Escaping Exodus

by Nicky Drayden

  This gets my attention. “Don’t you have women at all? We haven’t seen any.”

  “We have women,” one says nervously. “Several. The Great Queens.” This earns him an elbow in the ribs from the other. They both look so scared that I’ll ask what Great Queens are that he blurts out, “I can take you to the heart. But only one of you.”

  “I’ll go,” I say, stepping forward.

  “I won’t let you go alone,” says Laisze.

  “I’m afraid—” the man starts, but Seske is upon us suddenly, standing between Laisze and me.

  “I’ll go with her. It is my duty.” Seske points at Laisze, finger pressed to her chest like it alone is enough to topple her. “You stay with Sisterkin. Keep an eye on her.”

  Laisze’s entire body seizes up into a tense knot. She’d be leaving me alone with the woman who so mercilessly scarred her back. Who scarred my back. She’d be leaving me with the woman who could have so easily had my heart. I’m not sure which woman Laisze is more afraid of. She takes my hand in hers. “Is this okay, because if it’s not . . .”

  “I’ll be fine, Laisze,” I say, sure is sure.

  “If she tries anything, call for me,” she whispers into my ear, her cheek grazing mine as she pulls back. Her finger touches my collarbone; the back of her hand swipes my abdomen. Be careful, she says in our language. There is much danger to be avoided in the heart, but I know that it is not what she means.

  The old man agrees to Seske’s terms, and we are off, the climb quick under the low gravity. Arm over arm, we rise, until we are at the knot of it all. All the while I marvel at the depth and steadiness of the beat. It’s so hypnotic, it completely pushes the three minutes thirty-seven and a half seconds out of my mind. Or was it forty-seven seconds? It no longer matters as we enter the mountainous organ through a thin tuck in ventricle seven.

  The chamber gleams. The pools of ichor at my ankles are warm and thick, and the smell is so sweet. So pure.

  “Amazing, let’s go a little deeper,” Seske says, the way she used to when we were on our adventures, and we were just kids, kids who knew nothing about the world and everything about each other. I almost fall back there with her, to that time of innocence, but the burns on my back cry out, and suddenly I’m back here, hating her for what she’s put me through. What she’s putting me through.

  “I want to go back,” I say, the furthest thing from the truth I’ve ever spoken. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “Please, Adalla. I need your help. Getting to this planet might be our only chance.” Her voice lowers. “I haven’t really told anyone this, but the beast, it showed me a place where we can thrive as a people. It’s giving us this gift, despite all we’ve done to it. We can move forward, and maybe on this new world, we can strive to have the sort of open and honest communication these beasts—” Her eyes drift up and a smile crosses her face.

  “Adalla, look,” Seske says as she points at a small flock of heart murmurs just ahead. They don’t even cull the murmurs. “Do you have a heartworker we could speak to?” she asks the old man. “Someone who could answer a few questions?”

  He nods and walks a few dozen paces, talking to a heartworker up toward the valve, a huge guy armed with a whistle instead of a knife. If their men are all this large, I’d hate to see how big their Queens are.

  And like that, Seske and I are more or less alone.

  “This is so amazing,” she says in that saccharine voice again. “Get your questions ready. We need to figure out a way to restore our heart and use some of their methods for managing it.”

  “I’m not going any farther, just so you know,” I say, squirming as I cross my arms over my chest. The fabric of my shift was uncomfortable before, but now the added weight of the moss cover-up is causing me to have trouble breathing. Either that, or Seske’s gotten so much better at sucking the life out of me. “If you want to go on an adventure, you can do it by yourself.”

  “You’re still mad about the lace,” she says. “I get it. But if I’d let Matris hand down your sentence, you and all of your friends would be frozen in space right now.”

  “You think that’s why I’m mad?” I say, nearly foaming at the mouth. “I’m mad because you left me, Seske. You abandoned our friendship. You abandoned me when I was hurting the most, when I needed you the most.” I’ve got tears in my eyes, and when I wipe them away, Parton’s ghost is standing right behind Seske. The scars hidden inside me break wide open, and I lose it. “All those lives. All those babies born motherless, forced into bondage, then killed off when their bodies were no longer needed.”

