"She won't live long," someone was saying in a hushed voice.

Marian Alston knew where she was without opening her eyes-in the flag cabin aboard Eagle. Her thoughts seemed clear enough, but distant and slow. She forced her eyelids up.

"Surely not that bad," she said quietly.

The ship's doctor was there, and most of her officers; also the Arnsteins, and Swindapa sitting beside her bunk. Hendriksson had her arm in a sling and a bandage around her head.

The voices fell silent, then all broke out at once for a moment. The doctor overrode them: "Not you, ma'am. Pamela Lisketter. Javelin under the short ribs as you were leaving. Alonski was wounded badly too, but he ought to pull through. You lost a lot of blood, though-one of the big veins got nicked. Be thankful you've got a fairly common type."

Swindapa smiled at her and held out her left arm; there was a patch of gauze taped over the inside fold of her elbow.

Alston nodded slowly; that seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort. "Ms… Cofflin?"

The doctor smiled. "Fine, ma'am, and the baby."

"Mr… Hiller?"

"We're under way, ma'am. Heading north-northeast. I don't like the look of the barometer. We're in for a blow, and I wanted sea room."

"Very well," she sighed, closing her eyes again.

Martha Cofflin clung to the line as the quarterdeck canted under her feet. No nausea, thank God, but the sky looked dirty, clouds brassy and black at the.same time. The wind was increasing as well, a shrill piping sound in the rigging. David Lisketter went by between two sailors, his hands-hand and stump, rather-bound before him.

"Hello, Mr. Lisketter," she said flatly, and just loud enough to be heard above the gathering scream of the wind. "There was something I wanted to ask you."

His eyes stared at her like those of an ox in the slaughter chute, and she almost left it at that. No. It's necessary. This musn't happen again, and Jared might be too forgiving. Her hand rested on her stomach; it would have been so easy to lose it…

"Have you-ever had mumps?" she asked.

Slow thought stirred. "Mumps?" he said. "I'm… I think so. Most people do, don't they?"

"Most people aren't asymptomatic carriers," she said. "A few are. I noticed several of the Indians showing the symptoms, though. So one of your party must have been; but you were here long enough for the eight-day minimum incubation period to run… and of course, eating undercooked meat is a wonderful way to catch something. Congratulations, Mr. Lisketter."

"Con… gratulations?" he whispered.

"On your revenge."

"People don't die of…" He stopped, appalled.

"Oh, the fatalities will be heavy," she said. "But it's the long-term effects I was thinking of. You do know that adult-onset mumps often causes male sterility, don't you? I expect that in a population that hasn't been previously exposed, that will be nearly universal. Congratulations, Mr. Lisketter. You've avenged your sister and your friends quite thoroughly. You've single-handedly wiped out the first Mesoamerican civilization, and all the ones which followed from it. Genocide."

Martha turned and headed for the companionway down to the cabins. She had the captain's, with Alston recuperating in the flag suite. There was a shout behind her, and a scream. The splash did not carry over the noise of the birthing storm. Some people were simply too dangerous to have around her friends and family.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

October, Year 1 – February, Year 2 A.E,

Jared," Martha said, stooping to kiss his forehead where he sat in the wheelchair.

"Martha," he replied.

Thank You, he added in silence to God; he wasn't much of a praying man, ordinarily, but this was a special occasion. Jared cleared his throat and looked up the gangplank at the Eagle and her crew. It was a cool, bright day, and the flags were flying at her masts in a wind that smelled of salt and fish.

"Best we get out of the way, I suppose," he said.

She nodded, and they stood to one side as the others came down-crew and cadets by squads, and the wounded, limping or on stretchers. He tried to look each one in the face and print the features on his memory forever, returning their greetings with solemn nods. The crowd spilling up the dock behind him, filling it and Broad and Easy streets behind him, was almost equally respectful, parting for the ambulances… and nobody begrudged the precious remnant of gasoline they burned.

"Eagle departing!" the boatswain's voice barked.

A pipe shrilled, and the ship's bell rang three times and once again. Marian Alston stood at the top of the gangplank, crutches under her arms. She blinked as a voice called from among the cadets and crew crowding the dock:

"Three cheers for the skipper!"

Cofflin joined in the three crashing shouts, self-conscious but loud as he felt his wife's fingers squeeze his. Alston nodded, then drew herself up slightly and saluted the dock; those who'd sailed south with her answered in snapping unison. Swindapa came up to steady her as she maneuvered slowly down the gangplank, then sank into a wheelchair beside the Chief's.

"Christ, we're a matched pair," she muttered, as they endured the necessary formalities.

"Not all that long, I hope," he said.

"The medic says it was a nice clean puncture-blade went in with the grain of the muscle, not across it. Should heal without any loss of function."

When the street emptied somewhat, their partners wheeled them about and began pushing them up it.

"You up to that, Martha?" Cofflin asked anxiously.

"Jared, I'm pregnant, not ill," she replied tartly, then stroked his head for an instant. A smile went between her and Swindapa.

Cofflin's head turned to Alston. He swallowed. "There…" He cleared his throat and began again. "There aren't any words except thank you, and that isn't enough," he said. "And, ah-"

Alston's broad-lipped mouth quirked. "You're welcome, Jared."

He turned in his chair and reached out a hand. "Look, I mean it. I owe you Martha's life, and our child's. That's one hell of a big debt. When you need me, I'll be there, whatever it is. All right?"

She took his hand in reply; it was narrower than his, the fingers long and slender, with a grip like steel wire in his big fisherman's paw.

"I was doin' my job… but I may take you up on that, someday." She sighed. "It's going to be a while before we can go after Walker and finish the job," she went on. "We aren't ready. Weren't ready for what we just did, but we were lucky."

Martha snorted. "I don't believe in unearned luck," she said.

"Earned or unearned, we were still lucky." She looked down at her leg. "Well, I'm not going anywhere for a while. Spring, then." Alston looked over her shoulder and smiled. "By the way, you should probably thank 'dapa here, too. She saved me, at least."

The Fiernan beamed. "Yes, I did-Marian was hurt, and all at once Moon Woman filled my bones with fire and my liver with strength… We're here."

The two women watched the Cofflins negotiate the stairs; someone had put in a ramp for the chair. Swindapa frowned slightly as she pushed Alston's back down Orange toward the junction of Liberty and Main.

"They didn't say much when they saw each other," she said.

"Well, they're Yankees," Alston replied, smiling. "They like to squeeze all the use they can out of a word, or an expression." Then she yawned. "Tired."

"Of course you are. Home soon, and you'll get better fast." She shook her head. "You need lots of sleep, and-" She continued in her own language. Alston looked over her shoulder and raised her brows. The Fiernan continued: "Someone to… keep your spirit warm. Cuddle, you'd say. Everyone knows that speeds healing."