Symbiosis

by Nicky Drayden

  The next morning, we begin discussing the more pertinent matter of following the Zenzee herd to the anomalous star or venturing out on our own and becoming truly self-sufficient. To my delight, as the delegates present their cases, a slim majority are for separating from the herd. They point out the facts. That there are so few Zenzee left. That it would be genocide to cull any more. And even if they didn’t object morally, it would be only a matter of generations before the Zenzee were extinct altogether. And then where would that leave our people? What if the herd becomes erratic again, and instead of heading toward a star, it leads us to a black hole?

  The question and answer segments are hot and contentious, but I imagine they would’ve been worse if we hadn’t done the bonding exercises yesterday. People seem to be actively listening and entertaining everyone’s opinions with an open mind.

  “I vote to stay the course,” the Illiam leader says. “Like it or not, our lives have become intertwined with the Zenzee. I propose that this is a good thing for both us and them. We’ve had a period of adjustment, sure, but now we are entering a new phase. Our scientists are working on ways to enhance our Zenzee’s functioning. We are making them stronger, as we are making us stronger. We are each the steel rod against which we sharpen our blade.”

  “I agree. Abandoning the herd is a mistake,” the Vaz leader says, his voice slow, deep, and melodic. Almost hypnotic. “Yes, self-sufficiency is admirable, but if you think about the whole picture, we’d be harming the Zenzee further, permanently taking away loved ones.”

  The delegation completely engages with the Vaz leader as he speaks, and my heart sinks. He’s tapped into the emotional part of our brains. He massages our guilt and kneads our internalized faults like a master baker working a ball of dough, urging us to rise to the occasion and join his side. I can see why he’s found himself in a spot of leadership.

  I look around the room, a frown on my face. Everyone is entirely rapt by his talk, except Admiral Erisson’s aide. She’s standing on the other side of the room, fidgeting. Sweaty. Nervous. Baradonna’s training comes back to me. I notice how she carries herself differently than before, body like a question mark. She’s about to do something, and when I notice there’s a new bulk around her mid-section, I get the odd feeling that it’s something we’re all going to regret. She nods to herself, then starts aggressively approaching Admiral Erisson.

  I have only seconds to act. I think about trying to tackle her, but with the training she’s probably had since birth, there’s no way I’d be able to take her out in hand-to-hand combat. Then I remember the marbles in my pocket, the ones I so embarrassingly hid from everyone. As Hattie approaches, I roll them into the path in front of her. She slips, falls back, knocks her head against the floor. Admiral Erisson sees this happening, and in an instant, he is running to her side.

  I start to second guess myself. I hadn’t meant for her to take that big of a spill.

  “I saw what you did,” Admiral Erisson says, teeth clenched, as if he’s about to sink them into my throat.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I thought there was something odd going on. I’m sorry.”

  Admiral Erisson turns his attention to Hattie, calling out her name, checking for breath. Several other people from various clans crowd around us, staring me down like I’ve broken the trust we were only starting to develop.

  Hattie is unresponsive. Admiral Erisson pulls aside her robe to help her breathe, revealing a device strapped to her chest. Lights are blinking. Faster, faster. “Explosives! We’ve got to get out of here,” he yells. “Everybody out now!”

  And in the next moment, we’re all running for the door. The blast comes before I can make it out. I’m thrown forward into the person in front of me. Shreds of shrapnel rip through my skin. Screams come from all over, sounding odd and metallic in my ears.

  My vision throbs to the beat of my heart, white at the edges. I take deep breaths, gather my thoughts, looking at my surroundings as wounds are tallied. Medics rush in, dealing with the most severely wounded first. My own injuries are cleansed and bandaged. Fortunately, the cuts are not deep, but my back still feels like a raw piece of gall steak.

  We are bruised and bloodied. However, the explosion was very localized, so the broken bones were few. Instead, something much more fragile has broken. Our trust in one another. Each of the delegates gathers their own, cutting glances aimed in all directions.

  My plan to bring the Earth clans together has had the exact opposite effect.