  “The embryos?” Seske asks, confused. “Sisterkin is against it too, but what other choice do we have? We have nothing to trade but patinas and puppet gel.”

  “What?” I say, looking up at Seske. “What do you mean, embryos?”

  “The ones that make grisettes. Isn’t that what you were talking about?”

  “Yes, but . . .” I shake my head. “Is that what was in the cargo area of the shuttle? Embryos?”

  “I thought you knew,” Seske says, indignant.

  “How in Daidi’s hairy bells would I know, Seske?” There’s hurt in my voice. So much hurt. “The last time I saw you, you were meting out your ‘justice’ on my back. And now you’re flexing your power again, except you’re trading lives. Lives for what? So we can live a little more comfortably? Scratch that. So the Contour class can live a little more comfortably.”

  “I’m trading these ‘lives’ so that our beast doesn’t die on us. So that our people can live on. Matris didn’t let on how bad things are, but they’re bad, Adalla, and they’re not getting better. You and your friends know that better than anyone. The Accountancy Guard says we’ve got two years, tops, before our beast gives out. I think that’s if we’re lucky. And I’m not killing another one. I refuse. I’ll drive us all into the spirit wall before that happens.”

  I don’t know what gets in me. Probably the way she said “lives,” like they really didn’t matter. Like Parton’s death hadn’t snatched away my sanity. Like any one of those bartered souls couldn’t be another of my sisters. So I do what I can. I grab her hair and pull her head until I’ve got her in a choke hold. And then we’re fighting, and the men rush over, trying to separate us, pull us apart, but we’re kicking and screaming and biting. Seske digs her elbow into my neck. I twist and buck her off me, then climb on top of her and pull hair until I feel it rip from her scalp. She shrieks, punches me in the eye, and my world goes white for a moment.

  When I come to we’re staring at each other like wild beasts. Chests heaving. Blood dripping. My vision in one eye clouding up. My mouth trembles like I want to yell at her some more, but I’ve already said everything there is to say. And then my whole body is trembling. She has the audacity to wrap me up in her arms, trying to calm me, saying she doesn’t want to hurt me, that she never wanted to hurt me, but that’s all she’s done.

  After a moment, I stop struggling, stop fighting. I stare up into her face and tell her the truth.

  “You can’t give them those embryos, Seske. Those are people. Our people. One of them could be my sister.” I feel her body flinch against mine at the word, but I keep going. “Each of those embryos you brought here, they’re someone to somebody.”

  “Adalla,” Seske heaves, “Adalla, I’m so sorry. Of course. Whatever you say, we’ll do it. We’ll go home right now if you want. We’ll figure this out, you and me, okay?”

  I nod. And then she’s staring down at me, like she wants to say something to me, and I know what that something is. And once she says it, I’m going to have to forgive her, even if my brain says that I shouldn’t. Even if Laisze says I shouldn’t. Even if every aching bone in my body says I shouldn’t.

  “Adalla . . .” Seske says, in that voice that’s like a key to turning everything wrong inside me right again.

  “Yeah, Seske?”

  I’m trembling even more now.

  And then there’s a blur, a shrie
k, and Laisze is coming to my rescue, knocking Seske off me and straight into the wall with a big thud. And then it’s her and Seske struggling, and both men and me trying to separate them, and I’m telling Laisze to stop. “We weren’t fighting anymore!” I scream at her.

  Laisze takes one more desperate swing, socking Seske in the stomach before she looks up at me and says, “I know.”

  And then the fighting is done, and they’re both staring at me now, like I have the answers to anything.

  “What do you want to do?” Seske says, bloody and huffing. “Go back?”

  Go back to the ship? Go back to the way things were? I’d do both, if I could. But I can’t.

  “There is no going back,” Laisze says. “Only forward.” She extends her hand to me, her body open to me, as close to a thing as I can call home. But I don’t reach for her either.

  The backflow of ichor swishes at my ankles, a sign of the impending beat. The heartworker breaks from his distracted thoughts as well.

