Chapter Nine
Mercy
One Week Later
The thing about an argument is they take real commitment to keep alive. Without dedicated time and energy, the reason for the argument might not slip away but the feelings of betrayal diminish. After a week of feeding two hungry infants, changing diapers and sleeping at most than two hours at a stretch, Mercy was too exhausted to keep fighting.
Paax came and went but they didn’t talk. Not really. They exchange updates about their children. Their interactions were polite with a chill of distance that did not help her feel better at all. She poured out her grief and frustration to her husband and what did he do? He left for a day. When he came back, he didn’t address their argument. He acted as if nothing happened.
Mercy refused to act as if nothing happened.
She wasn’t wrong to be upset. Her feelings were not just hormones and not just exhaustion. They were real. The problem was real. Her husband did not respect her or treat her like a partner.
She had no idea what to do, so she did the basics: feed the babies, change the babies, sleep, shower—yeah, that hadn’t happened in three days—and remember to eat. Repeat.
The Naming Ceremony inched closer by the day but it was easy to forget herself in the daily routine of being a mom. To think she was worried about being a good mom–she’d laugh if she had the energy. Her own insecurities gnawed away, comparing herself to the other women on the Judgment. So many of them were professionals but Mercy had cared for her ill mother for years. If anyone was prepared to be a mother, it was her.
Mylomon arrived just as she put Axil and Drake down to sleep. She decided on the names Paax suggested—the good ones— and even had an idea who was who. Axil was far more demanding and more of a biter when it came to feeding. Drake was relaxed and had to be coaxed into nursing. She hoped he didn’t grow into a fussy eater.
“Warlord’s female—”
“Paax isn’t here.” He was spending more time in his ready room and she suspected that he slept there. He certainly wasn’t sleeping in their bed.
“I came to speak with you.” His tone was precise, overly formal and made her suspicious.
“What do you want?”
He held out a dark fist and opened it, palm up. A crystal bead rested in the palm of his hand, so small and delicate in his huge paw. He looked at her expectantly. When she didn’t react, he shook his hand as if encouraging her to take the bead.
“I don’t know what you want.”
“This is for you.”
“I really don’t know what you mean.”
Mylomon sighed, his massive shoulders heaving. “You dislike me so much that you refuse my gift?”
“You didn’t exactly make a great first impression but what are you talking about?”
“Paax did not explain.” Not a question, a statement. Paax explained nothing. Typical.
“Maybe you can explain it to me.”
“This,” he said, holding the bead up so that the light caught in its belly, “is tradition. A new father presents his mate with a token, a pendant or stone, in appreciation for all that she has given him.”
Mercy nodded. Gifts of jewelry she understood.
“It is good luck for the unmated and childless males to give smaller tokens to the new mother, so that her fortune and fertility may reflect back on them.”
Her hand sought the crystal and amethyst pendant in the robe pocket. “He never mentioned this.”
“Then I am honored to give you the first token. Please accept.”
“So that Daisy will get pregnant?”
His eyes gleamed. “So that she will remain healthy and thrive.”
“Thank you, I’m touched.” She accepted the bead. A starburst pattern was carved into the surface and a small hole bored through the center, the perfect width for a chain. “This is lovely.”
“And I apologize for my first impression.” He bowed his head slightly, conveying sincerity.
“You stabbed me.”
“I followed orders.”
“Those orders sucked.”
“Yes, but it was necessary. Necessity is often unpleasant.”
Mercy narrowed her eyes. “You trying to imply something?”
A grin broke across his face. She fought the urge to recoil back because, dang it, he was a predator barring his teeth and it was terrifying. “If I have something to say, I say it directly.”
“That’s not what Daisy says. She says you’re all about those long silences filled with meaningful looks and sighs.”
“I do not sigh.” His head tilted, listening to something only he could hear. “You should discuss pregnancy risks with Meridan.”
