A Snippet

*Yes, I’ll continue the series on plot structures, but not today.  Today, I do a snippet, because I’m trying to finish this book.*

Darkship Revenge

 

Sarah A. Hoyt

Beginning And End

Battle Born

 

I never wanted to be a mother.

Bioengineered madmen had created me, assembled me protein by protein, to be the mother of a new race, the start of a new humanity.   Alas I seem destined to disappoint all expectations, including my own.

The girl raised without a mother, by a man who cared more for her body than her mind, I’d never realized how easy it was to make a human being. You’d think it would be an arcane thing, for which you had to work very hard, not an happenstance, a thoughtless creation. Because of my past, I’d never thought it would be easy.

I was no good at mothering, no good at nurturing, no good at the simple things of mankind. Love had surprised me, both in feeling it and in its being returned, and my love was as much an alien to the ways of mankind as I was.

I was good at killing, at attacking, and at surviving.

My child was born during a battle. A strange battle that had started when an unknown ship, of a strange, lithe design, had attacked the Cathouse, the powerpod collector my husband, Kit, and I flew to steal powerpods from Earth orbit for Kit’s native colony of Eden.

We were three days from the powertrees in Earth orbit. We didn’t even see the other ship before it fired on us.

One moment we were under-power, still too far away from possible near-earth traffic for either of us to man our stations, the other moment our alarms were blaring that our ship was damaged.

I abandoned the reader where I’d been searching for information on how to give birth, and Kit had come running out of the exercise room.

And we’d fought.

The Cathouse was ill equipped for battle. It only had weapons at all – energy cannons mounted on the surface – because Earth had started trying to capture our kind when we came to collect powerpods. And someone had finally decided it was better to fight than to just commit suicide to avoid interrogation.

But our weapons were small and relatively ineffective. Built to discourage rather than destroy. Built to save on fuel and leave more space for powerpods. But also built not to create such outrage at us that finding us became a top priority.

Before the alarms had stopped sounding, Kit and I were at our battle stations, also known as our powerpod collecting stations and also our landing stations: two rooms on opposite ends of the spherical ship, one for the navigator and one for the pilot. Kit, whose eyes had been enhanced to be able to pilot in near-perfect dark, which permitted him to pilot without lights in the powertrees, minimizing our chances of getting caught, must have locked into the pilot chair and brought his screen to focus on our attacker just as I did. I was clicking the lock on my belt, when I felt his baffled shock. Felt it, because to avoid detection, pilot and Nav from Kit’s world had a form of telepathic communication. It was engineered into them for the purpose, and it had been engineered into me for completely different reasons, which didn’t matter, because it still worked.

To my wordless question, he returned the image he could see on his screens: an almost playful silver ship, triangle-shaped, but with added flips to the wings.

I was already calculating coordinates in my head, to target our shot back, and rattled them off to Kit via mind link. My normal work aboard was to calculate coordinates and maneuvers for Kit to maneuver in the tight confines of the powertrees, where any wrong move could bring you in contact with a ripe powerpod and to sudden, explosive death.

But the ability to calculate coordinates on the fly and to communicate them to my husband served us well in this too. He spun the Cathouse – our ship – to aim our weapons at the attacker, and let fly with a blinding wall of light.

Our opponent… flipped, like a falling leaf twirling in an unseen wind. I guessed the purpose of the maneuver and directed Kit to move us sharply down, which he did, avoiding the blast, which shone harmlessly by as it flew above us.

Before he was done plunging, I’d directed him to fire again.

We did and shining light from our weapons shone across the other ship which seemed to me to falter for a moment.

I remembered some genius of the twenty first century had written a treatise on how space battles were impossible, because ships could always evade other ships in three dimensions. It hadn’t occurred to said genius that in that case, as in air battles between airplanes, one ship could follow the other.

I’d just thought we should follow the ship and—

A sharp pain cut through my middle. It hurt almost as badly as when I’d got myself stabbed in the gut in a back-alley fight when I was twelve.

For a moment I lost breath and the ability to focus, and Kit screamed in my mind, Thena?

And we caught it. We caught it full amidships and our sensors started blaring again, and I realized I’d wet myself, and I remembered something I’d read, something—

I must have communicated my distress to Kit, because though I shouted coordinates at him, he didn’t seem to do anything with them.

Alarms continued to blare, loudly, and I tried to tell him he had to keep firing on this strange ship, but he wasn’t having any. I remember telling him that the ship’s armament couldn’t be all that powerful, either, because if it were it could have burned us to nothing by now. At least I think that’s what I told him, but I confess what I’d later find out were a full two hours became a blur.

I remember lying on our bed, and I remember Kit trying to get our medkit examiner gadget to give him meaningful readings on the progress of the birth. It wasn’t very successful. At one point, I remember his yelling at me that he couldn’t understand what had possessed me to come with him on a six month trip without letting him know I was pregnant.

I’d tried to explain, as I had when I’d first told him, three months ago, that I hadn’t thought giving birth could be a difficult or hazardous thing. After all humans had been doing it since there had been humans, and weren’t we bio-improved, and shouldn’t it be easier, after all?

I think he laughed at that. Just as he had laughed at my notion that fertility was somehow volitional. I suspect my so called father had kept me on contraceptives from menarche to his death, since he intended to control my reproduction. It was the only explanation why I’d never become pregnant in my misguided and turbulent youth, but had within the first year of my marriage.

Other than this exchange things are confused, though I don’t understand why, or not fully. We didn’t have any of the drugs women commonly use to eliminate pain in childbirth, and Kit didn’t want to give me any of our other pain killers because he wasn’t sure how they’d affect the baby.

