Archive of Our Own

The walls, where Dr. Lazarus could see them, were the same shade of light grey as his own quarters, but other than that, no room on the Protector could possibly be more different from the empty box he had called home for the last four years than this. However, his own quarters — his smooth, grey bastion against chaos with its walls unbroken by portholes or paintings or anything at all except the fine lines indicating the hidden doors to the head, the closet, the alcove where he kept the armonimin, and the few grey buttons that operated those doors — all this had become abhorrent to him now that he was pregnant.

Lazarus placed a hand on his abdomen. It had been a painful three days while the volvac sac had migrated from the chamber under his diaphragm to his pouch, but the ship’s physician had assured him that his mother’s embryo was now developing normally.

Which meant that his body was producing chemicals — demanding chemicals — and those chemicals wanted nothing to do with the spikes he slept on or the monk’s cell he slept in.

Monks don’t have babies.

He had wanted to cry just looking at it.

Tech Sgt. Chen’s quarters, however, filled him with a sense of safety and peace, and they smelled curiously pleasant.

He’d gone to Chen to explain that he needed, at the very least, a new bed before tonight’s sleep cycle, but with the Protector currently hosting a large group of scientists — assorted botanists, bio-medical researchers, and horticulturists for an interplanetary flora survey — beds were scarce. The main barracks was filled to capacity and most of the officers were sharing their quarters with someone as well.

“Even an old sickbay bed would suffice,” he told Sgt. Chen once he’d located him in the mess hall. He would never be able to center himself sufficiently to manage the spikes in his current emotional state.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t think we even have that at the moment,” said Chen. “You can bunk with me though, if you like. The guy that was assigned to my quarters decided to stay with Tawny and her roommate instead. I know you’d probably like something more private, but the sleeping area in my quarters is sort of cut off from the main living area, and you’re welcome to it.”

“I couldn’t inconvenience you in that manner.”

“It’s no problem. I fall asleep on the sofa most nights anyway. It’s a very comfy sofa.”

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.” Chen grinned. “Come on. I’ll help you move your things. Just, uhh — no blood-ticks, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Sergeant. I find them as disgusting as you do right now.”

Chen’s quarters were mainly shelves of organized clutter — a hodgepodge of disassembled gadgets and items obviously chosen for their utility rather than their aesthetic qualities, all arranged within a system that no doubt made perfect sense to Chen. It was a long, somewhat narrow space located near Engineering on the main body of the ship. There were three rectangular portholes on the gently curving outer wall. The head was located on the short wall to the right of the entrance, which was at one end of the room. There was a non-standard black sofa with a high back and a deep seat located under the portholes. It was obvious that Chen slept there often. A bed pillow leaned against one arm of the couch and another, longer bed pillow lay against the back. An ombré purple blanket woven from what appeared to be Andronican puff flax was folded neatly next to the opposite arm. Across from the sofa and against the inner wall was a small table with two chairs evidently meant for dining but clearly used as a work table, and a large black armchair. On the other end of the room from the door were three two-and-a-half-meter tall bookcases that created a wall of sorts that closed off the sleeping area.

It was the complete and utter opposite of his own quarters.

And it smelled wonderful.

It was like the air after a rainstorm? Or Semeckian sparkling mead? Or sun-warmed bio-linen? Or zolut-fruit ice cream?

“Are you alright, Doctor?” asked Chen.

“Do you scent the air of your quarters?” asked Lazarus, looking around for some sort of air-freshening device or incense burner. “It smells like…”

“Um, like what?” asked Chen, furrowing his eyebrows.

Like childhood. Like memories. Like safety.

Lazarus shook his head. “I can’t identify it. It smells… unusually good here.”

Chen laughed. “Maybe it’s your nesting instinct kicking in.”

It was his nesting instinct, of course. He was rather surprised, however, that Chen had deduced it.

“You know about the nesting instinct?”

Chen shrugged. “I found some stuff on Mak’Tar pregnancy in a textbook someone put in the computer’s database. I figured it was best to be prepared.”

“In the four days since I announced that I would be gestating one of the embryos that was left within me, you’ve sought out and read literature on the procreative habits of my people?”

“Well, like I said, I like to be prepared. And I promised I’d help. So, yeah… I read the manual.” He laughed a little in self-consciousness. “I guess it’s an engineer thing. Anyway, the bed is right around the other side of these bookcases.”

Lazarus didn’t doubt that Chen really didn’t use the sleeping area much.

This area contained nothing but an immaculately-made bed and a small dresser that doubled as a nightstand. There was a wall-mounted reading lamp which Chen switched on. He then made quick work of removing the few items contained in the dresser so that Lazarus could have it for his own use.

Looking at it from the standpoint of a warrior, it was a disaster — an indefensible trap with terrible visibility located too far from the exit.

To a nesting Mak’Tar, however, this was perfect. From the bed with it’s two fluffy pillows, to the soft light of the reading lamp, to the bookcases shielding this secluded little corner — everything here felt right. For the second time that day, Lazarus felt as if he might cry. He glanced at Chen to see if he had noticed, but Chen was busy juggling the pile of pajamas and books he’d taken from the dresser.

“I’ll uh… I’ll just go find a place for these,” said Chen, still not looking at Lazarus. “You go ahead and get settled in.”

In hindsight, Chen might have been more circumspect if he hadn’t been so surprised. Yeah, he’d read the tiny bit of information about Mak’Tar pregnancy that was available on the Protector, but he’d really expected that Dr. Lazarus would ask Cmdr. Taggart for help if something came up. Chen and Lazarus weren’t what you’d call close. Chen had the deepest respect for Lazarus as an officer and a scientist, and he had no doubt that Lazarus felt something similar about him, but Lazarus wasn’t really close to anyone except Taggart, and Chen wasn’t particularly close to anybody at all.

But Lazarus had come to him. He had come to him first. And Chen had forgotten to remind himself about how he got when someone needed him.

“Settle in,” he’d said, and Lazarus settled in quite enthusiastically, as a matter of fact. Pillows appeared on the bed — pillows covered in soft, bright fabrics. After Chen spent a night sweating on the sofa because Lazarus had turned the environmental controls up as far as they would go, a fog-grey duvet showed up — a duvet so aggressively puffy that Chen thought it was just another, more giant pillow at first. Curtains came next, and Chen was sure that Lazarus would hang them across the opening between the bulkhead and the side of the bookcase, but instead he draped them around the bed, leaving them tied back on the side closest to the entrance. They were a few shades lighter than the duvet and embroidered all over with a silver and blue scrolling pattern. Chen could see them whenever he looked up from his usual spot at the far end of the sofa, and when he laid his head down on the closer end of the sofa to sleep, he could see right into the little area. Often, his last thought at night was that Dr. Lazarus appeared to be sleeping in a cloud — a cloud with bits of rainbow scattered over it.

In no time at all, they arranged a comfortable routine. Lazarus and Chen were both early risers, and they would chat amiably about work and their plans for the day as they dressed on either side of the bookcases, then walk to the mess hall together for breakfast. Dr. Lazarus preferred his shower after his shift and Chen preferred the mornings. Sometimes Dr. Lazarus sat in the armchair in the evening, reading whatever science officers read at night on his TABLIT while Chen lounged on the couch reading a novel or sat at the table fiddling with one of his projects. Sometimes Lazarus made a beeline for the bed and cocooned himself in his duvet. On these occasions, Chen pretended, as he had on the first day, that he didn’t notice the tears.

Which is all to say that if Chen hadn’t been so focused on Lazarus and his obvious vulnerability and confusion, he might have noticed that he was doing the exact opposite of what a rather lonely person who wishes to maintain a professional distance should probably do. Having Lazarus there delighted Chen. He hadn’t had a roommate since Mateo in college, unless you counted the years he’d spent in the barracks, and that was different. He had forgotten that when you like someone, it’s nice to come home to them.

He may actually have basked, just a little, in the warmth of Dr. Lazarus’s company.

