The Gypsy Comet

by London, Lia

  I couldn’t agree with her logic, but I smiled my thanks at her forgiving assessment.

  “Mittur, get this poor gypsy some breakfast. She must be starving.”

  My hand went to my hair, long free of its bun and splayed in frizzy strands. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh yes, I do. If Mama Biddy says feed someone, that ubb gets fed.” He waved a finger at me. “You got dry ropes in your satchel?”

  I shook my head, quickly remembering the local terms. Ubbs were friends, and ropes were clothes.

  “Then you’ve got something even better,” said Mama Biddy with a sage pout. “Gypsies know how to prioritize their belongings because they travel light.”

  “Do you know a lot of gypsies?” I asked.

  “We get traders and divers, most of all.” Mittur pulled a knife from a block and began chopping a pina with alarming speed and dexterity. “I guess you could be both, huh?”

  I laughed weakly. “Nope. I’m definitely not a diver. But yes, I have goods to trade.”

  “Like what?” Mama Biddy bustled around the cramped space, opening various containers.

  “Rik blends from Caren.”

  Mama Biddy’s smile broadened. “Well, then, we’ll get you all roped up. I’ve got fam and ubbs that’ll want to meet you. You’re staying with us today.”

  Her announcement brooked no argument, and I realized it could prove a lucrative deal for both of us. Surely this couple attracted a steady stream of customers, and the added inventory of gypsy remedies might draw more. Claus and I had always hiked door to door before, so having a fixed site from which to work sounded very appealing after the trauma to my body.

  “Alegre, be a good kidder and show this gypsy where the sun chairs are. Show her where to set them up.”

  Apparently, Mama Biddy didn’t need to know my name yet, so I followed the toddler outside to the back of the tiny building, and she showed me wood-framed folding chairs with woven kelp seats tucked beneath a lean-to. The eager little Alegre pointed pudgy fingers and showed me how to situate the chairs for maximum comfort.

  Mittur eventually came out with a stick of chopped fruit. “The pina’s almost too ripe, but the rest is sweet. Thanks for the help. You had a hard drop, huh?”

  I took the food gratefully and nodded. “I think the ferry even submerged for a bit.”

  “That’s scary when the ’chutes don’t work. You’ll never catch me jumping from a star.”

  I smiled at this. Whether the colloquialism represented a misunderstanding of space travel or simply reflected a desire to stay Surface-bound, I agreed ferry drops accounted for more casualties than about anything else in the System.

  “You need a little table or something? You can make a display,” he offered.

  Licking sticky juice from my lips, I considered this. “Some of the blends might be a little sensitive to direct sunlight when the day warms up, but I can probably put them out for a while.” So close to the planet’s equator, the temperatures rose when the sun hit its zenith mid-way across the heavens.

  Mittur nodded approvingly. “You got any pearls or pearl blends?”

  “I don’t. I was hoping to trade for some. Any divers around this season?”

  He frowned doubtfully. “I think they moved on to the other atolls a few weeks ago, but you could always grab a board and surf over.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder at the expanse of water sloshing back and forth between the great atoll and the next one a few kilometers away.

  “Maybe I’ll try in a few days if I don’t find someone here.” Paddling across on a board would be more than I could handle in my present state. Bruises marked where the ferry harness snapped me back into place, and my lower back and legs protested every time I bent them.

  With a wave of my fruit stick, I encompassed the sparkling towns on either side of the atoll’s lagoon. “Are there any other gypsies here now?” To my left, Haikou spread wider with more vital amenities like a hospital, inns, and a non-foods consortium. That meant more colonist tourists.

  “There are a few stirring up some storms over in Kohala, not far from our place, but you’re not with them, are you?”

  I shook my head. “Stirring up storms?”

  But Mittur didn’t answer. He just took Alegre’s hand and led her back inside the pina stand. A moment later, its serving counter opened with a bang, and the sounds and scents of island cooking wafted out on the morning breeze.

