The Tribari Freedom Chronicles Boxset

by Rachel Ford

  And today, Nikia had neither. Her mind was on her appointment in the afternoon. She’d told Grel it was a physical. That wasn’t true. She’d missed her cycle at the beginning of the month. It was stress, she had been sure. It happened, when she was stressed enough. She could go a month or two sometimes when pressure and life was too much. And the gods knew, she’d been stressed lately. But then she’d started feeling sick in the mornings too these last days.

  She was using contraceptives. Despite money being tight, that, she and Grel had agreed, was an expense they had to prioritize. So, her mind argued, it was unlikely to be anything more than a physical reaction to their sudden change in circumstance.

  But, then, contraceptives failed too. And what if it was more than stress?

  Slowly but steadily, the hours turned, one after the other. Finally, she clocked out and raced to the medical offices of her physician. Doctor Kel had been her doctor all her life. After her marriage to Grel, he’d kept her on his patient list as a favor to her family. She knew that. There was no way she’d be able to afford a physician like Kel on her salary, if he hadn’t been doing her a favor.

  He was an older man, kindly if not entirely adept at hiding his disapprobation. “And how are you today, Nikia? You are still married to Mr. Idan?”

  “Well, and yes, of course.”

  “Ah.” This was said with not much surprise, though little enthusiasm. “So what brings you here today?”

  She explained her symptoms, and the physician frowned. “You are using your contraceptive?”

  “I am.”

  He nodded. Kel was older, but not old-fashioned in this regard. It defied common Tribari wisdom to recommend anything that might interfere with the creation of new Tribari. It was legal, but few doctors would prescribe such a thing, and few apothecaries dispense it. But Doctor Kel was not so outdated in his thinking. Especially, she thought, where husbands he didn’t approve of were concerned. “That is good. But – since you’re concerned about pregnancy – I assume you and your husband engage in regular or semi-regular sexual intercourse?”

  “Yes.” Not as a regular, she thought, as it used to be. Not since the changes at work; she was just too damned tired all the time. But it was still more than enough to explain her present circumstance.

  He nodded again. “Well, there’s a blood test we can start with. That will tell us if you’re pregnant.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “We’ll look at your hormone levels. With the life changes you describe, it’s possible they’re impacting your hormone production. But let’s start with the blood test.”

  They did, and she winced as the blood was drawn. Then they waited as the minutes ticked by. Five, ten, and finally fifteen passed. Doctor Kel returned to the room, his expression grave. “Well, Nikia,” he said, “I suppose congratulations are in order. You’re going to be a mother.”

  Chapter Three

  Captain Elgin stood on the bridge of the TS-Supernova, surveying the planet below him. It seemed a miserable scrap of rock for men to be fighting over. There were none of the great oceans and broad, green swaths of forest of the Tribari home world, Central, here.

  No, Trapper’s Colony was a far cry from Central. It was little bigger than a moon, with inky black oceans of unrefined oil dotting its surface. Outside of the settlements, there wasn’t much green to be seen. The planet’s only water was underground, and it was so far from the star that it would have been covered in ice even if there was external water.

  It was an ugly, barren brown world. And yet, here they were anyway, like a band of hungry dogs baring their teeth over a scrap of crust.

  “We are in position, Captain,” the helmsmen, a Lt. Fal, called.

  “Very good, Lieutenant. Ensign, open a line to the colony’s governor.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Ensign Vor answered. A moment later, he said, “Their switchboard is requesting authentication.”

  “Provide it. And put her onscreen when it’s done.”

  “Yes sir.” Then, in half a minute, “Onscreen.”

  A central view panel buzzed to life, and the face of a middle-aged matron appeared. “Captain Elgin? This is Governor Nees of Trapper’s Colony. Can I ask what you’re doing in our airspace?”

  Maybe he was just tired. It had been a long flight after all, and he’d been overdue for R-and-R. But, somehow, these motions seemed ridiculous to him. “You know well enough, Governor. You have the Supreme Leader’s orders. You have Parliament’s authorization of those orders.”

  Nees crossed her arms. She was, he saw, a small woman, diminutive in stature and unprepossessing in dress. Still, there was a fierceness in her gaze that rather belied the effect of her thin, reedy frame. “Captain, under the Tribari constitution, we are free to elect our own colonial government. The Supreme Leader has no authority to overthrow a lawfully elected representative council like ours. Parliament has no authority to sanction such action.”

  “But you’re not free to overthrow lawfully appointed ruling bodies,” he said.

  “We did not elect Halford,” she countered. “He was sent here without even consulting us. He knew nothing of Trapper’s Colony, Captain. Do you know how many died under his ‘leadership’?”

  “That,” Elgin said, “is above my paygrade, Governor. I just follow my orders. And my orders are to facilitate the surrender and apprehension of the colonial government.” He stared pointedly at the camera, across the void between them, to her. “That’s you, ma’am, and the rest of your council.”

  “I believe your oath, Captain,” she declared icily, “is to uphold the constitution and serve the people. Not to follow any order given, no matter how unlawful. Unless that’s changed since my time in service.”

