Page 49 of Throwing Fire

“Yes, sir, I’m going to clean out those calbots now and close you up. I’ll need to have you lying down and, um, I’m going to need to take off the drape, so—” She looks meaningfully at Gig.

“Ain’t nothin’ he ain’t seen before.” I shrug. I’ve been living in close quarters with Kez’s crew for the last two weeks. The Warren’s spacious, like most of the habitables on Kuseros, but there are only two bathrooms. Two bathrooms, six residents, and a constant parade of visitors. Easy math. Only person I haven’t shared a bathroom with is Chiara. Which is just fine with me.

“Okay.” Sylvie doesn’t argue, which scores her even more points. She goes to remove the covering but encounters an unexpected deterrent. Chalk glares at Sylvie, with the concentrated menace only a giant bunny can manage. Then Chalk shoves her melon-sized head between my elbow and ribs. That’s a sign of uncertainty with the rabbits. Chalk is testing Sylvie: trying to figure out whether she’sfriend or foe. When Sylvie doesn’t react like a rabbit, Chalk retreats behind me, her alpha. I dig around under my arm until I can find Chalk’s floppy, fuzzy ears. Give them a reassuring scratch. Chalk’s a fairly new mother, so it’s not surprising that she’s a little over-protective. Another way she reminds me of Kez.

“Um, I’m really sorry—” Sylvie begins.

“But the rabbits have to go? No problem.” I gently scoop up Chalk, lean over the side of the cradle, and deposit her on the floor. There’s immediately a scuffle as Helas rushes over and mounts Chalk, asserting her dominance. Bunny politics.

“Go on, Ronnie,” I say. I don’t have to remove him. Ronnie is exceptionally sensitive to human commands. Ronnie jumps down before I’ve even finished his name.

“Thanks.” Sylvie bustles around, folding back the drape to my knees, draining the goo back into a reservoir under the bed, reclining the bed and laying out her equipment on the lip of the cradle. “I’ve never seen rabbits that big before.”

“They’re Norgir rabbits,” Gig explains, hovering on my far side. Now that I’m lying flat, I can’t see where the rabbits are, but I’m guessing they’re clustered around his boots. Or, as the scratch of claws on plaz tells me, considering another foray onto the top of the float-bed. Bunker lands on my feet a moment later. He does his offended freeze-and-scramble as he lands, then jumps back down. Sylvie giggles.

“They’re very inquisitive,” Gig says apologetically.

“They’re nosy as all fuck,” I say.

Sylvie giggles again, which is a nice sound. “Here, I’ll put up the sterile shield. Then they can be on the medibed.” She snaps up a fizzing blue wall of light just above my knees. Another one below my ribs. A wave of blue light runs from the air above her head down to my skin, sterilizing everything in its path. She passes her hands through the curtain of light, runs them forward and back a few times, then picks up long tube and begins sucking shit out from inside my hip.

I feel it immediately, a sense of movement and pressure, but not pain. I have to figure that’s a good thing.

It’s also a good thing she’s put up the sterile shield, because both Chalk and Bunker are back up on my feet a moment later. Bunker’s immediately off again, and I can tell that this is now a game: jump on Hale’s feet. Not a game I’ll be encouraging. Chalk hunkers down and watches Sylvie so intently that I’m surprised those blue eyes aren’t burning holes in the poor medtech.

“Um,” Sylvie says, with a nervous flick of her eyes at the glaring rabbit.

“They like to supervise,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. Chalk doesn’t bite.” Helas does, but Helas doesn’t jump up, so Sylvie’s probably safe from Queen Bunny.

“It’s very pretty,” Sylvie says, switching instruments. Now she’s scraping something inside my hip. Sounds like bone. And it doesn’t feel good. I focus on our conversation to keep from thinking about what she’s doing inside me.

“She is, isn’t she?” Chalk’s a pointed white. She’s inherited Helas’ long white fur, but she’s got lilac-grey markings on her face, paws and tail. The grey on her face frames her blue eyes and makes them particularly striking. I think Chalk’s the prettiest of Kez’s rabbits, although the new flame sable, Ember, gives Chalk a run for her money. “Kid, any of the kits out?” I ask Gig.

Sylvie ain’t seen cute until she’s seen a baby bunny.

“Yeah, just a sec.” Gig disappears for a minute, while Sylvie continues scraping and Bunker has another bounce on my feet. I’m going to have to nip this game in the fucking bud. Too bad Bunker doesn’t recognize his name the way Ronnie does.

Gig returns with a double handful of dark grey fluff. Mix. I should have known which of Chalk’s kits would be out of the nest box. We’re going to have to find some Deep Columbus to adopt Mix. That kit just cannot stay put.

“Oooooo!” Sylvie squeals. She drops the scraper.Inme.

“Ow,” I say mildly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She collects the scraper absently, rests it on the lip of the cradle and then rounds the float-bed to take the baby bunny from Gig.

This was not my best idea.

I endure several minutes of Sylvie coo-ing over the baby bunny. Use the time to shift Chalk to the side and stack my left foot on top of my right so the next time Bunker jumps up, he plows nose-first into the barrier of my feet. He backs up so rapidly he’s only saved from an undignified tumble to the floor by the lip of the medibed. He jumps down double-time. I hear the scrabble of his claws on the pseudowood floor as he beats a hasty retreat.

Game, set and match, rabbit.

Chalk shifts, kicks her big fluffy feet out to the side, and settles into what I think of as Sphinx-position. Not totally relaxed. Her alpha’s doing something incomprehensible and there’s a stranger holding one of her babies. So she’s watchful. But she’s also happy that I’m back and she’s letting me know it by spending so much time with me, away from her kits. It’s taken me a while to understand the rabbits’ behavior. They’re not predators, and the only animals I’m really used to being around are predators. But now that I’ve figured them out, I’ve come to enjoy being with the rabbits almost as much as I enjoy being with Kez.

Sylvie finally remembers why she’s here, surrenders the baby bunny back to Gig and returns to patching me up. Gig puts Mix down next to Chalk, the better to stare at Sylvie without dropping the squirming bunny. Chalk proceeds to lick her baby all over. It may look like affection, but it’s not. She’s erasing the stranger’s smell. After Sylvie is done, Chalk will bring me Mix to pet. Again, it’s not about affection. It’s about acceptance in the herd. Chalk wants her babies to smell like the alphas, so the rest of the herd will accept them. Once you realize that ninety-nine percent of what the rabbits do is motivated by smell, they’re easier to understand.

Sylvie begins doing something in my hip that feels even worse than the scraping. She’s tugging, pulling, twisting.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” I finally ask.

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