All of this was made worse by the fact that Kit came from a culture where children hadn’t been born by natural means in almost three hundred years. They grew in artificial wombs, and were decanted at term. None of which helped him figure out what to do to help me birth the traditional way. Nor did we have any literature on the subject aboard, except for soppy fiction on the beauty of birth.

The soppy fiction is wrong. Birth is not beautiful. The results might or might not be beautiful, but birth is painful, brutal and a mess.

I remember Kit yelling for me to push, and I remember the alarms blaring. I might or might not have screamed at him to go fire on the ship attacking us before it killed us all. I might or might not have added that he should let me die in peace.

I don’t remember when the gravity cut out, though at that point so many alarms were screaming at us about damaged systems that I don’t think I’d have noticed one more.

I do remember that there were clots of blood floating in air and that Kit – with his feline looking eyes, his calico hair – looked like a blood smeared nightmare as he yelled something about crowns and how I should push.

Suddenly gravity cut in again. There was… unimaginable pain, and then a sudden and very definite relief.

Kit took off running, to come back seconds later, babbling something about no vital systems being affected, and to pick our child up, clean her, burn the end of her umbilical cord – who thought up that system? It’s as though humans were born unfinished – examine me, mutter something about not needing stitches, then sit on the side of the bed and look like he’d like to pass out.

After a while I asked him if he shouldn’t go see to the affected systems, or at least fire on the other ship before it caused any more damage. He frowned at me and said they seemed to have lost interest, or at least were no longer firing on us. “I’ll need to go outside and repair some outside sensors,” he said. “But we’re not in danger any more.”

“That makes no sense,” I said, even as I tried to figure out how to nurse, even though I’d only seen it in sensies before. “Why would they attack us and then leave?”

“I don’t know,” Kit said. “Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity. Earth is at war, after all.”

“But that shouldn’t extend to space,” I protested. “There really is no space presence beyond Circum.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But your idea of how things were and how they really were—”

I inclined my head in semi-agreement. We were both covered in blood, I was naked, and the room, between lack of gravity and the dirty aspects of birth, looked like particularly messy barbarians had walked through.

Fortunately my child figured out the nursing thing, because I had no idea how to do it.

Kit looked at us, with that odd look of reverence that males reserve for things that scare them a little. “We have a daughter,” he said.

I nodded. I was trying very hard not to think that this small creature was utterly dependent on me and would surely die without me. I’d never had anyone utterly dependent on me. Yes, I’d rescued Kit from some horrible situations, but he’d rescued me too. It wasn’t a one-sided relationship. But with my daughter…

The word tasted wrong, as something that could not possibly apply to me. She looked small, unfinished and red, with a face the size of a large orange, little curls all over her scalp, and the most determined expression I’d ever seen.

“She has your eyes,” Kit said.

“Sure,” I said. And since his were the result of a bio-engineering virus introduced in the first trimester of gestation, I added, “We didn’t pay extra for her to have yours. She might make a decent navigator yet.”

He did a laugh that sounded like a hiccup. “I hope—”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Foolishness,” he said. “I was going to say I hoped the world would be kind to her, but I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“No, we each have to make the world as kind to us as we can.”

“And we’ll have to protect her until she can look out for herself,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

He got up. “Right,” he said. “I’m going to see about fixing those sensors. And then I’ll come back and help get you cleaned up.”

It was the last I saw of him aboard the Cathouse.

25 Comments

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25 responses to “A Snippet

  1. Is this from book 3…?

    • It is!

      I do believe that “Writing!” is one of the few perfect excuses writers get. Need to pack to move? “Writing!” Oh, okay, I’ll go off and pack quietly. Need to unpack? “Writing!” Never mind, I’ll just go make food and leave it at your elbow.

      Water flooding up past your ankles? “Writing!” Oh, okay, I’ll find a way to deal with it. Save to a thumb drive!

      In this case, post? “Writing!” Okay!

    • Depends on how you count. It’s book three from Athena’s perspective and in the Darkship sequence. It’s book five if you count the Earth revolution sub-sequence which started with A Few Good Men and will continue with Through Fire coming out from Baen in May. Note that the Earth Revolution one jumps around and uses different heads: it’s my way of giving the panorama of what’s happening on Earth. So first was Lucius Keeva, (A Few Good Men), Second is Zen Sienna (Through Fire), and third will be Born To Hang (Morgan St. Cyr, who appears for the first time in Darkship Revolution.).

      • Laura M

        “coming out…in May”
        Oh, thank God. Finally.

      • Laura M

        Hold on. I’m losing track. Where is Darkship Revolution in this? We’ve got:
        1. Darkship Thieves (Athena-published)
        2. Darkship Renegades (Athena-published)
        3. A Few Good Men (Lucius-published)
        4. Through Fire (Zen-coming soon (yay))
        5. Born to Hang (Morgan (?))
        Where does Darkship Revolution fall, and is it Athena and Kit or `Earth’s Revolution? (I know: compound question. Can’t be helped. This is not a deposition.)

  2. Christopher M. Chupik

    “flipped, like a falling leaf twirling in an unseen wind”

    I am a leaf on the wind; watch how I flip. 😉

  3. How much time and effort goes into making the first sentence a great hook (grabber, whatever you want to call it) and the last one a wonderful cliffhanger? I love those little “come here and read this” starts and the “you gotta keep reading” tails that you seem to drop into your writing, but I wonder just how much effort goes into those? Or do they just slide off your fingertips when you’re not watching?