Playing God

by Sarah Zettel

  “I say thank you, my Sisters.” He took their hands. “I will gladly come with you.”

  “Well, my Sister,” sighed Lareet as they picked their way down the narrow avenue. “I think that was the finest batch of lies we ever told Scholar Arron, don't you?”

  “We did not lie.” Umat shook her elbow. “We asked straight-out would he come with us, and he said yes.”

  The skin on Lareet's upper arms rolled. The street was too quiet. With twilight setting, it felt like the shadowy Dead quarter. “But we did not tell him why. A lie by omission is still a lie.”

  Umat kicked a pile of dried weeds. “War requires your soul, Sister, not just your mouth. We need Scholar Arron. He can help us understand Human engineering and thinking. If need be, he can make a valuable hostage.” Lareet opened her mouth again, but her sister silenced her. “He will help us, as soon as we explain it to him.”

  Then why do we not explain it to him now? Lareet let her ears fall. “I don't like this.”

  “And I do? He helped at my last bearing of daughters. He picked Ylata up as she crawled from my womb and placed her in my pouch. Do you think I want to harm him?”

  “No, no, of course not.” Lareet waved the suggestion away as they rounded a comer. “But—”

  A father stood in front of them, wide-eyed and stoopshouldered. He stared, as if just on the edge of understanding or remembering. Lareet bowed until her ears brushed the pavement. Umat copied her motion. This was a blessing. The city security teams were gently leading the fathers to the ports so they might be with the mothers, sisters, and daughters. There were only a few left free to be guided by the World Mothers to their destinies.

  The t'Therians penned their fathers, and haggled over them like cattle, Lareet knew. It had always appalled her. How could you haggle over a creature driven solely by destiny?

  The father shuffled toward them. He ran his hands across Lareet's ears and down her back. Her skin shivered.

  Umat raised her head, and looked to Lareet.

  “What do you say, my Sister? One more bearing? To remember what is at the heart of all we do.” She held out her hand. “To mend our quarrel tighter than blood and soul?”

  “You can't mean it.” Lareet half laughed as she straightened up. “My belly's all but gone flat. I've got no room in me for more daughters.” Still, the father stroked her shoulders softly, almost reverently. A tension she had forgotten she carried relaxed inside her.

  “The father does not think so.” Umat touched her forearm.

  “I can't,” said Lareet, although regret ran through her. “We're going into combat, Sister, how can I take daughters with me?”

  “We're coordinators, not combatants,” Umat reminded her. “Sister, it would be a fine thing to help birth your daughters one more time.”

  “It would be a fine thing indeed.” She saw her sister's eyes shining in the fading sunlight. She wavered, then made her decision. Destiny drove the fathers, so destiny brought them here.

  “I hate this part.” She untied the waist of her trousers and let them fall. Startled, the father backed away.

  Umat laid her hands on Lareet's shoulders. “Everybody does.”

  “It's just so drafty.” Lareet wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. “Promise you'll be there at the birth, as you are at the beginning.”

  “I promise.” Umat held Lareet close, embracing and supporting her.

  The father found his own way. The rocking weight against her back took Lareet's balance, but Umat steadied her. Lareet felt Umat's warmth, her strength, the absolute assurance that had always been Umat's gift, flow between them. She drank it in gratefully.

  When it was finished, they embraced one more time, and Umat stood her up straight again. Lareet pulled her trousers back up. The father blinked sleepily, combed her ear once, and wandered away.

  “May you father more daughters than there are stars in the sky!” Lareet shouted after him.

  “Oh, good, my Sister!” Umat laughed. “Bring the whole city running!”

  “Why not?” She laid a hand over her belly guard. “Let us ad begin again.” She flicked her ears toward her sister. “What do you say? Shall we chase after him for you?”

  Umat laughed loudly. “Mothers forbid! We're going to have enough trouble with yours. That took long enough it's probably going to be a full six. Come on.” She slid her arm under Lareet's. “Let us get you home before your scent brings all the fathers in the city out of hiding.”

