“Let’s make it happen,” I demand with the ire learned from Matris, and the entire room scatters, except for Doka, who stands next to me, ever the dutiful husband.
“You’re really going to go over there, onto that ship?” Doka takes my hand in his, holds it like he never intends to let go.
“I really am. And I want you to come with me.”
“Me? I’m just—”
“You’re not just anything. You’re my husband, and I need you by my side. We work well together. Think of this as another of our adventures, sneaking around, only this time we’re doing it for honorable reasons.”
“I don’t know, Seske. We can’t afford for something to happen to you, but if it did, wouldn’t it be better if I were here? Someone left to lead the ship without a turnover in line? I don’t think we could survive that right now.”
He looks small. Scared. I’m not going to go out and call Doka a coward, but Daidi’s bells, I want to. “It’s okay. I’ll find someone else,” I say. “Stay here, protect the line.” He relaxes and smiles.
I still need someone I trust. Preferably a man, since I get the feeling Commander Chubahl would be more receptive to a little testosterone amid our proceedings. My mind goes straight to Wheytt. I trust him more than anyone on this ship. Plus, he’s got the observational skills we need. And I owe him. I owe him big. But if Doka finds out I’m consorting with Wheytt again, he’ll throw a fit. I need Doka out of the way for a while, and his mothers, too, with all their prying. I think about how preoccupied they all were in planning our wedding. Mothers forgive me, only one thing will come close to consuming them like that again.
“When I get back, I think we should do it. I think we should start our family.” I want to vomit so hard right now, but this lie is for the entire ship. Our entire existence. “I know what I said before, but . . . maybe start thinking of some names? How we could decorate the nursery? Oh, and please don’t tell your mothers just yet. You know how they get.”
“Of course, Seske,” he says. Leans in for a big kiss. I turn and take it on the cheek. And he’s off, eyes glistening, smile spread across his face. His mothers will know in exactly twelve and a half minutes.
Then I’m off, heading to Wheytt’s quarters. I knock at the door. His heart-mother answers. She stares at me something fierce. “Is Wheytt home?” I ask.
“He’s got company.” Aiee, the venom in her voice . . . and I deserve it too.
“I know he lost his job because of me, and I’m so sorry for that, but I need his help. It’s urgent. Life or death.”
“He lost more than his job. He lost his dream. You stole that from him! You stained our entire line! He never wants to see you again.”
“Ama,” comes Wheytt’s soft voice from right behind her. “You’re talking to our Matris. Please, it’s okay to let her in.”
I swear I can see the fumes coming out of his ama’s ears. She steps aside. She wasn’t lying, though. They do have company. A homely woman and her heart-mothers. I look at Wheytt.
“Seske, this is Talby and her mothers. You all know our Matris, of course.” They all look like they’re conflicted, seeing their leader and object of such scorn standing before them. They decide to offer me halfhearted bows.
“We are pleased to meet you.” That’s when I see the nuptial ledger, spread out and tallying the favors between families, six generations back. That’s why only heart-parents are present.
“You’re getting married!” I say to Wheytt.
He nods but doesn’t smile. He’s not marrying for love. He’d lost his job and reputation because of me, and now he’ll need a woman to support him.
“Um, can I talk to you in private?” I ask him.
“No!” the heart-parents all say in unison.
“Come in, Seske. Sit. If it is this important, we should all talk about it,” Wheytt says, biting his lip. Biting back a lifetime’s worth of aim and focus, only to end up right where he was running from. I’ve seen him differently since our time with the baby beast. We pretend that our intimacy had never happened, but his emotions are transparent to me now.
He takes a seat next to Talby, pulling her hand into his so I won’t miss the clues. He is to be a househusband to this nervous, fidgety woman. Her eyes are full of mistrust. I would have hoped someone as wonderful as he is would have fetched the attention of a less cruel-looking woman, but perhaps I’ve ruined those chances for him as well.