  “I was wrong about you,” Admiral Erisson says, laying a bloodied hand on my shoulder. I wince, feeling splinters of metal move beneath my skin. “That wasn’t my first assassination attempt, but it was the closest to succeeding. A lot of people would have died if you hadn’t acted. Including me.”

  I mumble something, trying to bite through the pain to form a response, but my brain flashes bright white in response.

  Admiral Erisson leans in closer to me so the medics won’t overhear. “I know you have your heart set on independence and venturing out on our own, but we should stay with the Zenzee herd,” he whispers, his breath hot in my ear. “Our scientists have determined that the star they are chasing isn’t actually a star.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “That we don’t know. But what we do know is our herd isn’t the only one heading toward it.” He raises a brow.

  The implications of this blur past me so fast, I get dizzy. Or maybe it’s just a new wave of pain that’s caught me off guard. The main reason half of the delegates are entertaining the idea of leaving the herd is because there just aren’t that many Zenzee left. Scarcity was driving them to expand their minds and consider alternate lifestyles. If they knew there was another herd to exploit, maybe numbering in the hundreds, or even thousands, they would lose all that motivation and settle back into the status quo of culling a new Zenzee whenever the need arose. “Why are you trusting me with this?” I say.

  “Our instruments are more sensitive than most, but it’s only a matter of time before the others notice as well. Things are about to get complicated, and I need leaders on my side who I can trust. I can trust you, right, Doka?”

  I nod, feeling as though I’m jumping out of a raging fire and into the cold mouth of the void.

  Two medics carry a body bag past us, the lumps inside resembling piles of flesh and nothing remotely shaped like a human. We had been extremely lucky, but there was one death in all of this: Hattie, his assistant who’d so dutifully caught him in the trust exercise yesterday.

  Admiral Erisson watches them haul the body away. I expect anger to hang on his face, but instead, he looks saddened.

  “Trust seems like a very fragile thing among your people,” I say.

  “I didn’t expect this from Hattie, but I can’t say I’m exactly surprised. When you’re in our position, betrayal can be around any corner.”

  I think about how Tesaryn Wen had worked to diminish my power, to banish my personal guard, to tear up my family. I knew she wouldn’t rest until I was left completely powerless, but I’ve stood up to her the best I can. If the Senate really wanted to silence me, there were more effective ways available to them. I bite my tongue so hard that I yelp.

  “What’s wrong?” Admiral Erisson asks me.

  I shake my head. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I retrace the aide’s steps in my memory. She’d taken the long way around to Admiral Erisson. Why hadn’t she gone the other way? It was quicker. More direct. Unless Admiral Erisson wasn’t actually her target.

  “Hattie was with you at all times, right? Why would she have to take you out with explosives? Couldn’t she have poisoned your meal? Or slit your throat while you slept? Or—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. Yes, I can’t say it exactly makes any sense. She’s had total access to me for over a decade. Why would she wait until now? She loves her kids more than anything. I don’t know why she would possibly sacrifice their future like that.” Admiral Erisson blinks a few times, th
en his lip curls in disgust. He pulls out a device, types into it, and then waits for a response. Seconds later, two beeps follow. He stares down at the screen for a long moment, then looks back at me. “Her two oldest children are of age to fight in the next Sizing Battle, but she has recently paid their way out of competition. It is very costly. And very shameful.”

  “She did this to keep her kids safe.”

  “They’ll be laughed at. They’ll be seen as cowards. She has brought great dishonor upon me and everyone who has called her a friend. I’d have more respect for her if I had been her target. But if it wasn’t me, then who was it?”

  “I could think of someone who wouldn’t mind seeing me dead,” I say. “And who wouldn’t mind paying a large sum for it.”

  Admiral Erisson’s eyebrows arch. “I could check for communications between our people. Even if they masked their signatures, our algorithms will be able to crack it.” Admiral Erisson starts typing into his device again, chunky fingers moving fluidly over the screen. He scowls at the results. “I see a series of unlogged communications between our ships, one each of the past four days. IDs are forged, but I can dig deeper if you want specifics.”