  They strolled back into the main streets, cutting across the lines of traffic streaming toward the port. Lareet felt sympathy for them. She wanted to tell them to go home. The relocation wasn't going to happen for months, if it happened at all.

  But this I promise you, my Sisters, as I promise my daughters in my womb. When our world is saved, the t'Theria will no longer walk on it to plague us.

  Resaime picked her way down the plane's ramp, pressing close to Aunt Senejess's side. Every muscle under her skin was wire-taut. She stared at the crowds not with curiosity, but with a feeling she was fairly sure must be fear.

  Crazy. This is crazy. She ticked off the names of the Getesaph she knew, the ones she went to school with and played with when she and her sisters were small. Why was she so afraid of them all of a sudden?

  Because these are not those Getesaph. These are the ones who will kill you if they find out who you are.

  “Loose your hold a bit, my Daughter,” murmured Aunt Senejess in her ear. “Act like you are coming home, not walking out to feed the sharks.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Res managed to get her hand to relax a little.

  The port was nothing like where they landed in t'Theria. The landing strip was clean and clear of booths. Humans in clean-suits wandered everywhere, intent on their own errands. The Getesaph, their pinkish grey skins startling after so many days surrounded by blue-grey t'Therian's, gathered on roofed walkways to stare at the huge, elongated shuttles, with their mirrored skins and stubby wings. Their conversations filled the clean, white buildings with a noise louder than the engines on the vans and the cars trundling around the shuttles.

  Technically, this port and all its shiny new buildings belonged to the Humans. The Humans all thought Aunt Senejess was Mother, here on Human business, so in Human territory nothing could happen to them. So, she really had nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.

  Aunt Senejess shepherded Res into the nearest building. It was a check-in station of some kind, or maybe registry was a more accurate description. Humans in all their shades of brown and beige stood in the middle of round information stations, surrounded by Getesaph five or six deep. Some Getesaph clustered around the automated information stations, pointing, and conferring with their sisters. More sat in the chairs or squatted in family groups on the floor with their bundles and their daughters. Some of them noticed Res and Aunt Senejess and glowered. Res's stomach flipped over. It turned over again as she realized that a father, no, two, no three, wandered between the Getesaph with their vague, empty faces and random gait.

  “Don't stare, Daughter.” Aunt Senejess pulled her toward an empty comm station. “Show me how this Human machine works. I believe our quarters will be registered inside here.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Res dropped her attention down to the blue screen and the keypad. The basic access instructions were printed in five different languages. A half dozen keystrokes and a retinal scan later, the address for Praeis Shin's quarters appeared in gold on the blue background. In the letter Aunt Senejess had written to Lynn, she'd said Resaime was coming with her, so Res could open all the locks and access the secure terminals. Aunt Senejess could not, however, since it was Praeis's retinal patterns in the database. Res had explained this to her aunt, who had praised her and been extra glad of her decision to bring Resaime along. Res wasn't sure if she really meant it, but it felt good when she said it.

  Aunt Senejess read the address and squeezed her shoulder. Res blanked the screen.

  “Now,
here is a map.” Aunt Senejess led her over to the info board, with the port and its buildings traced out in four different colors.

  “We're over here.” Res pointed to the dormitories marked in green.

  “So we are,” agreed Aunt Senejess. “And the gathering point for those about to leave is here.” She laid a finger on a courtyard traced in purple. “And the Human administrative offices are here.” A budding drawn in blue. “And their quarters are here.” A dormitory marked in red. “Very clear, very convenient.” She looked the map up and down with great approval.

  Res felt her ears twitch. “The Humans seem interested in making things easy for us.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing, my Daughter.” Aunt Senejess patted her hand. “Well, let us get where we are supposed to be.”

  The port buildings were all connected by long hallways that opened into large, curved gathering areas. Getesaph were everywhere. They walked down the hallways, they sat on the chairs in the lobbies with their bundles at their feet. They even sat on the floors in the hallways with their children on their shoulders or in their laps.

