Free This Gulf of Time and Stars by Julie E. Czerneda Page B

noticed, too. She must have
sent
to her sister, for Rael looked at her. Her beginning frown turned to something appalled.
    She hadn’t known. “A baby shower’s special,” Morgan explained quickly. “These gifts are for your daughter as much as for you,” he told Ruti. “Tayno?”
    He was amused to see Tayno stay out of his uncle’s reach as he came forward, though he knew full well the youngster was in no danger. Huido was blissfully content. The younger Carasian approached Ruti, his package pinched between both claws, stopping before risking her feet to lower the box into her hands with commendable care. “Happy Shower Anniversary,” he boomed, the wrapping adding a cheerful “Have a Great Trip!” “You open it,” he said helpfully, claws at the ready, every eye on the box.
    â€œThank you.” Ruti waited.
    Huido snapped a claw and Tayno scrambled backward.
    Ruti undid the paper, which promptly refreshed its offerings to a repeated: “On Sale Now, Best Ever Party Favors, Level 3, Spinward ¼,” and opened the lid of the box inside. Her face worked for an instant, settling into a bright smile. “How—useful. Thank you, Tayno.”
    She passed the box to Barac, who reached in and pulled out a tangled mass of string and, yes, spoons of various sizes.
    â€œYou hang it in a breeze,” Tayno said eagerly. “It sounds like home. I made it myself.”
    Barac gave the contraption a dutiful shake, producing a clinking susurration that might, Morgan thought charitably, sound like waves on rock to a homesick Carasian.
    â€œA treasure,” Ruti said firmly.
    Tayno stood a bit taller, self-esteem restored.
    â€œOurs is next,” Agem indicated the dotted crate with a proud smile.
    â€œIt’s not new,” Enora forewarned. She gave a small sniff, her smile tremulous.
    With a curious look at his mother and father, Barac unlatched the lid. He gasped. “This was my cradle. And Kurr’s.”
    â€œThat’s—” Ruti ran straight into Enora’s arms, sobbing.
    No one spoke. By their stricken faces, the Clan felt as he did. Morgan hoped so. This glorious ache, this belonging. How long had it been? Best not, he decided wryly, count the years.
    A small hand slipped into his.
Good custom, this baby-rainshower.
    Good family.
    â€œThere’s something else in there.” Rael’s voice was less than steady. “From me. Well, not in there, but there’s a card—”
    The card, it turned out, was promise of delivery for an anti-grav stroller, a Denebian model so new and eagerly anticipated the waiting list, Rael explained, could fill a city. She’d obtained the prototype for them, an extravagant gift.
    One she now regretted. “If there’s anything you need more, cousin,” she began.
    Barac gestured his gratitude, echoed by Ruti. “This is perfect. We won’t need it for a while.”
    â€œI’ll ’port it to you when you do,” she promised, her smile like sunshine.
    Huido’s pile of presents took the pair over an hour to open and exclaim over. None, to Morgan’s relief, contained Retian eggs, preserved or otherwise, but rather what appeared a complete wardrobe, in several sizes, as well as bedding and other necessities.
    Every item was practical and well-made. He’d bet Hom M’Tisri had done the shopping.
    Though likely not the bibs adorned with tiny smiling crustaceans.
    Bowman’s gift sat alone on the table. Sira brought it to Barac, who opened it as though afraid it might explode. Inside was a new rattle, shaped like a starship. And—“Morgan?” He held out a small cylinder.
    The Human took it, letting out a low whistle. “This is a voucher stick.” A Trade Pact Enforcer Travel Voucher, to be precise, withan authentication chip on the base. The indicator read full. By treaty, such a voucher must be accepted, regardless of