Mercy rolled the bead in her hand. “That traitor? She could have told me about the twins but didn’t, so I don’t think so.”
“I followed the standard protocol, so that makes me a traitor?” Meridan set her bag on the table near the entryway.
Mercy blushed. She would have never criticized the nurse had she known Meridan was in the room. Not in the room was a different, criticism-filled, story. “I thought my check-ups were over.”
“Yeah, well, my darling husband is working my last nerve today, so I thought I’d make a house call,” Meridan said, opening her bag. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
Mylomon bowed and showed himself out.
Meridan waved a scanner over Mercy. “Any pain? Nausea?”
Mercy shook her head. “Physically I feel good. Surprisingly good.”
The nurse examined the incision and pressed down on her abdomen before instructing Mercy to lay down. She pressed down on her belly again before having her roll over and repeat the motion on her back. “And emotionally?”
“If you’re trying to ask if I’m still pissed, you know the answer to that.”
Meridan patted her on the shoulder, indicating that she could sit up. “I’m a hypocrite, I know.”
“You knew I was having twins the entire time and you didn’t tell me. Not once. You knew Kalen and Paax were keeping it from me and you didn’t lose a bit of sleep, did you?”
“Don’t get too comfortable on your high horse.”
Mercy snorted. Her high horse was very comfortable.
“You are in the very lucky minority of women who have delivered surviving twins,” Meridan said, voice laced with authority. “Half of all twin pregnancies will lose one baby; 25% lose both babies. And it’s well documented that stress, even a small amount of stress, has drastic impacts on the mother’s health. And if we told you? You’d want to know those statistics, wouldn’t rest until we told you, and those numbers are pretty darn grim. So we decided to not tell you, to avoid stress during pregnancy and to minimize complications.”
Minimize complications. Mercy hated how clinical that sounded, how cold. “If the worst happened, if I lost one of my sons… would you have even told me?”
Meridan fiddled with the instrument in her hand before raising her eyes to meet Mercy’s gaze. “Its standard procedure to let the mate decide how much information is disclosed.”
“So no.” Paax already said he wouldn’t tell her, in a misguided effort to shield her from heartbreak. He didn’t see the issue and Meridan actually defended their crummy decision. “It’s so—”
“Demeaning? Belittling? Disenfranchising?”
Mercy nodded.
“The alternative is heartbreaking.”
“What happens if I have twins again?”
“Survival odds decrease.”
Mercy rubbed the spot between her eyes. “How is that even possible? And how is it that everyone seems to think that I should be grateful that I was lied to for nine months.”
Meridan did not answer, instead packing away her instrument. “You’re recovering nicely. Try to sleep more.”
“Yeah, sure.” She slept when she could. At least Axil and Drake were on the same sleep cycle now but that had its problems. Two hungry babies awake and demanding to nurse made for some interesting juggling. “What I need is another set of arms.”
“Can I examine the babies now?”
Meridan performed her check on the sleeping infants. Either they were deep sleepers or Meridan had a light touch because Axil and Drake slept through the entire examination.
“Good weight. Good color. Strong vitals. How is their appetites?”
“Voracious.”
“And bowel movements?”
“Disgusting.”
She snickered. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be grossed out when it’s your own kid.”
Two times the diapers took away cuteness and multiplied the gross. Mercy paused. “I can’t get pregnant again, can I? Nursing stops that?”
“You absolutely can get pregnant again, but it’s probably way too soon to think about sex. You need to heal.”
She couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough. She needed to get her husband in the same room and talk to him before she’d consider sex. Even so, she wasn’t ready for another baby.
“I have patient confidentiality with you, right?”
“Yes. Anything you say is confidential and no one need know.”
“Not even the head of medicine?”
Meridan paused before answering. “If it is vital to your health or safety, I am obligated to report that.”
“And you can’t tell anyone?”
“Your medical information is confidential,” Meridan said.
