Svenda quickly moved to his side, her scowl a deterrent to those who approached Drake with private questions.
“When did you get in, Sallah?” Barr asked, turning with her usual friendly grin. “I only arrived in from our stake around noon. No one of the old group knew when you’d make it. I didn’t realize this thing was so serious until I saw what it had done on my way up.”
Sallah laughed. Barr’s bubbling personality had not changed a micro, though her figure had rounded. “How many kids do you have now, Barr?” Sallah asked. “We’ve sort of lost track of each other with you on the other side of the continent.”
“Five!” Barr managed a girlish giggle, glancing slyly at Sallah. “The last was a set of twins, which I’d never have expected. Then Jess told me that he was a twin, and twin births were common in his family. I could have strangled him.”
“You didn’t, though.”
“Naw! He’s a good man, a loving father, and a hard worker.” Barr gave a sharp nod of her head at each virtue, grinning at Sallah again. Then her mobile face changed to one of concern. “Are you all right, Sallah?”
“Me, certainly. I’ve four kids. Brought Cara with me. She’s only three months old.”
“Is she at Mairi’s or Chris MacArdle-Cooney’s?”
“At Mairi’s. We’d better check that roster and see when we’re on duty. Where’s Sorka these days?” Sallah had also lost track of the redheaded Hanrahan girl. “I saw all the others.”
“Oh, she’s living with another vet. Over on Irish Square.”
“How appropriate!” Suddenly Sallah felt a surge of resentment, something to do with the freedom young people had and her frustration with Tarvi’s diffidence, along with the sudden realization that she had relatively few responsibilities at that moment and that her professional skills were once again in demand. “C’mon, let’s go find a drink and catch up on our lives!”
Sorka and Sean arrived at their quarters from different directions. Sean from an unexpected meeting with Admiral Benden, Sorka from the barn. She knew by his jarring stride that Sean was barely containing a fine fit of rage. He held it back until they were inside the house.
“Damn fool, hell’n’damned fool,” he said, slamming the door behind him. “That pompous, pig-headed, butt-stupid git.”
“Admiral Benden?” she inquired, surprised. Sean had never had reason to criticize the admiral, and he had been proud to be called to a special interview.
“That stupid admiral wants a cavalry unit!”
“Cavalry?” Sorka paused as she picked their evening meal out of the freezer compartment.
“To charge about the countryside with flame-throwers, no less!
“Doesn’t he realize horses hate fire?”
“He does now.” Sean went past her to the small cabinet, hauled out a bottle of quikal, and held it up suggestively.
“Yes, please. If I don’t unwind, too, my food won’t do me any good at all.” She curtailed her anxiety. The need for a drink indicated how tense he was, for Sean was not a drinking man.
“We don’t have to eat up above, do we?” he asked, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the reestablished community kitchen.
“No, I raided Mother’s freezer.” She set the container in the warming unit and dialed the appropriate time.
Sean handed over her glass and raised his in a toast. “To idiot admirals who are very good in space and real dumb washout stupid about animals. As if we had enough horses to waste in such an asinine caper. He also envisions me training squadrons of fire-lizards” – Sean had persisted in using his own name for them – “swooping down on Thread at command. He even feels that he should have one, too. He doesn’t effing know they won’t be hatching till summer! That is, if those flyboys don’t flame ‘em all down.”
Sorka had never seen Sean so infuriated. He paced about, his face flushed, throwing his left arm out in extravagant gestures, sipping at his drink between phrases as he vented his anger. He flicked his head to flip the sun-lightened hair out of his eyes. A grimace made him appear inscrutable, almost frightening in his anger. On one level she listened to his words, agreeing with his anxieties and opinions; on another, she reveled in the fact that beneath the contained, almost coldly detached impression he gave most people, there was such a passionate, intelligent, critical, rational, and dedicated personality.
Sorka did not quite know when she had realized that she loved him – it seemed that she always had – but she remembered the day she realized that he loved her: the first time he had exploded in her presence over a minor incident. Sean would never have permitted himself that luxury if he had not felt totally secure in her presence, if he had not unconsciously needed her soothing affection and reassurance. Watching him work off his aggravation, Sorka permitted herself a small smile which she tactfully hid behind her glass.
“Now, Sean, the admiral paid you a compliment, too,” she remarked. She caught his surprised glance and smiled. “By consulting you. I noticed, even if you didn’t, that he watched us out there on the Malay corridor, saw how well our fair behaved. And I’m sure that he knows that you’re more likely than anyone else to discover where the queens are hiding their eggs.”
“Humph. Yes, I guess that’s true enough.” Somewhat mollified, Sean continued to pace, but with less agitation.
Sorka loved Sean in every mood, but his infrequent explosions fascinated her. His anger had never been directed at her; he rarely criticized, and then only in a crisp impersonal tone. Some of her girlfriends had wondered how she could stand his taciturn, almost sullen moodiness, but Sorka had never found him sullen in her company. Generally he was thoughtful, unwilling to offend even in a complete disagreement, and certainly a man who kept his own counsel – unless horses were at risk. His lithe figure was graceful even as he thudded back and forth, his heels pounding and leaving dents in the thick wool carpet she had woven for their home. She let his tirade continue, amused by the language in which he described the probable antecedents of the admiral, whom he usually respected, and the idiocy of the entire biological team who tampered with creatures whose natures they had not the wit to understand.
“Well, did you offer to find the admiral a dragonet egg when the time’s right?” she asked when he paused for breath after another elaboration of the stupidity of brass asses.
“Ha! I will if I can.” He spun on his heel and sprawled beside her on the couch, his face suddenly still, rage and frustration dissipated, his eyes on the amber liquid in his glass. From his expression, she knew that something else was worrying him deeply. She waited for him to continue. “You know as well as I do that we haven’t caught a glimmer of any of the wild ones around here. They’ve made themselves scarce since the Sadrid Fall. Jays, if there were anywhere safe on this planet, they’d find it!”
“There were a lot helping us at the Malay corridor.”
“Up until some idiots started flaming them, too!” Sean finished the last of his drink to drown his disgust. “We won’t get the wild ones to help at all if that gets about.” He poured himself another drink. “Say, where’re yours?” he asked suddenly noticing that the usual perches were vacant.
“Same place yours are, out and about,” she answered in a mild tone.
Then Sean began to laugh, as much at himself as at the fact that he had only just realized that his fire-lizards had made themselves scarce the moment he left the admin building.
“Not surprising, is it?” she teased, grinning back at him. He shoved one arm behind her shoulders and pulled her, unresisting, closer to him. “When Emmett told me Blazer was in a tizzy over your righteous wrath, I told mine they’d have to find their own food tonight. They don’t like cheesy things anyway.”