  He gritted his teeth. The charades, it seemed, were going to run long today. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “It’s not my call.”

  “It’s always your call.”

  “I’m giving you twelve hours to surrender, Governor. You and your council.”

  She laughed. “And if we don’t? What will you do, Captain? Open fire on our colony?”

  “No ma’am. If you refuse to comply, my orders are to reinforce the blockade of Trapper’s Colony.”

  “Your orders.” She almost spit the word out. “So you won’t pull the trigger yourself, Captain Elgin. You’ll kill us a day at a time.”

  “The blockade ends the moment you and the council surrender, ma’am. From where I’m sitting, that’s your call. Not mine.” He glanced at the ensign, who was waiting for a signal to terminate the connection. “You have the orders. You know how to contact us. I trust you will protect the interests of your colony, Governor, so I’ll expect your surrender within the given timeframe.” Now, he signaled for Vor to cut the line, and the screen went dark.

  “Vor, get in touch with the rest of the fleet. Make sure they know we’re here. And see if they need anything from us.”

  “Aye aye sir.”

  “Fal, hold us in position. I want to be able to have a clear view of anything moving into Trapper’s space dock.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He nodded. “Hopefully, gents, this’ll be a short layover. And we’ll all be home soon.”

  Nikia sat for a moment in stunned silence. She didn’t feel like congratulations. Instead, she felt like crying. For the first minute or so, she managed to hold the tears back. But, when Doctor Kel began to describe the process of pregnancy, how many months he estimated remained, and so on, the emotion overwhelmed her.

  She burst into tears, sobbing almost hysterically. Kel called for a nurse, and a young woman about Nikia’s age entered the room with a glass of warm tea. Still blubbering, she took the tea, sipped it once, and then sobbed again.

  It was a terrible reaction, of course. The priests said pregnancies were gifts from the gods. “We’re not ready for a child,” she’d say out loud when she remembered those words.

  Finally, she was recovered enough for the nurse to leave. Doctor
Kel brought up a seat next to her. “Am I to take it, then, Nikia, that this is not welcome news?”

  “Grel doesn’t want a baby,” she said. His words still echoed in her thoughts. This is no kind of world to bring a child into. “We can’t afford one.”

  “Your husband is not employed at the moment, I believe?” the physician asked.

  She frowned at the trace elements of disapprobation in his tones. “Not for want of trying, doctor. He spent all day yesterday applying for positions. But no one will hire him, on account of his work with the guilds.”

  Kel’s jaw tightened at that word. “A sensible precaution, from a business standpoint,” he said mildly. “But most unfortunate for you.”

  “For both of us.” She fought back the urge to cry as she considered that, far too soon, it would be three rather than two. Then, impulsively, she said, “Doctor Kel, I know there are options – other options.”

  The physician blinked, and she feared she’d overstepped. Termination was legal on Central. Tribari women were full citizens of the empire, and they were as free as anyone under the law to manage their own bodies and affairs. But public sentiment was firmly against it, and few physicians offered the service. Those clinics that did were subjected to frequent protest, and sometimes violence.

  Grel had his own ideas about why a world that was so indifferent to the deaths of Tribari citizens could be so preoccupied with the wellbeing of non-sentient tissue; and as with everything with her husband, it fit into his worldview. The temples preached what the Grand Contributors needed the masses to believe. And the Grand Contributors needed an ever fresh, ever replenished workforce. The greater the number of poor, desperate souls clamoring to fill their factories and shine their shoes, the less they had to pay, and the less they had to concern themselves with the well-being of their employees. That, he said, was why they simultaneously opposed contraceptives and termination, but didn’t make a peep about Tribari dying of malnutrition or exposure to the elements, about factory workers crushed to death or torn in half in old, failing factory equipment, about miners sent into collapsing shafts and cleanup crews deployed without protective gear.

  The Grand Contributor class didn’t see any divine Tribari worth in the Tribari fetus that magically vanished when it drew its first breath. They saw the potential for future wage slaves, and the direct impact on their bottom line. It’s supply and demand, love. They see us as a product they want to get as cheaply as possible, and they manipulate the market so there’s far more supply than there’ll ever be demand. And then they turn us on each other to compete for the scraps.

  She forgot, sometimes, just how out of the mainstream her husband’s ideas were. Dr. Kel frowned wordlessly for a minute. But then, to her surprise, he nodded. “Yes. There are options. Usually, I would not recommend them. The potential for a new Tribari life is a miracle.” He spread his hands. “But, in some situations…well, you are very young, Nikia. You have many childbearing years ahead of you. Who knows where life may yet take you.” He smiled, and it reminded her of her own father: a blend of kindly solicitude and disappointment. She couldn’t pretend not to know his meaning, either.

  That, too, was far too near her own father’s. How many times had Luk Aldir suggested that some marriages weren’t meant to stand the test of time? How many times had he reminded her that she was his flesh and blood, his daughter; and that his home was always open to her, should she choose to return.