  I nod, taking it all in. There’s so much to process. I knew Tesaryn Wen hated me, but I never thought she would stoop this low.

  “Do you want me to see if I can reconstruct the signal into a voice pattern?”

  I shake my head. “Don’t bother. I just need to know what I should do now.”

  “Is this your first assassination attempt? There’s nothing like your first time.” Admiral Erisson smiles wistfully. “Well, if I were in your shoes, I’d bribe the crew here to let your people know that you’d been mortally wounded. Whoever is responsible will let their guard down, allowing you to sneak in a counterattack. Act fast, while the coup is still tender. While you still have allies willing to risk everything for you.”

  I do as Admiral Erisson says, and after a hefty bribe, I am on my way back to Parados I, dressed as one of my escorts. When we arrive, the whole place is eerily quiet. No one about. I make my way to the Senate chambers, ready to confront Tesaryn Wen, but when I throw open the doors, it’s completely empty.

  Almost.

  At the front of the room, there are three boneworkers taking their tools to the reliefs depicting our people’s greatest sins against the Zenzee. They’ve already smoothed down a third of the bone canvas, prepped and primed, as if it’s about to be carved again.

  “Excuse me, where is everyone?” I call to the workers, all bare-chested and covered in decorative scars, their hair nearly white from all the bits of bone entangled in their braids.

  “Doldrums,” one of them barks back. She nods her head. “Big meeting. Not to be missed.”

  As I turn to leave, a fourth boneworker carrying several bags of tools and paper scrolls enters the door and runs right into me. Her metal tools hit the ground like a bunch of chimes, and one of her scrolls speeds across the floor, unrolling itself. I look down at the sketch of a woman dressed in matriarchal robes, hand reaching up at a star. A familiar star. A familiar face.

  “Tesaryn Wen,” I say, gritting my teeth. Then run as fast as I can to the doldrums.

  Seske

  Of Corrupted Bodies and Just Desserts

  Adalla’s hand touches the back of mine. My heart flips, and I look over at her with a tentative smile, but her face is completely neutral. “Sorry,” she mumbles. An accidental touch, then. We’re crammed in here so tightly that it’s hard to maintain space between us. I keep my smile on my face, though. If I let it drop, I might never find it again.

  I used to hate coming to the doldrums, but since the ERI had implemented a whole host of environmentally friendly upgrades, they’re not so bad. They’ve been refitted with colorful sails, like aboard the Serrata, and not only do they make the energy exchange more efficient, but they’re beautiful to look at from down below, like the delicate wings of kite fish flapping in all their glory. But this cavernous space on the Zenzee barely accommodates us all, now that the Klang are here. They’re segregated to their own little area of the room, in the back and out of the way, a line of accountancy guards standing between us and them.

  Bakti’s hand touches mine, on purpose, and we thread our fingers together. “I think I see my mum,” he whispers to me, craning his neck toward the Klang. He waves with his other hand. “Yes, that’s definitely her.”

  I turn and wave as well, big goofy smile spread across my face, then settle back into my nerves. “This has got to be a major announcement. I bet Doka and the other leaders came to a decision already.” I bite my lip. I haven’t told anyone about the Zenzee graveyard. Didn’t tell anyone about Sisterkin. Didn’t tell anyone about Baradonna either, except Bakti and his mother. She needed a place to heal and to hide. The doctors among the Klang would tend to her wounds and track her progress, undoing the damage that had been inflicted upon her. The physical damage at least. I can’t even imagine the pain of being so cruelly cast aside by your own people like that.

  “We should visit Mother soon,” Bakti says.

  “I don’t think she likes me very much,” I reply. I’d dumped an injured, exiled woman in her lap, after all, on top of stealing her son away. I know I wasn’t even in on the plan, but the way I catch her looking sideways at me sometimes . . . I can feel the heat in her sharp glare.

  “It’s all in your imagination. She loves you.”

  “She tolerates me. Because she loves you,” I say. “There’s a difference.”

  “Well, it’s not like you have to see her every day. Just put on a smile, rave over her cooking, laugh at her jokes.”