They had been sharing quarters for a little over three weeks when Lazarus woke Chen from a sound sleep with a loud cry of pain. Chen was on his feet and tripping over his own body pillow before he had time to think. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him until he heard Lazarus gasp and saw the light in the sleeping area come on. Chen rushed to the bed.

“Are you alright? What is it?”

Lazarus was sitting up, clutching his lower leg.

“Warvan’s TITS! That hurts!”

“Ah. Leg cramp,” said Chen, relieved that it wasn't something worse. “Here, let me.”

He slid his hands up under the leg of Lazarus’s pajamas, and kneaded the cramped muscle. He was concentrating so hard on relaxing the spasm that it didn’t even occur to him how intimate his actions were until he looked up and saw the shocked expression on Dr. Lazarus’s face. He could feel his own face getting warm.

“I uh… I…”

“Thank you,” said Lazarus. “That’s quite effective.”

“It’s no problem,” said Chen, deciding that he should keep up the massage.

“My apologies for waking you. I wasn’t expecting this. It was the surprise as much as the pain.”

“It’s fine. It happens. My sister used to get these all the time when she was pregnant.”

“You acquired this technique for her?” Lazarus nodded toward Chen’s hands.

“Yeah. She’s quite a bit older than me, and she came to stay with us when she was pregnant. Her husband was stationed on the Seeker at the time. They both were until her pregnancy turned risky. Now they’re at Delta Station and their son is almost sixteen.”

“A happy outcome,” said Lazarus.

Chen looked up at the tone of Lazarus’s voice.

“You’ll have one too,” Chen said.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Sure I can.” Chen grinned.

“No you can’t.” But Lazarus was smiling too.

Chen felt the muscle relax under his hands. “Better now?” he asked.

“Yes. Much. Thank you again,” said Lazarus.

“Good,” said Chen, standing up and tugging the duvet back over Lazarus’s lap. “Get some sleep.”

“Good night,” said Lazarus, still sitting up in the bed.

“Good night.” Chen went back to the sofa, retrieved his body pillow from the floor, and curled himself around it. He caught a glimpse of Lazarus just before the reading lamp went dark.

He tried not to think about the texture of Lazarus’s skin against his hands.

A week later, the Protector docked at Theta Station and the extra personnel from the flora survey disembarked. As much as he might prefer the opposite — and he very much preferred the opposite — Dr. Lazarus could finally stop intruding on Sgt. Chen’s hospitality. He told Chen as much when Chen came back to his room to get a tool he’d left there.

“The Steward informs me that a small quarters near mine is available. It will do for the rest of my pregnancy,” he said. “I shouldn’t require longer than an hour to pack, and you’ll have your privacy once more.” Lazarus ignored the nausea that threatened when he contemplated leaving. This had only been a temporary arrangement. It would be wrong to ask Chen to extend his invitation for an entire seven months. Wrong. And very inappropriate.

“You’re not staying?” asked Chen. “Your nest is here. It… smells good.”

“Yes. It does smell good,” said Lazarus. “But I really should relocate. There’s no reason for me to trespass upon your kindness and generosity any longer than I already have.”

“I see,” said Chen, picking up the tool he’d come for from the table. “Do you need any help? Packing or something?”

“No.” Lazarus didn’t want Chen there if he started weeping. Again. May Grabthar damn these hormones to Koris. “I assure you that I am equal to the task.”

“Okay,” said Chen, and he turned to leave. He got about halfway to the door and turned back. “Look, don’t go. Stay. You shouldn’t be alone. If you were at the colony on New Tev’Meck, you wouldn’t be alone, would you? The uh… the manual said that a Mak’Tar’s friends and family gather around him to help him through the pregnancy. Isn’t that what I am? A friend, I mean?”

“Sergeant. Yes, you are. I’m fortunate to have such a friend.”

“Then stay. Unless you’re just trying to spare my feelings by saying that you don’t want to bother me, because you’re not bothering me. I… I want to help.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“If you want to go, then you should go, and no hard feelings, but if you don’t, then you shouldn’t go on my account, because I’d like you to stay.”

“Thank you,” said Lazarus. “Thank you. I will stay.”

Chen nodded and smiled. “Good, that’s… good. Now that that’s settled, I uh…” He waved the tool a little and left.

Lazarus retreated to his nest to cry.

May the curse of Ipthar forever be on these hormones.

Over the next week Dr. Lazarus added more items to the nest. Chen watched happily as a large framed print of a Tev’Meck landscape showed up, along with an odd collection of reflective objects that turned out to be a mobile. Chen insisted on hanging the thing himself.

“I assure you that I am perfectly capable of that, Sergeant.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Chen. “How was your blood-pressure at your last examination, Doctor?”

Lazarus sat on the bed and very nearly sulked while Chen hung the mobile.

It turned out to be a very sensitive apparatus. The vibration of the ship’s engine was enough to keep it in constant lazy motion. Chen could see the silvery reflections from it gliding across the ceiling at night. It was hypnotic, almost. The landscape was hung on the back of the bookcases.

Chen came home one night to a one- by two-meter plasti-wood shelving… thing in the middle of the living area.

“Um?” he asked Lazarus.

“I’m making a study of Arren violets,” said Lazarus. “They require special conditions and careful monitoring. I thought it best to have them here where I can care for them more conveniently.”

“Okay…” said Chen. “This isn’t exactly the most convenient spot for something this big, though.”

“My plan was to have it in the nest. I’ve already measured the space at the foot of the bed. However, the doctor has forbidden me from lifting anything over 20 kilos.”

And, clearly, Lazarus didn’t want random crewmen in his nest, so he’d had them drop it here.

“Right,” said Chen. He dug around in one of the lower cabinets until he found an older-model anti-grav cargo lifter that he had salvaged. He stuck it to the side of the hydroponic unit and activated it.

“Are there any tools that you don’t possess?” asked Lazarus.

“Tools are what separates Humans from our primate ancestors.” It was Chen’s standard response to anyone who questioned his collection.

Chen spent the next hour helping Lazarus set up the little garden — and refraining from mentioning that Lazarus spent far more time in his lab than his nest, making the lab the far more sensible location for the violets and their large, heavy home.

Lazarus managed to find a source for custom maternity uniforms. Or were they paternity uniforms? Clothes for pregnant people anyway. He also began to snack a lot — nothing alive though, thank god.

The biggest change, though, was that Cmdr. Taggart showed up way more often than he used to. It made sense, Chen supposed — Lazarus was Taggart’s second-in-command and chief advisor and best friend. And they did talk about strategy and ship’s business. Mostly though, they played endless games of 3D Go.

Chen got his own share of visitors — Madison asking his opinion on a new module she wanted to add to the computer’s programming (or more likely, just looking to talk excitedly with someone who knew what she was going on about) or Laredo with a technical question about the propulsion systems (probably because he was already planning his next “awesome” maneuver). Some evenings found all five of them crammed into Chen’s quarters until someone noticed how tired Lazarus looked and they started making their good-byes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had so many people hanging out here,” said Chen from his side of the bookcases as he was undressing after one such evening. Lazarus had just taken a shower and Chen could hear the rustle of him putting on his pajamas.

“I’ve never had anyone ‘hang out,’ as you put it, in my quarters,” replied Lazarus.

“You know you don’t have any chairs there, right?” said Chen. “It kind of sends the message that you don’t want people hanging out.”

“Because I didn’t.”

“But you do now?”

“As you pointed out, Mak’Tar feel a desire to have their… companions close during pregnancy.”

“So you’ll want to go back to keeping your distance once you’ve had the baby?” Chen felt something cold and heavy settle in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” There was silence from Lazarus’s side. Chen was about to ask why he didn’t know when Lazarus said, “Pregnancy can change a man. Permanently. As a consequence, I have delayed undergoing it longer than I ought to have.”

Lazarus was waiting in the Pod Bay when the surface pod carrying Sha’ree of New Tev’Meck arrived. While he was fond of Sha’ree, he had not anticipated this visit with much pleasure. She would no doubt arrive with many well-reasoned arguments for his removal to New Tev’Meck. He had found it necessary to arm himself with counter-arguments. Lazarus hated justifying his actions — especially to someone he genuinely liked.