  But she ignored it. “I don’t want to go to one of the clinics,” she said. “I don’t think I could face that.” She shuddered at the idea of passing through the gauntlet of screaming matrons and pleading priests. She and Grel had volunteered as escorts for some of the clinics, doing what they could to shield patients from the view and vitriol of the protesters. She remembered the way women had shook with fear, terrified that the pictures that had been snapped of them would make their way into circulation, that their friends and family might find out – or, worse, that one of the people arrayed to assail them with accusations of promiscuity and murder might seek some kind of twisted vengeance. It had happened before. “I don’t want to go through those lines,” she decided.

  “No,” Kel agreed. “Certainly not. If – well, if this is something you decide to do, it can be done right here.”

  “It can?” She was surprised to hear it.

  He smiled again. “It’s not a regularly offered service, you understand.”

  That meant, Don’t talk about it. She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Good. Then, yes, we can do it here.”

  “When?”

  He surveyed her. “You’re early yet, Nikia. You have time to make up your mind.”

  “Grel doesn’t want a baby,” she said, and her voice was soft and sad as it reached her ears.

  “Perhaps not. But it is you, not he, who must continue or terminate the pregnancy. And you may find you have more support than you know.”

  She considered this for a moment. “You think I should tell him?”

  “I didn’t mean your husband. You have a mother and father who love you very much, Nikia.”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, doctor. But they’ve made their position clear.” As long as you’re with that man, Luk had told her, you can expect nothing from us. We are your parents, but you must come to your senses and remember that you’re our daughter. Her father’s offers of an open door were conditional, on a condition she could never meet.

  He was disappointed with her answer, but not surprised. “Well,” he said in a minute, “talk to them anyway.” She started to protest, but he said quickly, “We can set up an appointment for next week, so you’ll be in the calendar. And if you do change your mind, just give us a call to let us know.

  “But Nikia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Speak with your parents before you make any final decisions.”

  Chapter Four

  As the hour of Nikia’s return approached, Grel found his anticipation mounting. He’d wrapped up his speech, and it was good – damned good. He wanted her to hear it.

  At the turn of the hour, he found himself pulling back the blind now and again to check for her. But, of course, she still had to catch the train back.

  He returned to his seat, re-reading the words. The smartest thing the Contributors ever did was convince us that we needed them. But tell me, who really needs who?

  As he read, he started to speak aloud, with the passion he’d poured into writing those words. “If we vanish into the mist tomorrow, we stop making their food, and cleaning their houses, and working their factories. How do they survive?”

  He heard a noise outside the window, and was on his feet. “Nik,” he said, throwing open the door. “You’ve got to hear…” But it was just a stray cat poking around in the flower beds. It glanced up, startled at his sudden emergence, and fled into the dusk. He frowned and stepped back inside, heading for the table and his speech.

  Then, he realized that he was hungry, and that she would be starving. I should put something on for dinner. It wouldn’t be ready by time she got home. Unless the shuttle was delayed, she was probably just a few minutes out. Still, it’d be a head start, anyway.

  He drew a slab of cold meat from the icebox and threw it into a pan. Then he started dicing vegetables. He wasn’t much of a cook, but his talent seemed to increase in direct proportion to hunger. If his own appetite was anything to go by, Nik would not complain.

  The vegetables sizzled and sputtered, filling the room with delicious scents. Soon, the smell of meat mingled with the other aromas. Grel’s stomach growled.

  It wasn’t until the food finished, and he’d divided it between two plates that he realized that Nikia still wasn’t back. He’d been too wrapped up in cooking to pay much attention, but now the thought struck him with a near physical force. It was half a bell after she was supposed to be home. His heart hammered against his sternum.

  Nik was never late. Something’s wrong. Even if they’d made her
work late, she would have called.

  He left the food on the countertop and threw on his overcoat and shoes. He tried to ignore the heavy thudding of his pulse in his ears, or the questions that invaded his mind. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – entertain speculation about what might have happened.

  Instead, he raced out of the house, forgetting even to lock the door behind him as he went. He followed Nik’s route home, the streets she would walk from the station. He got a few strange looks as he passed, and, he supposed, he probably looked a bit like a madman running down the public streets.

  He didn’t much care, though. At the station, he approached the ticket window. He recognized the clerk behind the counter. It was Ki Gul. The young man had come to a few of his organizing meetings in the past. “Ki,” he said.

  “Grel. Everything alright?”

  He ignored the curious looking up and down he got with the question. “Did Nik’s train come in yet?”

  Ki frowned. “It did. But I don’t remember seeing her on it, actually.” He punched something into his terminal, then shook his head. “No, she wasn’t. The last swipe in the system from her is from this afternoon, a return train from north central.”

  “Oh.” Grel frowned. That would have been the trip back from her doctor’s appointment. “She must be working late.”

  The ticket attendant nodded. “Probably. She’s been pulling some late shifts lately.”

  “Yeah.” He felt a little foolish now. “Thanks, Ki.”

  “No problem.”

  He set his steps back for home. He wondered at himself, at his alarm. What, really, had he been thinking? It wasn’t like him to panic and assume the worst. He knew how things had been at Nik’s job lately. She probably didn’t have time to call. She was probably buried in tasks and just trying to get done.