by London, Lia
He shook his head. “I don’t remember exactly. Something like… The GN will rise.”
I mouthed these words, trying to find their meaning. My eyes popped wide with realization. “Gypsy Network.” Saloma’s group.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“It’s new.” I shook my head, still processing this turn of events. “I don’t really know anything about it.”
“Brita.” He grasped my hand. “How do they feel about spaceys? Am I going to be safe down there?”
In a flash, I understood another long-standing fear of spaceys. It wasn’t just the climate, the sun, wind, rain, and gravity that worried them. Once they left their city-stations, they stepped down among what they perceived as the lower classes. It wasn’t something expressly articulated, but everyone understood the hierarchy. Spaceys in the ICS System ruled with the laws of the Granbo Charter that put colonists in a subservient role. The word gypsy didn’t even appear in the text.
Dag, no matter how strong he became, would still arrive with the pasty white skin that heralded him as a lifelong spacey. He would stand out, at least until the sun colored him for a few weeks, and if Saloma’s Gypsy Network distrusted colonists, it surely would not love the ICS dwellers any better.
“We could wait out the year and go down to Tye. Ikekane North is—”
“No.” Dag shook his head dismally. “It’s Rik Peninsula or nothing. That’s the strongest colony, most developed. And the trees and other plants I need to study are there.”
I swallowed. “You don’t have to go down. I can bring things to you. Just tell me what you need, and…” My voice faded as his eyes met mine.
“I need to be with you, Brita. If you’re going home to Caren, to the Rik Peninsula, then that’s where I’m going, too.”
He still didn’t understand that gypsies didn’t have a permanent home. As I thought it, I realized I’d given significant weight to my gypsy heritage, because my colonist bloodline through my mother would settle in one place. Did I want to have a home? It depended on whether I was gypsy or colonist.
Looking into Dag’s eyes, I wondered if there was a third option, too.
14 ~ The Drop
A few days before we reached ferrying range, I used one of the holographic communication ports to contact Dulcea. My mother always kept one of the portable devices with her, though it’s clunky cube shape never sat comfortably in our gypsy-style backpacks and satchels.
An inverted blue cone of light spread upward from the table-top port, and shortly the translucent figure of my mother’s head and shoulders filled the space. I positioned myself carefully in front of the sensor and pantomimed and embrace. “Dulcea!”
“Brita Darling!” She returned the gesture. “You are almost here?”
“Days away. Are you within range to meet me there?”
She laughed. “We’ll make it there if we have to rent ground transport. I wouldn’t miss it. How was your first adventure alone?”
I grinned. “Very profitable.” With a blush, I added, “And not so alone as we might have guessed. I’ll be bringing a friend down with me.”
Dulcea’s brows shot up. “Gypsy? Male or female?”
“Spacey. Male.”
Her expression became unreadable. “Why is he coming down?”
“He’s a doctor. A very good one. He’ll be doing research while he’s on the Surface. He wants to learn our gypsy remedies.”
“Does this doctor have a name?”
I sat taller. “Dag Artemus. And Dulcea … he is a very good friend.” I gave her a meaningful look.
“How could he be? You’ve only been in space for a few months.”
“Ours is a longer story than that.” I blushed, both excited and nervous for them to meet. “Please tell Claus. I think they will be good friends, too.”
OOO
“You are readier than any spacey I’ve ever known.” I squeezed Dag’s hand as we boarded the ferry.
“How do you walk in these things?” he groused, sitting in the first available seat and knocking the toes of his canvas shoes together. For the first time in his life, he’d donned footwear that wasn’t cloth-soled with little rubbery grips on the bottom.
“Trust me. Your baby-soft feet will thank you when you walk on real ground.”
“If we make it that far,” he muttered.
“Dag.” I tilted his chin toward me with my finger. “Listen to me. It’s going to be all right. My experience on Tye was a rarity.” I said it, but a flash of fear chilled my spine.
His lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s happened to three people I know, and only one survived.”
I couldn’t reason with his fear because I knew now it was justified, so I helped him into the harness and settled next to him, resting my cheek on his shoulder and cradling his hand in mine.
My treasure of vials and blends were stowed in a secure medical crate, but otherwise, I’d convinced him to share my backpack and satchel to keep our load light. He’d complained he felt under-equipped, and I promised him we’d be able to procure any personal items he needed with the sales of my blends.
Eight other passengers, all gypsies, came down with us, filling the entire cabin.
Dag’s face blanched even whiter, and he closed his eyes.
“Just sleep,” I whispered in his ear. “It won’t get bumpy until we hit the atmosphere, and then we’ll be weightless for a bit.” I patted his stomach. “You’ve got pearl blend in you, so you won’t get nauseous, I promise.”
“There are other reasons to vomit, you know,” he said hoarsely.
Brushing the skin behind his ear, I whispered, “Don’t be afraid, Dag. I’m with you.”
He clutched my hand with both of his. “My gypsy comet.”
The drop was almost boring. Entry through the atmosphere was quieter than my last time, and harnessed in safely, Dag and I allowed our legs to drift up in the zero gravity. His sense of humor returned enough to tug my hair free of its bun and send it sprawling into the air. Even the gypsies surrounding us found this amusing, and it allowed us all to fall into congenial chatter about the merits of ferry drops versus sonic planes and shuttle transports.
