stale pack and a lighter in her purse. She did not indulge herself
on the ship because she was afraid of the consequences of an open
flame in the enclosed atmosphere of
Brightstar
, but the
pangs were strong. She rummaged in her purse for the lighter.

She shrugged philosophically. If she proved
incapable of bonding, what was the worst that could happen? If that
proved to be the case, she could settle in here and begin a private
practice to help the Earthen women adjust to their new home, or, be
sent back on the next ship. Either way, she and the Duchess would
do just fine.
Now if only Maddy would shut the hell up and this
headache would go away!

Syn looked down at the hard packed dirt in
front of the counters and noticed a pattern. A straight line snaked
across the reception desks and to the end of the queue. It looked
as if someone repacked the dirt after the depredations of the local
equivalent of a mole. Some sort of black miasma hung over it,
clinging to the ground. She thought it might be some sort of Sarran
anomaly, yet it felt wrong.

* * * *

“Zadda, tell the driver to hurry up. Maddy is
being horrible to Mommie again and Mommie feels very sad, she is
hurting, burning, and smoke is coming out of her mouth. She needs
us now, something is wrong with the dirt.”

Nafer’s small face screwed up, portending a
storm of tears and temper. A true note of alarm rang in his
offspring’s voice. Naffie almost screamed in his distraught state.
Bron used the communicator.

::Zaron…::

::Bron?::

::I’m on my way in the PGT. However,
something is wrong with Nafer. There is a fem from the Brightstar.
He’s channeled into her psy.::

::How?::

::I don’t know. He has been babbling on
for days about his “Mommie. What does this word signify?::
Bron
was puzzled.

::Goddess, Bron, it means we have a fem on
the ship. Nafer is going to knock her out, if he keeps on
pushing.::

::Are you feeling anything resembling a
BondStir? Something else though, he says something is wrong with
the dirt.::

::I experienced a low level resonance on
board that could have been a BondStir. But I ignored it. The blocks
are still in place. The bond must be strong to penetrate the mind
locks.::

::Nafer has no block and neither does the
fem. Be prepared. Nafer’s psy is strong, but undisciplined. He is
going to reach out as soon as we hit the field and we must act to
soften the blow,::
Bron said in concern.

::Did he give you a description?::

::Only some babble about milk, cookies,
someone named Marilyn Monroe and petting something in front of a
tube. He’s almost hysterical because she has smoke coming out of
her mouth. Does this make sense to you?::

::Some…Hurry Bron, I need you.::

::I need you too, my Dragon…::

Bron sat up straighter in the seat. “Hilnut,
we are going to teleport the PGT discreetly onto the field. I
believe we will be needed sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, Elder, immediately.”

Bron turned to Nafer and with a stern face
said, “I did all I can; now you must settle back and wait like a
true Warrior instead of a spoiled offspring.”

“Yes, Zadda.” Nafer stopped whining, but
still fidgeted.

Bron closed his eyes in concentration. He and
his Dragon needed to do something about Nafer’s lack of discipline.
They lost complete control of the situation after Nara returned to
the Goddess.

* * * *

Anya stood with impatience as Jonal, Tonas,
and TeZaron waited for the people on
Brightstar
to
disembark. She worried over Tonas’ leg, still encased in a
semi-hard cast, the outline of which showed through the loose
trews. As the Admirals of the Sarran Fleet, it remained their duty
to see that the two dead Warriors and those wounded in the Zyptz
attack were attended to first and to dismiss their crew for leave
before they could make a formal report to the Elder Council.
TeZaron, an Elder himself, and senior member of the council, stayed
to bear witness. A council PGT pulled up onto the landing field.
The door swung open and a boy came barreling onto the runway.

To Anya’s surprise, the stern countenance of
the Elder broke into a huge smile as he knelt and opened his arms.
The child ran straight to him.

“Poppie, Poppie, you’re finally home!”

A distinguished gentleman in his late
thirties followed the child, escorted by two security officers.
TeZaron stood with fire flashing in his eyes as the Warrior came
directly to his side. Anya could see that the other man shed tears
of joy from his deep golden orbs.