“You’ve all heard the announcement about the planet?” I say. “It’s within our reach, but we need more knowledge and resources to ensure that we get there safely. We’re set to trade with the Serrata. I have reason to believe that they’ve found symbiosis with their beast, and while we’re over there negotiating trade, if I had someone to look around, to notice things, then maybe we could bring some of those secrets back.”
“You want me to be your spy?” he says.
“With the Serrata? I haven’t heard anything good about them!” says one of Talby’s heart-mothers, flushing. “Talby will not allow it, especially now when the relationship is still so tender.”
Talby opens her mouth, but I guess Wheytt is too stubborn to let a woman speak for him. “I won’t go,” he says. “There are plenty of others who could do the task.”
“Not like you,” I plead, “and you know it. You’re the best, and I trust you.”
“I trusted you too. Look where it got me.” He gestures limply at Talby. She snatches her hand away, and we all notice the look of disgust on Wheytt’s face. He forces it into a smile, but it’s too late.
“Where has it gotten you?” Talby demands. “Stuck here? With me?” She pouts her lips. “I’m an actress, you know! And I played the bells in the reenactments of the Yoriden Exodus for three straight years! You couldn’t get better than this if your mothers tripled your dowry!”
“My dowry?” His eyes shoot to his mothers. “You paid them off?”
“Dowries are a part of our culture, Wheytt. It isn’t unheard of.”
“A hundred years ago, maybe. No family of our status would offer such a thing. We have our lines—” He stops.
Had I ruined his name so badly? Had I set them back a century in the prestige they’d earned?
“How much?” he demands. Wheytt’s mothers try to stare off, and I wish I could slink out of this uncomfortable mess as well, but then he screams again, so loud, my feet become fixed to the floor. “How much? Tell me!”
“Six thousand chits . . .” his ama says calmly, “. . . a month.”
His eyes light up. “Six thousand a month, and this is all you could get me?”
He gestures at Talby’s whole family this time. They all gasp in offense.
“Daidi’s bells, give it a rest,” he says to them. “She’s in the pit of her career, and it’s not going back up any time soon!”
Talby and her mothers all rise and leave in a huff. Wheytt’s mothers stare at him. He stares right back.
“I don’t want this, Ama. I don’t want to be a househusband. I don’t want to see this beast sink lower and lower, and our people with it. I want to find a way out of this. I need to find a way out of this, and if Seske thinks she’s found something, I want to help her the best I can.”
“You leave out that door, you never come back,” his ama says.
“Do what you have to,” he says. “But what use is a pristine line when there’s no future?”
My mouth stays a tight line—how could it not with all the tension in the room right now? But inside I’m smiling, and I know Wheytt will catch the small tells of my happiness: the tiny sigh of relief, the slight crinkle at the edges of my eyes.
He doesn’t bother to pack, doesn’t bother to say goodbye. The air becomes heavy. He’s putting his fate wholly in my hands. Maybe he sees me as more of a leader than I really am.
“So while we’re on the Serrata ship,” I say to him as we’re heading back to the throne room, “I’m going to need you to take in as much as you can. I’ll try to push
for a tour of their beast and take note of how each of the structures differs from what we’re doing.”
“I’m good at noticing things, but I don’t know enough about the beasts’ systems to figure out how they work. I think we’ll need a—”
He bites his tongue, seeing the blush I feel already brightening my naxshi.
“No,” he warns me.
“We’ll need a beastworker, is what you’re saying?”
“I am, but there are hundreds to choose from, Seske. Thousands.”
“True. But I already know just the one.”
Adalla
Of Unborn Souls and Unanswered Questions
Laisze and I enter the throne room silently, like we intend on haunting the place. A holographic image of the beast takes up an entire corner. Not our beastie, I can tell right off, but a big, beautiful beast, full of spirit. I want to get closer to get a better look and see exactly what we’ll be dealing with, but Laisze tugs me back, keeps me close. She’d sassed me the whole way here, reminding me to keep my guard up and that we’d be among the enemy.
She hadn’t been talking about the Serrata, betcha.