As soon as the door of the pod opened, he was there to give her a hand as she stepped out.

“Sha’ree Sigunlan’Mandastorl, honored mother of the child I bear, welcome to the NSEA Protector.”

“Lazarus, honored bearer of my child, I gratefully accept your welcome.”

They both bowed slightly in each others’ direction.

“Well,” said Sha’ree, “now that we’ve got that out of the way, may I say that you’re looking well and that I’ve missed you?”

“I’ve missed you as well,” replied Lazarus. He offered her his arm and she took it. They started down the corridor.

“You wouldn’t have to miss me so much if you came to New Tev’Meck occasionally,” she said.

“I shall endeavor to do so more often,” said Lazarus.

“I’m serious, Lazarus. New Tev’Meck needs you.”

“New Tev’Meck has thrived in my absence, and will continue to do so.” She raised her eyebrow rather pointedly. “Sha’ree, my life is here. What I do benefits our people as well.”

Sha’ree sighed. “Very well, I didn’t come here to argue with one of the men who bears my children.”

“Tavid also nests?” asked Lazarus.

“Four octs now.” She nodded toward Lazarus’s thickened abdomen. “Xe will have a sibling.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it,” he replied. “Very pleased, indeed.”

“It’s why I can’t stay, unfortunately, but I wanted to be sure that you’re being cared for.”

“I assure you that I am,” replied Lazarus. “Here we are.”

He punched a code into the keypad beside the door, then indicated that she should place her palm on the lighted panel. The door slid open, and Lazarus waved her inside.

“The panel is keyed for your palm-print now. I hope these quarters are acceptable,” he said. “They’re mine, so they’re optimized for Mak’Tar needs. As you know, I have followed the path of Grabthar for many years now, but Sgt. Chen disabled the spikes and had the Steward put in more conventional furniture.” Chen had seemed rather surprised to find out that most Mak’Tar lived in dwellings that more resembled Lazarus’s nest than the quarters he had occupied for many years.

“Where do you nest?” she asked.

“My nest is in another area. I’ll take you there after dinner.” He pressed a button on the right-hand wall, showing her where the head was located. She nodded in understanding.

“What does this one do?” she asked, pointing to the button on the left-hand wall.

“Press it and see,” he replied.

She did. “An armonomin!” she said, grinning. “You still play then?”

“Yes, although not as much as I once did. I still come here every few days and practice.”

“Well, you mustn’t stop on my account. Promise you’ll come play. I would love to hear it.”

“I will.” He smiled at her. “Would you like to rest before dinner, or would you prefer a tour of the ship?”

“Tour, please,” she said, “if you’re not too tired.”

Sha’ree cocked her head and looked at the toilet as if it were a particularly difficult logic puzzle.

“There’s a… trick to it,” said Lazarus quietly. “It’s not difficult once you’ve mastered it.”

Sha’ree blushed. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, just as quietly.

Chen stood outside the head, staring through a porthole as if entranced by the vista of outer space and totally oblivious to the conversation taking place not three meters away.

Sha’ree and Lazarus stepped out of the head and continued their slow circuit of Chen’s quarters. Sha’ree seemed to be taking in every detail, and Chen was conscious of just how many unfinished projects he had sitting around in some state of “progress.” She picked up an Alset violet-energy generator that Chen was working on.

“You like to tinker,” she observed, setting the object carefully back in its place.

“I suppose I do.” If there was anything more awkward than making conversation with the woman who was going to adopt your pregnant roommate’s baby, Chen had no idea what it might be. He got the distinct impression that Sha’ree wanted to snatch Lazarus and run with him back to New Tev’Meck.

Sha’ree touched the 3-D Go board on the table.

“Do you play, Sergeant?” she asked.

“Mmm, not really. I definitely wouldn’t be much of a challenge to Dr. Lazarus.” Sha’Ree frowned slightly. Maybe she thought Lazarus needed more entertainment? “Cmdr. Taggart’s the expert. They play here a few nights a week,” said Chen.

Sha’ree turned her attention to the bookcases.

“Are these sacred?” asked Sha’ree, pointing at the small collection of old books that Chen had found over the years.

“Um, no ma’am. They’re just novels… stories.”

“I see,” she said.

“There’s one in Makian,” said Chen, relieved to have something to talk about that wasn’t related to his questionable ability to host a nesting Mak’Tar. He pulled a slim volume off a lower shelf where it had been sitting behind an antique device for detecting radiation. “I found it in a market on Endymion. I thought Dr. Lazarus might want it, but he said that the text hadn’t been lost and that material objects are a distraction, or whatever… If you want it…” He handed it to her.

She held the little book reverently. “It’s true that we didn’t lose this text in the Devastation, but copies from before that time are rare. Are you sure?” She looked at Lazarus. “This is appropriate then?”

“Very much so,” said Lazarus, and Chen was sure that he’d managed to do something Very Serious, but apparently it was okay. Sha’ree looked at Chen again, still a bit hesitant.

“I’m happy you like it,” he assured her. He was alarmed to see that she had tears in her eyes, but even more alarmed when she hugged him. He patted her gently on the shoulder, hoping that he wasn’t touching anything too sexy. He’d once touched a Kenise nobleman on the elbow and had to spend the night in the brig to avoid an interplanetary incident.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Sha’ree pulled back and gave Chen an only slightly watery smile before she continued her inspection. She noticed the folded blanket at one end of the couch. “You sleep here, Sgt. Chen?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s a very comfy couch,” he added. She nodded in approval. Okay, that part was good.

Sha’ree stopped at the threshold of the sleeping area.

“May I enter the nest?” she asked Lazarus.

“You may,” he answered.

While Sha’ree and Lazarus checked out his nest, Chen took a seat on the couch and contemplated how many times he had casually violated that particular boundary and what it might mean that Lazarus had just let him.

Sha’ree stayed three days on the Protector, and every minute she was there, Chen expected her to gently explain why it would be for the best for Lazarus to come back to New Tev’Meck with her, and could Chen have a talk with him? So when she approached him in the mess hall a few hours before she was scheduled to leave and asked to speak to him privately, he supposed this was it, and he still had no idea what he was going to say to her. They went to Sha’ree’s quarters.

“You know I came here to take him back to New Tev’Meck with me,” said Sha’ree, as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I… um figured as much,” said Chen, his stomach lurching uncomfortably.

“I thought it would be better for him and for me. I could take care of him and my husband, Tavid, while they nest, and Lazarus would be among people who understand his needs at this time, but I see that he is among people who understand.”

Chen shook his head. “I’m operating on a high school social studies book and intuition.” Why was he admitting this?

Sha’ree laughed a little. “You’re doing just fine. Lazarus has always been… a little on the fringe. He’s brilliant and talented and very generous when given the opportunity, but he’s always held himself away from others. As much as he can be, I think he’s comfortable here, maybe even happy.”

“I don’t think I can take much credit for that. The others… We’ve all been taking care of him.”

“But you are his ke’mar.”

“His what now?”

“When a man has no mate to care for him when he’s pregnant, he chooses a ke’mar — a friend to take the place of his mate in that capacity. It’s a great honor to be chosen to help bring a new life to our people, especially now when we are so few.”

“I… he’s never mentioned this. I’m not sure that’s how he sees me.”

“Oh, it most certainly is. The book you gave me? It’s a book of poems for children. It’s exactly the sort of thing that a ke’mar would give to the mother of the child in his protection. When Lazarus said that it was appropriate, he meant for me to understand what you are to him. Why he doesn’t want you to understand is anyone’s guess.

“Anyway, I’m done meddling. I just wanted to be sure you knew that I will read from that book to my children, and I'll tell them of the kind person who gifted it to me so that they'll know the name of the man who cared for one of them before xe was even born.”

Chen blushed. “Sha’ree…”

“And I have a little present for you.” She handed him a data crystal. “This should be a bit more thorough than a textbook for half-grown children.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you. Just be sure you take good care of my friend and my baby, Sgt. Chen. I’m relying on you.”

Both Lazarus and Chen saw Sha’ree off.

