golden skin and deep brown eyes of Seyyan's offspring, Ekarete's first little face.
'Very gentle,' Ekarete said again. 'Very kind. I love her.'
'For giving you a cast-off?' Yalnis said. 'For inducing you to take the companion I refused?'
Ekarete stared at her. Yalnis felt sorry for her, sorry to have humiliated her.
Tasmin stood forward with Ekarete. 'Yalnis, you're speaking out of grief,' she said. 'You lost a companion—I grieve with you. But don't blame Seyyan or embarrass Ekarete. We all know Seyyan for her generosity. My daughter by her launched gloriously.'
'You're hardly disinterested,' said Yalnis.
'But I am,' said Kinli, 'and I know nothing against her.'
Yalnis started to say, When did you ever listen to anyone but yourself?
Zorar yanked up the hem of her shirt, revealing the scar and her emasculated companion with its drooping mouth and dull eyes. It roused far enough to bare its teeth. It drooled.
The older people understood; the younger ones started in horror at the mangled thing, heard quick whispers of explanation, and stared at Seyyan.
'I loved you, too,' Zorar said. 'I told myself, it must have been my fault. I should have understood./ consoled_yow. After you did this.'
'I came for a celebration,' Seyyan said, holding herself tall and aloof. 'I expect to be taken as I am—not ambushed with lies and insults.'
She spun, the hem of her dress flaring dramatically, and strode away.
Ekarete ran after her. Seyyan halted, angry in the set of her shoulders; she paused, softened, bent to speak, kissed Ekarete, and continued away, alone. The main entrance silhouetted her formidable figure as she left Yalnis's ship.
Ekarete stood shivering, gazing after her, pulling the hem of her shirt down all the way around. Finally she scurried after her. Tasmin glared at Yalnis, heaved a heavy sigh, and followed.
The others, even Kinli, clustered around Yalnis and Zorar.
'You've spoiled your own party,' Kinli said, petulant. 'What now? A permanent break? A feud?'
'I shun her,' Yalnis said.
'That's extreme!'
Yalnis hesitated, hoping for support if not acclaim. She shrugged into the silence. 'If the community doesn't agree, why should she care if only I shun her?'
'And I,' Zorar said, which made more difference to more people.
The light of the connecting corridors faded as she spoke. The openings slowly ensmalled. No one had to be told the party had ended. The guests hurried to slip through the connections before they vanished. Their finery went dim.
All around, the tables resorbed into the floor, leaving crumbs and scraps and disintegrating utensils. The rug's cilia carried them away in a slow-motion whirlpool of dissolving bits, into pores, to be metabolized. The gifts all sank away, to be circulated to the new ship.
Only Zorar remained. Yalnis's knees gave out. She crouched, breathing hard, dizzy. Zorar knelt beside her.
'I'm— I have to—'
'Hush. Lie back.'
'But—'
'It's waited this long. It can wait longer.'
Yalnis let Zorar ease her down. The ship received her, nestling her, creeping around and over her with its warm skin. The pain eased and the flow of blood ceased. The blood she had shed moved from her skin, from her clothes, red-brown drying specks flowing in tiny lines across the comforter, and disappeared.
She dozed, for a moment or an hour. When she woke, Zorar remained beside her.
'Thank you,' Yalnis whispered. She closed her eyes again. She desperately wanted to be alone.
Zorar kissed Yalnis and slipped through the last exit. It sealed itself and disappeared.
Yalnis wanted only to go back to sleep. A thousand years might not be enough this time. She had never been among so many people for so long, and she had never been in such a confrontation. Exhaustion crept over her, but she must stay awake a little longer.
'I shun Seyyan,' she said. Her companions quivered at her distress.
'True,' the ship said, and let all its connections to all the other ships shrivel and drop away. The primary colony broke apart, resolving into individual ships. They moved to safer distances, and the stars reappeared above Yalnis's living space.
Seyyan's glittering secondary colony remained, with her craft protected in its center. None broke away to shun her. Yalnis turned her back on the sight. She no longer had anything to do with Seyyan.
'It's time,' she said aloud.
'True,' her ship replied. It created a nest for her, a luxurious bed of ship silk. It dimmed the light and mirrored the outer surface of the transparent dome. The stars took on a ghostly appearance. Yalnis could see out, but no one could see inside.
Yalnis pulled off her shirt. Her long hair tangled in it. Annoyed, she shook her hair free. She stepped out of her loose trousers. Naked, she reclined in the nest.
'Please, cut my hair.'
'True,' the ship said. The nest cropped her hair, leaving a cap of dark brown. The weight fell away; the strands moved across the carpet, fading to a dust of molecules.
Yalnis relaxed, gazed at her companions, and let her hand slide down her body. The little faces knew her intent. Each stretched itself to its greatest extent, into her and out of her, whispering and offering.
She made her choice.
Bahadirgul stretched up to seek her hand, moaning softly through its clenched sharp teeth. The other companions contracted, hiding their little faces in modesty or disappointment till they nearly disappeared. Yalnis stroked Bahadirgul's head, its nape, and caressed its neck and shaft. She opened herself to her companion.
The pleasure started slowly, spreading from Bahadirgul's attachment point deeper into her body. It
reached the level of their ordinary couplings, which always gave Yalnis joy, and gave the companion days of pride and satiation. It continued, and intensified. Yalnis cried out, panting, arching her back. Bahadirgul shivered and extended. Yalnis and her companion released, and combined.
Their daughter formed. Yalnis curled up, quivering occasionally with a flush of pleasure, listening to their daughter grow. The pleasure faded to a background throb.
Inside her, her daughter grew.
Content, she nestled deeper into the ship silk and prepared to sleep.
Instead, the dome went transparent. Seyyan's colony of connected ships gleamed in the distance. The connecting pili stretched thin, preparing to detach and resorb.
Yalnis sighed. Seyyan was none of her concern anymore. She had sworn to take no more notice of her.
What happened next, Yalnis would never forget, no matter how many millennia she lived or how many adventures filled her memory.
The connections deformed, shifted, arched in waves. They contracted, forcing the craft closer even as they tried to separate and depart.
Seyyan commanded her supporters, and they discovered the limits of their choices. They tried to free their ships, tried to dissolve the connections, but Seyyan drew them ever nearer.
Seyyan's craft had infected their ships not only with beauty, but with obedience.
Tasmin's craft, old and powerful, broke free. Its pilus tore, shredding and bleeding. Yalnis's ship quivered in response to the sight or to a cry of distress imperceptible to people. The destruction and distraction allowed a few other people to overcome the wills of their craft and wrench away, breaking more connections. After the painful and distressing process, the freed craft fled into a wider orbit, or set a course to escape entirely from the star system and from Seyyan.
Person and ship alike suffered when fighting the illness of a malignant genetic interchange. Yalnis hoped they would all survive.
'What's she doing?' Yalnis whispered. Her ship interpreted her words, correctly, as a question for people, not