  “We have to leave right now,” he says, and then we’re all running toward the slit, the last of us slipping through when the beat bears down. Then there’s another beat, louder, stronger. It shakes the entire beast. But it wasn’t a heartbeat. It sounded more like a knock from the outside.

  Like from explosives.

  Seske sits up, eyes wide open, then looks at Laisze. “Where’s Sisterkin?”

  “I don’t know, I—”

  “You were supposed to be watching her!”

  “I heard ’Dalla screaming and—”

  Then another thud hits the ship, and seconds later, Commander Chubahl’s voice echoes through the beast, telling its people that the Serrata is under attack.

  Seske

  Of Open Space and Closed Hearts

  “We need to get back to our ship!” I yell at Commander Chubahl. The whole lot of them are bustling about, ignoring us. Most of the men are steaming drunk, including Wheytt.

  “Get these deceitful darklings out of here!” he screams back at me. “You made us vulnerable so you could attack us!”

  “No, this is on you,” I say. “My sister, she was supposed to be with us. Why did you let her go?” Keep your friends close, your enemies closer . . . and never let your sister out of your sight. Especially when she’s got a lot to gain from killing you.

  “She said there was an emergency. She took your shuttle back.”

  I scream into my clenched teeth. “I assure you she is not acting on behalf of our people. She’s a traitor!”

  “Fire back at their ship!” Commander Chubahl orders.

  “No, wait!” I scream. “You can’t destroy our ship. Lend us a shuttle. You have my word we’ll bring it back. I’ll squash her little coup within ten minutes.”

  “We have no shuttles,” Commander Chubahl says. “Haven’t for a long time.”

  “What do you mean? You boarded the Klang ship, didn’t you? Stole their children!”

  “We took only what was promised us. The Klang are liars. Their word is worth less than all the nothingness between stars. There’s nothing worse than going against your word!” He scowls at me, and his men are all still nervous. I can tell they want us off their ship as much as we want off. “There is a way . . .” he says, then snaps his fingers. A large tub of honey-colored gel is placed in front of us. I recognize the smell immediately . . . it’s got to be from those bulbous mucous glands we saw near the heart. If the secretions protect the beast from the harshness of the void, I guess it makes sense that it could protect us, too. They usher us to the doldrums, with an array of colorful sails flapping overhead, and high above that . . . the gills. “We’ll get you close enough to skip over. Close enough so you can reach your ship on a lungful of air, and then we’re gone.”

  “You want us to jump out of the ship?” I ask, incredulous.

  “It’s that or we throw you out—without protection. Either way, you’re leaving.”

  I stare at him.

  “It’s easy. Just take aim at your beast’s gills and kick off.”

  “Yeah, that sounds easy,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Okay, not easy, but it’s your only option. Make your decision now, because we won’t stick around much longer.”

  Another hit rocks the ship. We have to act, fast. But then I see the way Adalla is still seething at me. Arms crossed, like she’s ready to make a stand. I can’t leave the embryos here. Not if I ever want to speak to her again. Commander Chubahl won’t be happy with this.

  “Okay,” I say, “but we’ll need the embryos back. We’re taking them with us.”

  His white face flushes red, a neat trick, if it weren’t so intimidating. “You promised us girls! You cannot break that promise!”

  “We promised you girls in exchange for the titanium. Keep your metal.”

  Then the desperation on his face becomes clear, and for the first time, I can really see him. They’re not cruel, not barbarians—no more than we are, I guess. They’re people like us who’ve made a different set of bad decisions, and if we can help them, we should. An idea hits me. “Keep the incubator. We’ll send instructions for how to harvest embryos from your Queens. We’ll send you everything we know. You’ll have direct access to our best doctors. You have my word.”

  “We know what your word is worth!” he spits back at me.

  “I’m sorry. I made a deal I had no right to make. These embryos do not belong to me. I will not send them off to be among strangers.” But Commander Chubahl will not listen to reason, especially from the likes of me.

  The ship shakes again. “Just let it go,” Wheytt says to me. “We’re not getting off this ship without their help. Deals here are done over drinks. They don’t even know another way.”