When with a jolt, full gravity returned, the pilot’s voice announced, “Parachutes deployed. We’re on target with light winds.”
“See?” I said. “Perfect landing coming up. Want to stand up and try on the new gravity?”
“I’ll wait until splashdown.”
The gypsies, mostly men, snickered, and one said, “We’ll have to carry him out.”
Dag ground his teeth but remained silent. I poked him in the ribs with my finger. “Up and down the stairs until midnight. You can do this.” I ruffled his hair. “Now get your sunglasses out or you’ll be blind.”
Splashdown came soon after, and the gypsies hurried to unbuckle themselves and open the hatch. All eight of them cheered and slid outside into the water, a very gypsy thing to do. Bright sunlight flooded the cabin, and a chilly blast of salty air enlivened my senses.
Freeing myself from the harness, I stood up and reached my hands to Dag. “Come on, Doctor. Time to test your legs.” I tugged him upward, and he threw his arms around me. At first, I thought he needed to balance, but then I heard a gentle sob. “Dag, what’s wrong?”
His body shuddered in my arms. “I’m here. I’m on the Surface.”
“Well, of course you are. That was the plan.”
He ran his hands over my hair, petting me almost like a dog. His voice came ragged. “I couldn’t do this without you. You… thank you for…”
“Dag.” I pressed a finger to his lips. “You haven’t even seen it yet.” Gently, I turned his body around and led him to the hatch.
As he stared out at the glistening water and the golden green land beyond, I watched his face, noting tears streaming down his cheeks and an awestruck smile on his face. He shivered in the breeze, as many spaceys did, so I wrapped my arms around him and just let him gaze at the horizon.
The water-ferry came in record time, and I hurried to stow our belongings. I knew the boat would bounce less in the back, so I claimed the two seats in the rear and then helped Dag out onto the floatation ring.
“Try not to look at the water right below you as you climb aboard,” I warned. “It can play tricks on your eyes.”
“I’ll close my eyes and hold on to you.”
I laughed at how perfectly he echoed my own words from childhood. Tucking Dag’s hands at my waist, I shuffled forward slowly, waiting for him to match my every step. The short plank took us almost directly to our seats, and we dropped to the bench with relief.
The gypsies bounded aboard, sopping wet and still laughing from their water games. “Hey, you’re doing all right,” said the one who had teased Dag before. “You been down on the Surface before?”
Dag shook his head. “First time.”
The gypsies nodded approvingly and talked about their families for the whole bumpy ride.
Dag’s grip was cutting off the circulation in my arm, but I understood how terrifying the sensation of speed must be for him. Wind and jostling movements rattled even seasoned travelers.
“The air is peeling my skin off,” he shouted.
I laughed. “No, just stretching it a little.”
My long, loose curls whipped themselves into tangles, and I extricated my hand from his enough to tame them down.
“None of this bothers you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I love it!”
“It’s so loud.”
“Wait,” I said. “At night, it’ll be more silent than anything you’ve ever known. No hum of machinery beneath you.”
“It’s a world of extremes.”
“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?”
Dag didn’t answer. He simply helped me contain my hair, holding me close to him. I may have been serving as his comfort, but I didn’t mind. It kept me warm. We rode like that all the way to the harbor.
My father stood at the top of the tethered plank, his chin-length locks and loose linen shirt a welcome sight after so many over-groomed, form-fitting coversuits on the Arxon. He waved, and I pointed to indicate I’d let the other passengers disembark first.
When our turn came, my father trotted down the plank and helped carry our belongings up to the concrete platform while I walked behind Dag, steadying him. With solid ground beneath is feet, Dag bloomed with strength again.
“Claus, this is Dr. Dag Artemus. Dag, this is my father, Claus.”
The two men sized each other up with pleasant smiles, and then Dag rushed forward and embraced Claus. “Mr. Claus, sir. Your daughter is the most stellar person I’ve ever known, and I love her with all my heart.”
My father caught me when my knees buckled at this beautiful declaration. “Well!” He laughed. “If I can fall in love with a colonist, why shouldn’t my daughter love a spacey?”
Dag removed his sunglasses and watched my reaction intently.
“Of course, I love him.” My heart skipped. I’d never said so aloud. Turning back to Dag, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I do, Dag. I love you with all my heart, too.”
15 ~ Camping
“Are you going to live on the Arxon now?” asked my father quietly as we strolled through the harbor town, playfully named Docking Bay.
“No, of course not.” Even after the time on the ICS, my skin showed color, and the sinews in my arms and legs revealed a strength not found in the average woman on the Arxon. Not to mention the long, wild hair.
“Well, how serious are you two? Have you been talking marriage?”
I coughed with embarrassment, unable to admit he’d stumbled upon my own inclinations. “We haven’t said anything, no.”
“He’s coming all the way down here to…?”
“Dag’s a scientist. He wants to learn about the medicinal—”
“If you say so.” His grin silenced me. “But… keep your eyes open. A mixed marriage—”
“Claus,” I protested.
