by J. L. Hilton
She didn’t know what to say to that. “Won’t your family be looking for you?”
“I have no one in Meglin. I told you this,” he reminded her.
Meglin, J’ni had discovered, meant Not Our Place. She had thought it was a pretty word, until she knew what it meant and how it was a constant reminder to the Glin that they were not where they wanted to be. They were as out of place, as lost here as J’ni. The Finders tried to help them feel at home, but the Glin had to get used to new food, new resources, new patterns, as she did.
“Everyone has everyone here, Belloc.” She turned to Sala for confirmation. “Don’t we, Sala? We’re all lost, together.”
“Some are more lost than others,” said Sala.
J’ni let the curtain of vines fall between them, leaving Belloc outside. She went and spoke to Sala, telling her about the disagreement between Belloc and Ga’Duhn.
“What do you know about Belloc? Did I make a bad judgment?” J’ni asked.
“I know very little about him. He keeps to himself and never causes problems. I wish I could say the same for Ga’Duhn. No, you judged well.”
“So, what do I do with him?” J’ni gestured to the doorway.
Sala whirled her hand in the air. It was similar to the gesture Duin made when he talked about the location of Wandalin. Sort of an I don’t know or wh’ever.
Sala settled herself on her bed and rolled onto her side, facing the wall. That was her nice way of saying the conversation was over.
J’ni pulled on her boots and went out the door, heading toward the forest. Belloc followed her.
“You don’t have to come with me,” she said. But he kept walking. If she slowed down so he could catch up, he slowed down as well. If she sped up, he sped up. She turned. “When I say, ‘You don’t have to come,’ I mean, I don’t want you to come.”
He didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink.
She kept walking. He followed. When they passed the edge of the trees, she turned and handed him the translator. “Hold this then. And stand. Right. Here. Don’t move.”
Belloc stood, unmoving, while the branches of the trees swayed around him in the gentle breeze.
“Why don’t you go in the lake?” he called when she was out of sight. The translator repeated his words in English.
“Ew,” she replied from behind a bush. “There are hundreds of Glin here. I’m glad I don’t swim.”
“The water is good.”
“How do you know?” The Finders didn’t offer toilets, which she’d found odd, considering how advanced their ships seemed to be. The Finders didn’t offer much of anything to her, except food, during their rare visits to the refugee camp.
“They built something under the lake. It makes the water clear. I’ve seen it.”
She returned from the bush and took the translator from him. “Well, if you see any toilet paper, let me know.” Not that humans used real paper any longer. But the old term had persisted.
“There are Glin here who make paper,” said Belloc.
She doubted he meant toilet paper, but she’d take what she could get. And something to write on would be nice, too. Perhaps she could use it to take notes and sketch images to take back to Asteria. So long as he also knew someone who could make some kind of pen and show her how to use it.
“That would be awesome, Belloc. Can we go get some?”
He pointed and she headed that direction. Again, he followed her.
“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder.
“Gratitude is unnecessary.”
“It is necessary, and I give it freely. Can’t I pay for your assistance with my appreciation?”
“You paid for it already, with your wisdom.”
“Belloc, are you always dour?”
He listened to the translation, and answered, “I don’t know.”
Which made her laugh. Of course, dour probably wasn’t a word that ebullient Duin would have encountered, so it wasn’t in the translator.
“Serious. Stern. Severe.”
“Glum,” Belloc said.
J’ni laughed again. “That’s the only word I’ve found, so far, that is the same in Glinnish as in English.”
“You have a Glin name.”
“My name is Genevieve Elena O’Riordan, and my friends call me Genny. Duin misunderstood when I met him and thought I said j’ni. Am I still going the right way?”
Belloc pointed, and she continued walking, finding her way by moon and starlight because the sun had already set again. He was so quiet, she couldn’t hear his footfalls over the great many cheeping and clicking things in the night woods. Every few paces, she glanced back to make sure he was still there.