  I settled into one of the chairs and opened my patchwork satchel, relieved to find the waterproofing lived up to my expectations. Content to sit and appreciate the scenery, I let myself be still and watched the island awake.

  With no motorized land vehicles on the islands, people either wheeled carts along the paved road ringing the highest points, or they took to boards and small sloops to skim across the turquoise waters.

  Kohala, on the opposite shore was more residential, with hundreds of small family dwellings opening their fourth walls to the serene lagoon. There, as a family expanded, ubbs gathered materials and hammered up a new enclosure attached to the main building, thus linking relatives together in a chain of habitats. I never understood how it didn’t get more crowded, but they always found space.

  When it rained, they lowered tightly woven curtains to shut out the worst of the wind and the wet. Each household would task the tallest member of the family with rolling these back into place every morning. I’d seen Claus help some ubbs with the chore one year when I was little and felt so proud he was among the tallest men on the island. Thinking of him now, I sighed. I loved being independent, but I missed his comforting presence.

  8 ~ The Other Gypsy

  The sound of someone clapping a greeting woke me from a pleasant doze, and I squinted in the sunlight to see a woman approaching. She was gypsy, with a crown of wild, black curls, and purple and gold vests over a loose-flowing white chemise. In a word, she was handsome. Regal, almost. Beautiful, except where the corners of her mouth turned down as if something displeased her.

  I found myself sitting taller as she sauntered straight up to Mama Biddy’s window and placed an order. When she’d paid and received her food, she turned to me with a bemused expression.

  “Oh. Heya,” she said. “Where are your vests, gypsy?”

  The question took me aback. Not all gypsies wore multiple vests, and I rarely did when I wanted the option of favoring my stationary heritage.

  “Sunk with the ferry,” I replied.

  Her eyes widened. “The one from last night? You survived that?”

  “Well enough to sit and eat pina.”

  “You leave her alone, gypsy,” called Mittur, gesturing for the woman to leave. “She’s our ubb.”

  I blinked. How odd that a colonist would send another gypsy away after being so kind to me.

  The woman cast me an appraising grin. “Oh, you’ve been promoted to ubb?”

  “You go on now,” insisted Mittur, storming out of the side and standing between us. “She’s helping us. She’s…” He faltered.

  I offered my name. “Brita.”

  “That’s right. Brita.” He turned back to the woman. “And you have your food, so be on your way.”

  She arched a brow at him and gave me a slow nod. “Brita.” Tapping her chest with her free hand, she said, “Saloma. I’m sure you can find me if you want to.”

  I watched her walk away, still trying to process such behavior from an Ikekane native. Tourists, yes. People on other colonies? All the time. But this was supposed to be a haven.

  Mama Biddy waddled out and handed me a cup of fresh water. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Brita. Is that your name? Brita?” I nodded, and she continued. “That Saloma is a cloud of discontent. All my ubbs in Haikou and Kohala don’t trust her.”

  I glanced sheepishly at the remains of my fruit stick and the cup in my hand. “But Ikekane is famous for its hospitality.”

  She shook her head. “Life is give-and-take.”

  I stiffened wi
th embarrassment. “But I haven’t given you anything.”

  “Sure, you have. You helped us set up. You gave us a friendly smile.”

  “I owe you so much more after sleeping in your stand.”

  Mama Biddy waved this away. “You didn’t take a thing, so you also gave us a reason to trust you, and that’s always a treasure, isn’t it? Trust.”

  I mulled over her words. “Well, you are very kind to see it that way.” I patted the satchel on my lap. “And I will give you something before I leave today.”

  “Give us your friendship while you’re here. Then, I’ll have memories to last until you come again.” With that, she spun on her heel and labored back into the stand.

  A smile bloomed on my face as I considered the gift of friendship, more valuable than a thing could ever be. The outline of the SWaTT rested below my fingers, and I pulled it from the satchel, smoothing it with my thumbs. Wasn’t this a gift from Dag? Yet it represented more than a piece of useful technology. It was a link to a new friend.