  “Even if they’re at my expense? I don’t feel welcome there. But you go. Brings some flowers from me.”

  “Seske . . .”

  “Bakti. . . ,” I say, mocking him.

  “She’s just poking to get to know you better. Once she figures out that she can trust you, you’ll see how she really is.”

  My fake smile is back. Trust. He makes it sound so easy. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  He hugs me tight. “I’ll count that as a yes. Adalla, you’re coming, too? All three of us being there would make Mother so happy.”

  “You know I love your mum,” Adalla says sweetly to Bakti. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  I sigh.

  Finally, the proceedings start, and the awkward tension between Adalla and me gets directed at the stage. Tesaryn Wen walks out front and center, looking beyond regal.

  “Today is the day we have strived so hard for. The day we have sacrificed so much for,” she says, carefully annunciating as if each word she speaks holds some sacred truth. “Today is the day our lead scientists have declared that we have achieved mutualism with our Zenzee. And what does that mean? It means that as we benefit from our Zenzee, she benefits from us. Ours is a relationship that is self-sustaining. We could live upon this beast for many, many generations to come.”

  The crowd erupts in applause. A lump forms in my throat. We have indeed given up so much of ourselves to get here, and now Doka’s vision has been fully realized. I am only sad that he is still at the leader’s summit and will miss sharing this occasion with us.

  “We have sacrificed our creature comforts. No longer do we live in bone castles, but huts made of renewable bricks. We are cold all the time. We work till our fingers bleed. We feast upon staple foods and at times go to bed hungry. But we have done it—we’ve achieved Doka Kaleigh’s dream of mutualism. We have lost pieces of our culture. We’ve given up our luxuries. But we are living the dream, right? Utopia? Let’s hear it!”

  There is applause again, but less vigorous this time.

  “Raise your hand if you are proud of what we’ve accomplished,” Tesaryn Wen says.

  Nearly every hand shoots up into the air.

  “Good, you should be. This hasn’t been easy for anyone. Some of us lived for years with our loved ones locked away in stasis. But we’re all here now, aren’t we? Well,
minus the ones still stuck in stasis, suffering who knows what kind of permanent damage because of it. But we’re happy, right? Who’s happy? Really and truly happy? Let’s see some hands!”

  Only half of the crowd raises a hand this time.

  “Who’s happier now than they were before Matris Doka Kaleigh assumed his rule?”

  More hands go down. Rumbling whispers and hushed tones grow within the crowd—a deep, rustling sound that turns my gut, making me queasy. I get a sinking feeling that Doka’s absence from this meeting is by design.

  “Our Matris, Doka Kaleigh, promised us Utopia. Balance. And on that, I can say that he has delivered. He sold us a dream. A goal. And we ran toward it, embracing him all along the way. But never did we ask if that should be our dream. Or if it was truly a worthy goal. That is not to say that we think this exercise in seeking mutualism has been completely useless. We have found many efficiencies and techniques to extend the amount of time we stay aboard a Zenzee. Our scientists add that we could spend as many as seventy or eighty years aboard a single Zenzee and still go back to a more comfortable way of life. Imagine balmy weather. Imagine feasting upon a wide variety of delicacies until your stomach is full, and your children’s stomachs. Imagine children! More than a single baby to call your own.”

  The crowd gasps. Those words are nearly blasphemous.

  “We have been told there is another Zenzee herd only a few years’ travel from here. Our own scientists have now confirmed it. There are thousands of them. And with our zoonautical advances, the Zenzee will repopulate at a rate that exceeds the pace at which we will need them. We will have a sustainable society. We can expand, form additional colonies.

  “There will be room for everyone,” Tesaryn Wen concludes, stepping back to allow our people to process this life-altering news she’s dropped in front of us. Some shameful part of me is tempted, too. Giving the Klang a Zenzee of their own would ease so much tension. And there is comfort in the idea of having our people spread around different worlds, for redundancy’s sake. If we’d stumbled upon this news sooner, I wonder if Adalla wouldn’t have had to work so hard, if we wouldn’t have needed to give up so much. I wonder if things would have been better for us. For everyone.