Mercy nodded, believing that the nurse took her profession seriously and would not gossip with her husband about their conversation. “It’s not that I don’t want more kids. I do, but I’m not ready. I don’t want—”
The nurse nodded and rooted in her bag, withdrawing a canister. “Birth control is a standard recommendation after pregnancy. Your body suffered a great deal of stress and needs time to recover before going through that stress again.”
“I just need to sleep.” And shower. And brush her hair.
Meridan loaded the canister into a hypospray and pressed it against Mercy’s arm. She felt the slightest pinch. “This will last for a year. It can be neutralized with another injection but I caution against that. A year is a good break between batches. You’ll still get wellness checks, too.”
Mercy rubbed her arm, barely listening. “Thank you.”
Paax
There was always some issue or problem to command a warlord’s attention. Paax kept himself busy and found plenty of reasons to remain in his ready room and not return to his shared quarters with his mate. The ship’s computer monitored Mercy and sent him notifications when she was asleep. That was when he returned home to hold his sons and tell them of the great deeds of his father and his father’s father. They barely listened and were far more interested in tugging on his lips and hair. The strength in their grip pleased him. They were small for Mahdfel infants but they were mighty.
Paax had always had trouble communicating his thoughts to others. He thought faster, such was his genius, often made leaps, and grew frustrated waiting for others to catch up, such was his ego. He worked best directing a team where the males followed his orders and did not question him. They understood that Paax had thoroughly thought out the problem and trusted that his method was best. That was how his lab worked when he served as a geneticist. That was how the Judgment worked when he became warlord.
To have his mate doubt him, to have to explain every decision when he made countless decisions daily…
He should apologize. He needed to apologize, but not just yet.
He investigated the musicians Mercy claimed to admire and listened to their entire catalogue. Terran music was not disagreeable but the rhythmic melodies were an acquired taste. After the first dozen hours, he found his foot keeping that alien rhythm.
The insect musicians grew on him.
The Judgment was ready to enter the Gate. The journey through the Gate would take an hour. For a vessel the size of the battle cruiser, passengers would not notice the hour in flux. They didn’t even need to use a safety harness. It also meant that care of the Judgment rested solely with the navigator for the next hour and there was nothing for Paax to do but pace and unnerve Darian.
He decided to utilize the downtime and consume a meal. Food had been reduced to barebones sustenance. He drew no pleasure from food, not with his mate upset.
In the cafeteria he found his mate’s mother preparing a tray.
Dorothy looked up, surprise registering on her face. “Haven’t seen you around lately,” she said.
“I have many duties that require my attention.”
He watched as she spread a legume paste on a bagel. He found the paste too sweet but knew his mate savored it. Dorothy noticed him watching. “Mercy has been trying to come down for breakfast for an hour now so I decided to bring it to her.”
“She prefers oatmeal and honey for the morning meal.” It baffled him how a plain grain could satisfy her and keep her from hunger but she insisted.
“Unless someone is there to spoon-feed her, she’s limited to what she can eat with one hand.” She picked up an orange globe and gestured with it.
Shame flooded Paax. He should be the one to feed his mate. She should not struggle on his own. Only his pride kept him from her side.
It boiled down to pride. He might be bad at explaining his reasoning and logic but his pride smarted when his mate did not accept that he had her best intentions in mind. She consumed his thoughts and directed his every action. How could she doubt him?
Because he avoided her when she needed him, like an honorless dog.
Paax plucked an orange globe off the tray and bit into it. Acrid bitterness flooded his mouth and he spit out the offending fruit. “Terrans eat this?”
“We don’t eat the rind,” Dorothy said. She demonstrated on a second orange how to peel the fruit. “This is the first harvest from our very own orange trees.”
“This grew on the Judgment?” He peeled his orange, using his nails to separate the bitter rind from the fruit. He was imprecise and punctured the fruit, juice leaking down his hands.
