doctor was waiting for her to figure something out, and Pendt wasn’t thinking fast enough. If it was important, like Lodia’s calories, Morunt would just tell her. Pendt was smart enough to realize that the doctor’s reticence meant the information was, at least, a little illicit, and that it was up to her to put the pieces together. She couldn’t expect Morunt to put herself out. So she did what she always did: She filed the information away, along with all her cousins’ slights and her brothers’ abuses, the hints she gleaned from the kitchen staff, and her own common sense, until she could figure it out.
“Do you want your meal now?” Pendt asked.
“Thank you.” Morunt held out her hand. Pendt handed over the protein packet and the doctor’s allotment of vege-matter, barely thinking as she measured it out. Morunt watched her as she scrupulously put the correct number of calories on the tray.
Pendt was about to ask a question, something inane like how long the doctor thought they would be at the station. She didn’t get many opportunities for polite conversation, and Morunt was the only one likely to talk to her without speculating about her death. Before she could, the doors to the mess opened, and her brothers came in, looking for their meals as well.
Morunt retreated to the far corner of the mess, and Pendt turned her attention to making sure her brothers got the right food. Tyro was always hungry these days, wanting more than he was given. There hadn’t been a change in his allotment, however, so Pendt quietly delighted in watching him covet what he couldn’t have. She wasn’t stupid enough to eat in front of him—no one would stop him if he tried to take some of her portion—but she did enjoy not being the only Harland who was miserable.
Tanith came in behind the boys, and Pendt gave her cousin her meal as well. They would never be friends, but as Pendt got older, Tanith seemed to pity her more, and that was better than scorn. Tanith looked at her plate, the portion measured out same as always, with an odd air of relief about her.
“Did Lodia get a calorie increase?” Tanith asked.
“Yes,” Pendt said. Everyone would know the first time her mother came in for a plate, so there was no sense in hiding it.
“Good,” Tanith said. “Better her than me.”
That made no sense at all. She hadn’t had a portion increase since she stopped growing. Anyone on the Harland would have welcomed more food.
Pendt considered it while she watched the others eat. The boys amused themselves by luridly speculating if the passengers down below had disembarked to work on Alterra or if they’d been off-loaded as corpses. The weight in the passenger compartment was down significantly, in either case. Pendt didn’t like to think about it.
Finally, when her brothers and cousins were running out of excuses to hang around the mess, the doors opened and Arkady and Lodia came in. Everyone straightened; it was undoubtedly the captain who was about to address them. Lodia looked a little pale, and Pendt was immediately aware of something different about her, even though she didn’t know what.
“You’ll all be happy to know that I have secured a trade deal,” Arkady said. “Not only have we replaced the food resources we lost”—here everyone glared at Pendt except the captain, who ignored her—“we have replenished our supplies enough to accommodate another Harland on board.”
It took a moment for everyone to understand. Tanith looked blank. She was not surprised and was being very careful to keep her reaction to herself. The boys were immediately interested. Morunt kept her eyes on her plate, and the rest of the galley staff appeared similarly disinterested. The older cousins, the ones who were Lodia’s age or older, looked at her with vague concern or interest, depending on who they were. And Pendt finally realized what they had stopped to trade at Alterra.
The food she had consumed to survive regrowing her fingernail had been recouped, purchased by the use of her mother’s body for the growing of another Harland. That’s why Lodia’s calories had been increased, and that was the change Pendt could feel in her now. There was going to be another sibling. Another chance for a star-mage pilot. At the cost of Lodia’s autonomy for nine months. And Tanith, old enough to carry children now, was relieved.
Gene-mage.
The words had haunted Pendt for the last few years, since the captain had