They reached a lake like wine in the maroon moonlight and full of several Glin. It was the first in a chain of lakes that stretched on for several miles. Duin’s people would have preferred to live along those lakes, rather than being stuck together in the clearing, but the Finders wouldn’t allow it. J’ni wondered if they were trying to minimize the environmental impact on their lush little world.
“Do you know what a j’ni is?” Belloc asked.
“A flower.” She stopped and waited for him to tell her which way to go.
“Tell me why you don’t swim.” He walked past her and headed to the edge of the lake.
“I don’t know how.”
“So learn. It’s not difficult.”
“Easy for you to say.” She followed him for a few steps, until she realized that he intended to enter the water. “What about the paper?”
“It won’t migrate,” he promised, and curled his fingers in a gesture which encouraged her to come closer.
“Sala said I couldn’t swim in a bava.”
“A bava is cumbersome.” He flicked his fingers. “Take it off.”
J’ni took a step backward. “I’ll go swimming another time.”
“You’re afraid.” He seemed surprised. “There are no water wasps or leeches. I told them all to go away.”
Glin didn’t talk to animals, or insects, as far as she knew. Was he teasing her? “I’ve never been in a lake before.”
Most Glin, including Duin, had a way of looking at things so that their eyes darted about, as if they were taking in every detail. Belloc’s eyes bored straight into her. “You’re not afraid of the water.”
No, she wasn’t.
“Are you afraid of me?” He laughed. The musical sound surprised her coming from such a serious Glin. “I won’t let you drown. The village would want to cut off more than my hands, and you wouldn’t be there to stop them.”
“I can’t bring my translator.” It was a lame excuse, but somehow she couldn’t admit that the real reason was because she didn’t want him to see her in her underwear. Never mind that most of the settlement went half-dressed, and that the lake contained several naked or mostly naked Glin. Or that, in what seemed like a lifetime ago, she would have considered putting a vid of herself having sex with Seth on her blog for all the universe to see. Something about Belloc bothered her. And it was definitely not the fact that he was so willowy or that his voice lured her like a mythological siren.
Belloc placed one long, webbed foot in the lake. “Come, before the others say that illustrious Duin is soulbound to a water-feared creature with stagnant slime for brains.”
Damn. She looked around at the other Glin in the lake. Whether he was joking again, she couldn’t tell, but she didn’t want to risk shaming Duin in front of his people—a people for whom swimming was as natural and essential as breathing. She unwound her bava, placed the translator in the middle of it, and stepped into the lake.
Belloc didn’t ogle her, but walked out into the water. This time, it was her turn to follow. When the water was up to her chest, she lost her footing and had to grab his arm. He turned and took her by both hands. Through gestures and patient demonstration, he helped her move farther from shore.
When she couldn’t touch bottom, he let go of her, and she thrashed about.
He caught her and lifted her above the surface, his arm wrapped around her ribcage and wedged under her breasts, his chest against her back, his shoulder under her neck. As she coughed and tried to wipe the water from her eyes, she heard him chuckling.
“It’s not funny.” She elbowed him in the ribs. But not hard.
Still supporting her, he made her practice holding her breath and submerging. Then he showed her how to tread water. It was unsettling, at first, but once she got used to it, and confident that he wouldn’t let her drown, she started to enjoy it. Before long, she could do it on her own, while he swam rapid circles around her.
“How do you swim so fast?” she asked.
He tilted his head and said something that sounded like a question. She wiggled her hand like a fish and pointed to him.
He smiled and grabbed her. With a powerful kick, he carried her over the surface of the lake. J’ni heard—and felt—Belloc inhale a deep breath, so she did the same before they plunged under the surface.
He didn’t need to use his arms to swim, but his taut, powerful body rippled in rapid undulations, propelling them down. When he stopped, J’ni had no idea how deep they were, and she didn’t like it. She squeezed her eyes shut and wanted to swim upward, but she was disoriented and wasn’t quite sure where “up” was. Plus, he was holding her tight. She tried not to inhale water, but her body writhed in panic.