“When I was a little girl,” Dorothy said, “oranges were commonplace. Every grocery store had them; stacks and stacks. You bought them pounds at a time and they were cheap. During the invasion, they vanished, like a lot of stuff. The groves were all destroyed in Florida and California, I heard. They only started showing up again in stores a few years ago.”
Paax said nothing as his mate’s mother rambled. He could not afford to offend both females.
“We had orange flavoring and artificial juice pumped full of vitamin C but not the real thing. Do you know this will be the first real orange Mercy’s had since she was a kid? Sometimes I can’t believe the way the world changed.”
Paax unpeeled the fruit and discovered that it had segments. He popped a segment in his mouth, savoring the acidity and sweetness. “What is this Terran fruit? I approve.”
“An orange.”
His brows furrowed. “My translator must not be working properly. That is a color.”
“It is also the name of the fruit. This is a navel orange.”
Terrans did enjoy words that had multiple meanings, almost as if they relished confusing their alien allies. He had interacted with enough to Terrans to believe this to be true.
“I should get back. She’s waiting,” Dorothy said, standing.
Paax placed a hand on the tray. “I will feed my mate, but first, please, I have three questions.”
Dorothy sat back down.
“What is my mate’s favorite color?”
“Aquamarine. She wears it often enough.”
Paax nodded, turning this information over in his mind. He would know the information she demanded if he were observant. “And her favorite food is… chocolate?”
“Obviously. Is there a point to this?”
“One more. What is her favorite song?”
Dorothy glanced over her shoulder, towards the kitchen. “Here Comes the Sun. Charles use to sing… He sang it to Mercy during air raids.” She sighed. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“Thank you for the information.”
Back in his quarters, he found Braith standing guard at the door. Inside, his mate was in the cleansing room. Steam curled from under the door. His sons slept. Terran infants slept a lot, he learned, just not always in successive periods of time.
His sons slept together in one basket that Mercy insisted calling a bassinet. the word sounded like a Terran fish or a basket for fish. Soon they would outgrow the fish basket and require separate accommodations. For the moment they rested on their backs, holding hands.
“Always be good to each other,” Paax said, his thumb brushing their downy hair. “You are brothers. You will need each other. Do not fight.” It was the most important wisdom he could think to impart. He continued, “I had a twin once. We were inseparable. He was part of my soul. Even when we drifted apart, we were always together.”
Omas had been his oldest and closest companion. For all his flaws, for all the cruelty that he would do as warlord, he had been a good friend and a better brother.
“Do you miss him?”
Mercy
Paax stiffened at the sound of her voice. “Daily. It is like losing a limb but the sensation remains,” he said.
“Or losing a horn?”
A hint of a smile played across his face. “Yes, just so.”
“Sometimes I forget he was your brother,” she said.
“Twin.” His expression softened. “When I think of Omas, I do not remember the end. I remember him as we were, before our warrior training.”
“When you were children. People change.”
“Even as warlord,” Paax said before a pause, as if searching for the correct words. “The cruelty only happened in the last years, after he lost his mate.”
“Are you trying to convince me that the man who threatened to murder you and rape me was good and kind?” She could still feel how Omas had loomed above her, leering. Then leaned down and sniffed her hair. She had felt dirty after that.
“It would break me to lose you, little star. Losing Naomi did the same to Omas.”
Mercy leaned against the doorframe. Paax stood over the bassinet. Axil or Drake, she wasn’t sure, made a cranky noise. Even as he tried to convince her that that scariest person she ever met in real life deserved compassion, he stroked their son’s back to sooth them back to sleep.
What kind of men did she want her sons to grow up to be? Ones with compassion? Ones who understood that the world was more than black and white, good guys and bad guys, and sometimes the ones who wronged you deserved empathy? Or men who held nothing tender in their hearts and only knew violence?
She’d lived a year now in the Mahdfel world and saw the violence first hand.
She wanted her sons to know compassion, too.