He held up an appeasing hand. “A mixed relationship is not easy. Both have to make tremendous sacrifices of self, even more than a normal one. It’s not impossible, but it starts you off at a disadvantage.”
I stopped walking and lowered my voice. “You almost sound bigoted.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I married a stationary, didn’t I?” He shook his head. “I hold no prejudices towards any group. If I have ill-feelings about anyone, it’s because the individual has done something I cannot tolerate. You know me well enough to know that means they tried to hurt you or Dulcea.”
“So, you don’t have anything against Dag?”
“Not at all. But if he breaks your heart, I will not count him my friend.”
I nodded and resumed walking, my arm linked in his.
“So, this is a short visit, and then he leaves you?”
And just like that, my father laid bare the conflict I’d been ignoring for months. Heat prickled the back of my eyes. If I remained a Surface dweller, I’d have to say good-bye to Dag, or only see him during planet hops.
But to live in space!
I turned and watched him walking slowly, though it seemed more because he paused to take in every detail around him than gravity-induced weakness.
“He’s strong,” commented my father.
I nodded.
“So are you.” He patted my arm. “You’ll figure out what to do.”
I joined Dag, taking his hand. “How are you doing? Tired? Heavy?”
“In awe.” He chuckled. “I guess all of this is commonplace to you, but I’ve never seen so many colors. And this air is making my head swim. Is it always so fragrant?”
“Fresh, you mean?” I chuckled. “After a while, you’ll want nothing less. Arxon air is stale and recycled.” A tickling breeze punctuated my remarks, ruffling his hair with invisible fingers.
Dag stopped and lifted his face to the sun, closing his eyes with a smile. “It’s warm and cool at the same time.” He straightened and turned in a slow circle. “And you can see so far away. No walls. I feel rather exposed.”
I nodded, resisting the urge to make another unfavorable comparison with life on an ICS. No need to foster discontent. “Yes, it’s very open when you’re outdoors. Buildings will feel more normal to you, I’m sure. But out here, you can dance and shout!” With a whoop, I kicked out my legs and flailed my arms, spinning and singing a gypsy lullaby at the top of my lungs.
My father burst out laughing. “You’ll wake all the babies, Brita!”
“They need to wake up and see how beautiful this world is!” I tried to see our surroundings through Dag’s eyes. The trees, rustling their green and gold leaves, swayed in concert beyond a patch of thick, muddy grass. Behind us, the pale sand dimpled and dipped into the dark blue waters, calmer here in the harbor. Gulls complained at each other, and black-winged birds swooped at unseen prey on the ground. In shafts of sunlight breaking into shadows between the shops to our right, sparkling dust particles floated magically.
I quickly rolled my gaze away from that. Dag would probably panic to think how much microscopic debris wafted in the air he now breathed. “Are we walking home, Claus?”
“Your mother insisted we bring a transport since you were bringing a friend.” He slapped Dag’s back. “We had no idea you’d be so strong. The first time with full gravity usually downs even the grown men.”
Dag laughed, panting slightly. “Brita has been an apt taskmaster, training me to deal with extra weight. This doesn’t feel quite the same as our simulations, but close enough. I don’t know if my endurance will be what it was on the Arxon, though.”
“It’ll grow quickly,” assured my father. He pointed ahead. “There’s Dulcea. She stayed in the transport so no one
would take our supplies.”
Dag bit his lip. “Is theft a big problem here?”
I didn’t want to alarm him, but he deserved the truth. “Sometimes in port towns it happens. Not often, but enough that it’s wise to protect your most valuable possessions.”
“Your blends?” he whispered.
“I’ll let Claus know they’re in your case.”
“Isn’t he your father? Why don’t you call him Dad or Papa or something?”
“I don’t know. That’s not really a gypsy thing.” I frowned. “I guess I should call Dulcea Mom, since she’s a colonist by culture. I never really thought about it.”
He paused. “Hm. I always looked forward to a child calling me Dad. It’s a special name only she could use.”
A tender rush bloomed in my chest. He wanted a child someday, and he would be a sweet father.
But would I be any kind of mother?
We arrived at a transport. It was one of the open-box kind with three rows of padded benches behind the control module and a canopy on poles to protect from any rain or sunlight that came straight down. These didn’t move swiftly, but I preferred them to the enclosed models that sped along at four times the velocity.
“Hi, Mom!” I gave her a big hug.
Her eyes widened, probably because I’d addressed her differently, or perhaps because I’d aged almost a year and a half. “Brita, darling! You’re home safe. I’m so glad to see you again.” She turned to Dag, graciously extending a hand. “And who is this?”
Dag stared at her hand with obvious confusion.
“Oh, this is a greeting on Caren,” I explained, demonstrating how to shake hands.
His stomach probably churned at the germ-sharing potential, but he smiled and took my mother’s hand awkwardly. “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Glenn.”
My mother’s eyes grew even rounder. “He knows?”
“He knows, and he won’t tell.”
Dag seemed to recognize his blunder. “I’m sorry. What would you prefer I call you?”
“Dulcea will do.” Her royal upbringing hid below a veneer of folksy humility.