“Thank Ipthar that’s over,” said Lazarus as the surface pod left the bay.

“I thought she was nice,” said Chen. “Even though I felt like I was on a job interview.”

“Both of those assessments are entirely accurate,” said Lazarus as they turned and headed back to their quarters.

“Well, I think I passed.”

Lazarus nodded. “Thanks to you, I think she left feeling reassured as to the safety and well-being of the baby, despite the eccentricity of the situation and the person who bears xem.”

“Are you really that different from the other Mak’Tar?”

“I have been informed that I am.”

“She wanted you to go back to New Tev’Meck.”

“I think she and the other Mak’Tar expected that I would go home to nest. I expected the same, truthfully. During the false alarm last year, I made plans to do just that, but when I made the conscious choice to do this, I found that I didn’t want to go home.”

“Didn’t you?” They had arrived at their door, but Chen, rather than put his palm on the panel, turned to look at Lazarus, wondering if Lazarus could see the one and only thing that had been obvious to Chen from the start.

“I suppose I did,” said Lazarus, and Chen opened the door.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Chen.

“Chen, I know you don’t like this thing, but we don’t have a choice,” said Taggart. “The surface pods can’t get through the atmospheric barrier, but the digital conveyor can. If we don’t get those seismic control rods set, the entire Terrakian colony will be destroyed.”

“I get that, Commander,” replied Chen. “It’s too dangerous for Dr. Lazarus.”

“It’s no more dangerous for me than for anyone else, Sergeant,” said Lazarus.

“Kos estimated that the danger to a previable fetus may be three times as much as to an adult. And the risk to you if anything goes wrong with your pregnancy at this stage is too high,” replied Chen.

“I can do my job.”

“I have no doubt that you can do your job, so long as you don’t have to use the digital conveyor to do it.” Chen looked from Lazarus to Taggart. “I’m sorry, sirs. But I can’t. I won’t.”

“No, you’re right,” said Taggart. “Doc, we don’t even send Laredo through that thing.”

“Peter, I am not a child,” said Lazarus. Taggart looked pointedly at Lazarus’s thickening middle.

“Sorry. You’re staying here.” Taggart flipped open his vox. “Lt. Madison to the digital conveyor room, ASAP.” He flipped it shut again and looked at Lazarus. “You have the conn, Doc.”

Lazarus nodded. “Understood.” He left for the command deck.

The mission went smoothly. The control rods were set with plenty of time remaining, and Lt. Madison seemed to rather enjoy getting off the ship for a change.

There was nothing to be upset about.

Who was sent to, or retrieved from the surface via the digital conveyor was Chen’s call, unless Taggart issued a direct order otherwise.

Chen was not wrong that damage to a Mak’Tar fetus early in the second trimester could be especially dangerous to the person who bore it.

It made Lazarus nauseous to think of harm coming to the fetus regardless of the danger to himself.

Chen was not wrong, Lazarus reasoned.

But Chen wasn’t right either, he fumed.

And Lazarus was decidedly upset by the time he returned to their quarters that night.

He walked past Chen without a word. Chen simply looked up from his TABLIT and watched him pass — once to retrieve his robe, once on his way to the head, once more on his way back. It was Lazarus who finally broke the silence.

“Who gave you the right to decide what is or isn’t too dangerous for me?” He was standing in front of Chen in his pajamas and robe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“The National Space Exploration Administration and you,” said Chen, standing up.

“Me? At what point did I do any such thing?”

“At the point when you chose me to be your ke’mar.”

“At the point when I chose you to be my ke’mar? Where did you even learn that term?” Lazarus frowned, then sighed. “Sha’ree.”

“That is what you told her, isn’t it?”

“I led her to believe it. I wanted to ease her mind.”

“Maybe you haven’t said the word, Lazarus, but that’s how you’re treating me. You let me come and go from your nest as I please. Hell, you let me help you create it — in my quarters, I might add. You let me take care of you when you’re in pain.”

“A few leg massages do not make you my ke’mar.”

“Don’t they?”

“I never asked you.”

“Maybe not formally, but most people looking for a bed aboard an NSEA vessel go to the Steward, not the Chief Engineer.”

Oh, sweet Ipthar. He’d done that, hadn’t he?

Chen rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t know why you came to me. I don’t know why you just let me fall into this role in your life, but I think you do want me here, and if you had asked me, I would’ve said ‘yes.’ If I’m wrong, you should tell me.”

“You’re…” Lazarus hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue to say “wrong,” but he couldn’t. “You overstepped today.”

“I didn’t.” Chen started to pace. “Honestly? If I refused to put another person through that thing, I wouldn’t be overstepping, though I doubt the Administration would see it that way. It sucks, Lazarus. You could fly a surface pod through the digital conveyor’s margin of error. You know how I tell people there’s an art to using it? It should not be an art. It dices people up. It should be a science. It should be foolproof. At some point, somebody is going to die.” Chen came to a stop in front of Lazarus. “I’m going to kill somebody with that thing someday.”

Lazarus searched Chen’s face for a moment. It finally dawned on him why Chen was being so uncharacteristically stubborn. “You’re afraid,” he said.

“No shit! What’s not to be afraid of?”

“I knew you didn’t like it, but you’ve always seemed unperturbed when necessity demanded its use.”

“I’ve got news for you. Sometimes I’m not as unperturbed as I seem.” Chen sat back down on the couch. He leaned against the back with his hands over his face for a second before letting them drop to his sides.

“No, of course not,” said Lazarus, sitting beside him. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have insisted.”

Chen turned his head to look at Lazarus. “Why did you? Insist?” It was a valid line of inquiry, Lazarus thought, and now that he was no longer directing his anger at Chen, the answer was obvious.

“Because I hate being treated like some fragile thing. I hate being told what’s best for me. I hate being a walking incubator. I hate what’s been done to me.” Lazarus pulled his robe tighter around himself and stared across the room, letting little flashes of memory play before him — not too much, not all of them. All of them was far too much.

“You’re aware of our history. The Meechans destroyed six billion souls for a handful of rare rocks. The Mak’Tar loaded every available ship with their children, and every available male child with their embryos. Only the most dire necessity would have prompted them to do such a thing — stuff our bodies with our own potential siblings. My father still carried a brood of five. I was only large enough to hold three of them.

“They sent out 108 ships in a desperate gamble inspired by the survival strategies of our distant ancestors. Disperse as many young as possible in the hopes that some survive. Four ships survived — barely a thousand Mak’Tar, most of us children. Even with the addition of the 200 or so adults who had been off-world at the time of the Devastation, we are an endangered species.

“I know I need to do this. The alternative is unthinkable. If we are to survive, every life is needed, and what’s more, these are my siblings. I want them to be born. I just… wish I’d had a choice.”

“And I took another choice away from you today,” said Chen.

Lazarus didn’t deny it. “You did the right thing.”

“You’re doing the right thing. Is that any consolation?”

Lazarus huffed dryly. “It’s some consolation.” He and Chen sat looking at each other for a long moment. Lazarus felt his perception of Chen shift. He had seen Chen’s limit. He had seen the way in which Chen defended that boundary, and curiously, the experience had enhanced the trust that Lazarus had instinctively placed in him.

“Vincent Chen, you have proven to be an excellent ke’mar. Would you do me the favor of continuing in that capacity?”

Chen smiled. “Lazarus Kir’ruslan’Mekarastorl, it would be my honor.”

The day of their argument was the first time that Lazarus had used Chen’s given name, but it wasn’t the last. He was still “Chen” for everyday business, and “Sergeant” for when he was getting a little too close to Lazarus’s nerves, but he was “Vincent” now in conversation. There was more conversation now too.

Lazarus talked about his violets, or the latest breakthrough in the Sciences Division, or his own work in the biology labs. Sometimes he talked about his life on New Tev’Meck or his early days with the NSEA.

Chen would have been content to listen to that low, serene voice go on and on, but over and over, Lazarus would draw him out — get him talking about the mechanics of the ship or his own history. It was unexpected. If there were two people on the Protector less likely to make small talk… but it didn’t seem small. It seemed significant, as a matter of fact. The distance at which Lazarus kept nearly everyone else had suddenly shrunk in Chen’s case.