“Your brother made a terrible first impression. Like, the worst. Easily one of the top five worst human-alien first contacts.”
He snorted, swallowing a laugh. She loved that sound. Mostly he made it when he read something inaccurate or when he was surprised but she loved it more when she inspired his near-laugh.
Shyness overcame Mercy. Wet hair clung to her and dripped down her back. The silk robe was barely tied. She adjusted the front and tightened the belt.
His eyes tracked her movements. “I brought your morning meal.”
“Thank the stars, I’m starving.”
A plate with a bagel and peanut butter and an already peeled orange waited for her in the common room. She sat curled up on the sofa and pulled the plate to her lap.
“Your mobility has improved,” Paax observed.
“If that’s your idea of an apology—” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I told myself that I wouldn’t pick a fight the next time I saw you, so let me try again. Yes. I’m able to move pretty well now. I can even get in and out of a chair all on my own.” She picked up an orange segment, closed her eyes and breathed deep the scent before popping it in her mouth. “Oh, that’s so good. I haven’t had a real orange in ages.”
“Since the invasion.”
Her eyes opened in surprise. “That’s right.”
“Chocolate, aquamarine and Here Comes the Sun.”
She laughed. “Did you make a list?”
“You asked me to answer. I researched.”
“For a week? I need you here, Paax.”
His head nodded. “Now I am the one who must apologize. I have wronged you, little star, and it is difficult for me to know how to change.”
“But you understand the problem, right?”
He sat on the sofa next to her. His arm went around her shoulder and she curled next his warm body. It felt so good to snuggle, to be safe in his arms and share in his strength. She didn’t want to fight but she didn’t want to be a doormat, either. She loved him too much to let him walk all over her.
“I love you, you know,” she said.
“And I love you,” he said. “You consume my thoughts, my actions.”
“So why is this so hard?” They loved each other. Love conquered all, right?
“Because I am old and set in my ways. I have never had to explain my actions before.”
“Not so old,” Mercy murmured.
“But you agree about being set in my ways?”
“Try explaining your actions. I’m ready to listen.”
Paax reached over and handed her the plate. She nibbled on the bagel while he collected his thoughts.
“My mother lost many children,” he said. “That is the short version. Omas and I were our parents only surviving birth.”
“Twins.”
“Yes, which is rare.”
“Meridan threw a bunch of statistics at me.”
“As a child, I was too young to understand how dangerous it was for my mother to have so many pregnancies, how it wore her body down, but I saw the heartbreak.”
“That had to be hard on your parents.” She could easily picture her heartbreak if she lost one or, stars forbid, both of her babies. Her heart hurt just thinking about it.
“When I was older, I realized that my parents were not a good genetic match. This may have been the problem. So I made the test.” The genetic test that matched human women to Mahdfel warriors; the test that matched them.
“Just like that.”
He shrugged. “Do you want my story or do you want false modesty?”
“Wow,” she said with a reluctant smile. “How do you manage with your head that big?”
“My head is average,” he said with seriousness, like she was missing the point.
“I mean, can you wear a hat? Get a good night’s sleep on our tiny pillows? Can you even stand up? The weight has to be enormous.”
“You are teasing me.”
“I am,” she said, satisfaction soaking into her voice. “You’re just so teaseable.”
He grumbled under his breath but Mercy sensed he was pleased. Body language, relaxed and open, betrayed him. A hand on her back rubbed absently in a slow circle.
“So, after your humble brag, you…” she prompted.
He was slow to answer. “I wanted to spare you my mother’s suffering.”
“I’m not your mother.”
“I am well aware.”
“We’re a strong match.”
“Yes.”
“But you worry.”
“You consume my thoughts, I told you. Worry paralyzed me. The medic said the protocol was to keep the mother uninformed, to minimize emotional injury—”
“If Kalen thought it was a good idea, that’s your first clue it’s a bad one.”