“Watch it, Pa Mici, or Tonas and I might be
tempted to slug an Elder.”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t think TeZaron knew
how to smile. He seemed to me to be a very cold man.”

Jonal raised his eyebrow.

“TeZaron and TeBron dealt with great tragedy
from an early age. Appointed to the Elder Council during Zyptz war,
they took charge of strategy and tactics. With the peace, they
looked forward to the easy governance of Sarran. Instead, the Zyptz
brought us the virus and TeZaron and TeBron coped with the
aftermath while engaged in their private grief for their fem,
unborn bebe, and fempring. Although they are both in their
mid-thirties, they carried the weight of this world now for ten
years,” Jonal concluded.

“I see. The burden aged them both. They look
older than their years.”

“The responsibility for the fleet lay heavy
on our shoulders; so much more so must be the responsibility for
the entire civilization. Yet they fought for the survival of the
Sarran race with fortitude and courage. I hope they find a fem
among the Earthen women. They deserve to be as blessed as we
are.”

Tonas bent over and kissed Anya at the
juncture of her upper and lower lip. Anya smiled back, counting her
blessings.

“Our offspring has regained his exuberance, I
see,” TeZaron remarked.

Anya barely glimpsed TeBron, and their son,
Nafer. As soon as her mind formed his name, the child turned to her
with his hands extended upward. Anya, a trained pediatrician,
picked him up right on cue. He was an armful. She knew his age from
her bonded, but he looked at least four inches taller than an
Earthen six-year-old child and a good twenty pounds heavier.

“You are Anya. You are my Mommie’s friend and
you are going to have a fempring. My Mommie likes you.”

“Who is your Mommie?” Anya asked gently.
Although his body belied his age when measured against an Earthen
child, his actions were akin to his years.

Anya watched as TeZaron raised an eyebrow at
TeBron. She felt a mental poke and suddenly the small voice jumped
into her head.
::You know my Mommie, she has a beautiful beast
with long white hair; but Zadda and Poppie don’t see her yet. It’s
the shield. Mommie will fix it. She’s a mind healer; I don’t know
your word.::

Before Anya could answer, Naffie espied her
bonded from the corner of his eye. “You better put me down. Your
Warriors are fierce and look worried about their fem and their
future fempring.”

“Femspring?”

“Yes.”

“The word is psychologist. Jonal and Tonas
will be pleased.”

Nafer’s feet touched the ground.
::You can
call me Naffie.::

Naffie shook his head.
::”Psychologist”
isn’t the right word. I don’t know if the word exists yet in either
language. It’s an “almost.”::

Tigger chose that moment to make his presence
felt and jumped from his place next to Anya into Nafer’s arms, his
claws digging slightly into the shoulder pads of the child’s
leather vest to provide purchase. Nafer wrapped him in his small
arms and put his nose in his coat. Tigger purred loudly. Anya
looked down to Naffie and her cat and wondered. Could Tigger speak
to the little boy?

::Of course he can. Oops, I forgot the
dirt.::
With a leap that almost knocked Naffie over, Tigger
took off across the field a mot before Anya heard a scream from the
processing line. She watched in horror as Syn Sinclair fell to the
ground. Tigger ran toward Syn and Naffie followed right behind him.
Worried about the child getting lost in the crowd, Anya took up the
chase.

Anya couldn’t run as swiftly as Nafer who,
despite his shorter legs, sprinted like a cheetah. She reached the
fallen Syn after the child had thrown himself on her, crying aloud
and trying to drag her away from the line. Tigger and Duchess
attempting to help him.

She felt deep fear and loss projected from
Nafer and the anxiety of the cats purring to calm him. Anya got
hold of herself and snapped at the other women who had simply
stepped away when Syn fell. “Give me space to work; or I swear I
will set the admirals down on all of you.”

Several women immediately offered to
help.

“Just clear the area.” Anna knelt and checked
Syn’s pulse.

“Syn, can you open your eyes, it’s Anya.”

“Anya, clear the area, there is something
wrong here— Smoke, from the line in the dirt. Fuck, my head
hurts!”