They had argued. They had shown each other something painful. And it had been okay.

And now Lazarus called him “Vincent.”

And it was sending Chen slightly around the bend.

Chen had been aware since some time around the third leg massage that he desired Lazarus. It hadn’t been a big deal. It was just one of those things. Desire, for Chen, was never a big deal. It was just something that happened from time to time when he really liked and admired someone — the thought of physical intimacy with that person became attractive. Sometimes he pursued it. Most times he didn’t. This didn’t seem like a good time to pursue it, so he set it aside — stuffed it into a jar labeled “Things That Are Not Happening Now or Probably Ever,” screwed the lid on tight, and set it on a high shelf. And it was fine.

But then they argued and Lazarus started using his given name. And his name in Lazarus’s mouth vibrated at exactly the right frequency to produce cracks in that jar — letting the desire leak out, letting it get all over their quarters.

“Vincent, would you hand me that filter?”

“By the way Vincent, will you be on the mission to Throm?”

“Thank you, Vincent.”

Chen found himself watching the way Lazarus’s mouth moved when he said Chen’s name — the way his teeth rested briefly on his lower lip for the V and Chen wanted press his own teeth there. He wanted to touch his own tongue to the spot on Lazarus’s palate where Lazarus placed his tongue for the N. Before now, Chen would have sworn he was not a particularly fanciful person, but then he would also have sworn that he wasn’t a person who was particularly susceptible to desire too.

But here he was. Susceptible as hell.

“Vincent!”

They had just decided to call it a night, and Lazarus was on his way to the head when he stopped suddenly and called Chen’s name.

“What is it?” Chen stood up.

“I felt xem move.” He unzipped his jacket and put a hand on his abdomen. “There it is again.” He held his other hand toward Chen. “Come here,” he said

Go there. Go there and put his hand on Lazarus’s warm stomach.

Oh sure. Why not?

Chen put his hand out. Lazarus took it by the wrist and dragged it to his belly.

Chen’s hand touched the soft fabric of Lazarus’s undershirt and he felt the flutter of something moving under the skin.

He grinned. “I feel xem!”

Then he made the mistake of looking up. Lazarus was utterly unguarded, smiling, soft brown eyes shining, and Chen was sure that he was equally exposed.

“I, uh…” Chen had no idea what to say. Lazarus was still pressing Chen’s hand into his belly.

The baby moved again, and they both laughed. Lazarus let go of Chen’s wrist and Chen let his hand drop. The moment was mercifully over.

“Yes, well — I’d best take my shower now,” said Lazarus. He continued on his way, and a few minutes later Chen heard the water come on. He used the time while Lazarus was in the head to change into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Then he curled up in his place on the couch with his body pillow concealing his thickened prick before Lazarus crossed their quarters again.

“Hey? Can’t sleep?” Chen’s head appeared around the edge of the bookcase.

“No,” said Lazarus. “My apologies for disturbing you.” By now Lazarus was aware that Chen fell both into, and out of sleep easily. It wasn’t surprising that a little rustling and sighing would wake Chen, and he didn’t feel terribly guilty since Chen would drop right to sleep as soon as he lay back down on the couch.

“Is the baby still moving around?” asked Chen, coming fully into the nest area and leaning against the hydroponic garden.

“No. However it is increasingly difficult to find a comfortable position. I almost miss my spikes.”

Chen appeared amused by this. “I supposed there are fewer pressure points,” he said.

“Exactly. Now, if I lie on my back, my back aches abominably. If I lie on my side, my neck and back ache abominably. The doctor informs me that I should lie on my side though, so I am.”

“I see,” said Chen, coming closer to the bed. He came right up to the head of it and looked at the pillow. He frowned and took the corner of the duvet. “Um, may I?”

“Yes, you may,” said Lazarus, curious as to what puzzle Chen was solving.

Chen pulled back the cover, frowned some more, then covered Lazarus back up. “You’re bad at this,” he said.

“Thank you, I had already concluded as much myself.”

“Here, sit up,” said Chen, laughing.

Lazarus complied. Chen took his pillow and sort of punched and rolled it a bit, then laid it at the head of the bed. He reached across the bed and grabbed the other pillow and set it on top of the first.

“Lie back down,” he said. Lazarus did so, and Chen adjusted the pillow a bit so that it met Lazarus’s head and neck just right. “Okay, hold on a minute.” Chen went out to the living area and came back with the long body pillow around which he always slept curled.

“Here,” he said, pulling back the duvet again, and placing the pillow in front of Lazarus. “Hug it and throw your leg over it.”

Lazarus pulled the pillow into his chest and placed the lower portion between his legs the way he had seen Chen do. It was very comfortable.

“This is… much better actually,” he said.

“When you sleep on your side you need more head and neck support. And the body pillow helps you align your hips so you aren’t twisting your spine all cattywampus.”

“Cattywampus?”

“It’s a technical term.” Chen smiled his “satisfactory solution found” smile at Lazarus and covered him back up.

“I can’t take your pillow though,” said Lazarus, making no move to relinquish it.

“I’ll requisition a new one in the morning,” said Chen. “I’ll be fine for one night. Get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Vincent.”

“You’re welcome, Lazarus.”

He left and Lazarus heard him lie down on the sofa once more. Already, Lazarus felt more relaxed. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

The scent that always seemed to pervade these quarters filled his nose.

That was odd — Usually he didn’t consciously notice it once he’d been in the room for more than twenty minutes or so.

He attempted for the thousandth time to identify the smell. It shouldn’t be so difficult. The scent was very familiar. It smelled like… something happy… something delicious… something… stirring.

His eyes snapped open. He was noticing it now because it was stronger now.

It was stronger now because the pillow that he was hugging to his chest, the pillow that was right under his nose was saturated with it.

The same pillow that Chen wrapped himself around every night.

The scent that made Chen’s quarters seem so right and good?

It was Chen.

“What’s that you’re doing?” asked Chen. He had returned late to their quarters to find Lazarus wearing nothing but the bottom half of his pajamas and standing on one foot with his arms extended above his head. He considered just walking back out, but despite the fact that Lazarus hadn’t turned his head, Chen was sure he’d heard the swoosh of the door.

“Sind’has dek Grabthar,” said Lazarus, moving slowly and gracefully from one complicated pose to another. “It means ‘the dance of Grabthar.” It’s a series of exercises designed to keep the mind and body supple and serene, and in a state of readiness for battle.”

“What are you planning on battling?” asked Chen, taking a seat on the couch and trying not to notice the delicate lavender ridge running down Lazarus’s back which, thanks to Sha’ree’s data crystal he now knew to be a major erogenous zone for the Mak’Tar.

“Insomnia,” said Lazarus. “I was hoping that executing a few forms before retiring might relax the muscles in my back.”

“It’s still a problem?” He had considered offering Lazarus a back rub, but had hesitated mainly due to the “fun times only” territory running right down the middle of it.

“The pillow helps immensely,” said Lazarus. “However, I don’t think anything short of simply having this baby is going to cure my backaches entirely.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Chen. He was trying not to watch, but the room wasn’t huge, and the whole display was very distracting. Lazarus twisted, and Chen could see his ridge disappear into the low-slung waist of his pants. Chen recalled that it went all the way down to join the sacrum.

“Do you always do this half-naked?” blurted Chen. He instantly regretted asking.

“I usually do this entirely naked,” said Lazarus. “It is impossible to complete the dance otherwise. Every muscle must be exercised. That’s why I usually practice in my old quarters.”

Every muscle. Right. Sha’ree’s excessively well-illustrated data crystal ensured that he knew exactly what Lazarus was referring to. He had spent the last few weeks diligently not imagining how Lazarus’s anatomy might work with his own. Now he also knew that it was supple and battle-ready.

Chen concentrated on something further from the danger zone. This was also the first time he had seen the small vertical seam located just below Lazarus’s rib cage. It was sealed now, but it would open later to allow the baby to be born.