  All eyes followed her and Aunt Senejess, but no one made a move. Res glanced overhead and saw the security cameras. Her brain expelled a huge sigh of relief.

  Fathers roamed freely between them. Here and there, they knelt or stretched to touch some daughter or sister, or even a mother with children still clinging to her shoulders.

  Even the fathers trained their wide, pale gaze on Resaime as she walked past.

  “Why aren't they in their rooms?” whispered Res fiercely. “What are they all doing out here? The Humans will take care of their stuff. Why can't they just—”

  “Shhh.” Aunt Senejess hooked her arm and picked up the pace just a little. “It is their way, Daughter.” The corridor branched ahead of them, and Aunt Senejess steered her down the right fork. “It does not, however, keep their soldiers from being deadly, nor does it render them deaf.”

  Res clamped her mouth shut. I don't like this. I don't want to be here. What am I doing? Her ears started to droop, and she struggled to hold them upright. I didn't think it would be this bad. Her inner parts were ballooning so badly she thought they'd push her stomach up her throat. She smelted funny, or maybe it was just the father-scent clinging so tightly to her that was making it hard to breathe straight. She wanted to go home. She wanted Theia. She wanted …

  “Here we are, Daughter.” Aunt Senejess stopped in front of a door. “Open it for us, please.”

  Res laid her thumb on the register and let her print and eye be scanned. The door recognized her, and the lock clicked open. She swung the door open and stumbled inside. There were sleeping mats on the floor, chairs and tables, bottled water and packaged food on the serving tables. A comm station stood in one corner.

  Aunt Senejess dragged the door shut, crossed the room to the climate controls, and set the fans going. She checked the window to make sure it was securely fastened and drew the curtains over it. Res sat down in one of the chairs and opened a water bottle. She gulped it thirstily. The straining inside her eased, and she began to breathe normally again.

  “Well, this explains why they're all out in the halls,” said Res, setting the bottle down. “The Humans have made the rooms too small. They always do that.”

  Aunt Senejess glanced up at the ceiling. “Are we observed?”

  Res looked around. “I don't think so. I heard Mother say the policy for Human structures was going to be to monitor the common areas, halls, and so on, but not the private quarters.” Her voice shook a little, but her control was, thankfully, returning.

  Aunt Senejess was giving her a hard stare. The skin on Res's back and belly trembled.

  “Daughter, I recognized that your mother raised you decently and properly. It is all I would expect from her, but you must control yourself.” She paused and her gaze softened. “I felt it, too, Resaime. It is perfectly natural.”

  Res laced her fingers together. “I know. I know. And it's not as if I've never …” She broke off. “It was just a lot of them, fathers, all at once, and out in the open like that …”

  “I know.” Aunt Senejess rubbed Res's scalp thoughtfully. “And you are just now ready for motherhood.” She paused. “You could take one to you,” she suggested. “It would not be a bad way to begin. Rescue a soul from the ‘Esaph and bring her the blood and will of the family.”

  Res twisted her hands. “I … I don't feel ready yet, Aunt.”

  Aunt Senejess touched her shoulder. “Then it is not time yet.” She tugged gently on Res's ear. “You don't have to be afraid of me, Daughter. I am not your enemy. The enemy waits out there.” She turned her ears toward the windows.

  Then, she ready noticed the comm station. “The information about them, however, waits in here.” Her skin rippled up and down her arms. “Daughter, what information can you get out of this station?”

  Res picked the introductory sheets up off the counter and flipped through them. “Just about anything, it looks like. Addresses, schedules, Human contacts. There's even a whole database with information on the city-ships.”

  “Which I'm sure the ’Esaph have made good use of,” muttered Aunt Senejess. “Are there passenger lists?”

  “Yes. Sure. That's practically the first here. on here.” She looked up and saw that her aunt's face had gone taut. “Why?”

  “Don't tell me we could have stayed home and discovered all.” Her eyes shone with an icy glitter, and her ears pressed flat against her scalp.