He carried her through the water again, until she felt the cool embrace of the air. She gasped. Breathing never felt so wonderful. He said several sentences to her in Glinnish. The soothing, steady keel of his voice calmed her. But she’d had enough. Exhausted, she pointed at the distant edge of the lake.
“Meh.” There seemed to be something he wanted to show her. He indicated for her to take a deep breath, then pulled her under again. This time, when he stopped, he touched her eyelids with his fingertips and she opened her eyes. It was uncomfortable at first, but she was quickly distracted by the sight before her.
J’ni saw a great, glowing machine spread out across the bottom of the lake. It reminded her of the Finder spaceship, but this was much larger, and went on and on, sparkling, turning, glittering, like a fairy castle. She started to move toward it, but Belloc wouldn’t let her go. He shot to the surface, and returned her to the water’s edge.
Running for her translator, she didn’t even stop to dress before she asked, “What was that?”
“It cleans the water.”
“Can we get closer?”
“No, it would pull you in.”
She watched him while she wound the bava around her wet skin, and had the feeling that there were other things on Wandalin that would pull her in, if she wasn’t careful.
Chapter Twelve
Despite Belloc’s best efforts, little Glin children still swam better than she did. But she enjoyed swimming. This was her favorite time of day, when she had the lake, the forest and the blue sky all to herself, when most of the Glin were inside their huts or sleeping.
Most, but not all.
Belloc sat in the shade nearby. He only slept when she slept, always outside the door of Sala’s hut, every day since the day she issued her judgment of him two months ago. When J’ni asked if this was a common Glin practice, Belloc’s devotion to her, Sala had shrugged and said, “It’s his way.”
No one else in Meglin seemed to have this “way.” But J’ni was grateful. Sala was either busy or exhausted all the time. The other Glin were kind enough and they answered her questions, but it was Belloc who helped her learn to speak and write his language. It was Belloc who listened to her stories about Duin, Asteria and Earth. Belloc told her about Glin and what little he knew about the Finders when she couldn’t get any of the Wandant to do interviews. Belloc was her constant connection, always there, always listening, always answering, so that she wouldn’t miss the Stellarnet. She had traded millions of net followers for one real-life Glin who followed her everywhere.
J’ni was lying on her back by the lake, watching clouds morph across the bright blue sky, when she saw the shimmery bubble overhead. It was a long way off, but she knew what it meant.
Rivulets of water ran from the ends of her hair, down her back and breasts, as she sat up. Pulling on her pants and boots, she grabbed her bag and her vest and ran for the trees. It hadn’t taken her long to adopt the Glin indifference to nudity. To them, clothing was a form of ornamentation and little more. Duin, she knew, had an elaborate suit because he was capable of making an elaborate suit. Sala wore a long, intricate bava because it was a gift and she liked it. But, in general, what one chose to wear or not wear was a matter of personal preference. For over a month, J’ni had kept her underwear, but gave those up, too, when the hygienic properties were obviously depleted. No one stared or seemed to care that her parts weren’t quite like theirs.
But she had a suit now. There weren’t any wallump on Wandalin, but there were other creatures that the Finders allowed the Glin to hunt. The resulting leather did not have the same flexible, water-resistant qualities, but it was very comfortable. Belloc had chased down one of the creatures the Glin called mellump, and zapped it. He said it would have been easier to catch if it had been in the water, and J’ni didn’t doubt it. She knew how fast he could swim. He wasn’t a slow runner, though.
Belloc skinned the creature and cured the leather, as best he could without the same materials he would have used on Glin. When Duin had explained the process to her on Asteria, she’d only half understood. In person, it was both disgusting and fascinating.