“Is this safe? For the baby?” asked Chen.

Lazarus smiled. “I assure you that I’m being cautious, Vincent. The doctor approved this regimen.”

“Okay, that’s… good,” said Chen, not knowing what else to say, and wondering when silence had gotten awkward anyway. About the time he’d started lusting after his pregnant roommate, he supposed. He was constantly reminding himself that Lazarus was pregnant, as if it might trigger some response — decency or distaste that would make him suddenly not want to contact every centimeter of Lazarus’s skin with his skin. It wasn’t working.

Lazarus brought his feet together and folded his hands in front of his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then picked up his robe. Apparently the dance of Grabthar was over. Lazarus pulled his robe on and sat on the couch next to Chen.

“The hour is rather advanced,” said Lazarus. “Did the beryllium sphere chamber claim your attention again?”

Several components of the ship’s drive had been damaged in a battle with the Eonids. Now the sphere chamber kept springing leaks.

“Mmm. We had to patch it again,” said Chen. “It should hold until we get to Gamma Station tomorrow.”

“Cmdr. Taggart mentioned that the Dock Master has acquired a replacement,” said Lazarus.

“Yeah, I’m not even upset that I’ll have to give up most of my shore leave to oversee the installation.”

“You’re not? I was under the impression that you have an inamorata on Gamma Station.”

Chen was surprised that Lazarus knew about Kaia.

“I have a friend who lives there. She and I used to… see each other when we had the chance. She’s in an exclusive relationship now. We’ll probably have lunch or something — catch up a little.”

“It wasn’t a close relationship?”

“I like Kaia, but we… had an understanding… that it wasn’t the kind of thing that would lead to a more committed thing. Now she’s met someone who she wants that with.”

“I was under the impression that unattached Humans simply met their sexual needs with willing strangers.”

Chen laughed. “We’re not all Taggart, you know.”

“Lt. Madison also—”

“Or Tawny either,” said Chen. “Look, I don’t do well with one-night-stands, or even one-weekend-stands. I need to know someone a little first, you know?”

Lazarus did not appear to know. And Chen had no idea how to explain that he required a certain amount of intimacy to feel desire and a certain amount of distance to feel safe. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to explain any of that at all.

“I’m just not really attracted to strangers, so I have a few friends here and there that I have an understanding with, but they aren’t exclusive or meant to be long-term.”

“A girl in every port? Like in your old stories?” asked Lazarus.

“Hardly.” Chen smiled. “And some of them are guys.”

“You’re bisexual?” Lazarus laid his hand across his stomach the way he usually did when the baby was kicking.

“Yeah,” said Chen. “I don’t really… gender isn’t really a big part of what attracts me to someone. It’s more about other things.”

“Such as?”

“Knowing someone, liking them.” Was that what this was? Did he want Lazarus so much because they lived together and had gotten close what with the whole ke’mar thing?

“You require some degree of affection.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Or was his attraction, his desire, so strong because he had feelings for Lazarus?

That was too much. Time to talk about something other than him and his emotional character.

“How about you?” asked Chen. “Sha’ree mentioned a few dozen times that most Mak’Tar are married by your age.”

“Those who follow the path of Grabthar rarely marry,” said Lazarus.

“Hard to find somebody else who wants to sleep on spikes?”

“A bit.”

“So what is it about that life that made you want to follow it?” If Lazarus could be nosy, so could Chen.

“It teaches one to channel one’s anger. To use it to defend the weak rather than lash out and do harm.”

“And you were angry?”

“I was, and sometimes still am, very angry.”

Chen nodded. “I’ve seen you go into berserker mode.”

“Does it alarm you?” Lazarus looked at Chen intently.

“No,” said Chen seriously. “It doesn’t. I’ve never seen you do anything like that except, like you say, to defend the weak.” He grinned. “Like me, for instance.”

“You’re not weak.”

“I wouldn’t last in a fight with Laredo,” said Chen, shaking his head and smiling.

“Perhaps not,” conceded Lazarus.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to agree! I can totally take Laredo.”

“Let’s just say that when it comes to physical altercations, it’s to your benefit that you’re an excellent shot,” said Lazarus.

“Yeah, okay. That’s fair,” said Chen, and they were both laughing.

And it felt good — warm and friendly and comfortable — to laugh with Lazarus. It made Chen want things beyond skin.

Lazarus grew serious first. “There is another reason I chose that life. I was weary of the constant pressure to marry.”

Chen sobered as well. “And you don’t want to marry?”

“I’ve never met anyone with whom I wanted that.”

“No one?”

“Being gay does not simplify the process,” said Lazarus.

“Do the Mak’Tar forbid that kind of thing?” asked Chen.

“Oh, dear Ipthar, no. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Lazarus sighed. “Numbers. Around eighteen percent of Mak’Tar are gay or bisexual. There are approximately 1000 people in my peer group…”

“180 people…”

“Over half of whom are female or androgynous.”

“You chose to live in a grey box and sleep on spikes because you didn’t click with any of the 70 to 80 eligible bachelors of New Tev’Meck?”

“Did you miss the part where I explained my desire to control my anger?”

“No, of course not,” said Chen. “And I don’t blame you a bit for not wanting to marry somebody you don’t love. I’m sorry none of them were what you were looking for.”

Chen was sorry that none of them were what Lazarus was looking for.

Lazarus scowled at his instruments as if their screens personally offended him, but he was as oblivious to their readings as he was to the activity on the command deck at that moment.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to say that Chen had it backwards. Lazarus wasn’t what they were looking for.

Maybe he could have been. He was old enough now to admit that he had been quick to give others a reason to reject him rather than allow them to find one of their own. It had been easier to set himself beyond their reach — first by choosing the life of an ascetic, and then by exiling himself to the NSEA. Perhaps he would do things differently, given the chance.

Was he being given the chance?

He thought about Chen’s rapid pulse when he had grasped his wrist last month, the way Chen’s eyes had dilated when he’d looked up into Lazarus’s. Human sexual response was different from Mak’Tar — it was in fact, frustratingly opaque in comparison, but Lazarus was pretty sure he was reading this correctly. And Chen had confessed that he didn’t feel sexual attraction where his emotions were not at least somewhat engaged…

And Chen hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Lazarus last night. It could have been the novelty of a half-nude pregnant man doing stretches, but he doubted it. Chen was watching his spinal crest. Lazarus could feel it practically radiating under the attention still.

How did Chen know about that? How much information had Sha’ree given him, for Ipthar’s sake?

“Weee-ooo! Protector to Lazarus! Come in, Dr. Lazarus! Report?” Taggart was turned in his command chair, looking expectantly at Lazarus.

“Forgive me,” mumbled Lazarus. He focused on his instrument panel. “Earth-like planet, 67 percent water. Atmospheric conditions favorable for Humans — Oxygen levels are low, but within safe parameters. There are several species of large fauna — mostly herbivores, but a few carnivorous species also exist within the study zone. Uploading a complete report to the field TABLITs now.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Taggart. “Lt. Madison, are the survey teams ready?”

“Already assembled in the pods, Commander.”

Taggart touched a button on his console. “Commander to Surface Pods — we are in orbit, and you are cleared for takeoff. Good luck down there. Taggart out.”

The next watch was already coming onto the command deck. Lazarus was looking forward to some time spent meditating in his old quarters.

He glanced toward Taggart. The commander was looking in his direction, with a most inauspicious look of speculation on his face.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Yes?”

“Mind having lunch with me in my quarters? I have a few things I’d like to go over with you this afternoon,” said Taggart.

“Of course, Commander,” replied Lazarus.

And so, following the general bustle of the watch change, Lazarus found himself in his familiar seat across the table from Taggart. A yeoman brought in a tray of food.

“Thank you, yeoman,” said Taggart. “You can just set it there.”

He set the tray on the table and left. Taggart uncovered his bowl and sniffed it appreciatively.

“Minestrone,” he said, picking up his spoon.

Lazarus lifted the cover of his plate. Whatever was there, the ship’s nutritionist would expect him to eat every bite. It was a Qorilian omelet. He picked up his fork.