Seske’s tactician starts to introduce us, but Laisze pins her with a stare and she quiets.
“They’re definitely spinning a lot slower,” Seske says, still unaware of us. “And see how there’re shimmering rings around the gills? There are ten times the number the other ships have. Our tacticians estimate they’ve been aboard this beast two hundred and ten years, and there are no signs of necrosis either. They’ll probably have at least two hundred more.”
“Slower spinning is less stressful for the ship,” Sisterkin says.
“You’re probably right,” Seske says. “I’ll have the tacticians run some simulations.”
“No, I’m not speculating. It’s a proven fact. We’ve known this for quite some time. But the cost was too much to implement. Our infrastructures would have to change. Completely.”
“A change in infrastructure for hundreds of years on a beast!” Seske shouts. “We should have done that centuries ago.”
Sisterkin shakes her head. “Slowing the beast would double the time at most, not three hundred years’ worth. There are a lot more factors at—”
Sisterkin locks eyes with me, my stare just as hard as hers is. The entire room goes stiff when they notice us too. Laisze and I have covered ourselves with too-thin shifts, more like a suggestion of fabric. Seske had told me to come fully clothed. She hadn’t told me to come alone.
Seske walks toward us, hands outstretched for a moment, like she’s caught in some memory from our past, one where we’d be happy to see each other. But then she remembers and puts her arms down at her sides.
“Thanks so much for coming to see Adalla off,” Seske says to Laisze.
“Haven’t come to see Adalla off. I’ve come to make sure she stays safe.”
“I will guarantee her safety,” Seske says, reaching for my hand.
“I can handle a knife ten times better than either of you,” I say, swatting Seske away. “Laisze’s coming because we need her. She’s been around longer than any of us. She’s worked seven different organs.”
“Sounds like she can’t keep a steady job,” Seske hisses.
“Sounds like you can’t keep a steady relationship,” Laisze snaps back.
Seske withdraws into herself so quickly. Up until now, even with all Sisterkin had put her through, with what Matris had put her through, I’d never seen such hatred on Seske’s face. Nevertheless, she steps aside and allows both Laisze and me to pass. I have no idea how we’re going to fit all these egos into a little shuttle, but we attempt it anyway. Seske sits up front with Sisterkin. Laisze, me, and the lash counter bunch into the back seat. Seske engages the autopilot, and suddenly we’re on our way.
As the black sky opens all around us, I realize just how small we are and how small our beast looks among the stars. It’s sickly, though, skin dulled, with great swaths of it frostbitten. Whatever natural protection it had against exposure to naked space is gone. It spins, eyes dead, mouth agape, tentacles dragging limply along. Weapons jut out unnaturally from its body, and I catch early signs of infection settling in around them.
Then the Serrata beast comes into view, a nice, safe distance out of our firing range. The differences are obvious. This is a well-cared-for, well-groomed beast. Its tentacles still move independently, hundreds of them. Some are as thick as this shuttle, some as thin as my arm. There are weapons, too—strange protuberances that can’t be mistaken for anything else—but they look organically grown. Its only flaw is a garish scar along its side. From battle, likely.
We dock without incident, and Seske pulls us into a huddle. “We’ll negotiate and then I’ll try to get us a tour of the beast. Keep your eyes and ears open. They’re barbarians, primitive and ruthless, so don’t turn your backs on them.”
The air lock gives way, and the cold hits us almost immediately . . . as well as the smell.
Sisterkin draws her arms over her chest and starts shivering. “For the love of all mothers, haven’t they figured out how to trick the beast into heating itself?”
“Fever pitch.” Seske nods. “Another of the ways we abuse the beast, making it think it’s constantly under attack from viruses so that it keeps the insides balmy. Cutting back could buy us forty years on a healthy specimen, maybe a few years on ours.”
“You expect us to live in near freezing temperatures?” Sisterkin demands. “How are we supposed to do that?”