If Duin’s suit was well-made, it was because he learned his tailoring skills from his mother. Sala helped cut the leather and stitch together a suit as gorgeous as anything J’ni ever wore in her life. It wasn’t glossy or iridescent, like other Glin suits, but she liked the deep, rich brown. J’ni couldn’t help thinking how jealous her own mother would be of her daughter’s animal-derived clothing.
Still, she wasn’t sure what reaction he would have to seeing her burst half naked from the jungle with Belloc on her heels, so she put on her vest and tied the laces as she ran to meet the ship. She took for granted that Belloc was behind her because he was always behind her, silent as a shadow.
J’ni reached the clearing as the Finder vessel landed on the stone dais. A doorway formed in the side, and he stepped out.
Duin had to brace himself as she crashed upon him like a wave. Could he taste, on her lips, every whisper she’d spoken to him across the distance? Could he see, in her eyes, every night she spent looking up at the stars and wishing to see him again?
“You are here,” she said in Glinnish.
“I am,” he answered.
“And you’re bringing me back to Asteria.”
“As you say,” he replied. Then he spoke in English. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your own language.”
“I love you in any language,” she said, and it was strange to feel the human speech on her tongue again. But not at all strange to feel him on her tongue again. Whether they returned to Asteria or stayed on Wandalin didn’t matter. She was home.
“What happened? Did they catch who blew up my block?”
As Duin spoke, his hands ran over her damp body. “They’ve made no arrests, but you are no longer a suspect. With pressure from INC, our followers and the Extrasolar Space Colonization Consortium—among other things—the order for your rendition was rescinded. And the United States is no longer the only military presence on Asteria. They are in the process of recalling several U.S. troops and replacing them with UN Peacekeepers.”
“What about Blaze?”
“He’s still there.”
“It wasn’t discovered that he helped me escape?” She wanted to ask about Seth, but she couldn’t bring herself to say his name. It would ruin the moment.
Duin knew what she didn’t say. “No one accused the colonel of treachery, and no one bothered me when I returned to Asteria. I’m also told that no one was advised by the colonel to keep his useless mouth shut unles
s he wanted to be working triple shifts cleaning compost chutes.”
Duin had much more to tell her, but it could wait. Asteria was far away, but here, J’ni’s body welcomed him, her eyes radiated pure joy. She longed to be one flesh again as well as one soul.
“There is a lake here,” she suggested, when he touched her wet hair. “I was just swimming in it.”
“I haven’t been swimming in a long time, J’ni. Too long.”
There was a yearning in his voice that she was eager to indulge. She took him by the hand and led him back the way she’d come.
“You have bracers,” she said, noting the micro-thin flexible devices he wore over his forearms.
“They’re your bracers. I’ve been using them while you’re away. I can use them to play Mysteria.” He made several movements, as if he were swinging a sword and stabbing something. “Not that I do. I tried the demo, but I don’t understand the appeal. I have too much to do, to spend my time pretending to do things. I did, however, maintain your Gnomeville in your absence.”
She laughed at the thought of him taking time out from saving Glin to maneuver a village of digital gnomes into picking flowers and digging for gems. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s a silly game.”
“You were quite dedicated to surpassing the beryl level, it seemed a shame to lose your progress. It only took a few minutes a day.”
They were beside the lake when it occurred to J’ni that Belloc was nowhere in sight. After so many weeks of his constant presence, it felt odd to be without him. Though, given what she had in mind with Duin, she was glad Belloc decided to disappear. If he’d gone to tell Sala, soon the whole settlement would know that heroic Duin of the Freedom Council and the Tah Ga’lin Uprising had returned. She hoped the population of Meglin would wait for him to arrive, rather than come looking.
At the water’s edge, she stripped and he pulled off his boots. “Your damned buttons,” she said, reaching for his suit. “Did you have to make so many, Mr. Fancypants?”
Her lighthearted teasing only increased the seriousness of his need. He pulled her naked body against him, kissing her, touching her. She could feel his arousal. Unbuttoning his pants, she knelt in front of him and took the smooth knob of his organ into her mouth.
