Maati had been indignant at being herded onto the evacuation ship as if she wasn’t the former copilot of her own ship, the survivor of two battles, one in space, one on the ground, with the Khieevi. She knew that her parents had insisted she go because they wanted her to be safe, but part of her felt that they really just wanted to be rid of her again, when she had only just found them. And Thariinye was even more impossible than usual. Recently their mutual teasing had been playful and friendly but he was so angry at being kept out of the action again and treated like a child that he took it out on her with deliberately nasty and hurtful remarks. She snapped back just as angrily, and their mood made the other children angry and nasty or depressed too so there was already a lot of fighting on the ship. This didn’t improve Calum Baird’s temper any either, and Karina Harakamian fluttered about calling for peace and light. When she wasn’t hiding in the berth she had to share only with Uncle Hafiz.
As for Hafiz, he could not but wonder how he had come to taking leave of his senses so far as to allow himself to undertake a long journey in the company of so many children. He was not a fatherly man, nor, if the truth be known, even an avuncular one unless it proved profitable to appear to be. He could not stand whining children actually.
Of course, the unsettling thing about this lot is that they didn’t whine. For the most part they were disturbingly adult. The larger ones seemed to be used to looking after the smaller ones, and even the youngest didn’t cry, just looked at him with wide eyes that managed to be hopeful and suspicious at the same time.
Returning to the Moon of Opportunity seemed to please them, and he felt more gratitude than was strictly reasonable that they had perked up so much. Even the two Linyaari young ones stopped scowling at each other to cheer. But as the wait for the Haven grew longer, the children became impatient again.
Hafiz did not like the hostile silence. Karina disliked it even more, apparently. Complaining of a headache, she took to their berth.
“What troubles you, my little ones?” Hafiz asked finally, bravely, his own mood at least much improved by relief at not losing his corporate shirt.
“Well,” Jana said. “There’s not a lot to do here. I think they’re bored.” She herself, her tone implied, was above boredom.
“Bored?” The concept was not one with which he had much familiarity. Being fabulously rich and imaginative as well, he could usually avoid such unattractive moods.
Calum turned in his command chair and said, “In order to get maximum passenger space, we had to dispense with some of the amenities-there’s only one set of phones and goggles for vids, the hardcopy books were offloaded to make room, and I’m getting sick of nutrient bars myself. Of course they’re bored. Aren’t you?”
“I’ve been enjoying the rest, frankly,” Hafiz said. “And then, my beauteous Karina and I have not been married long.”
“Uh-huh,” Calum said, rolling his eyes.
“She has her trances and meditations and continuous search for what she refers to as enlightenment to entertain her,” Hafiz said. “Perhaps you could tell the children a story, Baird?” he suggested in a helpful tone.
“Or maybe you could, Hafiz. I’m busy skippering this bird,” Calum said, turning his back on him again.
“Me? Ah.” Hafiz looked around him. “Very well, then. I shall need to employ the remote link to the ship’s computer, dear boy.”
“To tell a Story?’ Calum asked incredulously.
“Audio-visual aids, homely former senior wife of my illustrious nephew, audio-visual aids,” Hafiz said, and clapped his hands. “All young persons wishing to become unbored will now assemble in the hydroponics garden where your beneficent Uncle Hafiz shall entertain you so thrillingly you will completely forget to sulk and fret and otherwise contort your faces and voices into infelicitous conformations.”
“That should charm ‘em all right,” Calum said.
“I shall also require the next meal’s supply of luncheon bars and liquid refreshment,” Hafiz said.