Orion's Hounds

“Okay,” Vale said. “But what am I supposed to do when you and he have a consultation I’m not even privy to?”

“That’s a valid point. I’ll talk to Will about it—we’ll both make more of an effort to avoid that in the future.”

Dea

“And keep one more thing in mind, Christine: Will Riker chose you. He pushed for you, courted you until you said yes. He arranged for that fast promotion because he felt there was no one better suited for this job. He values you as his first officer, his partner. And take it from me: He’s very committed to his partnerships.”

Vale smiled, heartened by her words. “I’ll remember that. Thank you, Dea

“My pleasure.” She looked up. “Computer, resume.”

The lift went on its way again, and the two women stood there in companionable silence for a moment. Then Vale said, “So, uh, what do you think I should do about Jaza?”

“I can’t tell you what to do….”

“I know, but if you have any thoughts…”

“Computer, hold,” Dea

Vale nodded. “Okay. But on the other hand,” she said, remembering how she’d felt after Oghen, “either one of us could get killed at any time, and then we’d have missed our chance.”

“That’s true too. There isn’t always a simple answer. Some relationships do require time and patience, but there’s no guarantee of getting it. Whichever way you go, it’s a risk.”

“Great. So you’re saying there’s no way to decide.”

“I’m saying that maybe the decision comes down to your other priorities. If your career is what’s most important to you right now, and if you feel a relationship with Jaza would disrupt that, then that’s a perfectly valid choice to make.” Dea

Vale took a moment to absorb that. “Okay, then. Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime. Computer, resume.”

Another companionable silence arose, to be broken again by Vale. “Um, what I said about your decades of experience…I wasn’t calling you old or anything.”

“No, of course not. I understand.”

“I just meant—”

“I know.”

“A little maturity, it’s very becoming on a woman.”

“Certainly.”

“You’re definitely still hot.”

Dea

The jellies’ destination was a star system with a G8 primary, smallish and yellow-orange, surrounded by five planets and a brown dwarf which orbited at about sixteen AUs. The dwarf’s gravity had perturbed any outer planets out of the system, but had also cleared the i

“So what do we call it?”

Riker turned to Dea

“Nothing that translates into words,” she answered with a shrug. “Just a general sense of safety, family, nurturing. Perhaps ‘Nursery,’ but that’s more its category than a name for the particular place. So you’re free to call it whatever you want.”

He gri

“It’s one of the perks of the job. So what’s the first place name that Captain Will Riker adds to the almanacs?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Dea

She blushed, laughed. “Oh, no. Will, please, no. That would be too embarrassing.” She exchanged a look with Vale. “And not entirely appropriate.”

“All right, then, how about I let you name it instead? What would you like to call it?”

Dea

They exchanged a long, meaningful look. That would be an even better gift to Dea

“Aye, sir.”

Although the planet—which he could now call Kestra II, Riker supposed—was a fairly safe place as far as cosmic hazards were concerned, it was still girded by a cordon of star-jellies, dozens of them patrolling its orbital space in armored mode. Below them, scans revealed other, unarmored jellies at various altitudes, apparently keeping watch over their sessile young on the surface.

“The planet is fairly active geologically,” Jaza reported. “I’m reading star-jelly-like biosignatures congregating around zones of hydrothermal activity—hot springs, alkali lakes, and the like.”

“That fits with what Se’hraqua said about them burrowing their roots to feed off their planet’s warmth,” Dea

Jaza nodded. “And the Bandi sustained their captive jelly with geothermal energy. It must be their preferred energy source during their sessile phase.”

“That might be why the wounded jelly came to their world in the first place,” said Riker, remembering that geothermal energy had been the one resource Deneb IV had possessed in abundance.

“One thing puzzles me,” said Vale. “If the Pa’haquel have been hunting them for mille

“I’ve been wondering that too,” Jaza said. “For that matter, why haven’t the Pa’haquel come to one of these breeding worlds and domesticated its jellies, rather than going to the trouble of hunting them in the wild?”

Riker frowned. “You saw how much their culture revolves around the hunt.”

“That wouldn’t explain it,” Dea

“Well, whatever it is,” Vale said, “we’ll have to ask them. I doubt we’ll find it here.”

“We never know until we look,” Riker reminded her.

Soon Titanand the jellies’ funeral procession had reached the orbital cordon. They passed through it without incident; no doubt the defender jellies had been advised of Titan’s friendly status. However, one armored jelly broke formation and took station several dozen kilometers off their stern, keeping unobtrusive guard. The other armored jellies in visual range signalled with their meridional chaser lights in acknowledgment of the bereaved school.

Soon the school settled into a low orbit above Kestra II, with Titanand its shadow following suit. The pallbearers released their charge and let it float free. This continued for a full orbit, taking over an hour. Those jellies above and below, tending to their duties, blinked their lights and commiserated telepathically (so Dea