  “We can’t leave,” I say. “I won’t.”

  Adalla softens toward me, ever so slightly.

  “I’ll drink you for them,” Laisze says to Commander Chubahl. “Challenge you to a contest. Most ale down wins the embryos.”

  “Ha!” he says. “You?” He looks Laisze over, top to bottom. Sure, she is large, but she has nothing on these behemoths. So in the midst of battle, two flagons are brought forth, foaming with piss-yellow ale.

  Laisze slams hers back like it’s water and she’s been thirsty for days. The room trembles from another blast, but not a single drop is wasted. Commander Chubahl raises an impressed brow, then does the same, letting out a belch that rattles us nearly as much as the blast had. The smell . . . it’s otherworldly, all right.

  “Warm-up’s over,” Commander Chubahl says, face suddenly stern and focused. “Let’s see what you’ve really got.”

  A dozen flagons are set out on the table between Laisze and Commander Chubahl. They pound them back, one after another. And sure enough, the commander begins to sway in his chair. Laisze sits bolt upright, staring him down. His hand twitches for another ale, but then he relinquishes. “Fine. The embryos are yours. Just go . . .” he says, waving us away. “At the gills, disrobe and spread this over your bodies. It’s important that you don’t miss a spot.”

  Adalla dips her hand into the mucous, then draws it back, shakes her finger like it’s burned. But then she’s stripping down, and all the men are averting their eyes in a rush to exit. Except Wheytt, sipping on coffee, trying to sober up quick.

  And then all of a sudden, Adalla and Laisze are naked and rubbing the gel all over themselves, over each other. I’m trying not to stare, but Laisze just keeps baiting me with that awful sideways grin. No—I’ve got a beast to save. This is no time to be getting jealous. I focus on covering myself, seizing up at the heat it sends into my skin, nearly burning. When I’m done covering myself, I help Wheytt, hitting all the patches he’s missed, ignoring those ones he’ll have to attend to himself. The gel starts to constrict as it dries, forming a protective sleeve that Commander Chubahl promises will shield us from the rapid depressurization. Then it’s only a matter of minutes before we’re all set.

  “Follow my lead
,” I say, then take several deep breaths, peel back the edge of the gills, then launch myself toward our beast.

  Sixty-eight seconds. It’s the longest I’ve ever held my breath. It seems like a long time, sure, but try adding the cold of space pressing against your skin. It bites, even through the heat of the gel, like hungry teeth.

  A sadness washes over me, as we near our beast, seeing the full extent of what we’ve done to it—soft in places where bone had been harvested, hide raw and exposed in the places we’d stripped it for leather. Tentacles drooping like it’s given up. But I do see some movement . . .

  Weapons swing our way, aiming right at us. I wait for our ship to fire upon us, but nothing happens. Who knows what Sisterkin had told the tacticians when she got back to our ship. Maybe that we were dead, that the Serrata crew had murdered us, and she’d gotten away by the skin of her teeth. But even if Sisterkin had made it back and manipulated them into firing upon the ship, there’s no way they would fire directly upon me. At least, that’s what I hope.

  I dare to look back and see Laisze and Wheytt and, finally, Adalla, clutching the embryo case to her chest. We’re right on track. But something’s wrong with Adalla. She’s in pain. I mean, she’s not screaming out in pain, because one breath out here would be the end of her, but something’s not right. Then I see it, the frozen patch growing on her shoulder where her gel must have been too thin. There’s no helping her, though, no way but forward. I spread my arms and hands when a gill is within reach. My body slams into it, hard, but I’m glad to be home. I peel the flap back so it’ll be ready to shove Adalla through, and we can get her some treatment before the tissue on her shoulder becomes unsalvageable. Laisze hits first, and Adalla is heading our way, but she’s panicking now, a lazy spin tumbling her all around. She tries to brace herself, but she hits side-on, with her bad shoulder. The embryo case breaks free from her grip; her eyes alight. She reaches for it, but I push her inside, then push Laisze inside, and leave the gill wide for Wheytt, who’s nearly here. Then when he touches down, I reach for the embryo case, drifting farther and farther away.