“I accepted his judgment as sound.” He paused. “It was the wrong decision.”
Mercy snorted. “I took the birth control shot.”
She pulled back and studied his face for a reaction. “It’s not that I don’t want more babies, I do, just—”
“Kalen discussed birth control methods after your surgery.”
“What did I just say about listening to Kalen?”
“And I said that I would discuss it with you when you were ready. We agreed that you required at least a year to recover completely.”
Mercy settled back into him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“You do not have to explain the actions you make to your own anatomy.”
“That’s awfully magnanimous of you.”
“You are teasing me again.”
“Damn straight I am.” It felt so good to tease him. Things had been too serious between them.
His pulled her closer. She breathed in the warm, spicy scent of him. “I am not good at sharing my thought process. I am accustomed to giving orders.”
“And being followed?”
He grunted. “I will try to explain my actions but know there may not be time to share every decision with you.”
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt. “Just try for the stuff that impacts our family, okay?”
“Agreed.”
“Good.” Then, “I had an idea I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Your timing is suspicious.”
Mercy laughed. It felt so good to laugh. “It’s actually something I talked over with Daisy way back when. I think we need a welcome committee for the new brides.”
“And you would be this welcome committee?”
“Yes. Don’t you think the warlord’s wife should greet the new ladies? Give them a tour? Let them know they’re not alone.”
“Their mates should do that.”
“But do they?”
He grunted. “A new bride arrived yesterday and her mate failed to take her to medical for the required examination.”
“So there’s a need. Think of it as human resources.” Literally.
“Will you not be tired?”
“How often do we get new brides? Once a week? I can handle it. Dorothy can babysit or I’ll bring Axil and Drake along. Everyone loves cute babies.”
His arms tightened around her. “Axil. Drake.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t told she reached a decision on the names. “I settled on names.”
“I had a good suggestion after all?”
She lifted her head to look at him. “You planted all those terrible names so I’d pick the ones you wanted.”
“A necessary battle tactic.” He kissed her forehead, softly.
“Or, you know, you could have just said what you wanted, like a normal person,” she grumbled.
“I approve of your proposition,” he said, changing subject. “It will help acclimatize the females to the clan and make all of us stronger. And we will learn how to work together on this, like partners. You will be a great helpmate, and the other males will be jealous.”
“You say the sweetest things,” she said as her skin prickled with a half-remembered story. “Where did you hear that phrase?”
“Eh?”
“Helpmate?”
“I don’t follow.”
“It’s a phrase from an Earth creation story. Well, one creation story. We have lots.”
“Humans like the sound of their own voice.”
“Hush.” She jabbed a finger into his stomach, which was like poking a stone wall for all the good it did. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Enlighten me.”
“God created the universe. He—”
“Your god is male?”
“Are you going to listen or critique the story?”
Paax settled back into the cushions of the sofa. “Proceed.”
“So God separated the light from the dark and the water from the land. He made life, plants and animals. Finally, he created man from the earth.”
“A male.”
“A human, but male. Adam. God was pleased with his creation but Adam was lonely, so God made him a mate.”
Paax shifted, his interest peaked.
“Eve was made from Adam’s rib.”
“Not from the earth?”
“Look, that’s the way the story goes. God made Eve and presented her to Adam and said, ‘I have made you a helpmate’ or something like that.”
“What happened next?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s an old story. Really old. Helpmate tickled my memory, that’s all.”
“It is a good story,” he said with a nod of his head. “Adam’s mate was made for him, as you were made for me.”
He really did say the sweetest things.
Three whistling notes alerted them to an incoming communication. Mercy’s body tensed. Of course they couldn’t have a peaceful moment to themselves. Paax’s arm tightened around her, responding to her distress.
“This better be good,” he growled.
“We just exited the Gate, sir,” Mylomon said, his normally deep voice flattened through the comm. “I thought you might like to know about the Suhlik warship.”