  Res shook her head. “I don't think so. This is probably an isolated network. You wouldn't be able to access its information except through a dedicated terminal.” She nodded toward the comm station. “That means one that's wired into the system here on the island, probably right here in the port.”

  “How very convenient.” Senejess bared her teeth. “It means we have to spend less time out in plain view.” She drew a chair up to the terminal. “The first thing we need to know is who will be on the first flights to the Ur. Come, Daughter. Show your old aunt what to do.”

  Lynn was not surprised to find Arron waiting at her door when she arrived at the Human dormitories in Getesaph Port 1.

  In fact, she realized, she would have been both surprised and disappointed if he hadn't been there. It was not like Arron to leave a conversation or an argument unfinished.

  “Hi,” she said casually, as she stood in front of her reddish, ceramic door, waiting for it to scan her and unlock.

  “Hi,” he answered, almost shyly. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” The door clicked open with its weird, swinging motion, and Lynn walked into her temporary quarters.

  She felt Arron follow her inside. The room was square, white with burgundy carpet, and filled with functional, squared-off furniture, a locker for clean-suits, a work/comm station, and a stationary food jobber. All standard, all generic. Through the open door, the bedroom looked much the same.

  “Who designed this place?” Lynn undid her seals and pulled her helmet off. “They could have made it a little more suffocatingly boring if they'd tried.” She scrubbed her scalp with her palm and tossed her helmet on the table. “Going to get out of that?” She gestured at Arron's clean-suit.

  “No, I can't stay.”

  “Oh.” Lynn shrugged. “As needed. Mind if I change?”

  “No, no,” he said hurriedly. “Go right ahead.”

  Lynn went into the bedroom. She left the door open just a crack.

  “I was really surprised when I heard you were coming,” said Arron from the other room.

  “Yeah, well, I thought considering the communications problems we've had, I thought we should be on the spot while the shuttles get ready to go,” she said as she pulled off her shirt and pants and started wriggling her way out of the suit. The ventilator's breeze hit her bare skin, sending goose bumps up her arms. Lynn sighed and wished she had time to enjoy just being out of the damn organic cocoon for a while. She considered telling
Arron that she could rely on Praeis to keep her people abreast of what was really going on with the Council of True Blood and the Queens-of-All, but there was no one to keep her similarly informed on the Getesaph side. She decided against it. She did not want to discuss Praeis right now, especially when she didn't know what she was up to. The letter she'd gotten saying Praeis and Res wanted to travel to the Hundred Isles had been unexpected, and nonspecific. Lynn had approved the travel plans more out of old loyalty than anything else. Praeis knew what she was doing. This was her home ground, after all. What worried Lynn was that she hadn't heard a word from her since.

  “Coming here to keep tabs on things is probably a really good idea,” Arron said.

  Inasmuch as anything we're doing here is a good idea, she could practically hear him adding. She sighed quietly.

  “So that's what I'm doing here.” Lynn opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Arron stood over by the food jobber, running his gloved fingertips over its top. “I'm not really sure. Everything should be handled through channels, but I guess, I wanted to talk to you before you got the memo …”

  “Memo?” Lynn flopped down in one of the square, utilitarian chairs. The upholstery felt rough against her skin.

  Arron took a deep breath. “The outside sisters of my host family have been designated the leaders of the Getesaph preparatory wave. They've invited me to join the Getesaph aboard the Ur.”

  Lynn felt herself beginning to stare. “For how long?”

  Arron stalked across the room to the one window. “For as long as I want,” he said to the world outside.

  Lynn shoved herself upright. I do not believe this. Not even from you. “How long are you likely to want?”

  He shrugged, but still didn't look at her. “I don't know.”

  Which means as long as you possibly can, and we both know it.

  Arron turned around, and Lynn finally saw his face. For a moment, she thought he was going to start crying. She had never seen such a mix of fear and eagerness on anybody's face before.

  She bit back her initial response, and just asked, “Why, Arron?”