“So, what’s up?” asked Taggart, dipping his roll into his soup.

“Up?” asked Lazarus.

“You’re preoccupied. You’re never preoccupied, not on the command deck, anyway.”

Lazarus studied his omelet.

“Is it baby stuff?” asked Taggart.

“Eloquent as ever, Peter,” said Lazarus. “It is not ‘baby stuff.’”

“Then what is it, Doc? I’m worried about you.”

“I’m —” Was there any point in prevarication? If he couldn’t trust Peter, whom could he trust?

“I believe I might be… in love, for lack of a better term.”

“In love?” Taggart dropped his spoon on the tray. “That’s great! That’s— Congratulations!”

“I believe congratulations are, at best, premature,” said Lazarus.

Taggart shook his head. “If you’ve told me once, you’ve told me a million times — ‘The followahs of Grabthah do not engage in romantic sentiment, Pee-tah.’ Not “I do not wish to, Pee-tah,’ or ‘Such things hold no intahrest foah me, Pee-tah.’ You’ve let somebody in, Lazarus. Believe me, I know how hard that is for you. So — congratulations.”

“You believe this is a worthwhile experience, despite my current painful uncertainty, and the likelihood of further distress should I be rejected?”

“Oh absolutely! I mean— just to be clear, we’re talking about Chen, right?”

Lazarus rolled his eyes. “Yes. Sgt. Chen.”

“Well, that’s no problem. Chen swings both ways.”

“How do you even know— ? Just because Sgt. Chen’s sexual orientation doesn’t preclude him from engaging in a romantic relationship with me, doesn’t mean that he’s interested in doing so.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Because I’m— I’m cold and detached — unemotional with the exception of my wretched temper.”

“You’re not cold. You’re reserved, and you have your reasons for that. Hell, Chen’s reserved too, even if he’s good at making it seem like he’s not. And he has no problems handling your temper. I’ve been watching you two — you’re good together.”

Lazarus sighed. “Vincent has been kindness and generosity incarnate. And he’s gentle, even when standing his ground. What do I have to offer to someone like that?”

“I think you’re selling your own capacity for kindness and generosity short, Doc, but if you were to ask me what you could offer Vincent Chen in particular, I’d say your perception. To someone as good at hiding in plain sight as he is, just having someone around who notices is pretty nice.”

“Even my own species finds me… challenging.”

“If I know Chen, that’s probably the icing on the cake. He likes a good challenge. Face it, Doc, you’re a catch.”

The sound was so low that Chen wasn’t sure why he was up and tripping over his body pillow (the new one because Lazarus said it was too fluffy and he preferred the old, flatter one) until he heard it again.

“Na, na, May, na sora.” It was Lazarus, obviously, but he was speaking in Makian.

“Os tara’z, May. Na. Sora Maya, na. Os tara’z ki. Na.” Lazarus’s voice broke, sobbing, on the last syllable.

Chen was in the nest in a heartbeat. Lazarus was lying on his back. Tears shone on his face in the faint light.

“Sora Maya. Sora na.”

“Lazarus.” Chen pulled back the duvet a little so that he could put his hand on Lazarus’s shoulder. “Lazarus, wake up.”

Lazarus gasped as his eyes flew open.

“Vincent?”

“Yeah, I’m here. You were having a nightmare.”

Lazarus brought his hands up to his face to rub his eyes. He seemed surprised to find tears there.

“My apologies. It’s nothing, just a dream. You should get your rest.”

Chen considered leaving. It was more than just a dream, though. They both knew that. On the other hand, it wasn’t like Chen to pry… On the other other hand, staying wasn’t exactly prying. He moved the body pillow and sat on the edge of the bed.

“A linguist once told me that the word for ‘mother’ sounds the same across almost every culture,” Chen observed.

Lazarus sighed. “Sometimes I still dream of… what happened the night before... we left Tev’Meck. I haven’t, though, in years. I don’t know why I did tonight.”

“I think I might know,” said Chen. There was something wet and tacky on his hand where he had grabbed the body pillow. He reached up and touched the lamp with his clean hand. In its soft glow, he could see a pale pinkish-purple stain about the size of a dinner plate on the pillow-cover. He flipped the pillow over and showed Lazarus. “The baby’s coming.”

Chen pulled back the duvet to reveal a matching stain on the front of Lazarus’s pajamas.

“Come on, sit up a little.” Chen arrange the pillows behind Lazarus, then helped him to lie back onto them. “Sha’ree’s data crystal said that this position will help keep the juice in.”

Lazarus looked like he had comments to make on this piece of information, but Chen was already on his way to the head. “Just going to grab some towels,” he called as he went.

Chen was back a minute later with several dry towels and a couple of damp ones. He helped Lazarus out of his shirt and looked carefully at the opening in his pouch seam.

“Three and a half centimeters, give or take,” said Chen. He cleaned up Lazarus’s stomach with a warm towel, then laid a cool one over the seam. “It’s supposed to help the sting. Sit a little forward again.” Chen arranged the dry towels over the pillows, then eased Lazarus back. He had grabbed his vox on the way through the living area. He flipped it open and contacted the ship’s doctor. After giving her a report, he called Tawny and asked her to send a message to Sha’ree on New Tev’Meck.

“Do you need anything? Are you cold?” asked Chen.

“I would like my robe, thank you,” Lazarus replied. Chen retrieved it from its hook on the back of the bookcase and brought it to the bed.

“Sit forward again, and I’ll help you put it on.”

But Lazarus took his hand instead.

“Vincent, I’m not a malfunctioning reclamation unit.”

“A little too efficient?” asked Chen.

“I can’t tell you what a comfort it is to have you present.”

Chen smiled. “You want this robe, or what?”

Lazarus sat up and let Chen help him into the robe. Chen sat at the foot of the bed.

“I guess we have an hour or two to kill, according to the data crystal,” said Chen.

“I wondered where you were getting your information,” said Lazarus.

“Sha’ree wanted to make sure that I knew what I was doing. She was very thorough. I can probably name more of your organs than my own at this point.”

“In school, her reports were always twice as long as the instructors called for.”

“I’ll bet. Hey, let me know when you need another compress, okay? There’s no reason for this to hurt more than it has to.”

“I will. It isn’t nearly as painful as I had assumed it would be.”

Like the other time, thought Chen, the time you were dreaming about. He cast around for something less distressing to discuss.

“Have you thought up a name yet?” asked Chen. Mak’Tar had a baby name — a one-syllable handle for them to be called by until they developed a gender. Traditionally, it was chosen by the person who bore the child.

“I’ve thought of a couple, should Sha’ree reject my first choice. I don’t think she will, however.”

“What is it?”

“I’m confident that the crystal included the information that it’s bad luck to tell anyone before telling the mother.”

“Since when do you believe in luck?”

“Since it is convenient for me to do so,” said Lazarus archly.

Chen laughed.

The door chimed, followed by the voice of the ship’s doctor. “Are you going to let me in, or do I have to try and remember my medical override code at 3 a.m.?”

“Enter,” said Chen. The door slid open.

There followed an examination by the doctor, more compresses, a corpsman with a bassinet full of necessary items, a nurse, Tawny with the message that Sha’ree had just boarded a transport and would be reaching the rendezvous point with the Protector in seven hours, and just a general quiet hubbub which Chen successfully kept mostly to the other side of the bookcases.

And then it was time. Chen sat on the bed, on the side next to the wall, leaving the open side for the doctor to work. The nurse stood at the foot of the bed, in front of the violets, holding some receiving blankets. She had placed a more water-proof barrier between Lazarus and the bed some time earlier. The doctor issued instructions — “Bend your knees a little, Dr. Lazarus, and lean forward.”

Lazarus took Chen’s hand, and for what felt like a very long second, he held Chen’s gaze.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I’m here,” answered Chen.

And, if you’ll let me, I’ll stay here, he thought.

Lazarus leaned forward, the pressure of his thighs against his belly causing the volvac sac to bulge out of the opening of the pouch.