  I turned it on and sent him a message. I made it safely to land.

  The reply came seconds later. Thank the stars. Now I can concentrate on my shift. You scared me, Comet. I still hope you’ll come into my orbit again, so please be careful with yourself.

  His tender concern warmed me like the sunshine. My tail is definitely very dusty right now. My shoulders are killing me from the landing and too much swimming. I’ll be sure to clean up before I see you next.

  “Before I see you next,” I muttered, half in awe. I’d need to wait for an entire rotation of the Arxon—eight months—if I wanted that. How would I survive on Tye so long on my own?

  OOO

  By mid-day, I’d sold enough to take a break and go buy some supplies. Mittur and Mama Biddy insisted I come to them for food before nightfall, and I promised I would help them tear down for the night. I also gave them a small vial of a Rik blend helpful for calming anxiety. The people of Ikekane rarely stressed over things much, but they said little Alegre sometimes suffered from night terrors common to her age.

  The twenty-minute stroll into Haikou gave me time to reacquaint my legs with normal movement, and I pondered renting a room for a night, so I could get a good shower and tend to my shoulder injuries. When the hospital came into view, I hesitated. An icy gel pack sounded wonderful.

  Shifting my trajectory, I headed for the gleaming white building and climbed half the steps before I heard someone calling my name.

  I turned to see Saloma smiling up at me from the bottom of the steps. “You breeze on past a fellow gypsy on your way to a colonist healer?” she teased.

  Startled, I stammered, “I think I might have bruised my collarbone. They might have icy gel packs I could use.”

  “And have them talk down to you?” Saloma’s skeptical expression was familiar enough in gypsy circles.

  I shrugged. “I’ve gone there before, and they were always nice. It’s Ikekane, after all.”

  One of her brows ticked upward. “Lucky you.”

  The dull pain in my shoulder found a rival with a new ache pressing between my eyes. “They’ve been mean to you here?”

  She leaned against the handrail and stared out over the lagoon sadly. “They’ve got their equivalent of the Crimson Guard.”

  “Really?” I’d heard of the Crimson Guard on Caren. Presumably, the loose affiliation of anti-gypsy mobs donned red face masks and harassed gypsy camps. I’d yet to cross paths with them.

  “Everywhere I go.” Saloma sighed. “You saw it up at that little shack. Even when I pay full price, the stationaries yell at me.”

  Sniffing, I offered a weak defense. “They were very nice to me.”

  “Give you new ropes, did they?”

  “Of course not, but they fed me free of charge.”

  Saloma folded her arms across her chest. “Did they make you work for it?”

  I coughed a laugh. “I set up a few chairs. That’s all. It took me ten minutes at the most.”

  “If you were a stationary or a spacey, they’d have given you more without a second thought, but they see a gypsy, and they hold back.”

  “I’m not feeling slighted.” I was, however, starting to feel annoyed.

  “And your presence brought them more customers?” She refused to be satisfied with their generosity.

  With my tone firmer, I matched her stance. “I very much appreciated not having to drag my beat-up body all over the atoll to find buyers.”

  Saloma laughed and looked out across the lagoon again, now ablaze with golden light. “I guess it benefited you both, then. I’m glad to hear it.” She squinted at me. “Wonder what makes you the special one,” she mused.

  I had no idea how to answer, so I gave up and pointed. “I’m going inside to get an icy gel pack, unless you’ve got one handy to barter.”

  She snickered. “I’m not a trader.”

  Nothing about Saloma said migrant worker, so I guessed. “Diver?”

  “And swim with the faneps? I don’t think so.” She faced me again, her chin lifted. “I’m an organizer. A leader. A recruiter.”

  “A recruiter for what?”

  An exuberant smile took over her face, and she flipped her wild hair back with a flourish. “Ever heard of the Gypsy Network?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “It started on Caren. We’re going to be System-wide if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Oh.” I would’ve shrugged, but my satchel weighed too heavily on my tender shoulder.

