"Husband," said Lajoolie. "Hush." She turned to the rest of us apologetically. "He’s still distressed about his grandmother. Pay no attention."
She gave a reassuring smile… but it had no effect on the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Until now, I had never quite grasped that Nimbus was an artificial being: built by the Shaddill as a gift to the Divian people, just as my own race had been built as a gift to ancient Earthlings. Surely Nimbus and I possessed similar design features, with many DNAs and other Chemicals in common — were we not both transparent, clear and colorless? So in a way, we were brother and sister by virtue of our Shaddill-ish origins.
And now my brother might be dead? As lifeless as the black nano-things coating the floor like soot? What was wrong with this universe, that so many people kept dying?
Feeling scared and angry, I strode across the black residue encrusting the carpet, straight into the cloud man’s cabin. "Nimbus!" I cried. "Come out right away! Do not make us think you died from some foolish Science not even intended for you. Where have you gone, you poop-head cloud?"
For a moment, I sensed no response. Then, with a great whoosh, mist poured through a ventilator grid high up on one wall. The fog circled me once, a thick stream impossible to feel through my jacket; then it swept toward baby Starbiter and coalesced into the shape of a ghostly man seated on the infant’s chair.
"I’m back," said Nimbus. "What’s the problem?"
"You went away!" I was most furious with him for the fright he had given us. "You foolishly left; you abandoned your child! Whom you are supposed to take care of, so others do not have to. We are not such ones as know which hydrocarbons are best for a Zarett of tender years."
"Sorry to upset you," Nimbus said without sounding sorry at all, "but I went to see what was happening. The power died, and I heard a sort of crackle in the ventilator; when I investigated, I found my nanite guards were all settling out of the air, dead as dandruff. I decided I’d try to find someone to ask what was happening, but…" A ripple went through his body. "I got lost in the air ducts."
"You got lost?" I asked. "That is most irresponsible, you foolish cloud, when certain persons might choose to worry about you. Persons such as Uclod and Lajoolie. And little Starbiter. But not me, not even a little bit."
"It was pitch black everywhere," Nimbus said. "I couldn’t tell where I was till I heard yon hollering."
"I was not hollering!" I cried. "I never ever—"
Festina stopped me by laying her fingers lightly on my arm. "Hush. He’s fine. I was worried too."
The Howls Of Infants
"Now, Nimbus," Festina said, turning to the cloud man, "we’ve been sabotaged. Disabled. And we don’t have the right equipment for sending a Mayday. We were wondering if the little girl…" She took a moment to smile fondly at the baby snuggled inside Nimbus’s body; then her smile faltered. "I was going to ask if Starbiter could send out a Mayday for us. But now that I look at her, she’s so small… is she old enough to broadcast FTL messages?"
Nimbus did not answer immediately. The mist of his body rolled like steam from a fiercely boiling pot. Finally he said, "The ability to broadcast is present from birth; but she’s far too young to control it. The situation is similar to newborn children of your own species — they have well-developed vocal cords, but they certainly can’t talk intelligibly."
"Starbiter does not need to talk intelligibly," I said. "All she must do is cry. If we cause her to weep in a plaintive manner, will it not catch the attention of ships traveling nearby? And do not pretend she cannot wail, for it is the nature of babies to make such noises."
Behind me, someone made precisely the type of noise I had just described. The sound did not come from little Starbiter; it came from Lajoolie, who was looking most alarmed. "You don’t mean…" she said. "But you don’t want to hurt her… you wouldn’t…"
"I do not know so much about babies," I told her, "for I have only learned about them from the teaching-machines in my village. However, it should not be necessary to cause the child pain — just to frighten her to the point where she cries out."
"Oar," Festina said, "can we think about this a minute?"
"Of course," I replied. "We must think very hard how to produce an appropriate amount of terror. My own suggestion would be to create a large fire and drop the child into the middle… for it turns out Zaretts fear blazing infernos but are not at all harmed by the heat. If we are lucky, the flames will actually bestow Starbiter with excellent invigorating energies, so her cries will carry farther. Is that not a clever scheme?"
I looked around proudly, believing I would receive heartfelt congratulations from those assembled… but I did not see the expected expressions of approval. Indeed, the Vachead crew members appeared horrorstruck. Meanwhile, Lajoolie had covered her face with her hands and Uclod wore a scowl so fierce, one might think he wished to punch somebody.
"What is it?" I asked. "What?"
Festina took me by the arm and led me from the room.
I Am Ignominiously Berated
It seems humans have a foolish taboo against setting infants on fire. Festina took me down the hall and explained this to me in low but intense tones. It does not even matter whether the flames actually hurt the child; this is simply a thing which must not be done.
I tried to tell her the situation was different on Melaquin. Immersing oneself in fire is actually a pleasant experience: it causes no harm or pain, and surrounds one with tasty toasty light. Moreover, it burns off the dirt and stains one inevitably acquires from daily activities. One can have too much of a good thing — flames tend to dry out the skin — but to anyone of my species, a session of self-immolation combines the virtues of a hot bath with a good meal.
Was it not the same for Starbiter? Who was also a Shaddill creation, and who was also nourished by flame? Though she might initially fear to be immersed in fire, was that not just the fussiness of a baby who did not like to try new foods?
Festina said this might all be true, but there were Lines One Does Not Cross. Therefore I must not suggest my plan again, for fear that persons who did not know me would think me a horrible monster.
I almost said, I do not care what others think. But that would not be true. I did not want Festina to consider me a bad person, nor did I wish to be despised by Uclod or Lajoolie. I especially did not want Nimbus believing I intended to harm his child… for if he and I were siblings in Shaddillhood, I did not wish to alienate his affections.
In my youth, I had often contemplated how much I would like to have a brother — even when I did not always like having a sister. A brother would be different and interesting: a comrade rife with maleness, but with no lustful urges to complicate the friendship and ultimately make one sad. I would, of course, have to persuade the cloud man to view me as a sister… but were we not partway there already? Back in Starbiter he had tried to boss me around, and I had responded with instant resentment; therefore we were practically family, and all that remained was for him to acknowledge it.
Besides, if Nimbus was my brother, that would make me young Starbiter’s Auntie. The thought of that pleased me most greatly.
Auntie Oar. It had an excellent ring.
My Induction
"I shall do as you wish, Festina," I said. "In future, I shall not suggest putting babies into fire — not even a little fire that would make the child stronger and healthier than before. However, we still need Starbiter to cry, do we not? So we must find another method of inducement. What would be more palatable to Earthling tastes? Shaking her fiercely? Jabbing her with pins? Piling weighty objects on top of her?"