Then the answers stand before us, seven tall and burly men, bigger than any I’ve ever seen by at least a foot. Pale faces with pale eyes staring out from layer upon layer of felted swamp moss. That explains the smell. Commander Chubahl, the leader, steps forward, looks us all over. “Darkling children, all of you?” He laughs. “I suppose we seem strange to you as well.” He pays particular attention to Laisze and me. “Get these women robes!” he yells, and moss garments appear. They sling them over our shoulders.
“I decline,” Laisze says, shrugging off the robe. “Is there something about the shape of my body that offends you?” she challenges. I can already tell we’re going to have a problem if this deal isn’t over and done quick.
“We are sorry if we have offended,” says Chubahl. “We just thought you might be cold.”
“You thought wrong,” Laisze says.
“I like this one,” he says. “Feisty. On the older side, but we might be able to squeeze a few sons out of her yet.” Chubahl is about to touch Laisze’s hair . . . which will leave him short three fingers in a matter of seconds.
“Wait!” Seske says. “Let’s talk details about the deal. We’ve come with a hundred em—”
“We will talk business later,” Chubahl says. “Now it is time for us to get to know each other better. Do you drink?” he asks Wheytt. “Gin?”
The lash counter stammers, but before he can get his words out, Chubahl gestures at two of his men. “Haineem. Walles. Show the women around the ship while we’re chatting.”
Seske and Wheytt whisper something to each other, just out of earshot, and after that, Seske, Sisterkin, Laisze, and I are being ushered out the door.
I’m cold, light-headed, and my muscles are crying for a break from this weak gravity, but I press on ahead, trying to keep ten steps in front of Seske. I can’t stand to look at her. She’d sent her messengers to our block, asking me to come, then begging, and then when I’d refused, she’d commanded me to come. So here I am, on another beast . . . and that part, that’s amazing. They guide us quickly through their beast and I soak up as much as I can. The organs here are modified, but only very slightly. Sometimes I’m only aware of the changes when they’re pointed out to me. Like instead of harvesting the four chemicals we use inside ley lights, they’ve got these little sails strung around the doldrums that capture energy for lighting and all sorts of uses. For the most part, it looks like the Serrata haven’t even settled here at all.
Except
they have. There are small houses, built from bricks of gall fiber, it looks like, not bone. Faces peek out at us as we pass. All male. All older, the youngest ones as old as Sonovan. No children. They’ve found a balance with the beast, but as far as I can tell, they haven’t found a balance with their own nature.
“Slow down, ’Dalla,” Laisze says, a hand on my shoulder pulling me back. I’m so glad she agreed to join me. Truth is, I don’t think there was a way to stop her from coming. She’s taking it all in too.
“Can’t slow down,” I say, risking a glance back at Seske. She’s busy arguing with Sisterkin, so she doesn’t notice me looking, which I’m glad of, because I’m pretty sure the look on my face isn’t the angry one I wish were on it. I sigh, then slow down and press my toe against one of the bulbous blooms lining our path. When I touch it, it leaks liquid, a viscous pool of honey-colored opalescence. I’m so used to seeing its wilted counterparts on our ship that it takes me a moment to realize what it is: a mucous gland at the base of the shafts that lead out to the beast’s hide.
“Ones on our beast don’t leak like that,” says Laisze.
“They draw too much ichor, so we reroute the supply away from them, first thing. They’re low priority.”
“They’re beautiful.” She picks one of the blooms and presses it into my hair. I blush.
Our guides look like they’re about to reprimand us, but I take the offensive and say, “I’d like for us to go to the heart next.”
The two older men, gray twisted through their beards, act like they’re afraid of us. They look at me, then at each other, speaking in low, deep voices.
“We can’t,” one of them says, not bothering to look me in the eye.
“Why? We’re so close, just a few minutes away.” I feel the heart’s beat, stronger than any beat I’ve ever known. How do they live with such a strong, steady thing? “Please?”
They keep not-staring at me and say nothing.
“What? Have you never talked to women before?” I ask, growing annoyed.
“No,” they say in unison. “We have not.”
Escaping Exodus Page 22
