And now the last grandchild was dying. There were lots of great and great-great grandchildren from all Zach’s siblings. The Mora genes had proved very prolific. But Zach didn’t feel any connection to those people. They were family in theory and in blood, but they weren’t in Zach’s heart.
But Jackson was different. John had been Zach’s baby brother—the one who followed when Zach tried to run off to play with his friends, the one who had tattled when Zach hidden behind the bleachers and had kissed a girl. And Jackson had been the joy of John’s last years.
Zach’s declaration that Jackson was dying didn't inspire any reaction from his Grandmother, but why would it? Rownt didn't have the same sort of family structures.
Zach walked toward the exit, trusting that his grandmother would follow. The colonel who had escorted them to the hospital was waiting at the exit. “Can we help you with anything, sir?” he asked.
Zach found it amusing that the colonel would refer to him as “sir,” but then Command was very careful to honor Rownt titles, and by Rownt standards, he was a general. He had status. And age. Zach had lost track at this point, but he had to be close to a hundred and fifty or two hundred.
“We require nothing,” Zach said. All he wanted was to be in the ship with his Grandmother where he could grieve. Even if she would never understand the reason for his pain, she would still support him because she loved him.
They walked in silence back to the ship, but his Grandmother stayed close enough that their arms would sometimes brush against one another or her hand would rest on the small of his back. The colonel followed several steps behind.
Zach studied the changes his birth planet had undergone.
When he'd been young, this port city with its ability to fling ships out into space had been filled with military symbols. Military uniforms had walked the street, military posters had covered walls, and the strain of supporting the military was evident in the cracked driving avenues and the dead foliage. Earth had bled herself dry to win a war.
And they had.
Sort of. However, the planet was recovering from the war. New trees were planted along the avenue and the surface had been repaved. Buildings sported obnoxious paint jobs and advertising had replaced the ubiquitous military posters. This resembled the Earth of Zach’s childhood. Or rather, the Earth he had grown up watching on vids. Even when he’d been a kid, politicians had spent more money on space than on the home world. Now that Earthlings had lost their vast empire in space, they seemed to be taking better care of the planet.
They reached the fence that marked the beginning of restricted territory. Zach was insanely grateful that Command had brought his great-nephew to the military hospital so he could visit him, but the effort hadn’t been worth it. Jackson could’ve been floating in space or lying in feces and he wouldn’t have known the difference. He certainly hadn’t noticed Zach’s visit.
His Grandmother stopped and considered the newest amenity with narrowed nostrils. The portable moving sidewalk was built to handle the oldest of Grandmothers, so it could handle Zach’s Grandmother, but she looked at it as if it were a rotting corpse. Zach found it ironic that a species that travelled space had such a visceral dislike of mechanical transportation.
“Can we get you anything?” the colonel asked.
Zach had already answered that once. “No thank you,” he said.
The Grandmother stepped up onto the walk before she turned to watch Zach. She was probably wondering why the officer kept repeating the same question. Zach didn’t have a good explanation, so he hurried onto the mechanical walk where he stood with his back to the colonel and waited for the man to activate the machinery.
An awkward silence fell, and Zach listened to a distant truck engine rumbling near theCaltishuttle. Trade goods were being delivered. Considering that theCaltirarely came to Earth, the traders were taking advantage of this opportunity.
Zach’s Grandmother put a hand on his shoulder when the mechanical sidewalk started, taking them through the shipyard. Ships squatted under the Earth sun, their interiors exposed as workers stripped off the valuable metals. They rode in silence until they reached the ship. Then she offered a comforting glurble as one of the older Grandmothers watched them climb the ramp.
Inside, Zach paused, and his Grandmother stopped with him, studying him. She couldn’t understand how Zach felt as the last of his family lay dying in a hospital bed, his brain too shriveled to even recognize anyone. Jackson had been Kip’s youngest, born not long before a series of complicated trades had required theCaltito spend time on Earth. Every time theCaltihad landed, John had been there with his pictures of Jackson.
Jackson had been such an ugly baby—red and squinty and constantly balled up in infantile fury. But John had been so proud. And then John dragged Kip, Jackson’s father, and Kip’s wife along to show off the baby. John’s love for his family had spilled over onto Zach, and losing Jackson was like losing John again.
His Grandmother led them to the temple and then up the stairs to the more private areas. Perhaps the other Grandmothers sensed his pain because they averted their gazes when Zach came through. Once they were upstairs, his Grandmother led him to their private room.
Pillows lined their nest, and Zach nearly threw himself into the familiar comfort. He tried to cry. He did. But he was too confused about his own feelings to manage it. Instead he lay with his face buried in a pillow as his breath stuttered.
His Grandmother squatted beside him, her hand on the small of his back. Zach turned his head to smile at her.
“Are you distraught?” she asked.
That word implied a palteia who could not regulate her own emotions. The most reasonable thing for a chilta to do in the face of a distraught palteia was to get out the nictel. Zach shook his head. “That word is too strong. Jackson’s death reminds me of the death of John.”
“Did you feel distraught over the death of the male raised by your parent?” she asked. Zach found it fascinating that Rownt didn’t have a word for sibling. Any number of English words had found their way into the Rownt vocabulary, but not that one.
“I was upset.”
She settled down next to him. “Upset is a word best used when one finds oneself bested in trade or watching a flood take away a field of grain ready to harvest.”
“It is also used to describe the pain of watching a person you are fond of die.”
She huffed. Zach shifted closer, and she draped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.