“Here we go,” said the doctor, and she quickly slashed the sac with a small, old-time scalpel. Chen could see what looked like the crest on the baby’s head come sliding out of the sac along with about a liter of clear fluid. The doctor snatched one of the blankets from the nurse, and using it to stabilize her grip, she grasped the sac on either side of the slash, and pulled upward. The nurse stepped forward with another blanket and took the baby around xyr tiny chest, pulling xem free of both the sac and Lazarus’s body.

Time seemed to stretch again as the child was held in front of Lazarus, and Chen watched his expression of pain and shock dissolve into wonder.

Then everything snapped back. The nurse had the child’s head supported against her arm in one practiced movement. She cleared the child’s airways, checked xem with a medical scanner, wrapped xem up, and handed the whole bundle of squirming, mewling baby to Chen in about two minutes.

“How is xe?” asked Lazarus.

“Covered in gunk and I think a little pissed off right now, honestly,” said Chen, smiling besottedly at the bundle.

“I’m sure it was much cozier where xe came from,” said Lazarus.

Chen tore his attention from the baby to look at Lazarus. “Xe’s beautiful, Lazarus. Perfect.”

Lazarus was nursing the baby for the last time when Sha’ree arrived.

“Here’s someone who’ll have some real milk,” he whispered to the infant. The colostrum he had produced was essential to xem, but Lazarus had almost dried up now, and xe was wanting more in xyr belly.

“May I enter the nest?” asked Sha’ree. Chen was behind her, hanging back a little, Lazarus noted.

“Of course you may,” said Lazarus.

Sha’ree came immediately to the side of the bed and pulled the blanket gently away from the baby’s face. “Xe’s beautiful!”

“That was Vincent’s opinion when he first saw xem.”

Sha’ree glanced toward Chen, then back at the baby. “Well… Vincent seems to be a very good judge of babies.”

The infant made a face and began to cry.

“Xe’s also very hungry,” said Lazarus.

Sha’ree grimaced. “Let me fix that before xyr crying causes me to need a fresh sennes.” Sha’ree sat on the opposite end of the bed, leaning against the footboard. She untied her jacket and blouse, and held out her arms. “Sgt. Chen, could you..?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” said Chen. He took the child from Lazarus and placed xem in Sha’ree’s arms. There was a bit of fumbling, but finally, the baby seemed to be getting what xe wanted.

“By what name should we call this child, honored one?” Sha’ree asked, initiating the naming ritual.

“I offer the name, ‘Vin,’ for this child.” replied Lazarus. He looked up at Chen just in time to see him blush and attempt to school his expression into something less than pure shocked pleasure.

Sha’ree smiled at Lazarus. “I find this name to be good and I accept it for the child,” she said. “Xe shall be called ‘Vin’ until xe knows xyr nature.”

Sha’ree could only stay an hour. The Protector had been diverted from a time-sensitive mission in order to rendezvous with her transport. Chen walked her to the pod bay and saw her and Vin off. When he came back, he poked his head around the bookcase to ask if Lazarus was hungry.

“I’m…” Lazarus was hungry, but he didn’t think he could swallow anything right now. “I’m…”

Tears fell. He didn’t even try to hide them.

Chen sat on the bed facing Lazarus. He took his hand for the third time in less than a day, and he finished Lazarus’s sentence.

“…sad,” said Chen.

Once he was cried out (and Chen had put an arm around him and let him literally cry on his shoulder), Lazarus slept for ten hours straight.

Chen continued to care for Lazarus over the next few days while the opening of his pouch returned to normal. Finally, the doctor gave Lazarus permission to return to restricted duty — “Just for a week or so, Doctor,” she said, “then you should be able to resume your normal activities.”

Lazarus decided it was time to move back to his own quarters.

Chen helped him pack the items from his nest into totes. It required barely an hour to accomplish.

“I’ve no idea what to do with the painting,” said Lazarus. “It’s too cumbersome to fit in storage.”

“You can leave it,” said Chen, “if you want. It’s pretty, and better than looking at the back of bookcases. Besides, then it’s already there if you want it again.”

“You’re offering..?”

“Of course I’m offering.”

“Thank you, Vincent. I already owe you so much, though.”

“You don’t. I love… loved having you here.”

They stood looking at each other until it grew awkward, and then until it grew even more awkward.

Lazarus picked up the tote containing his personal items. “I’ll have a crewman come and remove these others and the hydroponic garden.”

“I’ll carry that one,” said Chen. He took the tote from Lazarus.

“Right.”

They walked to the lift, rode it up three levels, then walked down the long corridor to the forward end of the ship. During the entire walk, Lazarus silently, heatedly argued with himself.

This was ridiculous. The very worst outcome Lazarus could expect was that Vincent would gently explain why they could never be together in the way that Lazarus very deeply desired for them to be together, and then Vincent would never breathe a word about it to any living soul.

And the very best…

But first, he needed to open his mouth and say something.

By this point, they were at Lazarus’s quarters.

“You kept the bed,” said Chen, depositing the tote on it.

“It will take some time to reacclimate to the spikes,” said Lazarus.

He needed to say something or else resign himself to sleeping on those spikes for the rest of his life.

“I suppose it would.” Chen wiped his hands down the front of his jacket.

Say it.

“Vincent, I—”

“Lazarus—”

They both laughed nervously.

“You first,” said Lazarus.

Chen took a deep breath.

“Lazarus Kir’ruslan’Mekarastorl, I would like to declare my intention to court you. Will you accept me as your suitor?”

Well, that was…

That was Chen initiating the Mak’Tar courtship ritual.

That was something Lazarus had never thought to hear — from anyone.

Ever.

He hadn’t the faintest idea what the ritual response was.

And now he was frozen, watching Chen’s expression go from hopeful, to hurt, to unperturbed.

“Umm. Okay. It’s okay. Forget I said anything.” Chen pivoted and left.

Warvan’s tits!

What was it? How did it go? He’d seen it often enough in books, on holos.

Lazarus racked his brain, but it was no use. He’d never paid attention because he’d never thought anyone would ask.

Alright, so he didn’t know. The point now was that Chen was getting farther away.

And he was hurting. And that wasn’t acceptable.

He needed to find Chen — now.

He hurried out to the corridor. No Chen. Whichever way he had gone, he had already disappeared around the curve of the ship.

His quarters, then? No. Chen’s shift started soon, and he’d prefer to throw himself into the intricate puzzles of the ship’s systems anyway.

Engineering or the command deck.

Lazarus chose the command deck as the closer of the two and went there as quickly as his still-healing pouch allowed.

He was lucky. Chen was there, standing at his station, his back to the door.

For a moment it occurred to Lazarus that he was going to do this in front of the entire command staff, but then he remembered that this ritual was usually enacted in the presence of both participant’s families, and suddenly, it felt right. He walked over to Chen and spoke.

“Vincent.”

Chen turned around.

“If someone had asked me twenty minutes ago whether anyone would ever say to me the words you just said, I would have told them that the heat death of the universe would occur first. I never expected anyone to want to… woo me, so I have no idea what the proper response is, but — yes, Vincent Chen, I accept you. I would be deeply honored to do so.”

Chen smiled, big and bright and elated, and it sucked the air out of Lazarus to think that having him could make Chen so happy.

“The next step is you’re supposed to kiss me,” said Chen, quietly, “but if you’d rather do that somewhere more private, I’d understand.”

Lazarus shook his head. “Not unless you do.”

Chen moved closer, brought his face right up to Lazarus’s. “This is fine.”

It was a movement of two centimeters to touch Chen’s lips with his own. It felt like the distance between New Tev’Meck and Earth. But as soon as they did touch, Lazarus could feel something luminous blossoming between them. He pulled Chen closer. He felt Chen grip his arms. He felt the warm blossoming thing grow, cracking him open, swirling inside his ribcage. He drew back and looked at Chen, wondering if it felt the same to him. It obviously felt good, judging from the look on his face.

“Do you think we should tell the others?” asked Chen.

“Great!” shouted Laredo. “They kissed! Can we please talk about something else around here now?”

“Oh, I think they’ll figure it out in due time,” said Lazarus.