  “Believe it,” she said proudly. “We’ll be bigger and stronger than silly Queen Levia and her Carenian Empire ever were. Gypsies are the only ones who know enough to unite the System, and it’s about time we gained the respect we deserve instead of being treated as inferiors by people with no imagination or drive.”

  I nodded, more to acknowledge her conviction than to agree. “I need to head inside. Now my bladder is talking to me, too.”

  Saloma chuckled. “Yes, indoor plumbing has its appeal. I’ll agree with you there.” I turned to go, but she called me back. “Where are you camping?”

  I hadn’t planned that far ahead, but Claus and I favored a small cave on the outer slope of the west side. “I’ve got a place,” I said vaguely.

  “We’re up on the hill behind Kohana, not far off the road. Watch for our fire. You’re welcome to join us.”

  I nodded one last time and marched into the air-conditioned comfort of the hospital lobby.

  9 ~ Special Treatment

  The architecture here had too many windows to feel like the claustrophobic box of the Arxon, but colony buildings of this sort unnerved me. People from all over the System might be here, including those who hated gypsies.

  Darting into the nearest bathroom, I closed the door and locked it. With a deep sigh, I examined my shabby appearance in the mirror. Swimming, sleeping, and air-drying in my clothes had done nothing to improve their appearance. My hair was even worse.

  I unbuttoned my blouse and gingerly slid it off my shoulders, noting the unsightly welts a few centimeters above each breast. Before I could find any self-pity, I remembered the pilot and his terrifying demise. I hoped his head injury resulted in immediate death, so he didn’t awake only to drown, trapped in the cockpit.

  Splashing some cold water onto my bruises, I refastened the blouse and began work on taming my locks. Without my comb, I improvised a braided knot, and the end result was respectably stationary. The satchel, though gypsy in style, was of a fashion tourists enjoyed.

  At the admission desk, a woman greeted me with a perplexed once-over, taking in my rumpled attire but composed hair and absorbing the juxtaposition with aplomb.

  “I was a passenger on the ferry that splashed down yesterday from the Arxon,” I explained.

  “Oh! We heard there were no survivors. You poor ubb!” She patted her ample, nut-colored cheeks. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And there you stand, pretty as a princess.”

 
My lips pressed back a smile. She didn’t need to know the truth. “I wonder if I could have a medic check me out. The restraining harness has left some rather painful marks.”

  Within twenty minutes, a radiologist confirmed no bones were broken, and a nurse ushered me back to an exam room where an efficient, elderly woman tsk tsked over my wounds and pressed icy gel packs onto my skin. “I called one of the bosses over soon as I heard. We’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” This attention felt extraordinarily kind, and I wondered if it was an Ikekane hospitality standard, or if my stationary appearance garnered more action. Either way, I was grateful.

  Ten minutes later, a knock sounded, and a rotund man entered. “Brita Glenn? I’m Boss Bemis.” He clapped enthusiastically. “What a miracle you survived. Did the tide wash you in this morning?”

  “Heya.” I smiled and clapped, not bothering to correct his guess.

  “Arxon sent the passenger manifest. You must have lost all of your luggage.”

  I patted my satchel on the exam bench beside me. “All but this.”

  “Well, we can’t have your vacation further ruined. We’ll get you roped up. Were you planning to see the whole island chain?”

  “Oh now, Boss. You know her passes probably drowned with the ferry,” said the medic. “Surely you can—”

  “Of course. I’ll get right on it.” The Boss pointed to me. “Give the nurse a full description of anything you noticed during the drop that seemed out of the ordinary, so we can upload it into the official report. I’ll have everything you need sent over.” He glanced at my satchel. “Were you able to save any currency?”

  “Yes, sir. I have sufficient.”

  “Smart girl, keeping it with you.” He backed out of the room with a light clapping of his hands.

  While I gave an audio recording of my impressions of the drop, the medic alternatively applied hot and cold packs to my bruises. As she applied the last round of icy gel, an assistant entered with a small backpack.